On Saturday, the March sky was hard, an icy blue whitened by a blurry sun, and in the west a faded wedge of morning moon. Not a cloud. But an angry wind came steadily and swirled the streets.
I took a cab uptown and marvelled at how sharp the city looked, chopped out, everything standing clear. The air was washed clean, and pierced.
I was wearing my good pinstripe suit, vested, with a white shirt and dull tie. Stilton and I had agreed to dress like undertakers: conservative, solemn, but sympathetic.
Men to be trusted.
A dusty-blue Plymouth was parked in front of the Kipper townhouse. Behind the wheel was a carelessly dressed giant of a man with a scraggly blond moustache that covered his mouth. Percy sat beside him, looking like 417
a judge. He motioned me into the back seat. I climbed in, closed the door. I held my scruffy briefcase on my lap.
'Josh,' Perce said, 'this slob is Lou, my partner.'
'Good morning, Lou,' I said.
'Got all the paper?' Stilton asked.
'Everything,' I said, feeling slightly ill.
'Good,' he said. 'When we get inside, let me do the spiel.
You follow my lead. Just nod. You're the shill. Got that?'
'I understand.'
'Act sincere,' he said. 'You can act sincere, can't you?'
'Of course,' I said in a low voice.
'Sure you can,' he said. I knew he was trying to encourage me and I appreciated it. 'Don't worry, Josh, this is going down. This is going to be the greatest hustle known to living man. A classic.'
Lou spoke for the first time.
'The world is composed of five elements,' he stated.
'Earth, air, fire, water, and bullshit.'
'You're singing our song, baby,' Percy told him. 'Okay, Josh, let's do it.'
Chester Heavens came to the door.
'Gentlemen?' he said sombrely.
'Good morning, Chester,' I mumbled.
'Morning,' Percy said briskly. 'I am Detective Percy Stilton of the New York Police Department. I believe we've met before. Here is my identification.'
He flipped open his leather, held it up. Heavens peered at it.
'Yes, sah,' he said. 'I remember. How may I be of service?'
'It's important we see Mrs Kipper,' Stilton said. 'As soon as possible. She's home?'
Chester hesitated a moment, then surrendered.
'Please to step in,' he said. 'I'll speak with mom.'
We waited in that towering entrance hall. Heavens had disappeared into the dining room and closed the door. We 418
waited for what I thought was a long time. I fidgeted, but Stilton stood stolidly. Finally Chester returned.
'Mom will see you now,' he said, expressionless. 'She is at breakfast. May I take your things?'
He took our coats and hats, hung them away. He opened the door to the dining room, stood aside. Percy entered first. As I was about to go in, Chester put a soft hand on my arm.
'Bad, sah?' he whispered.
I nodded.
He nodded, too. Sorrowfully.
She was seated at the head of that long, shining table.
Regal. Wearing a flowing, lettuce-green peignoir. But her hair was down and not too tidy. Moreover, as I drew closer, I saw her face was slightly distorted, puffy. Staring, I saw that the left cheek from eye to chin was swollen, discoloured. She had attempted to cover the bruise with pancake makeup, but it was there.
Then I understood Godfrey Knurr's smarmy comment:
'I think I persuaded the lady.'
Stilton and I stood side by side. She stared at us, unblinking. She did not ask us to sit down.
'Ma'am,' Percy said humbly, 'I am Detective — '
'I know who you are,' she said sharply. 'We've met.
What do you want?'
'I am engaged in an official investigation of the Reverend Godfrey Knurr,' Stilton said, still apologetic. 'I hoped you would be willing to co-operate with the New York Police Department and furnish what information you can.'
She turned her eyes to me.
'And what are you doing here?' she demanded.
'Mr Bigg asked to come along, ma'am,' Percy said swiftly. 'The request for an investigation originated with his legal firm.'
She thought about that. She didn't quite believe, but she 419
didn't not believe. She wanted to learn more.
'Sit down then,' she said coldly. 'Both of you. Coffee?'
'Not for me,' Perce said, 'thank you, Mrs Kipper. You, Mr Bigg?'
'Thank you, no,' I said.
We drew up chairs, Stilton on her right, me on her left.
We had her surrounded, hemmed in. I don't think she expected that.
She shook a cigarette from an almost empty pack.
Stilton was there with his lighter before I could make a move. I think his courtesy reassured her. She blew smoke at the ceiling.
'Well,' she said, 'what's this all about?'
'Ma'am,' Stilton said, hunching forward earnestly, 'it's a rather involved story, so I hope you'll bear with me.
About two weeks ago the NYPD received a request from the police department of Gary, Indiana, asking us to determine if the Reverend Godfrey Knurr was in our area.
A warrant had been issued for his arrest. Two warrants, actually.'
'Arrest?' she cried. 'What for?'
'One was for blackmail, Mrs Kipper. Allegedly, for a period of many years, Knurr has been blackmailing an elderly clergyman in the neighbourhood where he grew up.
The other warrant was for desertion.'
We were both watching closely. She may have been an actress, but she couldn't conceal her reaction to that. The hand that held the cigarette began to quiver; the bruise stood out, a nasty blue. She leaned forward to pour herself more coffee.
Maybelle Hawks had been right; she hadn't known.
'Desertion?' she asked casually, and I noted that the charge of blackmail hadn't stirred her at all.
'Oh yes,' Detective Stilton said. 'Knurr was married about twenty years ago and has never been divorced or legally separated. Mr Bigg, do you have the licence?'
I plucked it from my briefcase and held it up before Tippi Kipper, making certain it did not leave my hands.
She leaned forward to read it.
'Yes,' she said dully, 'I see.'
Percy leaned back in his chair and folded his hands comfortably on the tabletop.
'Well,' he said, 'the request from the Gary, Indiana, police was circulated, and a copy came across my desk.
Ordinarily I would just file it and forget it. I'm sure you appreciate how busy we are, ma'am, and how an
