1953 - I'll Bury My Dead (24 page)

‘If Sherman killed them,’ Lois said quietly, ‘Leon will know about it. He was following Sherman, wasn’t he?’

English stiffened, and then drove his right fist into the palm of his left hand.

‘Why, damn it! I’d forgotten that. Of course, Ed wouldn’t let him out of his sight. That’s it! I believe we’ve got him, Lois! Try to get Ed. Call my apartment first. He may be waiting for me.’

As Lois began to dial the number, she said, ‘You didn’t call the police?’

‘No. I walked out. I wanted to get my bearings.’

‘You left the gun?’

‘Yes.’

Leon’s voice came over the line.

‘Hello?’

‘This is Lois Marshall,’ Lois said. ‘Did you keep contact with Sherman tonight?’

‘He never left his apartment,’ Leon returned. ‘What’s the idea? Why are you calling?’

‘He says Sherman didn’t leave his apartment,’ Lois said, turning cold as she looked at English. ‘Are you sure he didn’t leave?’ she went on to Leon.

‘Of course I’m sure! Both exits are guarded. There’s no other way out. Besides, I’ve been along to his apartment every half-hour. The radio’s playing nonstop, and the lights are on.’

‘He’s certain Sherman didn’t leave his apartment,’ she said, turning to English.

‘Tell him to come here at once!’

Lois turned back to the phone.

‘Will you come to my apartment?’ she said. ‘It’s 24 Front Street, top floor. It’s urgent.’

‘I’m waiting for English,’ Leon said impatiently. ‘What’s the trouble?’

‘I can’t talk on the phone,’ she returned. ‘You must come at once.’

‘Well, all right,’ Leon growled and hung up.

‘Shall I get Mr. Crail?’ Lois asked, as she broke the connection.

English nodded.

‘Yes. Not that he can do anything.’

While she was dialling Crail’s home number, English began to pace slowly up and down.

‘Julie couldn’t have been mistaken,’ he said savagely. ‘She described Sherman. Damn Leon! He promised me he wouldn’t let him out of his sight.’

Lois spoke rapidly into the telephone mouthpiece, and then hung up.

‘He’s coming,’ she said, and went unsteadily to a chair and sat down. ‘You shouldn’t have left the gun, Nick.’

‘The gun doesn’t matter,’ English said, continuing to pace up and down. ‘It would ruin my case if I hid it. I’ve got to stick to the truth, Lois, if I’m to beat this rap. I’ve got to prove Sherman stole that gun.’

‘How did Corrine know about Julie?’ Lois asked.

English frowned.

‘I don’t know, unless . . .’ He stopped to think. ‘Yes! That’s it! Of course! Roy was blackmailing Julie. He must have found out what was going on between Julie and Harry. He must have told Corrine.’

‘Don’t you think it’s more likely that Sherman told Corrine?’ Lois said. ‘Don’t you think they’re working together?’

‘What makes you say that?’ English asked, staring at her.

‘How could Sherman know for certain that you would go to Harry’s apartment?’ Lois said. ‘How could he be sure you’d arrive when he was there unless the whole thing had been planned? Of course Corrine was in on this!’

‘I believe you’re right,’ English said. ‘If we could get her to talk . . .! I’ll tell Ed to pick her up as soon as he gets here. If we can make her talk we’re halfway to proving Sherman did it.’

‘I’ll get her,’ Lois said, jumping to her feet. ‘You have to talk to Leon. It’ll only waste time for him to go. I’ll be back by the time you have finished talking to him.’

‘She may not come,’ English said uneasily.

‘Oh, yes, she will,’ Lois said, her face hardening. ‘I promise you that.’ She went quickly into her bedroom to change. She came out a few minutes later, struggling into a mackintosh. ‘Don’t move from here, Nick,’ she said. ‘I won’t be half an hour.’

‘I don’t like you going.’ English said. ‘It’s raining like hell.’

Lois tried to smile.

‘A little rain won’t hurt me. I won’t be long.’

He reached out and took her hand.

‘I’m damned if I know what I should do without you,’ he said.

She pulled her hand away and ran to the door, fighting back her tears.

‘I won’t be long,’ she repeated huskily, and went swiftly from the room.

II

R
oger Sherman’s fingers hooked over the rungs of the ladder. Slowly he hauled himself up, paused to look up and down the deserted waterfront, and then climbed onto the jetty.

Moving quickly and silently, he squelched to a dark hut that stood at the shore end of the jetty, pushed open the door and entered a room half-full of empty crates and barrels. He dipped into one of the crates and pulled out an expanding suitcase he had left there the previous evening.

He stripped off his wet clothes and rubbed himself down with a towel. Then he took from the case a complete change of clothing, dressed quickly and packed his wet clothes in the case.

He left the hut, looked to the right and left, then dropped the case into the river. It sank with scarcely a ripple. Again he looked right and left, and satisfied he had the waterfront to himself, he walked quickly off the jetty, up an alley until he reached 27th Street.

He headed for the subway, and paused at the head of the steps leading to the ticket office as he heard the wail of a police siren. He watched two prowl cars tear by, heading for 5th Street, and he gave a slight nod of satisfaction. He got an uptown train and got off at 110th Street. He walked the length of the street before hailing a taxi.

‘Mason Street,’ he said as he climbed in.

He sat in the corner of the taxi, chewing, his eyes thoughtful, every now and then glancing through the rear window to make sure no one was following him. He left the taxi at the corner of Mason Street and walked up Addison Street, turned left at Lawrence Boulevard, and, still keeping in the shadow, walked quickly toward Corrine English’s bungalow.

He met no one. Rain beat down on him, soaking his mackintosh, and water dripped from his pulled-down hat brim and ran down his chin. He kept on, not appearing to notice the rain, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his jaws moving steadily as he chewed.

A light showed in the front room of Corrine’s bungalow. He pushed open the gate, walked up the path and paused in the shelter of the porch. He leaned forward, his face near the bay window and listened.

He heard nothing, but he remained listening at the window for more than five minutes. Still he heard nothing. He reached forward and pressed the bell push, grimacing as he heard the chimes on the other side of the door. He waited several minutes, frowning, then he pressed the bell push again.

A light sprang up in the lobby and the front door opened. Corrine stood before him, holding on to the door. Her spirit-ladened breath fanned his face.

‘Who is it?’ she said, peering at him as he stood in the darkness.

‘Have you forgotten me so soon, Corrine?’ he said softly.

He saw her stiffen, and her hand went to the door handle. He put his foot against the door to stop her slamming it in his face.

‘What do you want?’ she said sullenly.

His amber-coloured eyes searched her face.

‘I was expecting you to call me, but you didn’t. I think I’d better come in.’

‘I don’t want you to come in,’ she said, trying to close the door. ‘I don’t want to see you anymore.’

He moved forward, riding her back into the lobby.

‘I’m getting wet,’ he said with deceptive mildness. ‘Did you see English?’

She turned and went unsteadily into the sitting room. She lurched as she reached the fireplace. On the mantel was a bottle of brandy and a glass half-full of brandy.

He took off his wet coat and hat and dropped them on the floor of the lobby, then he turned and quietly pushed home the bolt on the front door. He walked into the sitting room, smiling.

‘You haven’t answered my question. Did you see English?’

‘I saw him,’ she said, and dropped onto the settee, holding the glass of brandy, slopping some of it as she sat down.

‘You don’t sound very happy,’ he said, ‘wasn’t our idea a success?’

‘It was your idea, not mine,’ Corrine said, ‘and it was a lousy idea. He didn’t give a damn.’

Sherman went over to the cellarette, selected a brandy glass and came over to the fire. He half-filled the glass, sniffed at it, and cocked his head on one side.

‘This isn’t at all bad. Did Roy buy it?’

She scowled up at him.

‘I didn’t tell you to help yourself,’ she said belligerently. ‘Who do you think you are - coming here, drinking my brandy?’

He laughed.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. We’re lovers, Corrine.’

Her face darkened.

‘We’re not! That’s not going to happen again. I don’t know what came over me. I don’t want you here - you and your lousy ideas!’

‘It was a very good idea,’ Sherman said. He drank some of the brandy and put down the glass. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘I’m not going to. It was horrible!’ Corrine said, and began to cry. ‘I wish I hadn’t done it. They - they laughed at me.’

‘Who laughed at you?’ Sherman asked, his eyes intent.

‘I don’t know. They all laughed at me. They didn’t believe it. He was so damned smooth about it. They could see I was drunk.’

‘Who are - they?’

‘The people in the bar, of course.’ Corrine’s voice went shrill. ‘Who else do you think? One of them called me a drunken tart!’

‘You told English they were lovers then?’ Sherman asked, watching her.

‘Of course I did! That’s what you told me to do, and he didn’t give a damn. He said it wasn’t my business nor his,’ Corrine said, dabbing her eyes. He sent me home with some smooth punk from the club. That’s how your lousy idea worked out.’

Sherman nodded. He had learned what he wanted to know - that there had been witnesses to Corrine’s outburst. He finished his brandy, and touched his thin lips with his handkerchief.

‘You might be interested to know,’ he said, ‘that after you had left the club, English went to Vince’s apartment. He found Julie and Vince there in what is called a compromising situation. He shot Vince, and then Julie. The police are already on the scene, and I imagine English is under arrest by now for murder.’

Corrine stared at him, her plump, baby face seemed to shrink, and her big blue eyes looked enormous.

‘He shot them?’ she said huskily.

‘That’s what he did,’ Sherman said, taking out a package of chewing gum and stripping off the paper. ‘Do you think my idea is so lousy now?’

‘You mean - he killed them?’ Corrine’s voice went up a note.

‘Yes, he killed them.’

‘I don’t believe it!’

‘You will when you see tomorrow’s newspapers.’

‘How do you know? You talk as if you were there!’

‘I wasn’t far away,’ Sherman said, smiling. ‘I more or less saw what happened.’

‘I didn’t want them to be killed!’ Corrine said, starting to her feet. ‘I - I only wanted to hurt him!’

‘You have hurt him,’ Sherman said. ‘You’ve done more than that - you’ve ruined him. Possibly he’ll go to the chair.’

‘But I don’t want to ruin him!’ Corrine wailed. ‘He was kind to me. He – he said I was a member of the family.’

‘How touching!’ Sherman said with a little sneer. ‘In spite of the fact he calls you a member of the family, he didn’t hesitate to steal twenty thousand dollars from you.’

Corrine stared at him, her fists clenched.

‘I don’t believe Roy ever had all that money,’ she said. ‘I was a fool to have listened to you. You’re responsible for this. It was your idea. You wanted to get even with him, and you used me to do it!’

‘What a clever girl you’ve suddenly become,’ Sherman said, smiling. ‘Suppose that was so, what are you going to do about it?’

‘I’m going to the police!’ Corrine said. ‘It was a wicked thing to have done. If I tell them, they might let him off.’

‘I don’t think they will, and you’ll only look a bigger fool than you looked tonight,’ Sherman returned, his jaws moving as he chewed. ‘Don’t be stupid, Corrine. There’s nothing you can do now except keep your mouth shut.’

‘We’ll see about that!’ Corrine said angrily. ‘I’ll talk to Lieutenant Morilli. He’ll tell me what I should do.’

Sherman lifted his shoulders.

‘Well, I can’t stop you, of course, if that’s what you want to do,’ he said. ‘But I think you had better keep clear of it.’

‘I can’t keep clear of it!’ Corrine snapped. ‘They’ll call me as a witness. They’ll ask all kinds of questions, and don’t imagine you’re going to keep out of it. I’ll tell them it was your idea.’

Sherman nodded as if he expected her to say that. He began to wander around the room, his hands in his pockets, his jaws moving, his eyes expressionless.

‘Yes, I suppose you will,’ he said, pausing by the window. He reached out and took hold of a red silk curtain cord, hanging by a hook. His fingers absently tested its strength. ‘This is an extraordinary thing,’ he said, ‘I’ve been looking for a curtain cord like this for weeks. You wouldn’t believe it, but I can’t find this exact shade anywhere.’ He took the cord off the hook and moved over to the lamp to examine it. ‘Do you happen to remember where you bought it?’

‘You’re not going to put me off like that!’ Corrine snapped. ‘You’re trying to change the subject. I’m going to telephone Lieutenant Morilli right now!’

‘I’m not trying to change the subject,’ Sherman said mildly. The cord hung like a red snake in his fingers. ‘I do wish you could remember where you bought this.’

‘I don’t remember,’ Corrine said and picked up the telephone book. ‘Please leave it alone. I don’t like my things being messed about.’

‘Well, if you can’t remember, you can’t - a pity,’ Sherman said, watching her, his eyes suddenly cold.

Corrine was bending over the telephone book she had placed on the table. Sherman moved so he was behind her. He arranged the cord into a loop. The sudden sound of chimes at the front door turned him into a motionless statue.

Corrine looked up, frowning. She saw Sherman’s reflection in the mirror above the mantel. He was standing close beside her, his hands raised, the loop of the cord hovering above her head.

She knew at once what he was about to do, and she stumbled aside, keeping her back turned to him.