racket George worked. Jack could have found out about that, too. Maybe it was a revenge kill. Hal fouled up enough women in his life. Suppose one of them found out how he did it and made a play for him. When she saw that Jack was going to arrest him she killed Jack, then killed Hal, shooting Eileen to keep her from spouting off what she had seen.
“Maybe it wasn’t a girl like that. Could be the brother or father of one. Or a boy friend for that matter. There’s lots of angles.”
“I thought of that, Mike. For my money, it’s the most plausible idea I’ve had.” Pat stood up. “I want you to come upstairs with me. We have a friend of yours there that you might like to see.”
A friend? I couldn’t begin to guess whom he was talking about. When I queried him about it he smiled and told me to be patient. He led me into a small room. Two detectives were there with a woman. Both of them fired questions at her, but received no answers. She sat with her back to the door and I didn’t recognize her until I stood in front of her.
Friend, hell. She was the madam that ran out the night Hal and Eileen were killed.
“Where did you pick her up, Pat?”
“Not far from here. She was wandering on the streets at four A.M. and a patrolman picked her up on suspicion.”
I turned to the madam. Her eyes were vacant from the long hours of questioning. She held her arms across her ample breasts in a defiant attitude, though I could see that she was near the breaking point. “Remember me?” I asked her.
She stared at me through sleep-filled eyes a moment, then said dejectedly, “Yes, I remember.”
“How did you get out of that house when it was raided?”
“Go to hell.”
Pat drew up a chair in front of her and sat backwards on it. He saw what I was driving at right away. “If you refuse to tell us,” Pat said quietly, “you’re liable to find yourself facing a charge for murder. And we can make it stick.”
She dropped her arms at that one and licked her lips. This time she was scared. Then her fear passed and she sneered. “You go to hell, too. I didn’t kill them.”
“Perhaps not,” Pat answered, “but the real killer left the same way you did. How do we know you didn’t show him the way? That makes you an accessory and you might just as well have pulled the trigger.”
“You’re crazy!” Gone was the composure she had the first time I met her. She didn’t look respectable any more. By now her hair had a scraggly appearance and the texture of her skin showed through in the light. White, porous skin. She bared her teeth and swallowed. “I—I was alone.”
“The charge will still stick.”
Her hands fell into her lap and shook noticeably. “No. I was alone. I was at the door when the police came up. I knew what it was. I ran for the exit and left.”
“Where is the exit?” I cut in.
“Under the stairs. A button that works the panel is built into the woodwork.”
I thought back fast. “All right, so you saw the cops coming. If you ran for the stairs the killer would have been coming down as you ran out. Who was it?”
“I didn’t see anybody, I tell you! Oh, why don’t you let me alone!” Her nerve broke and she sank into the chair with her face buried in her hands.
“Take her out,” Pat directed the two detectives. He looked at me. “What do you make of it?”
“Reasonable enough,” I told him. “She saw us coming and beat it. But the killer had a little luck. We broke in about two minutes after the shooting. The rooms are soundproofed and no one heard the shots. The killer probably figured on mixing with the crowd and leaving when the show was over or before, if there was nobody at the door. He was coming down the stairs and heard us.
“However, when the madam made a run for it those plans had to be tossed overboard. He ducked back long enough so the old hag didn’t see him and followed her through the secret panel. When we examine it I’ll bet we find that it doesn’t close very fast. We ran upstairs, you remember, and the others took care of the guests. The way we set the road block, the killer had time to get away before the policemen could take their places. We were in a hurry and didn’t have a chance to plan this thing.”
I proved to be right. We went back to the house and looked for the panel. It was right where she said it was. The thing wasn’t too cleverly contrived. The button was built into the heart of a carved flower. It activated a one sixteenth horsepower motor connected to the electric circuit with a cutoff and a reverse. Pat and I entered the passage. Light seeping through the cracks in the wall was all we needed. When the place was redecorated this was built in. It ran back ten feet, took a sharp left turn and steps led down to the basement. There we were between walls. A door led into the basement of the house next door. When it was closed it looked like a part of the wall.
It was a safe bet that the people in the house didn’t know that it was there themselves. The rest was easy. Out the basement door to an open yard that led to the street. The time consumed was less than a minute. We went through the passageway with a searchlight, not skipping an inch, but there wasn’t a clue to be found. Generally when someone was in haste he could be counted on to lose something or mark a trail. But no such luck. We went back to the waiting room and pulled out a smoke.
“Well?”
“Well what, Pat?”
“Well, I guess you were right about the tuning,” he laughed.
“Looks that way. What did you get on Kines’ past, if anything?”
“Reports from twenty-seven schools so far. He never spent more than a semester anywhere except at this last place. More often a month was enough. When he left there were several girls who’d dropped from the school too. Add it up and you get a nice tally. We’ve had a dozen men on the phone all day and they’re not half finished yet.”
I thought that over and cursed Hal before I said, “What did he have in his pockets when the boys went over him?”
“Nothing much. Fifty some in bills, a little loose change, a driver’s license and an owner’s certificate for his car. There were some club cards, too, but of the school. He went around clean. We found his car. It was empty except for a pair of silk panties in the glove compartment. By the way, how did he get in here if you had your eyes open?”
I dragged on the butt, thinking over those that came in here. “Got me. He never came alone, that’s a sure thing. The only way he could have done it was to impersonate someone by stuffing pillows or something under his jacket, or ...” I snapped my fingers. “Now I remember. A crowd of six or more came in and they blocked out a few others that were behind them. They all mingled at the foot of the steps and came in together to get off the street as fast as they could.”
“Was he alone?” Pat waited anxiously for my answer.
I had to shake my head. “I can’t say, Pat. It does seem funny that he would come in here deliberately with the murderer, knowing that he was going to get knocked off.”
The afternoon was running into evening and we decided to call it a day. Pat and I separated outside and I drove home to clean up. The case was beginning to get on my nerves. It was like trying to get through a locked door with a bull-dog tearing at you.
So far I had investigated a lot of angles; now I had one more to go. I wanted to find out about that strawberry mark on a certain twin’s hip.
I had my dinner sent up from a place down at the corner and polished off a quart of beer with it. It was nearly rune when I put in a call to the Bellemy apartment. A soft voice answered.
“Miss Bellemy?”
“Yes.”
“This is Mike Hammer.”
“Oh,” she hesitated a second, then. “Yes?”
“Is this Mary or Esther?”
“Esther Bellemy. What can I do for you, Mr. Hammer?”
“Can I see you this evening?” I asked. “I have some questions I’d like to ask you.”
