Lieutenant Adams eased back his chair, yawned and decided to call it a day. There was nothing he could do now until he got a copy of Donovan’s report and had found out how far he had progressed. He had also to wait
for Darcy to get a line on Johnny Dorman. He couldn’t expect much to happen until the following morning.
He was about to leave the office when the telephone bell rang. Frowning, he returned to his desk and picked up the receiver.
“Desk sergeant here, sir,” a voice barked in his ear. “There’s a guy just come in who wants to talk to the officer in charge of the Carson killing. Sergeant Donovan’s out. Do you want to see him?”
“Yes: send him up,” Adams said, hung his hat on the rack and sat down behind his desk.
After a three- or four-minute wait, a knock came on the door and a cop came in, followed by a tall, dark man whose pale face and haggard looks caught Adams’ interest.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I’m Kenway Holland,” Ken said breathlessly. He waited until the cop had gone, then went on, “I’m the man you’re looking for. I was with Fay Carson last night.”
Adams stiffened, stared, then pushing back his chair he stood up. For a moment he was so surprised that he couldn’t think how to handle this unexpected situation, but he quickly recovered.
He looked steadily at Ken. Yes, the description matched. This guy looked too scared and ill to be a faker.
“Did you tell the desk sergeant who you are?” he asked sharply.
“Why, no,” Ken said, surprised. “He didn’t ask me.”
Adams was now in control of himself. What a break ! he thought. If that fool Donovan had been in I wouldn’t have known about this until it was too late. What the hell am I going to do with this guy? If Donovan gets hold of him before I get hold of Dorman, they’ll pull me off the case, and this guy won’t know what’s hit him until he’s sitting in the chair.
It didn’t take him more than a second or two to make up his mind.
“Why didn’t you come here before?” he asked sharply.
“I — I hoped to get away with it,” Ken said, “but I’ve found it’s not possible. I want you to know I didn’t kill her. I want to tell you exactly what happened.”
“Okay,” Adams said, “but this isn’t the place where we can talk. The telephone rings, people come in and out.” He reached for his hat and put it on. “You come with me.” He had a sudden alarming thought. “Did you bring your car with you?”
Bewildered, Ken stared at him.
“I came in a taxi.”
Adams nodded. Another break ! If he had parked his green Lincoln outside headquarters some smart Alec would have been sure to have had something to say about it.
“Come with me,” Adams said, and set off down the passage.
Ken followed him to the street where Adams’ car was parked.
“Get in,” Adams said.
“But I don’t understand,” Ken said blankly.
“Why should you? Get in!”
Ken got into the car and Adams drove off, heading for his own apartment. He didn’t say anything until he pulled up outside a house in Cranbourne Avenue.
“I live here,” he said as he got out of the car. “You can talk your head off in my apartment without interruption.”
Ken followed him into a ground-floor, comfortably furnished sittingroom.
“Make yourself at home,” Adams said, tossing his hat on to a chair. “Have a drink?”
“I don’t understand what all this is about,” Ken said, facing him. “Why have you brought me here? I want to make a statement to the officer in charge of the murder. Who are you?”
Adams smiled as he fixed two highballs.
“I’m Lieutenant Adams of the Homicide Department. Take it easy. You don’t know it yet, but the last thing you want to do is to make a statement to the officer in charge of the Carson killing. He’s got a one-track mind. Now sit down and stop wasting time. I want your story. I want to know who you are, how you met Fay Carson and what happened last night. Don’t rush it. I want as many details as you can remember. Now start talking.”
Ken made his statement. He told Adams what had happened the previous evening, omitting no details, and as he came to the end of his story there was something about the little Lieutenant’s expression that gave him hope.
“I know I have behaved badly,” he concluded, “and I’m paying for it, but I didn’t kill her. I should have come to you before this, but I funked it. I wasn’t so much thinking of myself, I had to think of my wife. I wanted to keep it from her, but I don’t see how I can now.”
Adams stared at him for a long minute, then he pulled thoughtfully at his nose.
“If I were married, which fortunately I’m not,” he said, “and if I had been mug enough to have gone to a callgirl, I would have acted as you did in the same circumstances.”
“Does that mean you believe me?” Ken asked eagerly.
Adams shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter a damn if I believe you or not. The final word is with the jury. Now, let’s check on a few details. You had no idea there was someone else in the apartment beside you until the lights went out?”
“No idea at all.”
“You didn’t see this guy?”
“No. It was pitch dark. I heard him cross the room and bolt downstairs, but I hadn’t a chance of seeing him.”
“You didn’t hear her cry out?”
“There was a thunderstorm on. I don’t think I should have heard her if she had cried out.”
“Hmm…” Adams crossed one leg over the other, then asked, “This fat guy with the Pekinese: is he bald with a hooked nose and pointed ears?”
Ken looked startled.
“Why, yes. That exactly describes him. Do you know him?”
“I know him,” Adams said. “You don’t have to worry about him. He won’t give you any trouble. He’s only been out of jail six months. You can forget about him.”
“You mean he was bluffing?”
“Sure,” Adams said, and took a cautious sip from his glass. “He saw you last night going up and coming down. He might have seen this other guy. Did you ask him?”
Ken shook his head.
“I didn’t think of it.”
“I’ll ask him,” Adams said grimly. “You’ve told me everything? There’s nothing else you can remember?”
“I don’t think so,” Ken said, thought for a moment, then he remembered the tall, fair man who had ducked out of sight when he and Fay had come out of the Blue Rose. “There was a guy outside the Blue Rose I noticed. He seemed anxious not to be seen. He was tall and fair and good-looking. When he saw I had spotted him, he ducked back out of sight.”
Adams frowned.
“Tall, fair and good-looking?” he asked, and he was thinking of Johnny Dorman. “Would you know him again?”
“I think so. The light wasn’t too good, but I think I would.”
“Nothing else?”
Ken shook his head.
There was a long silence, then Ken asked, “Do you believe my story, Lieutenant?”
“Sure, it hangs together and makes sense, but don’t kid yourself that puts you in the clear. You’re in a hell of a jam; a far worse jam than you imagine.”
As Ken began to ask him what he meant, the telephone bell rang.
“Let me get this,” Adams said, and picked up the receiver.
“Yeah? What is it?” he said into the mouthpiece. He lay back in the easy chair, listening to the excited voice that came over the line. “Okay, sergeant. I’ll be right over. Yeah, if Donovan isn’t there, someone’s got to be. Okay, I’m coming,” and he hung up. He looked at Ken and grimaced. “There’s a general call out for you. They’ve found your suit and shoes at Gaza’s store. My two bright assistants have also found your car and the card Parker gave you with Carson’s telephone number on it. Right now every cop in town is looking for you.”
Ken sat rigid.
“But they can’t prove I killed her!” he exclaimed. “You believe me! You’ve just said so. You can call them off…”
Adams lit his cigarette, stretched out his short legs and shook his head.
“Know anything about politics, Mr. Holland?” he asked.
“What has politics to do with this?”
“Everything. You’d better get a picture of the set-up.” He sank further into the chair. “The boss behind the present Administration is a guy named Sean O’Brien. He intends to marry Gilda Dorman, a nightclub crooner. O’Brien has money, power and ability. If he wants anything, he has it, and nothing stands in his way. He wants this woman. Her brother is Johnny Dorman who was Fay Carson’s lover before he was put in a nut-house. He came out yesterday. He was the guy who killed Fay Carson. I can’t prove it yet, but I’ll bet my last buck he was the guy. O’Brien isn’t likely to let him go to the chair for murder. He’ll cover him up, and he can do it. He’ll look around for a fall guy, and the fall guy is you.”
Ken stared at him.
“You must be joking,” he said blankly.
“It’s no joke. You’ll find that out fast enough. What O’Brien says goes in this town. Sergeant Donovan will turn in a report. The Commissioner will hand it over to O’Brien. They have a certain amount of evidence against you. Any other evidence in your favour will be suppressed. They have enough on you to put you into the chair right now.”
Ken grappled with the feeling of rising panic.
“Then why are you telling me this? Why don’t you go ahead and arrest me?” he said angrily. “You’re a member of the police. Why bring me here?”
Adams crossed and uncrossed his legs.
“I happen to be in the opposition camp. I guess I must be crazy to stick my neck out, but that’s the way it is. If I could pull the rug from under O’Brien I would do it. I have an idea I might do it through you. If I can prove Dorman killed this Carson girl, I might force O’Brien to show his hand. Dorman’s sister would put pressure on O’Brien, and he might make a false move. I want my men to be hunting you so I can hunt Dorman. That’s why I’ve brought you here. It’s essential they don’t catch you before I catch him. I want to get Lindsay Burt interested in you. He’ll take care of you if I can convince him you are being framed. But you’ve got to have patience. This could take a few days, even a few weeks. You’re safe here, but don’t go showing yourself on the streets. My men are efficient. They’re looking for you, and they’ll find you if you show yourself.”
“But my wife will be coming home soon,” Ken said anxiously. “I’ve my job to think of. You can’t expect me…”
Adams raised his hand.
“Wait a minute. I’ve told you already: you’re in a jam. Your wife and your job aren’t important. It’s your life you have to think of. If they catch you, you’re through, and don’t forget it!”
“But this is fantastic! Suppose you don’t find Dorman? What happens to me?”
“We’ll think about that when the time comes.”
“What about my wife?”
“You should have thought about her before you played around with Fay Carson.” Adams finished his drink and set down his glass. “Now, take it easy. You stay here. I’m going back to headquarters. I want to find out what they are doing.”
“I forgot to tell you I saw Gilda Dorman at the Blue Rose that night,” Ken said. “Did you know she and Fay Carson once shared an apartment together?”
Adams put on his hat.
“I didn’t know, but I can’t see it has anything to do with our problem. You take it easy. Leave this to me.”
“I’d better see a lawyer,” Ken said uneasily.
“Plenty of time to see a lawyer. Relax, can’t you? You’re safe here. Go to bed. The spare room is through that door. I’ve got to go,” Adams said, and nodding, he left the apartment.
Ken got to his feet, went over to the window and watched the Lieutenant drive away. His mind was in a whirl. This was an incredible position to be in. He had a disturbing idea that Adams was only using him as a political pawn. If the gamble came off, all would be well, but if it didn’t, then Adams might wash his hands of him.
He thought of Ann returning to the empty bungalow. He couldn’t remain in this apartment indefinitely. The best thing he could do was to consult a
first-class attorney and put himself into his hands.
He was still trying to make up his mind which attorney to go to when the telephone bell rang. He hesitated for a moment, then, thinking it might be Adams to tell him what was happening at headquarters, he lifted the receiver.
“That you, Lieutenant?” A deep, rich voice, which Ken instantly recognized as Sam Darcy’s, whispered in his ear. “The Lieutenant’s out. I think he’s at headquarters.” There was a pause, then Darcy said, “Can you take a message?”
“I guess so.”
“Okay, tell him a guy who looked like Johnny Dorman was seen on Tux’s cruiser, Willow Point. My man only caught a glimpse of him and he won’t swear it was Johnny.”
Ken felt a tingle of excitement run up his spine.
“I’ll tell him.”
“The cruiser’s anchored in the estuary. He’ll know.”
“Okay,” Ken said, and hung up.
For a long moment he stood thinking, then he put a call through to police headquarters.
“Give me Lieutenant Adams,” he said to the desk sergeant.
“He’s not here. Who’s calling?”
“He’s on his way down. Hasn’t he arrived yet?”
“He’s been in and he’s gone out again. What is it?”
Ken replaced the receiver.
Suppose Dorman left the cruiser before he could tell Adams where he was? he thought. If he were to get out of this jam, he had to help himself.
He would go to the waterfront and watch the cruiser until Adams came.
He went to Adams’ desk, wrote down Darcy’s message, added that he was going to try to find the Willow Point and urged Adams to come as quickly as he could. He left the message on the table, grabbed his hat and left the apartment. He cautiously opened the front door.
Rain was falling, and the wet darkness gave him a feeling of security. He went down the steps and, turning left, he walked as quickly as he could towards the river.