“He’s not bleeding, is he?” Shelly said, stepping forward. “I don’t want him bleeding on that chair. I just cleaned it,” Then to me: “Toby, this is it. Our deal is off. No dishes, no equal billing on the door. You’ve violated our agreement here with killers, shooting … Wait a minute. Where’s the big guy, the one what was all tied up. He …” And then it struck Shelly. He sat back against the wall and moaned, “Mildred. Mildred’s downstairs waiting for me in the car.”
“Just go down and tell her to go to the play alone,” I said gently. “I’ll drive you home later.”
Gunther came out, said he had called the police, and went downstairs with Shelly to be sure he’d be back and to help him talk to Mildred.
Jane looked dazed, beaten. I held the dog in my arms and petted it while I walked over to her. Her thin blond hair dangled down her forehead.
“You’ll probably be out on the streets before the war is over,” I said. “Your father’ll take the big rap. The two of you might even be able to pin it all on Bass, except the Lyle shooting. Bass was tied up downstairs when that happened.”
“The record,” she said looking up. “The little man made a record.”
“No,” I said. “Microphone’s not attached to anything. We just made it up.”
Dolmitz, sitting in the dental chair, groaned. He had heard my nearby whisper. “Taken in by the performance of fools,” he said.
“I think Preston Foster said that in
“Who gives a crap,” said Dolmitz.
13
We were the main attraction at the Wilshire station, the big act. The six of us were interviewed individually after an unsuccessful attempt by Phil to talk to us as a group.
When I was led into Phil’s new office, he was rubbing his forehead and looking deeply into a metal cup filled with steaming coffee.
“You know,” he said, looking up, “it’s going to take us half the night to get this all straightened out.”
His jacket was off and his tie was loose. Somewhere in other rooms the ailing Seidman was talking to Dolmitz, Cawelti was dealing with Jane and Jeremy, and Cunther and Shelly were waiting to give their pieces of the tale.
“Phil, I’ve got a date tonight and I’d really-”
His hand came down on the desk. Unfortunately, it still held the cup and even more unfortunately, the cup still had some coffee in it. The brown liquid dotted Phil’s shirt and soaked his hand. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his palms, and threw the sopping piece of cloth in the wastebasket.
“Ruth can clean that,” I volunteered, standing close to the door for a quick getaway.
“Toby,” Phil said, looking up at me but not moving forward. “You were supposed to hand-deliver a killer, to make this all nice, quiet, neat. And what do I get? Two more corpses and a screwed-up case with too many witnesses. And you want to go off somewhere on a date?”
He moved toward me and I said quickly, “I’ll stay awhile.”
He was a foot from me and ready to go to work.
“I’m going to stay calm,” he said after running his right hand over his bristly head of hair. His left fist was clenched.
“That’s a good idea,” I agreed.
“Eleanor Roosevelt,” he said. “How the hell am I supposed to keep her out of this? You know what this is going to do?”
“You’re a Democrat,” I said.
“I’m a cop,” he said, holding his left fist up to my face.
“Captain,” I said, “this has nothing to do with Eleanor Roosevelt. Some confused political loonies got together and convinced themselves they had the president’s dog. Before they could do anything about it, they started bumping each other off and got themselves caught.”
“That’s simple, huh?” said Phil. “You think that football team out there is going to go along with that story?”
“Why not? Shelly just wants to go home. Jeremy and Gunther are patriotic, Dolmitz and his daughter will be happy to put most of it on Bass and Lyle, and I’ve got a date.”
He reached out a hand and shoved me against the wall.
“I’ve got some bruised ribs,” I said, holding out a hand to keep him back.
“You think the newspapers are going to drop it that easy?” he said, shaking his head.
“How do they find out?”
“Two bodies,” he screamed. “Two bodies. One in your office with two bullets put into it eight hours apart and a tied-up giant with a broken arm who flew out of your office window. You think they might be just a tiny bit curious about that?”
“You’ll think of something,” I said.
“The only thing I can think of right now is to smash your face,” he went on.
“That’ll make you feel better?”
I reached for the door. Hell, he would probably catch me before I hit the stairway, but I wasn’t going to take a session with Phil without giving escape a fair chance. Then the phone rang, a bell announcing the end of round one.
Phil picked it up and said, “What is it?”
Then someone on the other end said something to change his face from rage to bewilderment.
“Captain Pevsner, sir,” he said. “Yes sir, I recognize your voice. Of course. Yes, I understand.”
Then he was silent for a good three minutes, just nodding his head. Finally, he looked up at me.
“Someone wants to talk to you,” he said, holding out the phone.
I took it and said, “Hello.”
“Mr. Peters,” said Eleanor Roosevelt. “I’m back in Washington. I have definite proof that Fala is right here and that the dog you retrieved was quite another animal.”
“I know,” I said.
“I understand that you have been through a great deal of discomfort over this and under the circumstances I’ve had to inform Franklin. He has just spoken to the officer in charge, and I hope your difficulties are now over. You have my thanks for your efforts and please send me your bill. We must get back to the Peruvian reception now. Good-bye.”
I was about to say good-bye on my end when the voice of the president came over the phone as clear as if it were a fireside chat.
“Thank you, Mr. Peters.”
“You’re welcome, sir,” I said, and he hung up, but a demon took me and I went on talking. “No sir…. Yes … I understand.… If it’s absolutely essential for national morale of course I will, but I don’t know if I’m really qualified to be Mr. Hoover’s assistant…. No, I’m flattered but …”
Phil pulled the phone out of my hand, put it to his ear and heard nothing.
“He just hung up,” I said, grinning.
“Get out,” Phil said, giving me an extra shove across the room. “Just pack your jokes and get out, leave the bodies for me, for the adults to take care of.”
“Come on, Phil,” I said, adjusting my windbreaker. “We caught the bad guys.”
“And you’re going on a date while I put my career on the line to cover all this up,” he said, getting behind his desk. “What are you risking, junior G-man?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Nothing,” he agreed. “Because you’ve got nothing to lose. Because you haven’t invested in anything.”
“That’s the way I wanted it, Phil,” I said, waiting for him to get up and go for me again. He didn’t get up.
