rug…”
“It was possible he was here,” I said. “He could have let me in. That was lucky for me. Now maybe I could talk to you?”
“To me?”
“You had lunch with Jonathan Radford. Where?”
“The Charles XII on Lexington Avenue.”
“How was he? His mood?”
“Normal, I’d say. Perhaps a little testy.”
“As if he had something on his mind?”
“I suppose so. I didn’t notice at the time. We talked about Walter and myself.”
“Did anything happen? Anything unusual?”
“No. We talked, ate, and went home. Walter wasn’t at the apartment, so I left. As I was leaving, this fat man in an awful old overcoat rang the bell and asked for Jonathan. I sent him into the study and left.”
“Did you know Walter owed $25,000?”
“Yes. Walter gambles and usually loses. It’s happened before.” There was a kind of weariness in her voice.
“You don’t gamble with him?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you apparently didn’t know Weiss. Or did you?”
“No, I didn’t know him. I don’t know him.”
“So if Walter owed the $25,000 to Weiss, he must have lost the money without you around.”
She stabbed her cigarette out in an ashtray, stood, and walked to the picture window of the room. The window gave a fine view of shadowy tenements. I had a better view-her lean, but curved figure against the night sky. She stood there, lighted another cigarette, then turned and went back to her chair.
“Weiss was only a messenger. Sent to try to collect,” she said. “Walter owed the money to a man named Paul Baron. It happened over a period of time.”
“You know Paul Baron?”
“I know Mr. Baron. A smooth animal. Walter told him that Jonathan wouldn’t pay this time. He told Baron that he would pay the debt off in installments. It seems that Baron had other ideas.”
“Do the police know that the money was owed to Baron?”
“No. Walter is afraid of Baron. He sees no reason to involve Baron. Weiss came to Jonathan, not Baron.”
“It was Baron’s $25,000,” I said.
“You think we should tell the police?”
“I know you should.”
“Yes, all right, but I’d rather Walter told them.”
“As long as someone does,” I said. “Where did you go after you left Jonathan with Weiss?”
“To my hairdresser. I had a one-thirty appointment. I was there until three-thirty. Is that what you want to know?”
“Yes,” I said. “Where was Walter all this time? He and Ames say they left the apartment before noon, right?”
“He took the twelve-ten train from Grand Central for North Chester. He was there all afternoon. He was there when Jonathan was… found.” Her voice rose in pitch, the words coming out faster. “Uncle George was at his club. Mrs. Radford was there, but could not get in. I don’t know where three hundred cousins were! The butler was in North Chester!”
She stopped on a high, rising note; breathless. Her chaste bosom heaved. She drew deeply on her cigarette. “Leave us alone, Mr. Fortune. This has been a horrible shock to the family. Such a stupid death for a man like Jonathan. Go away with your dirty questions. Can’t you understand how terrible it is for the family?”
“It’s pretty terrible for Sammy Weiss.”
“He killed a man! For money!”
“Maybe,” I said.
“No one else was there! Don’t you think the police have checked?”
“How about Paul Baron?”
“Then talk to Baron!”
“Do you know where I could find him?”
“No! I mean, I’ve met him at quite a few places. At this hour…” She chewed at her lip. “There’s an apartment on University Place where I’ve met him about this time.” She gave me the address.
I stood up. “I’d still like to talk to Walter.”
“I’ll tell him.”
She had recovered her cool exterior. On my way out I picked her blue cloth coat from the floor inside the door. I handed it to her. When she took it, our hands touched. I felt the touch low in my back where you feel a woman who has something you suddenly know you could want very much. I sensed that she felt it, too. She stiffened, and her nostrils flared quickly. I smiled. She backed off, her eyes dark and hostile. I left.
University Place wasn’t far, so I walked. It was cold, and still, and the crust of frozen snow crunched under my feet on the dark streets. I thought about Sammy Weiss who just automatically played the big man, who had to say it had been his own $25,000 he had gone to collect. I had a sinking feeling that Weiss was not only running from a murder charge, he was running with $25,000 Paul Baron considered belonged to him.
The University Place building was big and bright with lights. I went up to the apartment Deirdre Fallon had named. I got no answer to my ringing. This lock was a deadfall, police-type. I couldn’t open it if I had wanted to. I rang some more. When there was still no answer, I went back down and across to the I.R.T.
On the uptown platform I walked to the rear away from the thickest part of the early night crowd. I figured I’d have a new try at George Ames. He’d called the cops to get me off the case awful fast. If that didn’t work, I could try to find Weiss again. I thought some more about Weiss running with the police after him and with Baron after him. Baron could be the worse danger.
I was in the air and falling!
Out over the subway tracks, clawing air.
I braced to hit the tracks, and heard the train coming.
Then time seemed to stop, reverse, blend past and present and future all together in the same instant.
I heard the train and felt the push at the same time.
I saw, in a brief flash, a slender man in pale gray. A handsome face turned for one intent look at me. A trim gray back walking away. A gray Homburg-jaunty. I thought: He’s killed me.
I fell, and saw the gray man, and heard the train, and knew I was dead, and saw a train roar past me all in the same moment.
I hit the tracks and knew with great clarity that I was not dead because Astor Place was a local station. You see, on the I.R.T. the local and express often come almost side by side. I had been pushed by the sound, not the sight, of the train. The express was some six cars ahead of the local. A mistake, you see? He had pushed me six cars too soon.
I lay in between the tracks, and the local came and stopped above me. I lay in an icy stream of water. Voices: Hey! Hey! You okay? Yes, yes! I’m okay! In time they would move the train. I would get up, wipe myself, go on.
I rolled from under and walked across the express tracks to the downtown platform. I climbed up. They stared. Subway cops yelled. A train came and I got on. I rode down four stops. I thought. I got off and went up into the night. I found a taxi. I went to Pennsylvania Station. There was a train for Philadelphia. Marty, that was what I wanted.
I sat and watched the Jersey Flats, the factories, the towns, the pine woods around Princeton. I shook. I saw Marty’s face in the dark window. She would wipe off the dirt and kiss me. I rode all the way to Trenton before I remembered that Marty had her own needs. I got off and waited two hours for the train back.
When I got home I locked my door and sat at a window and drank Irish whisky. I watched the night sky. When I went to bed, I began to shake again. I shivered without control until I fell asleep.
