The General hems and haws between his words a good deal: “It’s terrible, Katherine—I just heard—I’m on my way over.”
Aunt Katherine: “Yes, terrible, Thomas, and I want to see you—but first will you see if you can get in touch with the mayor?”
General: “The mayor?” He clears his throat some more.
Aunt Katherine: “Yes. I’m sure poor Robert was killed by a robber but the police seem determined to make as big a mystery out of it with as much resultant notoriety for all of us as possible. I wish you would ask him to do what he can.”
General: “Certainly, my dear,” clearing his throat again, “I shall look after it immediately.”
As Katherine hangs up, he gives the valet the phone, saying: “Get me the mayor” in the tone one says: “Get me the newspaper.”
As Aunt Katherine turns from the phone toward Dr. Kammer, the butler appears at the door to announce Lieutenant Abrams.
Several hours later the General arrives at Nick’s house. He hands his hat to the Butler, who opens the door and says: “Take me to Mr. Charles immediately.”
Butler: “But he’s still asleep, sir.”
The General snorts, saying: “Yes, yes, so you said when Miss Forrest phoned. Devilish inconsiderate of all of you.”
The Butler says apologetically: “But we never disturb him when he’s asleep, sir.”
The General snorts some more: “You said that over the phone, too. Now stop this silly nonsense and take me to him.”
The butler, overawed by the General, takes him up to Nick and Nora’s room. They are sleeping soundly. The General prods one of Nora’s shoulders with his fingers and says: “Here, here, wake up.”
Nora stirs a little and mumbles something but doesn’t open her eyes.
The General prods her again, saying: “Come—this is no time to be sleeping. Devilish inconsiderate of all of you.”
This time Nora opens her eyes and stares up at him in amazement.
General: “Wake up your young man, my dear. Why doesn’t the fellow sleep at night?”
Nora asks: “But what’s the matter, Uncle Thomas?”
General: “Matter? We’ve been trying to get you for hours. Wake him up.”
Nora shakes Nick, who says without opening his eyes: “Go away, Porter, I told you not to call me till Sacramento.”
Nora: “Wake up, Nick, Uncle Thomas wants to talk to you.”
Nick: “Tell the white-whiskered old fossil to do his snorting in somebody else’s ear—I’m busy.”
Nora: “But Nick, he’s here, standing beside you.”
Nick sits up blinking and says: “Why, Uncle Thomas, how nice of you to drop in on us like this.”
General: “Come—enough of this nonsense. Selma has been arrested and you lie here snoring.”
Nora looks horrified.
The General snorts some more: “The mayor did nothing to stop it—the bounder.”
Nick: “Maybe he didn’t know.”
The General asks: “Didn’t know what?”
Nick: “That I was snoring.”
General: “Come, get up. You know about these things—Katherine is counting on you.”
Nick, putting on his robe and slippers, says: “You don’t need me now, you need a lawyer.”
The General says contemptuously: “A lawyer—old Witherington is running around in circles, completely at sea; no ability at all—that fellow.”
Nick: “Then why don’t you get another lawyer?”
The General draws himself up: “Witherington has been our family attorney for years.”
Nick: “Well, what do you expect me to do?”
General: “To make the police stop being so silly—to get Selma out of there right away—to put an end to all this beastly notoriety.”
Nick asks: “Is that all?”
General: “Come—we’re wasting time—get into your clothes.”
In a barely furnished office in the Hall of Justice, Nick is talking to Abrams.
Abrams: “I know how you feel about it, Mr. Charles. I guess I’d feel the same way if it were one of my family; but what can we do? Everything points to her.”
Nick asks: “You mean you found out some things I don’t know about?”
Abrams: “Well, not much maybe, but there’s that check thing.”
Nick asks: “What check thing?”
Abrams: “Maybe the district attorney isn’t going to like this much, but I’ll tell you: I went down to Landis’s bank and that $10,000 check he gave the girl is perfectly okay. It was okay because his wife had put $10,000 in there for him just the day before.”
Nick looks surprised. He asks: “Are you sure?”
Abrams: “Sure, I’m sure. I saw it myself.”
Nick: “Did you ask her about it?”
Abrams replies wearily: “Yes, and there’s some kind of hanky-panky there, too, but I can’t figure out just what it is. She started to say she didn’t and then the old lady, Miss Katherine”—he breaks off to add— “that one’s a holy terror—”
Nick: “Make two copies of that.”
Abrams: “—she spoke up and said: ‘You did, Selma, you told me so yourself,’ and then Mrs. Landis said yes, she did.”
Nick asks: “So where does that fit in?”
Abrams: “So maybe she gave it to him and found out he was passing it on to the girl—how do I know? Every time I tried to pin her down she gets hysterical.”
Nick asks: “Find out anything else at the bank?”
Abrams: “No. He had given the Byrnes gal a check for $100 and one for $75 like she told us.” He takes the checks out of a desk drawer saying: “Here, if you want to see them.”
Nick looks at them and asks: “Have you got the $10,000 check he gave her?”
Abrams: “Yes.” He gives it to him.
Nick stands up, tilting back a light-shade, holds one of the small checks with the $10,000 check over it up against the light and tries the big check with the other small one. Abrams stands up to look over his shoulder. Nick fiddles with the checks until the signature of the top one is exactly over the bottom one.
Abrams exclaims: “A forgery!”
Nick nods, saying: “Yes, a tracing. Nobody ever writes that much the same twice.”
Abrams picks up the telephone and says: “Give me Joe,” then says: “Joe, go out and pick up that Polly Byrnes for me.” When he puts down the phone, Nick asks: “You aren’t holding any of them?”
Abrams shakes his head and says: “No. The guns we got from the Chinaman and Dancer are .38s all right like he was killed with, but the experts say they are not the guns that did it. I’m still not sure this forgery is going to help Mrs. Landis much. I already told you I knew there was some hanky-panky about those checks.”
Nick asks: “You haven’t found her gun yet?”
Abrams: “I got a couple of men in diving suits working over the bottom down around where David Graham threw it. But it was night, you know, and we can’t be too sure of the exact spot.”
Nick: “And you think you are going to convict her if you don’t find the gun?”
Abrams: “Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. It’s what the district attorney thinks.”
Nick: “Does he think she killed Pedro Dominges?”
Abrams: “That’s not funny, Mr. Charles. Her alibi covering that time is just no good at all. She claims a cigarette case had been mailed to her from the Li-Chee and she sent it back saying it wasn’t hers; but she thinks it belongs to some woman who was there with Robert, so that afternoon when she’s kind of nuts over him not being home for a couple of days, she goes down there to see if she can find out about him. Of course that joint don’t open till evening and so she didn’t see anybody that could tell us she wa
s there. She says she went back home again and that just about covers the time that Dominges was being killed. On the level, Mr. Charles, we had nobody else but her that we could hold.”
Nick: “Found your Selma Young yet?”
Abrams: “No.”
Nick: “How about Phil?”
Abrams: “Sure, maybe, if we can find him.”
Nick takes out the note that was thrown through the window, gives it to Abrams.
Abrams reads it carefully, then asks: “And where did this come from?”
Nick: “Somebody wrapped it around a dornick and heaved it through my window.”
Abrams asks: “Where’s the rest of it?”
Nick: “Somewhere in my dog’s intestines.”
Abrams reads slowly: “—lives at the Mil—”
Nick pushes the telephone book over to him and says: “Maybe that won’t be so tough. Polly said he lived in a hotel on Turk Street.”
Abrams: “That’s right,” and opens the telephone book to the hotel classification and runs his finger down the Mi’s, finally coming to the Miltern Hotel, ______ Turk Street.
Abrams: “That could be it—want to give it a try with me?”
Nick: “Right!” They get up. As they go toward the door, Nick says: “You noticed that whoever wrote the note misspelled easy words like my name and years, but did all right with ‘alias’ and ‘married’?”
Abrams: “Yeah, I noticed.”
EXTERIOR OF MILTERN HOTEL
A small, shabby, dirty joint with a door between two stores, and stairs leading up to an office on the second floor. Abrams, Nick, and two other detectives get out of a car, which draws up with no sound of sirens. One of the men remains at the outer door. Nick, Abrams, and the other detective start up the stairs. They go up to a small and dark office. Nobody is there. Abrams knocks on the battered counter. After a little while, a man in dirty shirt sleeves appears.
Abrams: “Is Mr. Phil Byrnes in?”
The Man says: “We ain’t got no Mr. Byrnes—not even a Mrs. Byrnes.”
Abrams: “Have you got a Ralph West?”
The Man: “Yep.”
Abrams: “Is he in?”
The Man: “I don’t know—room 212—next floor.”
Abrams says to the detective with him: “Get on the back stairs.”
Abrams and Nick walk up the front stairs and down a dark hall until they find 212. Abrams knocks on the door—there is no answer. He knocks again, saying in what he tries to make a youthful voice: “Telegram for Mr. West.” There is still no answer. He looks at Nick. Nick reaches past him and turns the knob, pushing the door open.
Nick: “After you, my dear lieutenant.”
Sprawled on his back across the bed, very obviously dead, is Phil, fully dressed as when we last saw him.
Nick points to something on the floor between them and the bed. It is a pair of spectacles, the frame bent, the glass ground almost to a powder. Abrams nods and comes into the room, stepping over the glasses, and leans over Phil.
Abrams: “Dead, all right—strangled and he was beaten up some before the strangling set in.” He looks down at one of Phil’s hands, then picks it up and takes half a dozen hairs from it. Turning to show them to Nick, he says: “Somebody’s hair in his hand.”
Nick looks at the hairs, then at the broken glasses on the floor. He says nothing. It is obvious he is trying to figure something out.
Abrams goes out saying: “Wait a minute—I’ll have one of the boys phone and then we’ll give the room a good casing.”
Nick moves around the room looking at things, opening and shutting drawers and looking into a closet, but apparently not finding anything of interest until he sees an automatic on the floor under one corner of the bed. He bends down to look at it but doesn’t touch it.
While Nick is looking at the gun, Abrams returns to the room.
Nick: “Here’s another .38 for your experts to match up.”
Abrams: “Hmm, what do you think?”
Nick: “I don’t think—I used to be a detective myself.”
Abrams: “Nobody downstairs seems to know about any visitors, but I guess the kind he had wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of knocking on the counter like we did.”
He leans over Phil and begins to go through his pockets.
Abrams straightens up and says: “I guess the heater’s his. He’s wearing an empty shoulder holster.” He holds up a flat key and adds: “And I guess this is the key to the Byrnes gal’s apartment. It’s got her number stamped on it.”
Nick: “Another good guess would be that Selma Landis didn’t do this.”
Abrams: “Fair enough, but he wasn’t killed the way the other ones were, either.”
Policemen enter, some in plain clothes, some in uniform, and Abrams starts to give them instructions about searching the room, looking for fingerprints, questioning the occupants of adjoining rooms, etc., etc.
Nick: “And I think you ought to have your laboratory look at that hair and the cheaters,” indicating the broken glasses.
Abrams: “Okay.” He looks curiously at Nick.
Nick: “And the sooner the better.”
Abrams, again: “Okay.” He addresses one of the men standing and listening to them. “Do it.” He hands him the hair. Then turning back to Nick, says: “Anything particular on your mind?”
Nick: “Ought to be on yours, with three murders tied together in just about twenty-four hours. Now that we’ve been told he’s her husband and he’s dead, don’t you think we ought to see Polly as soon as possible?”
Abrams says: “There’s something in that,” and tells one of his men, “Don’t let these lugs dog it while I’m gone.” He and Nick go downstairs. In the office he uses the telephone. When he’s through, he grumbles: “They haven’t picked her up yet.” He scratches his chin, then says: “I’ve got a man waiting up in her apartment. Want to take a run up there? I told you there’s something funny about the place that I’d like you to see.”
Nick: “All right. Don’t you think now we’ve got something more to talk about to Dancer?”
Abrams says in a hurt tone: “I think of things sometimes. I told them to pick up him and the Chinaman both.”
They go downstairs to the street.
At Aunt Katherine’s, all the Forrests except Selma are assembled. They are very excited and keep moving around so that Asta, who obviously doesn’t like any of them, has a great deal of difficulty keeping out of their way. Nora and Dr. Kammer are also there.
The General is standing, glaring down at Nora, and asking indignantly: “Do you mean to say that this—ah—husband of yours actually advised David to tell the police about Selma and the pistol?”
Nora says defiantly: “Yes.”
The General starts to walk up and down the floor, sending Asta into hiding again, and rumpling his whiskers and growling: “Why, the fellow’s a scoundrel—an out and out scoundrel.”
Nora: “Nick’s not—he knows what he’s doing.”
The General snorts and says angrily: “Nonsense—nobody knows what they’re doing. The whole country is full of incompetents and scoundrels nowadays.”
Aunt Hattie nudges Aunt Lucy and asks: “What is Thomas saying now—he mutters so.”
Aunt Lucy, who has been sniffling into her handkerchief, sobs: “Poor Selma. This is a terrible thing to happen to me—only a week after my eighty-third birthday.”
Nora jumps up and says: “Nick’s not incompetent and he’s not a scoundrel. You’re all acting as if you thought Selma really killed Robert.”
Aunt Katherine and Dr. Kammer exchange significant glances. The General clears his throat and says: “It’s not a case of anybody killing anybody—it’s a case of his being so devilish inconsiderate of the family. Has the
fellow no feelings?”
William, who is considered not too bright by the family, runs his finger inside his too-tight collar and asks: “Does anyone know if the police have considered the theory that Robert might have committed suicide?”
Aunt Katherine snaps at him: “That will do, William,” while the rest of them glare at him.
Burton, his tic working overtime, asks: “Well, where is this Nicholas? Why isn’t he here to explain himself?”
Nora: “Because he’s out trying to clear Selma while you all sit around here and criticize him.”
The General says: “I’d never have asked him if I’d known what the fellow’d been up to.”
Nora rises with great dignity and calls Asta. She faces the family and says: “I’m sure he doesn’t care what any of you think. He’s not doing it for you—he’s doing it for Selma. Goodbye.”
What would otherwise have been a dignified exit is spoiled by her bumping into the antique butler as she goes through the door. After the butler has gotten his breath, he says: “Mr. Graham on the phone for you, Mrs. Charles.”
She goes to the phone and says: “Hello, David.”
David, at the other end of wire, asks excitedly: “Where is Nick? I tried your house and the detective bureau but he wasn’t there. Lieutenant Abrams wasn’t in either.”
Nora: “They’re probably out together. Oh, Lieutenant Abrams said something about wanting Nick to go over to that apartment house with him. Maybe they’re there. What is it, David?”
David: “Something’s happened—I’ve got to see Nick. What apartment house?”
Nora: “I’m leaving here now. I’ll meet you and take you there. Where are you?”
David: “I’m in a drugstore at Mason and Bush Streets.”
Nora: “Wait for me—I’ll be right over.”
They hang up and she, after making a face at the direction of the room where she left the family, goes out and gets into her car.
Abrams and Nick arrive at the building where Polly has an apartment. It is a large, shabby building, set at the foot of Telegraph Hill. Across the street from it the hill rises steep and unpaved, with winding, wooden steps leading up between scattered frame houses. The end of the street, even with the house’s left-hand wall, is closed by a high board fence. From the fence, as from the house wall, the ground falls perpendicularly fifty or sixty feet to a rock-strewn vacant lot covering several blocks. In the street and on the hill above, goats are roaming. As they approach the door a goat runs out and dodges past them and goes to join the others. The front door is open. Abrams and Nick go in. Abrams knocks on a door on the left side of the corridor. The door is opened by a plainclothesman, who says: “Nary hide or hair of her yet.”