afternoon.”
I’d forgotten all about the funeral. I’d forgotten about a lot of things, apparently.
“Well, if he comes in, be sure to hold him. I’m on my way out.”
“Mark, is there something—?”
“Plenty,” I said. “Stay right where you are.”
I hung up and went out. I hailed a cab up the street and gave the driver Bannock’s address.
It was a long haul across town and I had plenty of time to think things out. No matter how I put the pieces together, they always fitted.
Over? Nothing was over. Not yet.
The moon was shining bright as we drove up in front of Bannock’s place. There was a light in the window for the wandering boy, too.
I got out and wandered up the walk.
Daisy let me in. “Sarah’s day off,” she told me. “And me with a stinking headache.”
“How was the funeral?”
“I didn’t go. Harry went, though.”
“Did he?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you.”
She looked at me. “What happened to you?” she asked. “Is it the police?”
“No. They haven’t caught up with me yet. I’m going to call them in a little while, though. But first let me tell you the whole deal.”
“Come in. I’ll mix a drink,” I did, and she did. It was pleasant to sit back and relax in the soft lamplight, with an easy chair to rest in, a tall glass in my hand, and Daisy’s presence vibrant before me.
Only I wasn’t relaxing. Not yet.
First I had to bring Daisy up to date. I told her about seeing Kolmar and Joe Dean, about my interview with Billie Trent and the police finding Kolmar’s gun in my car.
Then I went on and gave her a report of my interview with Harry. I told her how I’d found Estrellita Juarez; how Dean had found me again, and finally I told her about what I had just read in the paper.
“But I still don’t understand,” she said. “What does it all mean?”
“It could mean several things,” I said. “It could mean that Juarez and Dean were working together all along; that they killed Dicky Ryan, Polly Foster, Tom Trent. Or perhaps one of them did and the other knew about it.
“And so did this man Hastings, because Juarez was a runner for him in his dope peddling racket. So this afternoon, when things got hot, they decided to bump him off before they left town for good. Cover up the trail.”
Daisy nodded. “But why come to Harry with that? Why don’t you call the police?”
“I will. Only I won’t tell them this theory. Because I don’t believe it’s true.” I took a drink and felt a little better. “There’s one thing wrong with that setup. The motive. You see, there isn’t any. Why should Juarez and Dean, or either one of them separately, kill those three people? No reason.” I sighed. “Besides, both of them have alibis to account for their whereabouts during Ryan’s murder. And Dean has alibis covering him for the other killings, too.”
“But they still could have killed this man Hastings. If they were leaving town, and thought he was the murderer, maybe they went to him and tried to blackmail him.” Daisy took my glass and refilled it.
“I thought of that. It’s a possibility. Won’t know unless they’re picked up, of course. Until then all we have to go on is hunches, and my hunch is they’d be too frightened, too anxious about getting out. I don’t think they’d risk breaking in on Hastings cold and trying a fast shakedown.”
“Maybe it’s a coincidence, then,” Daisy mused. “You say this Hastings was operating a reefer peddling setup. He might have a lot of enemies in that business who would want him out of the way.”
I nodded. “That’s so. And if it turns out to be the answer, then we’re right back where we started from. We still don’t know the identity of Ryan’s killer, or Polly Foster’s, or Tom Trent’s.”
“What about Kolmar?”
“He was telling me the truth the other day, I think. Kolmar wouldn’t murder his own stars. Why should he kill the geese that laid the golden eggs?”
Daisy shook her head. “Must we go on like this, Mark? I’m sick of murder and murder talk—physically sick! Didn’t Harry tell you to lay off the case? Isn’t it bad enough to have your life threatened, get beat up this way, put yourself on the spot with the police?”
“Sure it is,” I answered. “But there won’t be any more of it. Not now.”
“Are you certain?”
“Positive.” I sat back and put my drink down. “Because I think I’ve got the answer now. It was sitting right under my nose all the time, of course. I should have spent less time figuring why these people were being killed and more time wondering why these things happened to me.”
“You?”
“Of course. I’m the clue to the whole business. Ryan died months ago and nothing happened. But the minute I was brought into the picture, trouble started again. Everybody who might know about Ryan’s death either disappeared or was permanently silenced. The murderer got there before I did. It wasn’t coincidence. The murderer must have known who I planned to see.”
“But how could that be?”
“There’s only one answer,” I said. “I must have told the killer myself just what I was going to do.”
Daisy made a little sound in her throat.
“Mark! No!”
“Yes,” I said. “Who hired me? Harry. Who arranged my interview with Polly Foster? Harry. Who did I tell beforehand that I was going to have a showdown with Tom Trent? Harry. And who knew I was still working on this business today? Harry.”
I paused. “The other night, when Trent was murdered, Harry said he was with a client in Pacific Palisades. Does he have proof? And what makes you sure he went back to the office today, after the funeral?”
“That’s absurd! When Polly Foster was murdered, both Harry and I were playing cards at the Shermans. The police checked his alibi about this client in Pacific Palisades. And he wouldn’t dare say he was at the office. He never works there alone, someone would be with him.”
“All right,” I said. “Let’s figure it this way. See if it makes sense. Harry killed Ryan. He got someone else to kill Foster and Trent because he was afraid they’d talk. And then he got someone to kill Hastings.”
Daisy shook her head. “You’re crazy. Harry wouldn’t jeopardize his TV deal any more. He hired you in good faith, just to clear things up. And how would he know Hastings?”
I was silent for a moment. “That’s so. He didn’t have a motive, did he? And he didn’t know Hastings. That leaves only one person. One person who also knew what my movements would be, because Harry wouldn’t suspect anything wrong if he revealed them.”
Daisy looked at me. I nodded. “That’s right, Daisy. There’s only one person left. You.”
She stood up quickly.
I had the gun out of my pocket now. It felt good to be on the right end of a gun for a change.
“Sit down, Daisy,” I said. “First you’re going to listen. Then you’re going to talk.”
“You can’t bluff me.”
“I’m not bluffing. I’ve got the goods on you. Ever since I read about Hastings’ death tonight. When I read where he worked, I knew.”
“Where he worked?”
“The papers said he was an interne at Dr. Levinson’s clinic. The clinic you went to, the day before Ryan died.”
She sat down again. I held the gun on her.
“That was your alibi, wasn’t it, Daisy? Hastings covered up for you the night you sneaked out to visit Ryan at his trailer. You were the person he expected.
