half the Coke and grimaced. “How about putting a slug of Scotch in this?”
“No! You look and act like you’re worked up. I’m worked up too. I’ve been glued to the television. This killer . . . The Executioner . . . what’s happening?”
“A nut. I don’t have to tell you: a nut’s the worst headache we can get. Now listen, Carroll, not a word to anyone! I know all your harpy friends imagine they’ll get first hand news from you, but don’t tell them a thing!”
“There’s nothing to tell, is there? An idiot child would know this man is a nutter. What’s going on? Have you found him yet?”
Lepski released a hollow laugh.
“Not yet. I’ll be out all night making goddam inquiries. Routine stuff. The City’s scared. We have to look busy, but it’s just a waste of time, but don’t tell anyone.”
“I have a clue, Lepski.” Now Carroll had an admission that her husband was up against a blank wall she was ready to steer him to further promotion. “As soon as I heard Hamilton on TV this morning, I went around to Mehitabel Bessinger. I felt sure if anyone could crack this case it’d be her.”
Lepski stiffened, then loosened his collar.
“That old fake? You’re crazy! Now, look, baby, get me a clean shirt. I’ll be out all night. How about cutting me a couple of sandwiches? What have we got in the fridge? Is there any of that beef left?”
“Listen to me, Lepski,” Carroll said firmly. “Mehitabel may be old, but she isn’t a fake. She has powers. I told her how important this was to you and . . .”
“Wait a minute!” Lepski sat forward, suspicion on his face. “Did you give her my whisky?” Jumping to his feet, he rushed to the liquor cabinet. His bottle of Cutty Sark was missing. He turned and looked accusingly at his wife. “You gave that drunken old bag my whisky!”
“Mehitabel is not a drunken old bag! Naturally she likes a drink from time to time. Yes, I gave her the whisky . . . anyway, Lepski, I think you drink too much.”
Lepski dragged his tie loose.
“Never mind how much I drink! You mean ...”
“Be quiet! I want you to listen!” Carroll’s voice rose.
“Oh, sure, sure.” Lepski ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to tell me.” He took off his tie and began to crumple it in his hands. “You went to her and she got her goddamn crystal ball out and for a bottle of my best whisky, she told you who lulled McCuen . . . right?”
Carroll squared her shoulders.
“That’s just what she did. This could be the quick break through. Mehitabel saw the killer in her crystal ball.”
Lepski made a noise like a pneumatic drill as he threw his tie on the floor and stamped on it.
“You don’t have to show off,” Carroll said coldly. There are times when I think you have the mentality of a spoilt child.”
Lepski closed his eyes but finally got control of himself.
“Yeah . . . you could be right. Fine . . . now let’s forget about Mehitabel. Suppose you cut me some sandwiches? I’d like some of that beef . . . if there’s any left.”
“You think too much about food,” Carroll said. “Will you please pay attention? Mehitabel saw this man! He’s an Indian. He was wearing a flowered shirt and there were two other people with him: a man and a woman, but she couldn’t see them clearly.”
“Is that right?” Lepski sneered. “That doesn’t surprise me. Once that old rum-dum gets her hands on a bottle she can’t see anything clearly.” He got to his feet. “I’m taking a shave and I’m changing my shirt. Will you get those sandwiches ready?”
Carroll pounded her knees with her fists. There were times - and this was one of them - when she could be as dramatic as Lepski.
“But can’t you see, you idiot, this is a clue . . . a vital clue?” she said furiously. “Why must you be so narrow minded? I know Mehitabel is old, but she has powers . . . she’s a medium.”
“Did you call me an idiot?” Lepski said, drawing himself
“No! You look and act like you’re worked up. I’m worked up too. I’ve been glued to the television. This killer . . . The Executioner . . . what’s happening?”
“A nut. I don’t have to tell you: a nut’s the worst headache we can get. Now listen, Carroll, not a word to anyone! I know all your harpy friends imagine they’ll get first hand news from you, but don’t tell them a thing!”
“There’s nothing to tell, is there? An idiot child would know this man is a nutter. What’s going on? Have you found him yet?”
Lepski released a hollow laugh.
“Not yet. I’ll be out all night making goddam inquiries. Routine stuff. The City’s scared. We have to look busy, but it’s just a waste of time, but don’t tell anyone.”
“I have a clue, Lepski.” Now Carroll had an admission that her husband was up against a blank wall she was ready to steer him to further promotion. “As soon as I heard Hamilton on TV this morning, I went around to Mehitabel Bessinger. I felt sure if anyone could crack this case it’d be her.”
Lepski stiffened, then loosened his collar.
“That old fake? You’re crazy! Now, look, baby, get me a clean shirt. I’ll be out all night. How about cutting me a couple of sandwiches? What have we got in the fridge? Is there any of that beef left?”
“Listen to me, Lepski,” Carroll said firmly. “Mehitabel may be old, but she isn’t a fake. She has powers. I told her how important this was to you and . . .”
“Wait a minute!” Lepski sat forward, suspicion on his face. “Did you give her my whisky?” Jumping to his feet, he rushed to the liquor cabinet. His bottle of Cutty Sark was missing. He turned and looked accusingly at his wife. “You gave that drunken old bag my whisky!”
“Mehitabel is not a drunken old bag! Naturally she likes a drink from time to time. Yes, I gave her the whisky . . . anyway, Lepski, I think you drink too much.”
Lepski dragged his tie loose.
“Never mind how much I drink! You mean ...”
“Be quiet! I want you to listen!” Carroll’s voice rose.
“Oh, sure, sure.” Lepski ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to tell me.” He took off his tie and began to crumple it in his hands. “You went to her and she got her goddamn crystal ball out and for a bottle of my best whisky, she told you who lulled McCuen . . . right?”
Carroll squared her shoulders.
“That’s just what she did. This could be the quick break through. Mehitabel saw the killer in her crystal ball.”
Lepski made a noise like a pneumatic drill as he threw his tie on the floor and stamped on it.
“You don’t have to show off,” Carroll said coldly. There are times when I think you have the mentality of a spoilt child.”
Lepski closed his eyes but finally got control of himself.
“Yeah . . . you could be right. Fine . . . now let’s forget about Mehitabel. Suppose you cut me some sandwiches? I’d like some of that beef . . . if there’s any left.”
“You think too much about food,” Carroll said. “Will you please pay attention? Mehitabel saw this man! He’s an Indian. He was wearing a flowered shirt and there were two other people with him: a man and a woman, but she couldn’t see them clearly.”
“Is that right?” Lepski sneered. “That doesn’t surprise me. Once that old rum-dum gets her hands on a bottle she can’t see anything clearly.” He got to his feet. “I’m taking a shave and I’m changing my shirt. Will you get those sandwiches ready?”
Carroll pounded her knees with her fists. There were times - and this was one of them - when she could be as dramatic as Lepski.
“But can’t you see, you idiot, this is a clue . . . a vital clue?” she said furiously. “Why must you be so narrow minded? I know Mehitabel is old, but she has powers . . . she’s a medium.”
“Did you call me an idiot?” Lepski said, drawing himself
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