With an impatient nod to her sister, Miss Genevieve said, “Unpleasant, but I can’t see Bender killing to save his reputation. Isn’t he wealthy enough to hire the best lawyers, and to pay his toughs to take the rap without splitting on him? Murder is a whole different ball-game. It would raise the stakes too high for his liking.”
“You been talking to the guy?” Gilligan demanded.
“No, but that sort of person generally runs true to type. You’ve talked to him, what did you think of him?” Shepaused. “Youhavetalked to him, haven’t you, Sergeant?”
“No,” Gilligan admitted sourly. “I didn’t get to Carmody’s room till last night. Bender was out—some nightclub his housekeeper said, she didn’t know where. I left a man to watch, but he didn’t come home. I guess he musta gone on to Mrs. Carmody’s hotel room, and we ain’t got a line on that yet. I got men out going round the hotels. But messing with his tenants ain’t all Carmody had on him.”
“No?”
“There’s some funny business with mortgage loans on his properties. I turned it over to our fraud people. If it’s what it looks like to me, he’ll go down for a stretch anyways, even we can’t pin the murder on him—though I ain’t giving up on that, not by a long shot!”
“You’d do better to stick to what Carmody was digging out about Tammany’s business,” Miss Genevieve declared. “What did you find in his papers on that subject?”
Gilligan turned sullen. “You know I can’t discuss evidence. Give a dame an inch and she wants all hell. I didn’t oughta’ve told you nuttin and I ain’t gonna tell no more.”
Miss Genevieve had already induced the detective to reveal far more than Daisy would have dared hope for. “Eugene Cannon” must have been a first-rate crime reporter. Daisy hadn’t had to lift a finger to obtain masses of information about Carmody’s wife and her lover. She wished she could meet them. One learnt so much by actually talking to a person, but at least she had plenty of food for thought.
Leisure for thought she had not.
“O.K., let’s get on with your story, Mrs. Fletcher,” Gilligan growled. “Maybe you’ll remember sumpin useful this time around.”
10
When Daisy reached the point in her story where Lambert irrupted onto the scene of the crime brandishing a pistol, Miss Genevieve glanced at the young man with a new interest. Possibly, her look said, he might be worthy of further acquaintance. His subsequent downing at the hands of Mr. Thorwald brought a snort of disbelief.
“Sigurd Thorwald tackled him? I remember him as a copy-boy, and he was pedantic old fusspot even then. He brought down that great lummox? There’s more to the old geezer than I thought, and even less to the young one.”
“I didn’t expect him to jump me,” Lambert said sulkily. “Besides, I lost my glasses.”
“Andyour gun,” said Daisy, “which I caught, by a miracle.” She was about to continue when someone knocked at the door.
“Oh dear,” said Miss Cabot, dropping her knitting, “who can that be? Were we expecting visitors this morning, sister?”
“Whatever our expectations, sister, we seem to have collected quite a crowd,” observed Miss Genevieve, as DetectiveO’Rourke, who had remained standing in the archway to the foyer, turned to open the door. “The more, the merrier. Who is it?” she called. “Come in, come in!”
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. The elevator boy told me Detective Sergeant Gilligan is here.”
“Who … ? Oh, young Rosenblatt! You followed in your father’s footsteps, didn’t you? I’ll never forget the time he brought you into court—eleven or twelve, you were—”
“Please,ma’am!”
Miss Genevieve grinned maliciously. “Oho, we mustn’t upset your dignity. You’re on the Carmody case, I take it, looking out for Tammany’s interests.”
“Looking out for a murderer,” Rosenblatt corrected her. “We have to clear this up before the election. It would be almost as bad to have the Press saying we’re incompetent as to have Tammany involved. Which they aren’t,” he hastened to add.
“Well, then, you’d better get on with it. Don’t mind me.”
Rosenblatt nervously smoothed his sleek, fair hair, thinning a little on top. “Good morning, Miss Cabot, Mrs. Fletcher,” he said, with a curt nod for Lambert. “Sergeant? What’s going on?”
“I was gonna take another look at Carmody’s room, sir, and then escort Mrs. Fletcher downtown personal, her being a foreigner. But Miss Genevieve said …”
“O.K, O.K.!”
“Detective Larssen went to get the mug book, and I was just going over Mrs. Fletcher’s story with her, see if she come up with sumpin new.”
“Go ahead.”
Daisy went ahead. The only detail she was able to addto her previous description of the fugitive was that she rather thought he had been wearing an overcoat.
