Paul closed the door and return to his place behind the desk. He folded his hands in front of him and said, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Dash didn’t beat around the bush. “You can tell us why you killed Tyler Smith.”
28
The silence that followed was profound.
All three men stared at one another. Dash didn’t move nor blink. Neither did Joe.
Paul broke first. “What do you want?” His voice was drenched in fear.
Joe replied, “We want answers, Paula.”
Paul flinched at the voice of his female namesake. “Please,” he said, “not so loud.”
Dash leaned forward in his chair. “I’ll keep quiet as long as you tell me the truth. The moment you lie to me, I tell the police everything I know. Do we have an understanding?”
Paul took a deep breath. “Don’t make me do this.”
Joe said, his voice gruff, “It’s happenin’, lad, so just accept it.”
Dash tapped the arms of his chair. “I know the plan for that night. Pru told it to me. The Müllers went out for dinner. Karl gave Tyler a key to their apartment. Tyler broke in and found the ledger.”
Paul flicked him a look. “Of course, you know about the ledger. You want it back. To give it to him.”
He looked off to the side, his expression darkening.
Joe scoffed, “We’re not workin’ for that bloody bluenose. We’re victims of him, for chrissakes!”
Dash continued. “Tyler was to bring the ledger to my club.”
Paul nodded. “We figured it was safe because it was still relatively new. Walter would’ve never heard of it. Except Dumb Dora Karl led him straight to it.”
Dash nodded. “When the Müllers returned home, Walter noticed something was amiss. No offense, but Tyler was an amateur thief. Despite his best efforts, he wouldn’t have been able to leave everything the exact same way it was. Walter put two and two together and when Karl left with whatever excuse he gave—get some air, meet a friend, go to church for Sunday evening prayer—Walter followed his brother downtown. Walter asked me to find a female impersonator in Pinstripes, so he must’ve seen you two together at some point.”
Paul replied, “Perhaps when we met up in front of your club.”
“Did you have the ledger with you then?”
“I didn’t! I never met up with Tyler that night!”
“Then how come Pru has it now?”
“We knew something went wrong with Walter’s appearance at your club. We were hoping Tyler saw Walter and ran. When we didn’t hear from him, I went back to the Shelton the next day, and didn’t find him there. I went back the day after that and he still wasn’t answering, so I . . . snuck into his apartment.”
He took a moment to compose himself.
“The apartment was empty. And I thought, while I’m here, let’s see if the blasted ledger is, too. I was in the middle of searching for it, actually, when you two showed up. I swear, I was not there Sunday night. Only that Tuesday morning.”
Dash watched his face, which was still half-turned away from them. “That’s not all of it.”
“Why are you doing this? I tell you, that is exactly what happened.”
“I’m afraid it’s not. You did go to the Shelton Sunday night.”
“That’s a lie. Who said that?”
Dash looked over to Joe. “Should we show him?”
Joe shrugged. “I suppose we have to.”
Dash reached into his pocket and brought out a piece of paper. He handed it to Paul, who regarded it with suspicion, then with trembling fingers, opened it. Dash watched his eyes as Paul read the forged note he had spent all of last night writing and rewriting. Dash tried his best to copy Walter’s handwriting from the piece of paper on which he’d written his address the night he first blackmailed them. Walter claimed earlier he had taught Karl how to write. Dash hoped their writing styles would be similar.
Paul’s face whitened as he read the words:
Dearest Pru,
I am writing this in haste as I don’t know how much time I have before I must leave. I witnessed something terrible tonight. Unspeakable. I went to Tyler’s apartment before we met at the club, and I found him dead!!! Struck in the head. And Paula was in the apartment. She must have killed him for reasons we all know. I ran out of there, and now I don’t know what to do or where to turn. I couldn’t say anything at the club for fear of my life. I hope one day I can return to you, but now I must go into hiding.
Sincerely, Karl
Paul looked up at him. “You wouldn’t. Betray your own kind?”
Dash kept his face stony. “When my own kind is a killer, yes. I have no qualms about doing that.”
“Why would I kill him? I loved him.”
Joe replied, “Precisely why, lad. Ya loved him too much to let him go.”
Dash went on. “Tyler must’ve told you about his escape to Paris. With Karl.”
“Leaving ya. For good.”
“Forever.”
“I’m sure ya didn’t mean to kill him, lad. Sure it was an accident.”
“You couldn’t persuade him to stay. It was too much.”
“Ya picked up the ashtray and hit him.”
“All right!” Paul shouted.
Dash could hear a silence on the other side of the door. His coworkers had heard the shout and were no doubt murmuring What is going on in there?
Paul didn’t seem to notice or care. His face was withdrawn, his mouth trembling. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted him here. He had to stay here. As long as he’s here, I could convince him one day that I was—”
He stopped and took a deep breath.
“I loved him. So. Much. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t love me back in the same way.”
He sniffed back more tears.
“It was before we went to your club. I was to meet him there to make sure he got back from the Müllers’ safe and sound. Instead of handing over the ledger, I found him
