“And what do you want for this?”
“Just the gun, same as before.”
“I don’t have it here.”
“You better get it quick. If Bett gave you some fancy ideas about crossing me too, forget it. Menlo didn’t even manage to kill my partner. He’s in a private rest house in Washington, and if he doesn’t hear from me at the same time every day, he’ll know you made trouble for me. Then he makes trouble for you.”
“From a hospital bed?”
“He won’t be in it for ever.”
Harrow thought that one over. Finally he said, “All right. The gun is in the hotel safe. I’ll have it sent up.”
“After we take care of Menlo. We don’t want any bellboys coming in at the wrong time.”
“No. You’re right.”
There was a soft rapping at the door. Harrow looked startled, and Parker said, “That’s him now.”
“So quickly?”
“Don’t let it throw you. Just go out there and let him in. Get the statue away from him before he sees me, so he doesn’t get a chance to try and break it or something.”
“The statue!” Harrow hurriedly got to his feet. “The statue,” he muttered, and went out through the doorway into the foyer. Parker, still seated on the sofa, heard him say, “You were very quick. Is that it?”
Then Menlo’s voice. “Yes, this is it.”
“Go on in,” Harrow said. His voice was shaking, and Parker shook his head in disgust. “Go on in.”
But Menlo didn’t tip. He came on in through the foyer doorway, and stood stock-still when he saw Parker sitting there. The blood drained from his face, and then all of a sudden he did something peculiar with his face, twisting his mouth around. Then he pitched over forward on to the carpet.
Harrow came in, clutching the mourner to his chest. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Parker got to his feet. “The goddam fool. The poison.”
“Poison? You mean, in his tooth?”
“Yeah.” Parker knelt beside him. “He’s dead all right.”
“For God’s sake, man, how do we explain this?”
“We don’t. We stash him away in a closet or something. Tonight, around midnight, pour some booze over him and drop him off the terrace. Who’s to know what floor the poor drunk fell from? Bett will be here to corroborate your story. He didn’t fall from here.”
“I couldn’t do that!” Harrow was staring at Menlo’s body with horror.
“Bett can. All right, call down for the gun now.”
“But”
“Call for the gun! Stop worrying about Menlo.”
Harrow made the call, his voice trembling, while Parker dragged the body out on to the terrace into a corner where it couldn’t be seen from inside the suite. He heard Harrow ask that the package that was being held for him in the safe be brought up to the suite.
They waited in silence. Harrow seemed more shaken by Menlo’s death than Parker would ever have guessed. He kept working on the Scotch bottle.
After a while a bellboy came with a small package wrapped in brown paper. Harrow tipped him and sent him on his way, while Parker opened it. The gun was inside all right. Parker stowed it way inside his jacket. “Phone Bett. Tell her to come up here but don’t say that I’m here.”
After he’d made the call, Harrow said, “She said she’d be at least half an hour.”
“That’s all right. I’ll be back by then.”
Parker went out to the elevators. He pushed the button, and when the elevator on the left arrived, he asked the operator, “Did you take a fat man down from here about fifteen minutes ago?”
“Not me.”
Parker pushed a ten into his hand. “Forget I even asked.”
“Yes sir!”
The elevator went back down, and Parker pushed the button again. The other elevator came up this time, and Parker asked the same question, with another ten in his hand.
“Yes, sir, I did. Just about fifteen minutes ago,” the operator answered.
“What floor did he get off?”
“Seven. Then he came right back up here, a few minutes later.”
“Wait here a minute. I want to get this ten’s brother.”
“I’m with you sir.”
Parker went back to suite D. Harrow wasn’t in the living-room. Parker found him in the bedroom, lying on his
