at the body in the backyard.'
'Ridiculous,' she said. 'You'll never prove it.'
'Oh, I think we will,' Stilton said. 'We've filed for a search warrant for these premises. On the basis of what we've got, I think it will be granted. We'll come in here and tear the place apart. The lab boys will vacuum every inch.
They'll find evidence of Godfrey Knurr spending the night in an upstairs room. Dust from his shoes, a partial fingerprint, a thread or crumbs of his pipe tobacco, maybe the weapon he used. Maybe just a hair or two. It's impossible for a man to sleep somewhere overnight without leaving some evidence of his presence. And we'll confiscate that house diary the butler keeps. It shows Godfrey Knurr arrived the afternoon before the day your husband was killed, with no record of his departure. Oh yes, I think we have enough for an indictment, Mrs Kipper. Godfrey Knurr for homicide and you as accomplice. Both of you are going down the tube.'
She made gulping sounds. Stilton continued lecturing.
'And even if we can't make it stick,' he said tonelessly,
'there's the publicity. Tabloids, radio, TV. The fashionable Mrs Tippi Kipper, active in social and charitable affairs, with a prior arrest record for prostitution.'
I could barely hear. Her head was down. But she was saying, 'Bastard, bastard, b a s t a r d. . '
Percy Stilton looked around. He spotted the handsome, marble-topped sideboard with a display of decanters. He went over, inspected the offerings, selected a captain's decanter bearing a porcelain label: BRANDY. He brought it back to the dining room table, poured a healthy wallop into the dregs of Tippi Kipper's coffee cup.
'Drink up,' he ordered.
She drained it, holding the cup with trembling hands. He poured in another shot, set the bottle on the table close to her. She dug, fumbling, into her empty cigarette pack.
Percy offered his case, then held his lighter for her again.
He didn't look at me. There was no triumph in his manner.
'Mrs Kipper,' he said, 'I've been as honest with you as I know how. As of this moment there is no warrant out for your arrest. But I think it's time we talked about you, your legal position, and your future.'
'Now comes the crunch,' she said bitterly.
'Correct,' he said equably. 'Now comes the the crunch.
We're going to pick up Godfrey Knurr; you know that.
We're going to lean on him. Do you really think he's going to remain steadfast and true? Come on, Mrs Kipper, you know better than that. He's going to sing his rotten little heart out. Before he's through, the whole thing will be your idea. You seduced him, you planned the murder of your husband; he was just the innocent bystander. You know that's how he's going to play it. That's the kind of man he is.'
She rose abruptly, scraping her chair back on the polished parquet floor. She stood leaning forward, knuckles on the table: a chairman of the board addressing a meeting of hostile executives. But she was not looking at us. She was staring between us, down the length of that gleaming table, the translucent china, the silver candelabrum. Wealth.
Gentility. Security.
'The first one in line makes the best deal,' Detective Percy Stilton said softly.
Her eyes came back to him slowly.
'Talk business,' she said harshly.
We had her then, I knew, but Perce didn't change expression or vary his polite, solicitous manner.
'This is how I suggest it be done,' he said. 'We didn't come to you; you came to us. You called Mr Bigg at the law firm that represented your late husband, and Mr Bigg then contacted me. But you made the initial move. You volunteered. Mr Bigg and I will so testify.'
He looked at me. I nodded violently.
'What was my motive for calling in the cops?' she asked.
'You wanted to see justice done,' Stilton said.
She shook her head. 'It won't wash,' she said.
'Duress,' I said. 'Physical assault. Knurr threatened you. So you went along with his plan. But now you're afraid for your life.'
Percy looked at me admiringly.
'Yeah,' Tippi Kipper said, 'that's just how it was. He said he'd kill me if I didn't go along. I'll take off my makeup and you can get a colour picture of this.' She pointed at the puffy bruise on her cheek. 'He punched me out,' she said furiously. 'He has a wicked temper, and that's the truth. I was afraid for my life.'
'Beautiful,' Percy said. 'It fits.'
'You think the DA will believe it?' she asked anxiously.
Stilton leaned back, crossed his knees again, lighted another cigarette.
'Of course not,' he said. 'He's no dummy. But he'll go along. You're going to be his star witness, clearing up three homicides and probably four. So he'll play ball. We're giving him something.'
'What do you think I'll draw?' she asked him.
'Bupkes,' he said. 'Time suspended and probation.
You'll walk.'
'And the prostitution arrest?' she demanded.
'Buried,' Stilton said. 'Nothing to the press. You have my word on that.'
She took a deep breath, looked around that lovely room as if she might never see it again.
' W e l l. . ' she said, 'I guess we better get the show on the road. Can I get dressed?'
'Of course,' Percy said, 'but I'll have to go upstairs with you. I hope you understand.'
We all moved out into the entrance hall. Chester Heavens, Perdita Schug, and Mrs Neckin were gathered in a tight little group in the corridor to the kitchen. They watched, shocked, as their mistress and the detective entered the elevator. I retrieved my hat and coat and left hurriedly. I didn't want to answer their questions.
Lou, behind the wheel of the blue Plymouth, saw me coming. He leaned across to the passenger's side and rolled down the window.
'How'd it go?' he asked.
'Fine,' I said. 'They'll be coming out soon.'
'Is she going to spill?'
I nodded.
'It figures,' he said. 'That Perce, he's something. I'm glad we're on the same side. If he was on the wrong, he'd end up owning the city.'
Then we waited in silence. I didn't want to get into the car. I wanted to look at that pure sky, breathe deeply in the sharp, tangy air. I didn't want to think about what had just happened. I wanted to savour the wide, wide world.
They came out in about fifteen minutes. Tippi Kipper was wearing a belted mink coat that seemed to go around her three times. She was hatless, carrying an oversized black alligator purse. She had removed her makeup. The bruise was hideous. Percy Stilton was carrying a small overnight case of buttery pigskin.
He opened the back door of the Plymouth for her. She climbed in without looking at me. Perce put the little suitcase in the front seat. Then he took me by the elbow, led me aside.
'End of the line for you, Josh,' he said.
'Can't I — ' I started, but he shook his head regretfully and interrupted.
'It's all official from now on,' he said. 'I'll call you as soon as we get something. Where will you be?'
'Either at the office or home. Perce, promise you'll call.'
'Absolutely,' he vowed. 'I'll keep you up on things. You deserve all the credit.'
'Thank you,' I said faintly.
He looked at me narrowly.
'They were divorced, weren't they?' he said. 'Knurr and that Sylvia? And she and the old priest are a couple of whackos. Am I right?'
I nodded miserably.
He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.
'You're good,' he said, 'but not that good. Never try to scam a scammer.'
