Death in the Fifth Position (22 page)

I said that I was, in the
corps de ballet.

“My, they’re much more butch than they used to be,” said Molly, turning to Louis. “What’s happened to the mad girls who used to be in your company?”

“Flew away,” giggled Louis. “Spread their wings and flew away.… psst! like that, all gone.”

“Well, it’s a new look,” said Molly, giving me a tender smile. We had a great deal more to drink and then we left Hermione’s. I was wide awake and a little jittery while Louis was roaring drunk, throwing passes almost
as fast as I could catch them and throw them back.

At four in the morning we ended up in a Turkish Bath in Harlem. I was very innocent; I figured that if Louis tried to give me a rough time I’d be safe in the baths since they were, after all, a public place with a management which would come to my help if he got too horny. I was mistaken.

We undressed in separate lockers, like a beach house, then we went upstairs to the baths: a big swimming pool, then steam rooms and hot rooms and, beyond these, a dark dormitory with maybe a hundred beds in it where you’re supposed to lie down and take a nap after your pores have been opened by the heat. Only nobody takes a nap.

Standing by the pool in a strong light, I was very embarrassed not only by what was going on but by Louis who was staring at me, taking inventory. “Where’d you get those muscles, Baby?” he asked, in a low husky voice.

“Beating up dancers,” I said evenly. But I wasn’t too sure of myself. Louis looked like one of those Greek gods with his clothes off, all muscle and perfect proportions, including the bone head. Our presence caused even more of a stir than it had in the different bars. Fat old gentlemen came strolling by; one old fellow could hardly walk he was so old … he wheezed and puffed and he looked like a banker, very respectable, very ancient yet here he was, operating like mad, or wanting to.

“Let’s go in the steam room,” said Louis and, ignoring the pinches and the pawing, we got through the old gentlemen to the steam room where a number of youths, black and white and tan, were carrying on, dim shapes in the
steam which hid everything over a foot away. All around the steam room was a concrete ledge or shelf on which the various combinations disported themselves, doing a lot of things I never thought possible. It was like being in hell: the one electric bulb in the steam room was pink and gave a fiery glow to the proceedings. For the first time that night I was tempted to give up, to run away, to let the whole damned murder case take care of itself. Only the thought of Jane kept me in that steam room.

We climbed up on the ledge out of the way. Louis stretched out beside me while I sat straight up, legs crossed, and he made love noises. It was pretty terrible. Fortunately, he was drunk and not as quick as usual and I was able to keep his hands off me. For several hours I had been trying to clear something up but I couldn’t. He was either on to me or else he was too drunk to make sense.

“Come on, Baby, lie down,” he mumbled through the steam as dark shadows moved by us, shadows which would abruptly become curious faces; then, seeing us together, seeing my furious scowl, would recede into the ruddy mist.

“I told you one million times, Louis, I don’t like it,” I said in a low voice.

He sat up, his face so close to mine that I could make out the little red veins which edged the bright blue irises of his eyes. “You don’t think I don’t know all about you,” he said. “You think I don’t know about Jane?”

“What about Jane?”

“You know as well as I do. Everybody in the company knows … no use your trying to bluff.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“About Jane and Ella.”

“What about them?”

“Stop looking so dumb … Ella had a big thing with Jane, didn’t you know that? Just last year. Everybody knew. Ella was crazy for Jane. As long as I knew Ella, Jane was the only person she ever got excited over, except maybe me and that was just because I wouldn’t have anything to do with her.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Then go ask Jane … she’ll tell you. Maybe she’ll tell you about the fight they had … if she doesn’t, the police will.”

The sun was shining when I got back to the apartment. I was staggering with fatigue and I was aware of nothing as I fell into bed beside Jane who did not wake up.

Two hours’ sleep is not as good as eight but it’s better than none. At least I didn’t feel that my head was full of feathers when Jane woke me at ten o’clock.

“What happened to you?” She was already dressed.

I groaned as I sat up, shaking the sleep from my eyes. “Hunting a killer.”

“Did you find one?”

I nodded grimly, wide awake. “In spite of the fact, nobody’s been very co-operative … including you.”

“Here’s some coffee,” she said, handing me a cup from the table by the bed. Then: “What do you mean?”

“You and Ella,” I said, looking straight at her. “I didn’t know you went in for that sort of thing.”

She turned very pale. “Oh my God,” she breathed and sat down with a thump on the bed. “How did you find out about that?”

“Then it’s true?”

“No, not really.”

“It either is or it isn’t.”

“Well, it’s not. I’ve been so scared somebody would rake all that business up … the police don’t know, do they? Gleason didn’t tell you, did he?”

“No, I found out from one of the dancers last night. I gather everyone knew about it except me.”

“It’s not one of the things I most enjoy talking about,” she said with some of her usual spirit.

“I can see why not.”

“And not for the reason you think. It all started about two years ago when Ella needed an understudy in one of the lousy new ballets we were doing then … this was before she was such a star: so I was given the job and she offered to teach me the part … something which is pretty rare with any dancer but unheard of with someone like Ella. It took me about five minutes to figure it out. From then on, for the next few months, it was something like you and Louis, only worse since I had to work with her. I turned her down a dozen times; then, finally, after being as nice as I could be under the circumstances, I lost my temper and we had a knockdown fight which did the trick: she never bothered me again … never spoke to me again as a matter of fact, off stage anyway.”

“Then why does everybody think you were carrying on with her?”

“Because she told them we were, because she got everybody in the company to believe that I was the one who had
gone after
her
and that she had been the one who finally threw
me
out.”

“Jesus!”

“That’s what I say. Well, even though everybody knew what an awful person Ella was, they tended to believe her since after all, she had so many affairs with men, too, and I wasn’t at all promiscuous,” she added primly.

“This may make it kind of tough,” I said, putting on my shirt.

“I don’t see why they have to bring all that old stuff up now. What does it have to do with Ella’s being killed?”

“Well, they’re pretty thorough in these matters, the police are … they’ll probably trot out every scandal they can find in the company, if only to make the headlines.”

“I had a premonition about this,” said Jane, gloomily packing her rehearsal bag.

“I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me … you
do
believe me, don’t you?” I gave her a big kiss and we both felt better after that.

“Of course I do. Only a complete hayseed like you could manage to do so many things wrong.”

She shut the rehearsal bag with a snap. “I almost forgot … somebody searched the apartment yesterday.”

“Take anything?”

“Not as far as I could tell.”

“The police … probably just a routine checkup.”

“I’ll be glad when they make their damned arrest and stop bothering us.”

“That’s just because you want to dance Eglanova’s roles.”

She smiled wanly. “I’ve been wondering, though,
who they will get for the rest of the season.”

We took a taxi acrosstown to the studio; we were followed, I noticed, by two plain-clothes men in another cab. I said nothing to Jane about this.

Mr. Washburn was at the studio and he greeted me as cordially as ever, as if the unpleasant exchange of the night before had never taken place. “I hear you were out late,” he said, when I joined him in the reception room, near Madame Aloin’s desk. Dancers in tights, detectives, tiny tots, and mothers all milled about. None of the company, though, was in sight.

“How did you know?”

“I saw Louis this morning. He was here for the nine o’clock class.”

“How on earth does he do it? I didn’t get to sleep until eight and he was still going strong when I left him.”

“Where were you?”

“In Harlem.”

“Then I suppose he came straight to the class instead of going to bed … he often does that when he’s been drinking, to sober up.”

“Iron man,” I said, with real admiration. “Is he still here?”

“He’s rehearsing with the rest of the company. How is Jane?”

“She doesn’t suspect anything.”

“Well, try and keep the papers away from her today. One of them says right out that she’s guilty, for personal as well as professional motives.”

“They don’t mention her name, do they?”

“No, but they make it clear.”

“I suppose somebody tipped them off about Jane and Ella.”

Mr. Washburn looked solemn but I could see he was pleased. “So you’ve found out about that.”

“Yes … have the police?”

“Of course. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.”

“Very thoughtful.”

“Yes, I think it
was
thoughtful of me. There was no use in upsetting you with gossip like that. Now that you know, however, I may as well tell you that we’re going to have a hard time keeping it out of the trial … the state will build its case on that affair, so Bush tells me.”

“When are they going to arrest her?”

“Today, I think; Gleason is in that classroom having a conference. I’ve told our lawyer to stand by. He’s at the office now, waiting. It’s terrible, I know, but there’s nothing left for us to do but live through it.”

“Have you found someone to take Jane’s place in
Eclipse
?”

“No,” said Mr. Washburn emphatically; I knew he was lying.

“Well, don’t hire anybody yet … don’t even write one of those letters of yours.”

He winced slightly at this reference. “Why not?”

“Because I know who really did the murder.”

He looked like one of those heifers which Alma Shellabarger’s old man used to hit over the head with a mallet in the Chicago stockyards. “How … I mean what makes you think you know?”

“Because I have proof.”

“Be very careful,” said Mr. Washburn harshly. “You
can get into serious trouble if you start making accusations you can’t back up.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, more coolly than I felt. “I’ll be back in an hour.” I was gone before he could stop me.

At the office I ran into Elmer Bush who had somehow got his signals mixed and had expected to meet Mr. Washburn here. “See the old rag this morning?” he asked brightly, referring to that newspaper which had once given me a berth.

“Too busy,” I said, pushing by him into my office; he followed me.

“Happen to have a copy of it right here,” he said. “I say in it that there will be an arrest by noon today.”

“Do you say whether the right person will be arrested or not?”

“No, I leave it up in the air,” said Elmer, chuckling.

“You’ll find Mr. Washburn over at the studio,” I said coldly, going quickly through the heap of mail on my desk.

“I’ve got some advice for you, boy,” said Bush, in a serious voice.

“I’m listening.” I didn’t look at him; I was busy with the mail.

“Keep out of this. That girl of yours is in big trouble. There’re a lot of things you don’t know … just take my word for it. I’ve been around a long time. I’ve had a lot more experience dealing with the police … I know what they’re up to. They never act in a big case like this unless they got
all
the dope, unless they’re sure they got their suspect signed, sealed and delivered. I like you, Pete; I don’t want to see you get torn apart by these wolves. I know you like the girl but there’s more in all this than
meets the eye … more than most people, even real friends like Washburn, are willing to tell you.”

I looked up. “Do you mean to say that I have body odor, Mr. Bush?”

“I was only trying to do you a good turn,” said Elmer Bush, very hurt. He left me alone with my ingratitude.

I looked at my watch; I had less than an hour before the rehearsal broke up, at which time I was fairly sure the arrest would take place. I took out my sheet of paper and went over it carefully: all the mysteries had been solved and the answer to the puzzle was perfectly clear. Short of a confession on the part of the guilty party, however, I was not going to have an easy time proving my case. If worst came to worst, though, I could always announce my theory, get the police to hold up the arrest and then let
them
do the proving, which they could do, in time … I was sure of that.

I got on the telephone and called an acquaintance of mine at the rival ballet company’s office … he’s been the press agent over there for years. Since we’ve always been friendly, he told me what I wanted to know … it helped a little.

It was not until I was out in the street that I recalled I had not shaved or changed my clothes in two days and that I looked incredibly seedy, according to the plate-glass window in which I caught an unflattering glimpse of myself. I had not been to my own apartment in several days, not since the afternoon when I had packed my clothes and stormed out of Jane’s place.

I let myself in and picked up the suitcase which still lay in the middle of the living-room floor. Then I opened it.

At first I thought someone was playing a joke on me. The bag contained a woman’s nightgown, nylon stockings, brassière, panties … I examined them all with growing bewilderment. It was not until I discovered the sealed envelope that I realized what had happened, that this was Magda’s suitcase.