Lieutenant Marx and two other detectives showed up half an hour later. Marx listened to the patrolman’s report, made me tell it all again, nodded approval of Jimmy Sung’s crazy attack, considered Gerd Exner and Claude Marais. He watched them, but he spoke to me.
“We got the report from Paris on Paul Manet, Dan,” Marx said. “He’s everything he says. Saved ten Jews that night in 1942 by hiding them, then rescued three others right out from under the Gestapo’s nose. Went on to build quite an Underground record after that. Since the war he’s absolutely clean. He represents ten French companies all over the world, lives high, but has no record and no hint of any illegal activity.”
I didn’t know why Marx was bringing up Paul Manet then, but he had to have a reason. He’d tell me when he was ready, or it would show soon enough.
“We’ll take Exner,” Marx went on. “We’ve been watching him. He’s in the country illegally in the first place. Had to come in like that, he’s wanted in half a dozen countries, not to mention Interpol. A little something about opium trading and all that. The D.A. and Washington are going to have a field day on the extradition. After we get finished with what we’ve got here.”
Gerd Exner shrugged, his blue eyes already calculating what chances he had, what angles he could work on. Marx turned his attention to Claude Marais. I became aware of something missing. The other two detectives who had come in with Lieutenant Marx seemed to have vanished. I hadn’t seen them leave the suite. Marx studied Claude Marais for a moment.
“Interpol is interested in Marais there, too,” the Lieutenant said. “No specific charge, though. Some countries want him, but it’s for gun-running, political action, that kind of stuff. No crimes straight out, except maybe one little matter. That right, Mr. Marais?”
Claude Marais smoked. “You are the one talking, Lieutenant.”
“So I am,” Marx said. “You don’t want to tell us about a batch of diamonds? Seems they turned up missing down in the Congo a while back, just when you and Exner there were making a deal for guns with some rebel group. Those rebels were pretty mad. They say the guns turned out no good, and the diamonds did a vanishing act. So did you and Exner. You didn’t carry the stones out, customs is sure of that. Now I’m hearing all this talk of some package.”
Claude Marais said nothing. He smoked. Li Marais was up straight in her chair, watching him. Viviane Marais was staring at Claude too. On the couch, Jimmy Sung made a sound. Lieutenant Marx ignored Jimmy.
“You smuggled a package to Eugene, right? He had it in his safe, Jimmy Sung there saw it. Mrs. Marais says he mentioned returning something to you the night he was killed. Jimmy says he saw the package out of the safe that night late, on a shelf in the back room. Now we didn’t find any package, did we?”
“I would not know, Lieutenant,” Claude Marais said, his voice wary. “I have not seen the package since before Eugene was murdered.’
“No? That’s funny. It’s funny, too, that you say it’s not important, no value, just trinkets.”
“All right,” Claude said, “it is diamonds. I did send it to Eugene to hold for me, it is half Exner’s. It is worth much money, but I am not interested in money. I planned to get it from Eugene that night, yes. I planned to give it all to Exner. I want no part of it. But I did not return to the shop that night, I have no idea where it is.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about it? A fortune in diamonds there in the shop, your brother murdered, the fortune missing, and you didn’t mention it?”
“I thought-” Claude shrugged again, stopped.
“Thought what?” Marx said. “That Gerd Exner had taken the diamonds and killed your brother? Why protect Exner? You say you want no more to do with Exner.”
“I… Gerd was an old comrade. Eugene was dead. I could not help Eugene. If Gerd killed him it was by chance, an accident when Eugene refused to give him the package. It would not help Eugene to tell, and I could not inform on Gerd.”
“No,” Marx said, shook his head. “Pretty, but no. You were silent because you wanted that package. We had a tip that the package is right here. Exner didn’t kill Eugene, at least not alone. You were in the shop that night, and you have the package. Is that right, Sergeant?”
Marx spoke to the doorway into the suite bedroom. One of his detectives stood there. The detective held a shoe-box-sized package wrapped in brown paper and string.
“Inside the heat register, Lieutenant,” the detective said. “Cover taken off, the package shoved in, cover screwed back.”
“A tip?” I said.
“Anonymous, of course,” Marx said. “The package we wanted was here, it said. Disguised voice. We didn’t know about the package. We questioned. A package taken from the pawn shop, the tipster said, that night. Could have been man or woman. We sat on it, took it slow, then your call came about the trouble here, Dan. It fitted nicely.”
“I took no package,” Claude Marais said. “Put it nowhere.”
Jimmy Sung sat up on the couch. Li Marais was on her feet, took a step toward Claude. Viviane Marais swore.
“Eugene wouldn’t give you the package!” the widow cried.
Li Marais said, “Claude?”
“You were out that night, you came to me,” I said.
Lieutenant Marx had the package open. He poured a little mound of glittering, gem-cut diamonds onto a table.
“There’s a motive anyone understands,” Marx said.
Gerd Exner said, “You swine, Claude! Idiot!”
Exner laughed then, and Jimmy Sung stood in the doorway to the bedroom. He held a small metal object- metal and enamel.
“I looked into the register,” Jimmy Sung said. “This was back inside. He killed Mr. Marais.”
Jimmy Sung lunged toward Claude Marais, bandaged arm and all. Two patrolmen stopped him. Lieutenant Marx took the metal object. I looked at it. It was a military hat badge, the kind worn on berets. A French hat badge.
“Could it have just fallen into the register?” Marx said.
“No, too big,” the detective who had found the package said.
“Is it his?” Marx asked Li Marais.
Li Marais looked at it, and at Claude. “Oh, Claude!”
Claude Marais stared at his wife. Then he lit another cigarette.
19
I was tired, but I didn’t want to go home or be alone. Sometimes it’s like that when a case ends.
Claude Marais said nothing more to anyone. It wasn’t the time to talk to Li, not about anything. I’m not sure I wanted to talk to her then. She went with Claude and the police, and Viviane Marais went home to Sheepshead Bay. When I asked the widow if she was satisfied, she looked at me for some time, then said we would talk tomorrow, or in a few days.
I went to the Black Lion where my old friend and bartender, Joe Harris, was working. I told him the whole story.
“Sounds like he did it,” Joe said. “Simple motive.”
An ex-soldier with a shadowy past sends a fortune in diamonds to his quiet brother. The brother wants him to settle down to normal work, so refuses to hand back the diamonds. There’s an argument, made desperate by Gerd Exner being around, and the quiet brother is killed. All the rest is Claude trying to make it look like simple robbery. Motive-the diamonds. Opportunity-Claude was expected at the shop, I proved he had been out that night late. But…?
“Who tipped the cops,” I said to Joe. “Why and how?”
“Someone who hated him, someone who was afraid of him, or maybe someone who just wanted to get rid of him. Who knows how the tipster knew the stuff was there?”
