“Yes.”
“Why didn’t we hear about it?”
Dilwick almost blew his top. “Because we didn’t feel like telling you, that’s why.” He took a step nearer Price, his fists clenched, but the state trooper never budged. “York wanted it kept quiet and that’s the way we handled it, so what?”
It came back to me again. “Who found the boy?”
“I did.” Dilwick was closer to apoplexy than ever. I guess he wanted that ten grand as badly as I did. “Earlier this evening I found the boy in an abandoned shack near the waterfront. I brought him home. Mr. York decided to keep me handy in case another attempt was made to abduct the kid.”
Dilwick butted in. “How did you know York was here?”
“I didn’t.” I hated to answer him, but he was still the police. “I just thought he might be. The boy had been kicked around and I figured that he wanted Miss Grange in the house.”
The fat cop sneered. “Isn’t York big enough to go out alone anymore?”
“Not in his condition. He had an attack of some sort earlier in the evening.”
Price said, “How did you find out he was gone, Mr. Hammer?”
“Before I went to sleep I decided to look in to see how he was. He hadn’t gone to bed. I knew he’d mentioned Miss Grange and, as I said, figured he had come here.”
Price nodded. “The door . . . ?”
“It was open. I came in and found . . . this.” I swept my hand around. “I called you, then the city police. That’s all.”
Dilwick made a face and bared what was left of his front teeth. “It stinks.”
So it did, but I was the only one who was sure of it.
“Couldn’t it have been like this, Mr. Hammer.” Dilwick emphasized the
“Sure, it could,” I said, “except that it wasn’t.” I poked a butt in my mouth and held a match to it. “When I kill people I don’t have to use a meat hatchet. If they got a gun, I use a gun. If they don’t I use my mitts.” I shifted my eyes to the body. “I could kill him with my fingers. On bigger guys . . . I’d use both hands. But no cleaver.”
“How did York get here, Mr. Hammer?”
“Drove, I imagine. You better detail a couple of boys to lock up his car. A blue ’64 Caddy sedan.”
Price called a man in plainclothes over with his forefinger and repeated the instructions. The guy nodded and left.
The coroner decided that it was time to get there with the photo guys and the wicker basket. For ten minutes they went around dusting the place and snapping flashes of the remains from all positions until they ran out of bulbs. I showed Price where I’d touched the wall and the switch so there wouldn’t be a confusion of the prints. For the record he asked me if I’d give him a set of impressions. It was all right with me. He took out a cardboard over which had been spread a light paraffin of some sort and I laid both hands on it and pressed. Price wrote my name on the bottom, took the number off my license and stowed it back in his pocket.
Dilwick was busy going through the papers York had scattered about, but finding nothing of importance returned his attention to the body. The coroner had spread the contents of the pockets out on an end table and Price rifled through them. I watched over his shoulder. Just the usual junk: a key ring, some small change, a wallet with two twenties and four ones and membership cards for several organizations. Under the wallet was the envelope with the capsules.
“Anything missing?” Price asked.
I shook my head. “Not that I know of, but then, I never went through his pockets.”
The body was stuffed into a wicker basket, the cleaver wrapped in a towel and the coroner left with his boys. More troopers came in with a few city guys tagging along and I had to repeat my story all over again. Standing outside the crowd was a lone newspaperman, writing like fury in a note pad. If this was New York they’d have to bar the doors to hold back the press. Just wait until the story reached the wires. This town wouldn’t be able to hold them all.
Price called me over to him. “You’ll be where I’ll be able to reach you?”
“Yeah, at York’s estate.”
“Good enough. I’ll be out sometime this morning.”
“I’ll be with him,” Dilwick cut in. “You keep your nose out of things, too, understand?”
“Blow it,” I said. “I know my legal rights.”
I shoved my hat on and stamped my butt out in an ashtray. There was nothing for me here. I walked to the door, but before I could leave Price hurried after me. “Mr. Hammer.”
“Yeah, Sergeant?”
“Will I be able to expect some cooperation from you?”
I broke out a smile. “You mean, if I uncover anything will I let you in on it, don’t you?”
“That covers it pretty well.” He was quite serious.
“Okay,” I agreed, “but on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“If I come across something that demands immediate action, I’m going to go ahead on it. You can have it too as soon as I can get it to you, but I won’t sacrifice a chance to follow a lead to put it in your hands.”
He thought a moment, then, “That sounds fair enough. You realize, of course, that this isn’t a permit to do as you choose. The reason I’m willing to let you help out is because of your reputation. You’ve been in this racket longer than I have, you’ve had the benefit of wide experience and are familiar with New York police methods. I know your history, otherwise you’d be shut out of this case entirely. Shorthanded as we are, I’m personally glad to have you help out.”
“Thanks, Sergeant. If I can help, I will. But you’d better not let Dilwick get wise. He’d do anything to stymie you if he heard about this.”
“That pig,” Price grunted. “Tell me, what are you going to do?”
“The same thing you are. See what became of the Grange dame. She seems to be the key figure right now. You putting out a dragnet?”
“When you called, a roadblock was thrown across the highways. A seven-state alarm is on the Teletype this minute. She won’t get far. Do you know anything of her personally?”
“Only that she’s supposed to be the quiet type. York told me that she frequents the library a lot, but I doubt if you’ll find her there. I’ll see what I can pick up at the house. If I latch on to anything about her I’ll buzz you.”
I said so long and went downstairs. Right now the most important thing in my life was getting some sleep. I felt like I hadn’t seen a pillow in months. A pair of young troopers leaned against the fender of a blue Caddy sedan parked down further from my heap. They were comparing notes and talking back and forth. I’d better remind Billy to come get it.
The sun was thumbing its nose at the night when I reached the estate. Early-morning trucks that the gas station attendant had spoken of were on the road to town, whizzing by at a good clip. I honked my horn at the gate until Henry came out, still chewing on his breakfast.
He waved. “So it was you. I wondered who opened the gates. Why didn’t you get me up?”
I drove alongside him and waited until he swallowed. “Henry, did you hear me go out last night?”
“Me? Naw, I slept like a log. Ever since the kid was gone I couldn’t sleep thinking that it was all my fault because I sleep so sound, but last night I felt pretty good.”
“You must have. Two cars went out, the first one was your boss.”
“York? Where’d he go?”
“To town.”
He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Do . . . do you think he’ll be sore because I didn’t hear him?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. In fact, I don’t think he wanted to be heard.”
“When’s he coming back?”
“He won’t. He’s dead.” I left him standing there with his mouth open. The next time he’d be more careful of those gates.
