watched him, he turned and I hurriedly let the curtain fall into place. A moment or so later I heard Carson come in.
‘This is where the servant got shot,’ Lassiter said. ‘He bled on the rug. And look, the killer put his gun down on the bed, you can see the impression.’
‘Better get Maxwell up here for prints,’ Carson said. ‘I’m going back to headquarters. I want to be sure this guy Sladen doesn’t slip through our fingers. You stick around until I call you.’
The two men went out of the room, leaving the door open. I watched them go downstairs, then leaving my hiding place, I swiftly crossed the room, opened a door across the landing and stepped into a front spare bedroom. I shut the door, groped my way across to the uncurtained window and looked down into the street below.
Three police cars and an ambulance stood outside. There was a fair sized crowd of men and women, some of them in evening dress, standing on the opposite sidewalk. Four or five patrolmen stood with their backs to the crowd, looking up at the house.
There was no chance of climbing down the stack pipe to the garden with that audience to watch me, and I went back to the door, eased it open an inch or so and waited.
Lassiter and another plainclothes man came up the stairs and went into Hartley’s bedroom.
‘Get all the prints you can find,’ Lassiter said. ‘It doesn’t look as if anyone’s been in the other rooms. I gotta talk to the press. Let’s have some action, Max.’
The other man grunted and Lassiter went down the stairs again. I waited in darkness for more than half an hour, then Lassiter came up again and went into Hartley’s bedroom.
‘I’m through now,’ the fingerprint man said. ‘I’ve only found Hartley’s and the servant’s prints.’
‘Well, okay. Carson wants us back,’ Lassiter said. ‘They haven’t found Sladen yet.’ His voice sounded worried. ‘He can’t get out of town. The lieutenant wants a report in writing tonight - my luck! I’m leaving a couple of men here. We’ll go over the place again in daylight.’
They went downstairs together.
I crept out on to the landing and peered down into the hall. The body of the Filipino had been taken away. Lassiter and three plainclothes men stood in a group by the front door. Lassiter said to the beefy patrolman who had just come in from the street, ‘Okay, Gesserter. I’ll be back around nine. You stick around and keep your eyes open. Lock up after us and don’t let anyone in. Webb’s patrolling outside. I’ve told him to keep the press away, but some of those punks are so smart they may try to get in when he’s at the back. No one’s to come in here until I get back. Understand?’
‘Yes, sarg.’
‘If anyone does get in, I’ll make you sorry,’ Lassiter growled.
He went down the steps followed by the other three detectives. Gesserter closed the front door and locked it. He stood listening. When the sound of the police cars had died away, he shoved his cap to the back of his head, took out a pack of cigarettes and wandered into the lounge. After a few moments, dance music came softly up the stairs from a late broadcasting station.
I went back to Hartley’s bedroom, groped my way to the window and looked into the garden. A patrolman paced slowly up and down the flagged path that led from the terrace to the lawn.
I went into the front bedroom and looked into the street. The crowd had gone home. There were no cars to be seen. The Buick had gone. I decided it was time to go myself. I went to the head of the stairs and listened. Gesserter was still in the lounge. It looked a long way down the stairs to the front door.
With my left hand on the banister rail, I started down. Halfway down, I heard the patrolman clear his throat and my heart skipped a beat, but I kept moving. I stopped at the bottom stair. I had to pass the open doorway of the lounge before I could reach the front door. I edged forward so I could just see into the lounge.
Gesserter was smoking, his back turned to me, his right hand beating time to the soft swing music. I took a step forward, then another. I had the .38 automatic in my jacket pocket, my hand on the butt. Two more steps and I would be out of his range; then he suddenly turned.
I stopped dead.
We looked at each other across the space of the hall and the lounge. His fleshy, weather-tanned face turned a rich purple, and his small eyes grew as round as marbles. It flashed through my mind that if I threatened him with the gun I would be fixed. I still had a remote chance of proving I didn’t kill Hartley, but threatening a cop with a gun was something I wouldn’t be able to talk myself out of.
I took my hand from my pocket slowly, and somehow managed to smile at him. I watched his hand grope feverishly at his gun holster. His movements were slow and confused.
‘Hello there,’ I said as casually as I could, ‘where’s everyone?’
He got the gun out and pointed it at me.
‘Don’t move!’
‘Take it easy,’ I said hurriedly. ‘I was hoping to find Lieutenant Carson. Isn’t he around?’
‘Who are you?’ he demanded and came forward slowly, his thick finger on the gun trigger.
‘My name’s Sladen. I’m a staff writer for Crime Facts,’ I said, hoping he didn’t know I was the guy they were looking for. ‘You’ve heard of me, haven’t you?’
I saw him relax a trifle, but the gun continued to cover me.
‘Let’s see your press card.’
I took out my billfold, flicked it open and handed it to him.
He examined the press card, then handed back the wallet.
‘How did you get in here?’
‘Webb let me in the back way,’ I said. ‘I wanted to take a look around. That okay with you?’
‘Webb let you in?’ The barrel of the gun sagged so it was no longer pointing at me. ‘It’s against orders. He should have known that. You can’t come in here.’
‘Who’ll know? Is this where Hartley was shot?’ I wandered into the room. ‘He lived in style, didn’t he?’
The patrolman shoved his gun back into his holster.
‘Come on! Outside! I’ve got my orders.’
‘I’m only doing my job,’ I said, backing away.
‘Yeah; and I’m doing mine.’ He moved past me and went into the hall. ‘Come on - get out of here!’
I followed him into the hall and watched him unlock the front door.
‘Beat it!’ he said, holding the door open.
‘I’m on my way,’ I said and stepped cautiously past him.
I started down the drive-in, making an effort not to break into a run. I was expecting the other patrolman to show up, but he didn’t.
At the gate I paused to look back.
Gesserter stood in the lighted doorway watching me. For a brief moment we looked at each other, then he stepped back and slammed the front door.
III
Once clear of the house, I broke into a run. The long, empty avenue stretched away into the darkness. I avoided the pools of yellow light thrown by the widely spaced street lamps. I had no idea if the two patrolmen would get together. If they did, it wouldn’t be long before they reported to headquarters.
I had a good two miles to cover before I reached the centre of the town. My one chance was to get under cover as quickly as I could before the prowl cars came after me. Bradley had told me to go to Sam Benn’s place on Maddox Street if I had to duck out of sight. This seemed to me now to be sound advice, but I had no idea where Maddox Street was. I might be running away from it for all I knew.
Still keeping to the shadows and walking now, I turned the corner and started down the street that led directly to the town. A faint haze hung over the town from the lights of the all night neon signs: they seemed a long way off. I peered at my strap watch. It was coming up for three o’clock. It wouldn’t be long now before it was light.
At the bottom of the street, bright lights suddenly cut up the darkness as a car swung out from a side turning. I was passing a house when I saw the lights. I put one hand on the low garden wall, vaulted over and
