“In Boston. Sylvia is here.”
“The bitch.”
“Why don’t you fly from Genoa?”
“I can’t believe you, Fletch. This is something you’re putting on. For jealousy. I’m not jealous of the people you spend time with.”
“Andy, you’re not listening.”
“No, and I’m not going to. I don’t know why you called here, anyway. I’m supposed to be in Rome.”
“To talk to Bart Connors.”
“Then talk to him.”
“Andy, after I talk to Connors, please come back on the phone.”
She said, “I’ll get him.”
The pause was interminable.
“Hello? Mister Fletcher?”
“Mister Connors? Everything all right at the villa?”
“Your girlfriend dropped in yesterday. She’d lost a necklace here. We put on quite a search for it.”
“What’s wrong with the car?”
“What car?”
“The Porsche.”
“It’s quite a long drive to Rome. Isn’t it?”
“When did you arrive in Cagna?”
“Yesterday.”
“Wednesday?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I thought you were going out on Sunday.”
“My plans got mixed up. The person I thought coming with me couldn’t make it.”
“You waited for her?”
“My powers of persuasion were not adequate to the task. Good thing I didn’t become a trial lawyer.”
“You flew through New York?”
“Montreal.”
“Why Montreal? Is that better?”
“I had a late business dinner there. It’s very nice of you to call, Mister Fletcher, but it’s sort of expensive for a chat. I hope you called collect—on your phone.”
“And Ruth said she wouldn’t go with you?”
“What?”
“Ruth. She said she wouldn’t go with you to Cagna?”
“Who’s Ruth?”
“The girl you were trying to take to Cagna with you.”
“I don’t understand you, Mister Fletcher.”
“Mister Connors, I think you had better think of coming back to Boston.”
“What?”
“A young woman was murdered in your apartment. Tuesday night. I found the body.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Her name was Ruth Fryer.”
“I don’t know anyone named Ruth Prior.”
“Fryer. She was hit over the head with a whiskey bottle.”
“Am I crazy, or am I just not understanding you?”
“A girl named Ruth Fryer was killed in your apartment Tuesday night.”
“Did you do it?”
“Mister Connors, it appears you are a suspect in a murder case.”
“I am not. I’m in Italy.”
“You were in Boston at the time of the murder.”
“I had nothing to do with it, and I’m going to have nothing to do with it. No one could have gotten into that apartment. You’re the only one who has a key.”
“And Mrs. Sawyer.”
“And Mrs. Sawyer. My key is here. Is this some kind of a joke?”
“You were seen in Boston on Tuesday night, Mister Connors.”
“I stayed at the Parker House Monday night. I had already moved out of the apartment and didn’t want to mess it up. Look, Fletcher, I don’t know what the hell you’re saying. Was there any damage to the apartment itself?”
“No.”
“I have nothing to do with this. I don’t know anyone named Ruth Fryer. And who the hell are you to question me, anyway?”
“Another suspect in the same murder case.”
“Well, don’t lay it off on me, pal. I’m sorry somebody’s dead, and I’m sorry somebody’s dead in my apartment, but I don’t know anything about it.”
“You’re a kitten.
“What?”
“Will you let me talk to Andy again?”
“If I came running back, then I would be involved. The newspapers would question me. I’m a lawyer in Boston, Fletcher. I can’t afford that. Jesus Christ, did you kill somebody in my apartment?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Whom have the police questioned so far?”
“Me.”
“Whom else?”
“Me.”
“Fletcher, why don’t you move out of my apartment?”
“No, I’m not going to do that.”
“I’ll call the law firm. Somebody’s got to protect my interest.”
“I thought you didn’t have an interest.”
“I don’t. Jesus. You’ve ruined dinner. Do you have another bottle of gin somewhere?”
“Yeah. In the lower cupboard in the pantry. It’s Swiss.”
“This is a terrible thing to happen. I’m staying away from it.”
“Okay. Let me talk to Andy.”
Connors exhaled, into the mouthpiece.
Then the line: went; dead.
He had hung up.
If Fletch had accomplished nothing else, he had ruined their evening together.
“Pan American Airways. Miss Fletcher speaking.”
“What?”
“Pan American Airways. Miss Fletcher speaking.”
“Your name is Fletcher?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is Ralph Locke.” .
“Yes, Mister Locke.”
“Miss Fletcher, I’d like to fly from Montreal to Genoa, Italy, late Tuesday night. Is that possible?”
“One moment, sir, I’ll check.” It was scarcely a moment. “TWA’s Flight 805 leaves Montreal at eleven P.M. Tuesday evening, with a connection in Paris for Genoa, Italy.”
