Torrence scared her but I think he understood. He let her stay at that place in the country. He came up on occasions and it was very strained but he was very understanding about it too. Of course, like all men, he could bury himself in his work. That was his real wife, his work.”
“Miss Lee . . . the last time I was here we talked about Blackie Conley, remember?”
“I remember.”
“You said you knew about the plans he made for that robbery he and Sonny Motley were involved in. What were they?”
She stopped rocking, her face curious again. “Are you looking for the money?”
“I’m a cop, Miss Lee. I’m looking for a killer, for the money . . . for anything that will help keep trouble from Sue.”
“Sue? But that was before she was born.”
“It can come back to hurt her. Now what did you hear?”
She nodded, pressing her lips together, her hands grasping the arms of the rocker. “Do you really think . . . ?”
“It might help.”
“I see.” She paused, thought a moment, then said, “You know that Sonny really didn’t plan the robbery. It was his gang, but he didn’t plan it. They were . . . acting for someone.”
“I know about that.”
“Blackie had instructions to find a place where they were going to hide out. He was told where to go and how to do it. I remember because I listened to the call.” She chuckled at the thought. “I never did like Blackie. He was at Sally’s place when he took the call. In fact, that was where they did all their planning, at Sally’s apartment. Sonny was going with her then when she wasn’t sneaking off with Blackie.”
“I see.”
“Really,” she told me, “I wasn’t supposed to know about these things. I was always in the other room out of sight, but I was worried about Sally and tried to find out what was going on. I listened in and they didn’t know it.”
“None of this came out at the trial,” I reminded her.
“Nor was it about to, young man. I didn’t want to involve Sally any more than she was. She
“Briefly. She wasn’t implicated. She was treated as an innocent victim.”
Those watery old eyes found mine and laughed in their depths. “No, Sally wasn’t so innocent. She knew everything that went on. Sally’s pose was very deliberate. Very deliberate. She was a better actress than anyone imagined.”
Annette Lee leaned forward like some old conspirator. “Now that it can’t hurt her, let me tell you something. It was through dear Sally that this robbery came about. All arrangements, all contacts were made through her. Sonny was quite a man in those days and ran a sizable operation. But it was through Sally Devon that another party interested Sonny in that robbery. No, Sally was hardly the innocent victim.”
I didn’t let her see me take it in. I passed it off quickly to get her back on the track again, but now the angles were starting to show. I said, “When Blackie Conley got this call . . . what happened?”
Jerked suddenly from one train of thought, she sat back frowning. “Oh . . . Blackie . . . well, I heard this voice . . .”
“A man?”
“Yes. He told Blackie to see a man in a certain real estate agency, one that could be trusted. He gave him the phone number.”
I added, “And Blackie arranged to rent a house in the Catskills?”
“That’s right. He made the call right then and said he’d be in the next day.” She opened her eyes again, now her fingers tapping a silent tune on the chair. “But then he made another call to Howie Green.”
“Who?”
“Howie Green. He was a bootlegger, dearie, but he owned properties here in the city. He invested his money wisely, Howie did, and always had something to show for it. Howie was as crooked as they come, but smarter than most of them. One of Howie’s enterprises was a real estate agency that used to be someplace on Broadway. Oh yes, Howie was a big man, but he owed Blackie Conley a favor. Blackie killed a man for Howie and held it over his head. He told Howie he wanted a place to hole up in somewhere away from the city and to pick it out.”
“Where was it, Annette?”
“I don’t know, young man. Howie merely said he’d do it for him. That was all. I suppose Blackie took care of it later. However, it’s all over now. Howie Green’s dead too. He died in an accident not long afterward.”
“Before the robbery?”
“I really don’t remember that.”
I reached for my hat and stood up. “You’ve been a great help, Annette.”
“Have I really?”
I nodded.
“Will Sue be . . . all right?”
“I’m sure she will.”
“Someday,” she asked me, “will you bring her to me? I would like to see her again.”
“We’ll make a point of it.”
“Good-bye then. It was nice of you to come over,”
“My pleasure, Miss Lee.”
At two o’clock I contacted Pat and made a date to meet him at his office. He didn’t like the idea because he knew Grebb would want to sit in on the conversation but thought he could arrange it so we could be alone.
I took a cab downtown, found Pat alone at his desk buried in the usual paperwork, waited for him to finish, then said, “What officers were in on the Motley holdup? Any still around?”
“This your day for surprises?”
“Hit me.”
“Inspector Grebb was one. He was a beat cop who was alerted for the action.”
“Oh hell.”
“Why?”
“Think he’d remember the details?”
“I don’t remember Grebb ever forgetting anything.”
“Then let’s call him in.”
“You sure about this?” Pat asked me.
“It’s the easy way. So we give him a bite after all.”
Pat nodded, lifted the phone, and made a call. When he hung up he said, “The Inspector will be happy to see you.”
“I bet.”
It didn’t take him long to get up there. He didn’t have Charlie Force with him either. He came in with the patient attitude of the professional cop, always ready to wait, always ready to act when the time came. He might have been a tough, sour old apple, but he made it the hard way and you couldn’t take it away from him.
Inwardly I laughed at myself because if I wasn’t careful I could almost like him.
“Whose party is it this time?” he asked.
Pat said, “He’s throwing it.”
“I never thought you’d ask, Hammer.” He dragged a chair out with his foot, sat in it heavily and sighed, but it was all an act. He was no more tired or bored than I was. “Shoot,” he said.
“Pat tells me you were in on the Motley thing thirty years ago.”
“My second day on the beat, Hammer. That shows you how close to retirement I am. My present job is a gratuity. One last fling for the old dog in a department he always wanted to run.”
“Better luck in your next one.”
“We aren’t talking about that. What’s with the Motley job?”
