The Kill-Off

I was feeling a mite let-down myself. Kind of, you know, like someone had given me a little punch in the stomach. And it wasn't because I was worried about Jim. Jim hadn't killed Luane, I was positive of it. So unless he confessed- and I doubted if even Kossmeyer could break Jim Ashton down-he couldn't be convicted. He could be put to plenty of grief, of course; so much that he might just about as well be guilty as innocent. But-

Dammit, he almost deserved to be. If he hadn't been so careless or unlucky or dumb or something, I'd have had Kossmeyer against a stone wall. I could have put that little louse in his place, and made him like it.

I cussed, and took a kick at my wastebasket. I got busy on the telephone, trying to make the best of the situation. About thirty minutes passed. I'd just hung up after a call when the phone rang.

It was Jim. He had an alibi for the time of Luane's death, after all. Not only that, but the Lee girl also had one! They were each other's alibi!

I almost let out a war whoop when he told me the news. I think I would have if I hadn't glanced out the window and seen Kossmeyer coming up the walk.

I hung up the phone, thinking by God that this made everything perfect-hell, better than perfect!

I listened, grinning, as Kossmeyer came up the steps and down the hall. As he neared the door, I wiped off my grin and stood up.

I was very polite to him. Oh, extremely. I said it was a great honor to have such a distinguished visitor, and that I would feel privileged to assist him in any poor way that I could.

He looked a little startled, then embarrassed. Then, as he sat down across from me, he laughed sort of shyly. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I just supposed that since we knew each other so well, and since it's pretty common practice to call in an outside doctor-'

'I'm delighted that you did,' I said. 'Nothing could have pleased me more. Now, as long as you're taking such an extraordinary interest in the case-'

'Extraordinary? It's extraordinary to be interested in the death of a client?'

'If you please,' I said. 'Perhaps if you will not interrupt we can conclude our business quickly. Now, I have here a canvas sack containing approximately fifty-seven thousand dollars. It belongs to Ralph Devore, and here is conclusive proof in the form of a ledger. I think you'll agree with me that-'

'Sure, I will,' he nodded. 'I'd sure as hell agree anyway that the guy could never be convicted. Luane couldn't have kept him from leaving her. He had no monetary motive for killing her. He was on the scene right about the time of her death, but-Yeah, counselor? Go right ahead.'

Go right ahead? Hell, there was hardly anything to go ahead with! I'd been all set to surprise him; I'd had it all planned. Just how he'd look and what he'd say, and what I'd say and-and everything. And then that damned stupid Jameson or one of his deputies had had to spoil it all.

'Well,' I said, 'as long as you've already been told…'

'Ought to have known without being told.' He shook his head. 'Ought to have been able to guess how things stood. On the other hand, who'd've ever thought that a guy like Devore would have that kind of dough? Or any considerable sum?'

'What's the difference?' I said. 'It was his money. He certainly wouldn't have had to kill her to get his own money, would he?'

'You're quite right,' he said gravely. 'He would not have had to. I have no grounds for thinking that he did kill her-or, for that matter, that anyone did.'

'You-' I paused. 'You don't think that anyone did? You mean, you think it was an accident?'

'Well,' he shrugged, 'why not? There's that broken telephone line, of course, but you can't make anything out of that. Yeah, I'd be willing to let it go as an accident.'

He looked at me, frowning a little. I looked down at my desk, feeling my face turn red, hardly knowing what to do or say next. He'd spoiled everything. Everything I'd planned to say, why-why, now I couldn't. All I could do was just sit there, like a bump on a log. Looking like a damned fool, and knowing that he thought I was one.

He cleared his throat. He murmured something about not envying me my job, and a prosecutor's really having a hard row to hoe.

'Used to be on that side of the desk myself, y'know,' he added. 'Guess a lot of trial lawyers start off as prosecutors. Gives 'em all around experience, and the longer they stick to it the better they get. You know what I always say, Mr. County Attorney? I say, you show me an experienced prosecutor, and I'll show you a topflight lawyer!'

I didn't say anything. I couldn't even make myself look up at him. He cleared his throat again.

'I'm afraid I've interrupted you so much that I've broken your chain of thought. Were you going to- uh-May I see that list?'

I shoved it toward him, the list of people who had a good reason for wanting Luane dead and who they had been with at the time of her death. He went down the double-column of names, murmuring aloud, kind of talking to himself but also speaking to me:

'Bobbie Ashton and Myra Pavlov… Lily and Henry C. Will-Oh, now, really. I hope you don't think that was necessary on my account… Doctor Ashton and Danny Lee. Hmm, hmm. Well, what the hell, though?'

He laid the list back on my desk. He murmured that I had certainly done a first-rate job of investigation; then, after a long awkward pause, he suddenly laughed.

My head came up. It was such a warm-sounding, friendly laugh that it was hard for me to keep from joining in.

'Y'know, Mr. County Attorney,' he chuckled, 'sometimes I feel like one of those characters in a Western movie. The guy that gets such an exaggerated reputation for toughness that he can't hardly tip his hat without someone thinking he's going for a gun. Sure, I try to take care of my clients, and maybe I'm overly conscientious about it. But I certainly don't go hunting for trouble. I don't like trouble, y'know? There's too damned much of it already without creating any.'

He laughed again, giving me a sidewise glance, trying to draw me into his laughter. I looked back at him coldly- letting him squirm for a change, letting him feel as foolish as I had.

'Well-' He stood up awkwardly. 'I guess-uh-I guess I'd better be going. See you around, huh? And my compliments on your thoroughness in handling this investigation.'

He nodded, and started for the door. I let him get halfway there before I spoke.

'Just a moment, Mr. Kossmeyer…'

'Yeah?' He turned around.

'Come back here,' I said. 'I haven't told you you could leave yet.'

'Wh-aat?' He laughed, kind of frowning. 'What the hell is this?'

I stared at him silently. He came slowly back and again sat down across from me.

'You complimented me on my thoroughness,' I said. 'It suddenly occurred to me that I haven't been thorough enough. Where were you at the time of Luane Devore's death?'

'Where was-? Aw, now-'

'Luane said a great many ugly things about you. Whether they were true or not I don't know, but-'

'Then maybe we'd better stick to your question,' he said quietly. 'I was with my wife at the time.'

'Oh? Your wife, eh?' I shook my head, kind of grinning down my nose. 'Just your wife? You have no one else to support your story?'

'No one. There's only the one person. I'm in the same boat with those other people on your list- with you, for example.'

'Well,' I shrugged. 'I suppose I'll have to accept that, then. I can't say that I'm completely satisfied, but-uh-'