“How did you know I was talking about Ann Hartwell?”
“Why, you said...”
Wickes’ voice trailed away into silence. His eyes faltered.
“I said,” Moraine told him, “that I came with a message from a dead woman. How did you know that Ann Hartwell was dead?”
“I didn’t know she was dead.”
“She was the one you were talking about.”
“Well, what if she was?”
“How did you know she was the one I referred to when I said I had a message from a dead woman?”
“I knew she was missing, and I figured what must have happened,” Wickes said.
“Just because you knew she was missing?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know that?”
“Hell, the cops had me on the carpet for an hour tonight. I didn’t know anything about it. I thought they were still down in the apartment. I dropped in to call on Doris Bender and found the cops there, and found that everyone had skipped out.”
“Had Doris Bender skipped out?”
“She was missing, yes.”
“Then, why didn’t you think she was the one I referred to?”
Wickes made a show of indignation.
“Damn it,” he said, “I don’t know who you think you are. Perhaps you’re a boy scout, doing your good turn for the day, helping out the cops, or something. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a buttinski on this whole deal. The cops have had me on the carpet and interfered with enough of my sleep. Personally, I think you’re either drunk, or crazy, or both. Now get out!”
Moraine stood his ground, staring steadily.
“Too bad you tipped your hand, isn’t it, Wickes?”
The man’s face twisted with fury. He struck at Sam Moraine’s face with a vicious left hook.
Moraine slipped his head back out of the way. The blow whizzed past. Wickes cursed and swung with his right.
Moraine slipped a blow over his shoulder, said, “All right, you asked for it.” He snapped his right fist into Wickes’ pyjamaed stomach, and, as Wickes came forward under the smashing impact of the blow, Moraine braced himself and struck a pivoting right uppercut.
Wickes sailed back through the air, struck the bed, went over backwards, and the force of the impact brought groaning protest from the bedsprings.
Moraine slipped into the hallway, slammed the door behind him, and took to the stairs, reaching the lobby seconds sooner than would have been the case had he used the elevator. He nodded to the colored lad, produced bills from his pocket.
“I want you to walk up and stand on the corner,” he said. “Stand where you can look up and down the street in both directions. Within a minute or two there’ll be a man in a blue serge suit, with a derby hat, come along the street. He may be walking or he may get out of a taxicab. He’ll ask you if the coast is clear, and you tell him yes. Do you understand that?”
The big white eyes blinked solemnly.
“Jest if de coast is clear, is dat right, Boss?”
“That’s right.”
“Den Ah says it is?”
“That’s right, you say it is.”
The boy looked down at the money in his hand.
“Yo’ suah yo’ knows how to watch this yere switchboard?” he asked.
“Sure,” Moraine said, “I’m the man who invented them.”
The colored lad started for the door.
“Which corner, Boss; dis one right up heah?”
“That’s right. Just turn to the left and stand on the comer.”
“How long does Ah wait?”
“Not very long. He’ll be along in a minute or two. If he takes too long, you don’t need to wait. I’ll call you back. Stand where you can see me if I come to the door.”
“All right, Boss, all right. Ah’ll certainly be standin’ right theah. Yo’ can depen’ on me, Boss.”
Moraine took his seat behind the switchboard, watched the array of colored lights.
Presently a light blazed in the connection marking Apartment 603.
Moraine simulated, as best he could, the voice of the colored lad, slurring his words, speaking with a rather thick accent.
“Yassah, yassah, what yo’ want?”
A man’s voice, harsh and rasping, said, “Listen, Rastus, get this straight: I want some fast service. Get me Mrs. G. C. Chester at the Rutledge Hotel in Colter City. I want to get her on the telephone right away. Put through that call just as fast as you can make it.”
“Yassah, yassah.”
“Have you got the name?”
“Yassah, Missus G. C. Chestah, suh.”
“That’s right, and it’s the Rutledge Hotel at Colter City. Put that call through fast!”
Moraine plugged in to Central, gave the long distance call, and then, when he had the connection, rang Wickes’ apartment and stayed in on the line to listen. He heard Wickes’ voice saying cautiously, “Hello, you know who this is?”
A woman’s voice, sounding thick with sleep, said, “No, who is it?”
Wickes became impatient.
“Snap out of it,” he said. “I don’t want to mention names over the telephone. For God’s sake! Douse your head in cold water and get on the job!”
The woman at the other end of the line laughed. “That’s better,” she said. “I’d recognize that note of irritation anywhere. All right, what is it, Big Boy?”
Then Moraine recognized the voice as that of Doris Bender.
“I just had a visitor,” Wickes said.
“At this hour?”
“Yes.”
“Who was it?”
“A friend of yours.”
“Well, go on, break it to me.”
“The man,” he said, “we picked as a fall guy.”
There was a moment of silence during which Moraine, listening in on the wire, could hear the singing of the line.
When Doris Bender spoke again, her voice was hard, cautious, and showed she was fully awake.
“What’s on his chest?”
“He was telling me about a murder and a message from a dead woman.”
“Go on.”
“The woman was Ann Hartwell. He says she was murdered. He seems to think I did it.”
Wickes paused significantly.
There was a moment of silence, then Doris Bender said, “Have they found her body, Tom?”
“I don’t know. Apparently they have. He seemed pretty sure of himself.”
“Have the police any theories?”
“I don’t know anything except what this man told me.”
“He told you he had a message from Ann?”
“Yes. That’s the line he used. He’s getting ready to make trouble.”
“Did he give you any message?”
“No. Of course not. It was just a line he used to get into my apartment and try to rattle me.”
“All right, what do I do?”
“You send me some money,” he told her. “I may have to travel.”
“Baloney,” she said. “You’ve got no reason to travel. You sit tight.”
“I’m afraid to sit tight. I want to join you.”
“Don’t be a fool. Stay there and take it. They can’t hang anything on you.” -
“I want some dough. I mean it.”
“Well, keep on wanting. You have all you’re going to get out of me.”
“Listen, Dorry, let me see you. Can’t I come out and...”
“No,” she interrupted.
He was silent for a moment, then asked, “You got the eleven forty train okay?”
“Of course I did.”
“Okay, Dorry. I’m giving you the information. I wish you’d let me join you.” -
Her voice rose and became harsh as she said, “Don’t be such a damn baby. You stay right where you are. Where are you calling from now? Not the apartment house?”
“Yes.”
“Fool! Why didn’t you go to a pay station?”
“It’s too important, this place is okay. There’s not a chance of a leak out of here.”
She made a peculiar exclamation of disgust and slammed the receiver back on the hook. A moment later Wickes hung up, and Moraine pulled the plug from the switchboard, letting it drop back into place.