I drummed my ringers against my knee while I thought. Finally I said:
“I’m not an informer. If your story stands up, I guess it’s none of my business.”
He inclined his head slowly.
“It would be pointless for me to try to thank you. There just aren’t enough thanks for that kind of thing.”
“But that doesn’t get me any closer to this killer,” I reminded. “What else do you know about Brookman that you didn’t tell the police?”
“Nothing. Really nothing.”
“And how do you explain this woman who’s also being blackmailed? What happened to her happened at one of your parties. Kind of a strong coincidence wouldn’t you say?”
He grinned faintly.
“You ought to come to one of my parties, Preston. Believe me, there’s usually enough going on to keep a dozen blackmailers in clover for the rest of their lives. You can’t honestly blame me for that.”
That was a matter of opinion, I thought. But looking at it from Somerset’s standpoint, I could follow his reasoning.
“This particular time you broke it up,” I prompted. “You could see the girl didn’t want to play, and you told the man to knock it off.”
He frowned, trying to remember.
“That happens sometimes,” he admitted. “Most of the people who attend these little soirees know exactly what they’re doing, and I don’t attempt to interfere. But if I do see the kind of thing you’ve described, and as I say it does happen infrequently, then I put a stop to it.”
“And you wouldn’t remember one particular incident?” I challenged.
He wagged his head doubtfully.
“Even if I was sober when it happened, I wouldn’t have been by the time the night was over. And I sometimes hold two or three of these things in one week. To remember one little incident, no I’m sorry.”
It might be a little incident to you, I thought bitterly. It was slightly bigger for Eve Prince.
“And you can’t imagine what it was Flower knew about Brookman that you didn’t?”
“Sorry again. As I say, I didn’t own the girl. She led her own life. Mind you, I wouldn’t have thought her private life would include a poor fish like Brookman.”
Nor I, I remembered.
“Well, I guess that about winds it up. I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed. I came here hoping to tie you into this thing on a big scale. Tell me one more thing. Who is the man who put the black on you?”
He hesitated a moment, then said:
“Well, having told you so much, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you that. His name is McCann. They call him——”
“I know what they call him,” I cut in. “I know McCann. Seems as if it’s time we had another chat.”
“You’ve spoken to him about this?” he asked in quick surprise.
“Not about this. Not directly. I knew he was in this somewhere and he told me a beautiful story that put me right off the track. He’ll be surprised to see me again so soon.”
Somerset said anxiously.
“You’ll remember he can do me a lot of harm? I mean, from my point of view the whole thing is a waste of time if McCann informs on me in the end.”
I got up to go.
“Sorry about that. But somebody was bound to get to him sooner or later. Half the goons in town are out looking for him now. I’m one of the few people who know where he’s hiding. If I can keep you out of it, I will. That’s my best offer.”
His face was woebegone.
“Well, I’ve been pretty lucky so far. Maybe it’ll hold. You’ll try to keep me in touch?”
“This I’ll do,” I promised. “If I can see there’s no way of keeping the cops away from you, I’ll try to get word to you. There may be just time for you to blow town.”
“That’s a very generous offer and I thank you for it. But I’m a little heavy for running these days. I’ll just wish you every success and keep my fingers crossed.”
I left him there, a great mountain of a man waiting for events to catch up on him, events over which he no longer had any pretence of control.
My case was different. It was up to me to make events happen if this thing was ever going to come out right. If I’d known what the end would be, maybe I’d have quit right then.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SHIRALEE O’CONNOR had changed these past few hours. She wore a chiffon house robe caught at the throat by a diamond clip, otherwise swinging around her like a cape. Underneath there was a black halter bra and tight black hip length toreador pants. This was the girl in the photographs, and I could see where Legs McCann would be wanting to stay around. She gave me a slow smile, angling herself provocatively against the door.
“So soon? I thought you’d be back, but I ought to warn you he’s still here.”
“That’s too bad. Still, as I’ve come this far, maybe I should have a word with him.”
“Come on in.”
She was very close to me as we entered the apartment. The smell of her was all around me like a warm night in a harem, and I tried to remind myself of why I’d come.
“Hey McCann, there’s a man here to see you,” she called.
I wasn’t sure whether she was standing between me and the strong sunlight from the window by accident or design. The reason didn’t matter, the effect did.
“I’m the one over here,” came McCann’s voice.
Reluctantly I looked away from the floor show. He was dressed ready for the street, except he wasn’t wearing a jacket.
“Didn’t expect you back so soon, Preston. You got some news?”
“In a way. Seems as though I didn’t get the whole story last time we talked, McCann. I can’t operate if people don’t level with me.”
He looked puzzled, and switched his gaze to the
