first that she'd come to
call and put off the patients because--how had she put it?--it would
be awkward having them come in while the police were there. And then
later on she'd said that there never were any patients on Wednesdays.
Hackett got out his notebook, turned to the page where he'd written
down the facts of that odd little encounter with Miss Corliss, and
added that one.
That button. By the thread hanging from it, maybe
already loose; so when Nestor saw the gun, made a grab for it, he got
the button instead? Button from, probably, a man's jacket. Just an
ordinary dark gray button.
He couldn't sit here the rest of the afternoon. Where
now?
They had the bullet out of Nestor's skull, and not
too much damaged: a .22. When, as, and if they ever found a possible
gun, Ballistics could probably say whether it was the right one.
Well, all right. Go and see Ruth Elger, whose husband
had presumably given Nestor a black eye. Go and see everybody listed
in his address book. See Mrs. Nestor again ....
While the berserk killer roamed around loose. Hell.
Hackett started the engine. It was Friday afternoon, getting on to
five o'clock. He'd promised Angel he'd be home for dinner, but he
thought he'd go out again afterward. See that desk clerk: he was on
the night shift, wouldn't be on until nine o'clock. See Mrs. Nestor.
See--
FIVE
Hackett went back to headquarters to report in, see
if anything had turned up that looked interesting. Something had, and
how much was it worth?
"I happened to be in," said Palliser, "so
I talked to her.
A Mrs. Constance Brundage. About fifty, too fat, nice
motherly soul but not much in the way of brains. She made a
statement. Your guess is as good as mine whether it's worth anything.
She said she was waiting for a bus at the corner of Western and San
Marino, last night about eight o'clock, when a man came up to her.
She was alone on the corner. She said he looked ‘sinister' because
he had a hat pulled down over his eyes and his jacket collar turned
up, which looked funny on a warm night. Said he had a sinister voice
too, like a gangster, she said."
"Yes," said Hackett. "Naturally. ¿Qué
mas? And how much of that is imagination?"
Palliser shrugged. "What with all this press
hysteria--Anyway, she said he came and stood ‘too close' to her,
and she got nervous, and then he said he needed bus fare and she
looked like a nice kind lady, would she give him a dollar? And she
said no, and backed away, and he followed her--and goodness knows,"
said Palliser in obvious quotation of Mrs. Brundage, "what would
have happened, except that the bus came just then and she got into it
in a hurry, and the sinister stranger didn't. But on thinking it
over, she was sure it must have been this terrible Slasher, and it
was just the Lord's mercy she hadn't been his fifth victim. And--”
"¡Basta!" said Hackett. "Description?"
"Very vague--it was dark. Just one little thing
made me think twice, and get a statement. She can't say anything
about his features, and says vaguely he was about medium-sized. But
she did say that his clothes didn't seem to fit, looked too big for
him. And Miguel Garcia--who's a much better witness--said the same
thing about the man Roberto stopped to talk to."
"So he did," said Hackett slowly. "Food
for thought. I'll be damned. On the other hand, John, a lot of bums
around town are wearing hand-me-down clothes that don't fit."
"True. I just mentioned it," said Palliser.
"And asking for money. Of course we don't know
the hell of a lot about him. It could be. Corner of Western and San
Marino--if so, out of the territory where he's been operating. Nice."
"You get anything new on Nestor?"
"This and that--maybe," said Hackett. "I
don't know. I've got a funny little idea, but how the hell to prove
anything? I want to see the wife again, and the people in his address
book. And Ruth Elger's husband. I also want to have a heart-to-heart
session with that desk clerk. He must have noticed
call and put off the patients because--how had she put it?--it would
be awkward having them come in while the police were there. And then
later on she'd said that there never were any patients on Wednesdays.
Hackett got out his notebook, turned to the page where he'd written
down the facts of that odd little encounter with Miss Corliss, and
added that one.
That button. By the thread hanging from it, maybe
already loose; so when Nestor saw the gun, made a grab for it, he got
the button instead? Button from, probably, a man's jacket. Just an
ordinary dark gray button.
He couldn't sit here the rest of the afternoon. Where
now?
They had the bullet out of Nestor's skull, and not
too much damaged: a .22. When, as, and if they ever found a possible
gun, Ballistics could probably say whether it was the right one.
Well, all right. Go and see Ruth Elger, whose husband
had presumably given Nestor a black eye. Go and see everybody listed
in his address book. See Mrs. Nestor again ....
While the berserk killer roamed around loose. Hell.
Hackett started the engine. It was Friday afternoon, getting on to
five o'clock. He'd promised Angel he'd be home for dinner, but he
thought he'd go out again afterward. See that desk clerk: he was on
the night shift, wouldn't be on until nine o'clock. See Mrs. Nestor.
See--
FIVE
Hackett went back to headquarters to report in, see
if anything had turned up that looked interesting. Something had, and
how much was it worth?
"I happened to be in," said Palliser, "so
I talked to her.
A Mrs. Constance Brundage. About fifty, too fat, nice
motherly soul but not much in the way of brains. She made a
statement. Your guess is as good as mine whether it's worth anything.
She said she was waiting for a bus at the corner of Western and San
Marino, last night about eight o'clock, when a man came up to her.
She was alone on the corner. She said he looked ‘sinister' because
he had a hat pulled down over his eyes and his jacket collar turned
up, which looked funny on a warm night. Said he had a sinister voice
too, like a gangster, she said."
"Yes," said Hackett. "Naturally. ¿Qué
mas? And how much of that is imagination?"
Palliser shrugged. "What with all this press
hysteria--Anyway, she said he came and stood ‘too close' to her,
and she got nervous, and then he said he needed bus fare and she
looked like a nice kind lady, would she give him a dollar? And she
said no, and backed away, and he followed her--and goodness knows,"
said Palliser in obvious quotation of Mrs. Brundage, "what would
have happened, except that the bus came just then and she got into it
in a hurry, and the sinister stranger didn't. But on thinking it
over, she was sure it must have been this terrible Slasher, and it
was just the Lord's mercy she hadn't been his fifth victim. And--”
"¡Basta!" said Hackett. "Description?"
"Very vague--it was dark. Just one little thing
made me think twice, and get a statement. She can't say anything
about his features, and says vaguely he was about medium-sized. But
she did say that his clothes didn't seem to fit, looked too big for
him. And Miguel Garcia--who's a much better witness--said the same
thing about the man Roberto stopped to talk to."
"So he did," said Hackett slowly. "Food
for thought. I'll be damned. On the other hand, John, a lot of bums
around town are wearing hand-me-down clothes that don't fit."
"True. I just mentioned it," said Palliser.
"And asking for money. Of course we don't know
the hell of a lot about him. It could be. Corner of Western and San
Marino--if so, out of the territory where he's been operating. Nice."
"You get anything new on Nestor?"
"This and that--maybe," said Hackett. "I
don't know. I've got a funny little idea, but how the hell to prove
anything? I want to see the wife again, and the people in his address
book. And Ruth Elger's husband. I also want to have a heart-to-heart
session with that desk clerk. He must have noticed
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