This Way for a Shroud

Maurer was a television fan, and he liked the thought that his face was being watched at this very moment by three-quarters of a million people.

The reporters converged on him, but his four bodyguards formed a protective wall around him and waved them aside.

'Have a little patience, boys,' Maurer said from behind his screen. 'I'll have something to say to you when I come out. Just stick around until I've had a talk with the D.A.'

'What makes you think you're coming out?' one of the reporters bawled, his face red with anger.'

Maurer gave him a wide friendly smile, and still surrounded by his bodyguards, he mounted the steps to the entrance of the City Hall and disappeared through its portals.

'The fat sonofabitch,' the reporter said. 'He won't talk himself out of this rap. They've got him where it'll hurt most.'

'Yeah?' the Pacific Herald reporter sneered. 'Do you imagine a bastard like Maurer would surrender unless he knew he could beat the rap? I bet you ten dollars to a dime he comes out of there in ten minutes as free as the air.'

'You've got yourself a bet, son,' the other reporter said pityingly. 'I happen to know what Forest has got on him.'

'Do you happen to know the only witness he had to clinch the case fell out of a window last night?' the Pacific Herald reporter asked. 'You've got to hand it to that oily snake. He's never let anyone give evidence against him, and he never will.'

'That was an accident,' the other reporter said hotly. 'I've talked to Conrad. That guy knows what he's talking about. She fell out of the window accidentally.'

'Like Weiner got drowned in his bath accidentally? Yeah? If you believe that crap, you're the only one besides Conrad who does.'

They were still arguing ten minutes later when there was a sudden hush from the crowd, and looking up, they saw the four hard-faced men coming through the doors with Maurer in the middle of them.

Maurer was beaming. He paused at the top of the steps and looked down at the battery of cameras and the hostile faces of the reporters.

Abe Gollowitz, a little pale and very tired-looking, stood to his right. His fat face was expressionless, but his eyes were the eyes of a man without hope or without a future.

'Well, boys,' Maurer said breathlessly, 'seems it was all a mistake.'

'Hey, wait a minute, Mr. Maurer,' the television interviewer shouted excitedly. 'Will you step down here and speak into the mike? Will you give us a statement?'

'Sure,' Maurer said. 'I promised you a statement and I never go back on my promises.'

He walked down to the battery of microphones.

'It's not untimely,' he said, speaking directly into the microphones, 'at this moment to thank all my well- wishers for their encouragement and their support during this absurd, but none the less awkward, situation that arose entirely through a misunderstanding between the police force and the District Attorney's office.

'As you all know a warrant was issued for my arrest. I was accused of murdering Miss June Arnot, who happened to be a very dear friend of mine.' Maurer was finding it a little difficult to retain his wide, sincere smile under the scrutiny of the cynical eyes of the Pacific Herald's reporter who had wormed his way to the forefront and was staring at Maurer with unconcealed contempt. Maurer made a mental note to see that this young reporter should get a beating at the quickest and most convenient moment.

'A very dear friend,' he repeated, shifting his eyes away from the Pacific Herald's reporter. 'The District Attorney is an honest man; a man I admire; a man who is above the everyday corruption of the present administration. He sincerely believed he had a case against me, and I say here and now that he did his duty by issuing the warrant for my arrest.' Maurer lowered his voice, widened his smile and kept his eyes away from the staring eyes that surrounded him. He concentrated on the television cameras. After all, these cameras were taking his speech and his face into the homes of thousands of suckers who played his gambling tables, used his whores, paid the Union dues to him, drank his rot-gut champagne, and elected his men into public office. The least they deserved was his best smile. 'On the face of the evidence he was presented with, he had no alternative but to issue the warrant. But on closer examination it was found the evidence he had against me was no evidence at all.' He waved his white fat hands. 'Don't think for a moment the District Attorney has been irresponsible. He hasn't. The evidence was there. If I had been in this fine city instead of at sea, the warrant would never have been issued, for I could have explained away the evidence as I have just explained it away.' He smiled into the television camera. 'I have said June Arnot was a very dear friend of mine,' he went on. 'She was. I would never have done her any harm; I never did do her any harm. Her death was a great shock to me. As soon as I knew of the warrant for my arrest I came back to refute the charge. Gentlemen, the District Attorney has withdrawn the warrant. He has even been good enough to apologize for any inconvenience he has caused me . . .'

The Herald reporter broke in violently, 'Isn't it a fact the District Attorney's case against you has collapsed because his only two witnesses have met convenient and apparently accidental deaths?'

Maurer looked at him sorrowfully. This sonofabitch would find himself in a barrelful of cement at the bottom of the sea before he was much older, he thought, as he shook his head at him.

'Mr. Forest didn't take me into his confidence about any of his witnesses. I know nothing about them except what I read in some newspapers this morning. I am told that a gold pencil which belonged to me was found near the swimming-pool of my dear friend June Arnot. The pencil had my finger-prints and a smear of blood on it. The blood appeared to belong to Miss Arnot's group, and the police jumped to the conclusion that because there was no blood in the place where the pencil was found I must have murdered her. That was the flimsy evidence on which the police based their case. It so happened the previous day when I was with Miss Arnot I cut my finger and blood got on the pencil. I dropped the pencil down a drain. It so happens I am not a poor man and I have other gold pencils, so I left it down the drain.' He paused, then added with a smile that could have been a snarl, 'Can I help it if my blood group and Miss Arnot's blood group happen to be the same?'

He gave a signal and immediately the four bodyguards moved forward, shoving the reporters aside, and Maurer walked quickly down the steps and ducked into his car.

Gollowitz scrambled in after him, while the bodyguards kept the reporters from mobbing the car.