do better than that, if you want any co-operation from me.”
“Who said I wanted any co-operation from you? Who hired you?”
“You get tough very quickly, lieutenant. I could have blown when I found her, instead of sticking around to give you the benefit of my experience.”
“Can the spiel.” He didn’t needle easily. “Who hired you? And for God’s sake don’t give me the one about you got your client’s interests to protect. I got a whole city to protect.”
We faced each other across the drying moat of blood. He was a rough small-city cop, neither suave nor persuasive, with an ego encysted in scar-tissue. I was tempted to needle him again, to demonstrate to these country cousins how a boy from the big city could be hard in a polished way. But my heart wasn’t in the work. I felt less loyalty to my client than to the dead girl on the floor, and I compromised:
“A woman who gave her name as Una Larkin came to my office this morning. She hired me to tail this girl, and told me where to find her at lunchtime. Tom’s Café on Main Street. I picked her up there and followed her home to Alex Norris’s house, where she was a roomer—”
“Save the details for your statement,” Brake said. “What was that about the client’s name? You think it was a phony?”
“Yes. Am I going to make a statement?”
“Well go downtown soon’s we finish up here. Right now I want to know what she hired you for.”
“She said Lucy worked for her, and left a couple of weeks ago with some of her jewelry—ruby earrings and a gold necklace.”
Brake glanced at the identification man, who wagged his head negatively. He said to me: “You’ll have to take it up with the County Administrator. Or is that story phony, too?”
“I think so.”
“The woman live in town here?”
“I doubt it. She was very cagy about who she was and where she came from.”
“You giving it straight, or suppressing information?”
“Straight.” Una had bought that much with the hundred that was lonely in my wallet.
“It better be. Did you call us as soon as you found her?”
“There was a few minutes’ time-lag. On my way across the court to the office, young Norris attacked me.”
“Was he going or coming?”
“Neither. He was waiting.”
“How do you know?”
“I held him and questioned him a little. He said he’d been waiting for Lucy to get her things since five o’clock. They were going away to be married. He didn’t know she was dead until I told him.”
“You read minds, huh?” Brake’s face slanted, chin out, towards me, cracked and red like Bella Valley earth above the irrigation level. “What else do you do, Mister Experience?”
“When I make a statement, I try to keep the record straight. The physical facts are against Norris. It looks like consciousness of guilt, running out like that—”
“You don’t tell me,” Brake said heavily, and his assistantsnickered. “I never would have thought of that by myself.”
“He ran because he was scared. He thought he was going to be railroaded, and maybe he was right. I’ve seen it happen to black boys, also to white boys.”
“Oh sure, you’ve been around. You’ve had a lot of experience. Only I don’t want the goddam benefit of your goddam experience. I want your facts.”
“You’re getting them. Maybe I’m going too fast for your powers of assimilation.”
Brake’s small eyes crossed slightly. His large face became congested with dark blood. The developing situation was interrupted by someone opening the door behind me, and singing out: “Break it up, boys. I have a date with a lady. Where’s the lady?”
It was the deputy coroner, a plump young medical man bubbling with the excessive cheerfulness of those who handled death as a regular chore. He was accompanied by a white-coated ambulance driver and a black-coated undertaker who strove to outdo him in gaiety. Brake lost interest in me and my selection of facts.
Samples of blood were
“Who said I wanted any co-operation from you? Who hired you?”
“You get tough very quickly, lieutenant. I could have blown when I found her, instead of sticking around to give you the benefit of my experience.”
“Can the spiel.” He didn’t needle easily. “Who hired you? And for God’s sake don’t give me the one about you got your client’s interests to protect. I got a whole city to protect.”
We faced each other across the drying moat of blood. He was a rough small-city cop, neither suave nor persuasive, with an ego encysted in scar-tissue. I was tempted to needle him again, to demonstrate to these country cousins how a boy from the big city could be hard in a polished way. But my heart wasn’t in the work. I felt less loyalty to my client than to the dead girl on the floor, and I compromised:
“A woman who gave her name as Una Larkin came to my office this morning. She hired me to tail this girl, and told me where to find her at lunchtime. Tom’s Café on Main Street. I picked her up there and followed her home to Alex Norris’s house, where she was a roomer—”
“Save the details for your statement,” Brake said. “What was that about the client’s name? You think it was a phony?”
“Yes. Am I going to make a statement?”
“Well go downtown soon’s we finish up here. Right now I want to know what she hired you for.”
“She said Lucy worked for her, and left a couple of weeks ago with some of her jewelry—ruby earrings and a gold necklace.”
Brake glanced at the identification man, who wagged his head negatively. He said to me: “You’ll have to take it up with the County Administrator. Or is that story phony, too?”
“I think so.”
“The woman live in town here?”
“I doubt it. She was very cagy about who she was and where she came from.”
“You giving it straight, or suppressing information?”
“Straight.” Una had bought that much with the hundred that was lonely in my wallet.
“It better be. Did you call us as soon as you found her?”
“There was a few minutes’ time-lag. On my way across the court to the office, young Norris attacked me.”
“Was he going or coming?”
“Neither. He was waiting.”
“How do you know?”
“I held him and questioned him a little. He said he’d been waiting for Lucy to get her things since five o’clock. They were going away to be married. He didn’t know she was dead until I told him.”
“You read minds, huh?” Brake’s face slanted, chin out, towards me, cracked and red like Bella Valley earth above the irrigation level. “What else do you do, Mister Experience?”
“When I make a statement, I try to keep the record straight. The physical facts are against Norris. It looks like consciousness of guilt, running out like that—”
“You don’t tell me,” Brake said heavily, and his assistantsnickered. “I never would have thought of that by myself.”
“He ran because he was scared. He thought he was going to be railroaded, and maybe he was right. I’ve seen it happen to black boys, also to white boys.”
“Oh sure, you’ve been around. You’ve had a lot of experience. Only I don’t want the goddam benefit of your goddam experience. I want your facts.”
“You’re getting them. Maybe I’m going too fast for your powers of assimilation.”
Brake’s small eyes crossed slightly. His large face became congested with dark blood. The developing situation was interrupted by someone opening the door behind me, and singing out: “Break it up, boys. I have a date with a lady. Where’s the lady?”
It was the deputy coroner, a plump young medical man bubbling with the excessive cheerfulness of those who handled death as a regular chore. He was accompanied by a white-coated ambulance driver and a black-coated undertaker who strove to outdo him in gaiety. Brake lost interest in me and my selection of facts.
Samples of blood were
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