case I'd read about and forgotten but Anita, with her morbid kid's curiosity, had probably filed it away in her mind.
Two middle-aged men, Ralph Brody and George Shelton, who worked in the safe deposit vault of a bank a block from Will's house, were killed in an attempted hold-up. As they were leaving the bank on this rainy afternoon, they had been shot and killed. Their assailant, who was described as a “tall, swarthy man wearing a brown trench coat,” had been frightened away by a citizen who witnessed the whole thing and emptied his gun—in vain—at the fleeing thug. No reason for the attempted hold-up was known, since the bank men only had a few dollars of personal cash on them, and there were hints in the news story about a “crazed killer on the loose.”
The joker in the deck was... the sterling citizen who did his duty by shooting at the gunman was Big Ed Franklin!
3
Brother, the pieces to one part of this puzzle began to fit so tight it made my head hurt! Bobo asked, “So what does all this add up to? Remember thinking at the time, why hold up a couple of guys only making fifty a week.”
“See who the great hero was?”
Bobo pointed to a later edition, “Sure, they even got the 'Cat's' picture here. Still, so what?”
“I'm a guy who doesn't believe in too many coincidences, like Franklin merely
Shirley, who was reading the same story in another paper, said, “But it says here Mr. Franklin had a safe deposit vault in the bank, got there after the bank closed. That's how he happened to be in his car, witnessed the killings.”
“Sure, Franklin is such a simple joker, doesn't even know banks close at 3 p.m., that's why he gets there at 4 p.m.!”
“Still can't buy it,” Bobo said. “Why would a big apple like the 'Cat' get himself mixed up in a couple of killings?”
He had me stumped there—Franklin was way past the stage where he did his own strong-arm stuff. But things fitted so tightly I knew I had to be right. I said, “Haven't got the whole picture yet, but it's coming into focus. Shirley cut out all stories dealing with the murders.”
I read through the next few days' papers but the case faded quickly. No trace was ever found of the “killer in a brown trench coat.” But a wild idea was flying around inside my head.... I dialed Saltz, had an uneasy moment while waiting for him to answer. If he'd found Louise's body... Saltz might be checking fingerprints by now and...
Saltz grunted, “Lieut. Saltz, speaking.”
“This is Hal Darling.”
“The
For once I was glad to hear his corny humor. “Nothing. Called to learn if you had anything new.”
“We're still digging, expect the break any day.”
I wanted to laugh into the phone: Saltz must have thought he was talking to the press. “Look, Lieutenant, has there been a diamond cutter, or anybody in the diamond business, reported missing in the last three or four months?”
“What the hell has that got to...?”
“Case I'm on. Missing husband, think he worked in the diamond trade under a false name. Thought you might be able to give me a hand.”
“I got enough cases to work on without helping you. For a little guy you got more nerve than...”
“Okay, don't go up in the air,” I said, thinking it didn't make much difference if I located the diamond cutter or not—he would certainly be dead by now—if my brainstorm was correct.
“I'll boot your little can up in the air! Up to my neck in work and you pester me with looking for call-girls, for diamond cutters—what the hell you think this is, a quiz program?”
“Sorry,” I said. “By the by, happened to pick up an old paper on the subway—those two bank men who were shot about a month ago—wasn't it rather odd that 'Cat' Franklin was mixed up in it, the only witness?”
“What are you, mother's little helper today?” Saltz growled.
“I'm merely trying to learn how to be a detective,” I said sweetly, not laying the sarcasm on too heavy.
“You're nuts and I'm even crazier to bother talking to you! I was in on that bank case. Franklin had a permit for the gun. We made a thorough ballistics check of his cannon, wasn't the same one that killed the bank men.”
“Was it the same caliber?”
“Yes, but the ballistic markings were entirely different What you driving at?”
“Just wondering.”
“Stick to guarding dance halls and stop wasting my time!” Saltz said, hanging up.
4
I read the news stories again. Both men had been shot with one bullet apiece, clean through the heart. No matter what anybody says, a pistol isn't a very accurate weapon, especially for a punk firing during the heat of a stick-up on a rainy day. I read through a couple more editions till I came upon another item I was looking for— Franklin had
A hurt look swiftly crossed her brown face, then turned to anger.
