"Uh-huh. I came right over this morning after Bob saw me. No grass
grows where I have been, I mean no grass grows under my feet." Yamamura
took a pipe from his maroon sports jacket. "The best way to get a line
on your friend Larkin seemed to be to check Guido's recent movements.
I started at the other end--his call on Clayton, a week ago last
Monday. You know, when he and Bruce went around to see about a job.
Clayton himself isn't in the City today, but I went to that swank
apartment hotel he inhabits and jollied the staff."
Having filled his pipe, he took his time lighting it. "I gather Clayton
gave Guido and Bruce a rather long interview," he went on. "Or, rather,
Bruce. Guido left about an hour before his brother did."
"He never mentioned that!" said Corinna.
"Why should he?" countered Yamamura. "Not good for his pride, is it?
But what did Bruce and Clayton find to talk about?"
"And how much of it did Guido hear?" murmured Kintyre.
Corinna flushed. "Please don't," she said in a hard voice.
"I'm sorry," he answered, torn. "But if Bruce had to tell Clayton
something important, even worth killing about--they'd shoo Guido out
first. But Guido might have gotten enough hints to make some deductions
and--No, wait, let me finish! Maybe Guido blabbed to someone else, not
realizing himself what it signified."
She gave him a shaky little smile. "Thanks for trying," she said.
"Ah, this is probably of no significance at all," said Yamamura. "Bruce
could just as well have been giving Clayton the latest information
about the mildew on page 77 of that book." He attempted a smoke ring
and failed. "Or could he? Depends on how you interpret this tidbit:
Clayton telephoned Genoa, Italy, that same night."
"Who did he call?" asked Kintyre.
"The switchboard girl doesn't remember. All she heard was a lot of
Italian: they started gabbling right away, before she could take
herself out of the circuit. Clayton stayed home for several hours
next day. The Italian called again. Now none of this would be worth
retailing, I guess, except for one more oddity about Mr. Clayton. He
had the bellhop bring him several dollars in change. Then he went out
and was gone for some hours."
Corinna raised her thick dark brows in puzzlement. Kintyre nodded.
"Yes. Long-distance, though not transatlantic, calls from a public
booth," he said. "No chance of being eavesdropped on."
"It may not mean a damn relevant thing," said Yamamura. "The most
legitimate businesses have their secrets. But I'll admit to being
curious. Did Bruce steer him onto something big? And did a business
rival then strike at Bruce? That doesn't sound likely. Maybe Clayton
himself--no, hardly that. In my line of work I'd have heard it if he
weren't straight, or if he associated with thugs."
Kintyre jammed his fists into knots. An intake of air hissed between
his teeth.
"What is it?" Corinna's alarm seemed to come from far away.
"Nothing. Or possibly something. Never mind. Go on, Trig."
Only part of him heard the detective continue. The rest said through
thunder: _One more suspect. I had been sure Clayton, of all people,
must be innocent. For the Federal government would have assured
itself he knows no assassins--Trig, perhaps more reliably, tells me
the same--and he could not have found any on short notice, and it is
impossible he could have done the crime personally._
_But Guido might have such connections!_
_Did Clayton see Guido again?_
"Then I went around and chivvied the cops," said Yamamura. "They were
just hauling in the Michaelis family, and hadn't much time for any
other ideas. However, they are going to check house rentals over the
weekend. You see, what was done--I'm sorry, Miss Lombardi--the deed
would require an isolated spot. An entire house, at least. For the
noise."
"Has anything come of that?" asked Corinna with a great steadiness.
"Not yet. These things take time. Well, then I had some supper and came
here. Wasn't open yet, but they were making ready. Someone will have to
meet my expense account, twenty-five good dollars to grease my way in
and learn something."
"I can," said Corinna.
"Not you, Miss Lombardi. Most especially not you." Yamamura fumbled
with his pipe; he was all at once an unhappy man. "Must I say it?"
Her eyes closed again, a flicker of aloneness. Then: "Please. It's
better now, isn't it, than later from someone else?"
"A couple of strangers were in here last Thursday night. They
introduced themselves to Guido, stood him drinks, talked at length. All
this was noticed by the bartender, without any special interest, simply
because it was a slack midweek night. He didn't hear what was said.
After closing time, Guido went out with them.
"The description of one of those birds answers moderately well to Bob's
description of Larkin."
Corinna shook herself, as if something rode her neck. "Is that all?"
she asked.
"Yes."
"It could be worse," she said. "We already know he knows Larkin."
"What did the other man look like?" asked Kintyre.
"Smallish fellow, sandy-haired, long nose. And I'm surprised the
barkeep could tell me that much. Look how you've come right back in
here tonight, a stranger, after tearing the joint up."
Guido finished. Applause crackled, abnormally loud for a place like
this: did they clap the knife which had been drawn? wondered Kintyre.
Corinna got up and made her way toward the platform. Guido gaped at
her. "I like that girl," said Yamamura. "Do we have to go on with this
business?"
"If we don't, she will alone," Kintyre told him.
Corinna and Guido held a muted argument. The fear was bulging his eyes.
Finally he collapsed, somehow, and went out through the rear door.
Corinna followed.
"Here we go," said Yamamura. "No, you ape, don't blow your nose! Oldest
trick in the book, and you can bet there's at least one plainclothesman
here tonight."
He sauntered affably between the tables. Kintyre came behind, his
shoulders aching with tension. The bartender, the man who could
actually notice things, regarded him speculatively as he passed by. A
small surf of conversation lapped at his feet, he had to choke down the
idiotic belief that it was all about him.
Then they were in the back room. Kintyre recognized the alley door he
had used previously. Almost hidden by stacked beer cases, a stair led
upward. At its top they found a dusty room with an iron cot, a couple
of chairs, and an old vanity table. A naked electric bulb glared from
the ceiling. Dressing room, Kintyre supposed.
Guido sat on the bedstead. He held a cigarette to his lips and drew
on it as if it kept him alive. Corinna stood before him. The overhead
light made her hair into a helmet and her face into a mask. Shadows lay
huge in the corners.
Guido didn't look up. "I'll see you later," he mumbled. "I swear it.
But not here. For Chrissake, we can all be killed here."
"Then why did you come tonight?" asked Yamamura.
"God! I was afraid not to."
"Did you see anyone dangerous in the audience?"
"I can't tell." His forehead glistened under the tangled hair. "There's
a baby spot on me when I sing. I can't see past the first couple
tables."
Corinna said: "Mr. Yamamura is a private detective. I understand he's
even better at judo than Dr. Kintyre, which you should know is saying
quite a lot."
"And when they go home?" He lifted a skull face. "What happens to me
then?"
Yamamura replied: "Your only real safety will come when those people
you are afraid of have been settled with. Do you want to go the rest of
your life being afraid?"
"You can't settle with them," whispered Guido. "I mean, it's not
just Larkin with his switchblades. O'Hearn carries a gun, and he's a
three-time loser already, do you understand what that means? I've seen
his gun!"
"Is there anyone else?" asked Kintyre.
"I don't know. You expect me to tell you if I do? I'll get myself
killed!"
Corinna waved Kintyre and Yamamura back. She sat down beside Guido and
took his free hand. "Bruce got himself killed too," she said in her
gentlest tone.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes! Leave me alone!"
"He was tied down somewhere and tortured," she said, not raising her
voice. "They burned him. The marks were all over his body, even after
they finished hacking it up. I know that much, no more. Nobody would
tell me more, and I didn't want to ask. But he must have been glad when
they finally cut his throat."
Guido tried to rise. She pulled him back, without using much strength.
"Jesus!" he screamed.
"Why did you help them?" she asked.
"I didn't! It's got nothing to do with--I _didn't_!"
She stood up again and looked down upon him. "Why did you do it?" she
said as calmly. "How had he hurt you, that you had to let him be burned
and twisted and killed?"
"No! Not me! I don't know!" His mouth was stretched into a gash; a
tongue like dry wood bobbed within it.
She slapped him. It could not have been hard, but he fell back onto the
bed and clawed at the mattress.
"Good-by," she said, and walked from him.
Kintyre looked at her and knew why the Furies had been women. His heart
was a cold lump.
Corinna waited in a corner, her hands writhing together. Guido tried,
horribly, to weep, and could not.
Then at last he rolled over on his back, blinked at the light, and said
in a high childish voice: "I'll tell you what happened. I'll tell you
so you can see it wasn't me, wasn't anything to do with Bruce, it just
happened to happen the same weekend, and then maybe if you get out and
leave me alone they won't kill me.
"All I did was this. These cats from Chicago came around last week and
said they were after some of the pod and could I get it, it was worth
five hundred bucks to them plus expenses. Not horse, now, I don't have
anything to do with horse. Just marijuana, it never hurt anybody, you
don't get hooked, you don't go nuts, hell, I mean you even have to will
yourself to keep the jag up and it's only in your head, man, you don't
do nothing to nobody else, dig?"
"Guido," said Corinna warningly.
He snapped after air. Presently he continued: "So I told them I didn't
handle it myself but I knew some who did. But they didn't dig that,
said they didn't want nothing to do with any local pushers, they
didn't even want it from any near town. Well, it seemed way out to
me, but five hundred plus expenses for finding a small packet wasn't
to be turned down, so I asked around and got the name of a dealer in
Tijuana, and when I saw them the next day they said that would do. So
I rented a car and drove down Saturday. I was supposed to meet Larkin
here again Monday night and give him the packet and get the rest of my
money--they paid two-fifty in advance. I came back to town late Monday.
When I hit my pad I heard about Bruce and the old lady was crying all
over me, so I called the place here and talked with Larkin, could he
meet me Tuesday night instead. So he said all right, only the professor
was here when he arrived. I haven't seen Larkin or O'Hearn since, and
what're they thinking I said?"
Kintyre didn't look at Corinna, he didn't believe it would be decent
for a minute or two. He asked Guido: "What other jobs did you do for
these men? Rent a house for them?"
"No--nothing. I turned the car back to the rental agency on Monday,
that's all. They'd advanced some of my expenses. They still owe me--"
"You're not likely to collect," said Yamamura. He nodded to Kintyre. "I
see what you're driving at. They missed a bet, not having him rent the
scene of the crime too. And of course it was a mistake to dump the body
across the Bay: that expedited the investigation, rather than slowing
it up as intended. But then, they were strangers to this locality. And
there's not much long-range difference, is there?"
"What do you mean?" asked Guido lifelessly.
"I mean you've been played for an all-time sucker," said Kintyre.
"It's pure luck--the Michaelises just happened to become Patsy Number
One--that you haven't been arrested on suspicion of murder. So far."
He heard Corinna gasp. Guido seemed too drained to understand.
"Another thing," said Kintyre. "What's between you and Gerald Clayton?"
"Clayton?" The empty eyes blinked from the bed. "Clayton. Oh, him.
Nothing."
"Are you certain?"
"We talked for a while, up at his pad. Bruce took me there. So finally
he gave me the polite brush-off and I came on over here to do my show.
Bruce stayed."
"That's all? You're sure?"
"For a long time, anyway. I met him once before--months and months
ago--just social like--" Guido's tones dribbled to silence.
Kintyre rubbed his chin. "That seems to let Clayton off," he said. "If,
to be sure, our friend here is telling the truth."
"He is," said Corinna. Turning, Kintyre saw her inhumanly composed. "I
know him. He can't be lying now."
"I wish I could be that certain," said Kintyre. "The whole thing makes
so little sense that--Though Judas, I feel I could almost grasp the
answer, but no."