Goldfish Have No Hiding Place

5

Jean hadn’t exaggerated when she had said my desk was loaded. I also found Max Berry pacing around my office like a caged tiger. We spent the entire morning working on the Hammond article. I had no chance to speak to Jean while Max was with me.

Finally, I got rid of him, then Jeremy Rafferty arrived with his piece about violence in the streets. It was so good, I decided to run it in the next issue. I called the artist who did our illustrations and explained to him how to illustrate the article. In spite of being caught up in the machinery of producing a magazine, every now and then my mind kept darting to the stolen reel of tape. When Rafferty left I went into Jean’s office but found her in a huddle with one of our advertisers and they looked set for some time. By now it was midday. I asked Judy to phone the Eat’s bar and have a sandwich sent over. While I was eating it, I called the hospital to inquire after Wally. I was lucky to catch Stanstead.

‘What’s the news, Henry? How’s Wally?’

‘Not so good,’ Stanstead told me. ‘He’s not responding as he should. I have got Carson coming to look at him this afternoon. Those kicks in the head have done more damage than I had thought.’

I stiffened, shocked.

‘For God’s sake, Henry! You said he wasn’t in danger... is he?’

‘Let us say he isn’t responding. Carson has seen the X-rays. He’s deciding whether to operate or not.’

‘Have you told Shirley?’

‘Of course.’

‘Is he conscious?’

‘No. You see, Steve, Wally is badly out of condition. He’s too fat and bluntly, he’s flabby. You can’t take the kind of beating he had without being in trouble.’

‘Who is Carson anyway?’

‘He is our best brain surgeon.’ Stanstead sounded a little impatient that I didn’t know. ‘Mr. Chandler said Wally was to have the best treatment and he’s getting it.’

‘When will you know?’

‘Around five o’clock. I’ll call you.’

‘Thanks,’ and I hung up.

I sat back. I had a definite feeling that Wally could give me information about Gordy. I wanted to know how he had got those three names — Lucilla Bower, Creeden and Latimer and if there were any other names.

The door opened and Jean came in.

‘What a morning!’ she said. ‘I have only a minute but I wanted you to know I got rid of the gun last night. I drove down town and dumped it in a sack of refuse. It was the best I could do, but I’m sure it won’t be found.’

‘You are wonderful, Jean. I can’t thank you enough. Wally...’

‘I know. I called Shirley. She told me.’

‘How is she?’

‘Bearing up. She’s gone to the hospital.’

‘Stanstead will call me around five.’

We looked at each other.

‘Will you have dinner with me tonight, Jean? There’s a lot to talk about.’

The telephone bell started up. She answered, then handed me the receiver. ‘It’s Borg. I’ll get back to my desk.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Yes, all right,’ and she was gone.

‘Steve? I hear you’ve lost your gun.’ Borg’s voice sounded tough.

‘It was stolen from my car.’

‘Hell! I can’t get you another and you’d better not tell the boss. What’s the matter with you? Don’t you lock your car for God’s sake?’

‘Last night I had things on my mind.’

‘Send the permit back to me and I’ll try to sort it out. The cops are cursing me,’ and he hung up.

I remembered that Max and I had been so busy with the Hammond article, I had forgotten to give him his gun and permit. I went over to the closet to check if the gun was still there: it was.

Then Harry Lancing arrived. He handled our financial column which was a big success. He and I spent the rest of the afternoon, interrupted by telephone calls, mapping out his article for the next issue.

When he had gone, the time was nearly 18.00. My intercom buzzed.

‘Mr. Chandler on the line,’ Jean told me.

I lifted the receiver.

‘Hi, Steve! I’m just back.’ Chandler’s voice boomed. ‘Damn good trip. I have things to talk to you about. Come over and have dinner with us and bring Linda. She can keep Lois company while we talk, huh?’

I thought of my date with Jean, but this was an invitation I couldn’t refuse.

‘Linda is in Dallas with her mother, Mr. Chandler.’

‘Then bring Jean with you. I have to keep Lois occupied.’ He laughed. ‘The Hammond article ready?’

‘The layout is with the printers. On my way over to you, I’ll get some pulls.’

‘Fine. Say around seven? I want an early night.’

‘Yes, Mr. Chandler.’

I went into Jean’s office and told her Chandler had invited her to dinner.

She threw up her hands, her face registering despair.

‘Oh, no!’

‘There it is.’

‘I must drop everything and go home, Steve. I have to change. His wife is so formal. I’ll meet you there at seven.’

Returning to my desk, I called the printers and asked if they could have pulls of the Hammond article in an hour. Because Chandler owned the works, they said they would.

I looked at my watch. I had three-quarters of an hour before I need leave the office. In the bustle, I had forgotten Stanstead hadn’t telephoned.

I called the hospital. Stanstead apologised for not calling me.

‘He’s been operated on. I would have called you sooner but Mr. Borg has been taking up my time.’

‘Borg?’

‘That’s right. He represents Mr. Chandler, doesn’t he? Wally will be all right. In a couple of days, now the pressure on the brain has been removed, he’ll be able to have visitors. Mr. Borg wants to get him to some clinic in Miami as soon as it is safe for him to travel. Mr. Chandler certainly looks after his staff.’

‘In a couple of days, I can talk to him?’

‘I think so. The police have priority. Lieutenant Goldstein is already pressing.’

‘I’ll call you Friday.’

‘Do that.’

I sat for a long moment, thinking. Would Wally give the police the story about Gordy? I was sure Shirley would be the first to see him and she must be told to warn Wally to say nothing. I telephoned Wally’s house but got no reply. Shirley was probably still at the hospital. Well, I had two days. It was time I was moving. I locked up the office and went down to my car.

I stopped off at the printers and collected the damp pulls of the Hammond article. I paused to look them over. They looked good to me. Then I drove uptown to Chandler’s opulent house, arriving there at 19.05. I saw Jean’s Porsche already parked. The butler, imported from England, took me into a vast lounge: every piece of furniture had a history and a price, and the paintings in the gilt frames, lit by special lighting, were all museum treasures.

‘Come on in, Steve,’ Chandler said.

Jean, looking lovely in a simple white dress, was nursing a dry martini. Lois Chandler was sitting by her side and she smiled at me as I came forward.

Lois Chandler was some twenty years younger than her husband and that would make her thirty-six or — seven. She was tall, elegant and sophisticated. She appeared to have nothing else to do except entertain her husband’s guests, buy clothes, visit beauty parlours and look glamorous. She was so immaculate that I had the feeling that if I touched her it would be like touching a masterpiece in oils that had not completely dried. Her hair, thick and impressively groomed, was tinted sable. Her large green eyes, her rather sharp little nose, her sensual mouth and her determined chin explained why Chandler had married her and doted on her.

‘You are a stranger, Steve,’ she said, smiling at me. ‘We don’t see enough of you.’

We all made small talk while drinks were served, then we went into dinner which was formal and over-rich and while we ate Chandler talked about his visit to Washington. We were told how the President was looking, that Chandler thought the inflation problem was on the way to being solved, that the President and he were now on first name terms. While we were being served dessert, Lois suddenly broke in, looking at her husband as she said, ‘Darling, aren’t you monopolising the conversation? I want to hear from Steve about this odd murder at Eastlake.’

‘You’re right, honey.’ Chandler beamed at her. ‘Murder? What has happened?’

Lois looked at me.

‘You can tell us. Who is this man and why was he shot?’

‘I have no idea why he was shot,’ I said, aware she was staring curiously at me. ‘He managed the Welcome Self-service store.’

‘I know that! It was in the paper, but why?’

‘Even the police don’t know. Someone walked into his house and shot him dead. That’s all I know.’ I saw Chandler was looking bored.

‘Some drug addict after money,’ he said impatiently. ‘It happens every day.’

‘But surely on the Eastlake estate there are many more prosperous homes to go to?’ Lois said, still looking at me.

‘I don’t suppose this man had much money.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘Well, I am disappointed,’ she said and smiled at me. ‘I was quite, quite sure you would have some inside information. I adore a murder case.’

Chandler leaned forward and patted her hand.

‘Look, honey, I have to talk to Steve. So suppose you two girls get together, huh?’

Lois lifted her elegant shoulders and turned to Jean.

‘Let’s go,’ she said. ‘Obviously we’re outstaying our welcome.’

When the door closed behind them, Chandler pushed back his chair and got to his feet.

‘We’ll go to my study. I want to see the Hammond pulls.’

It was not until after midnight that I escaped from his study. By then Jean had gone home and Lois had gone to bed.

Chandler was delighted with the Hammond article. He also talked about the President’s anti-inflation plans and together we mapped out an article explaining what the President had in mind. This would have to be written by Lancing. Chandler also talked about the Schultz article. He wanted that to appear in the following issue.

‘We’ll keep them on the run, Steve,’ he said, grinning like a schoolboy. ‘Hit them and keep hitting them. It’s good news — Wally will be all right. He’s a damn fine researcher. As soon as he’s on his feet, I’ll send him and his wife down to Palm Beach for some sun. How about a replacement until he can start work again?’

‘Berry can handle it. I have a lot of good stuff we haven’t used yet.’

As he walked me to the front door, he said, ‘You’re doing a fine job. Sorry Linda couldn’t come. I like that girl.’

I hesitated whether to tell him our marriage had broken down, but decided against it. There was time.

I got in my car, then drove to the Imperial hotel and using one of the telephone booths, I called Jean. There was a delay, then she answered.

‘Could I come over?’ I asked. ‘There’s so much to tell you.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m in bed. I’m utterly exhausted after two hours with that woman. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.’

‘We never seem to have a moment in the office. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night so I can bring you up to date?’

‘Not tomorrow. I have a date.’

‘But this is important, Jean. Can’t you break it?’

‘No.’

The curt note in her voice told me that was final. I then began to get worried.

‘Jean... I know nothing about you. May I ask if there is someone?’

A long pause, then she said, ‘There is someone... yes.’

When she said that, I really realised I loved her. I experienced shock and bitter disappointment.

‘Really someone?’ My voice turned husky.

‘I must get some sleep.’ Again that curt note in her voice told me that too was final. ‘Good night,’ and she hung up.

Walking slowly, I went to my car. I had never felt so lonely.

I had known her for eighteen months and had been blind to everything about her except her efficiency. Then suddenly I had seen her as a complete woman. It was like drawing aside a curtain and letting in the sun. I should have known that a girl like her must have a man in her life. Well, I knew now, but it didn’t help or console me.

I drove home and put the car in the garage. As I unlocked the door into the house a voice said, ‘Manson...’

I spun around.

Sergeant Brenner was standing in the shadows.

‘Turn the light off. I don’t want to be seen.’

We sat facing each other in my living room. As I looked at Brenner I got a shock. This wasn’t the hard tough cop that I had known. This was a different man: a man who seemed to have fallen to pieces. His face was white and drawn. The hard lines were ironed out and could there be sudden flabbiness in his body?

‘Listen, Manson, I want you to level with me,’ he said, his big hands turning into fists. ‘Did you get that film and the blow-ups? Don’t lie to me.’

‘I didn’t get them.’

He sagged in the chair.

‘Goldstein now knows Gordy was a blackmailer. He knows someone has the film.’

‘If you’re in the same mess as I am, suppose we put our cards on the table?’

He regarded me.

‘Yeah... go ahead. Don’t regard me as a cop. Level with me.’

‘We might help each other,’ I said. ‘My wife stole a bottle of expensive perfume from the store. She was caught on the scanner. Gordy wanted twenty thousand dollars for the strip of film, showing her stealing. He told me other husbands were involved. I decided to pay, but I couldn’t raise all the money. I went to Gordy’s house with three thousand. I found him dead. I was about to search the house for the film when a woman arrived. I got away while she was calling the police. I didn’t shoot him, but I’m sure the gun that killed him was the one I was given on the pistol permit. I had left the gun right here on that settee. My thinking is someone took it, killed Gordy, then replaced it. I’ve got rid of the gun.’ I stared at him. ‘That’s the story, Brenner. Feel like giving me your story?’

‘The same as yours.’ He lifted his fists in despair. ‘Why the hell do women do it? On my pay, I can’t give her all that much, but I thought she was happy. The scanner caught her. She was one of the first. The bastard wanted three thousand: that’s money I haven’t got. So he was selling me a frame from the film at a time for thirty dollars a week.’

Although I didn’t like him, I felt sorry for him.

‘If the film is found,’ he went on, ‘I’ll be finished. Goldstein has no use for me.’ He rubbed his hand over his sweating face. ‘When I got there, I found the shell case. I recognised it and I was sure you had killed him and had got the film and the blow-ups. That was why I gave you the shell case. I knew if Goldstein had found it, he would have traced it to you. My thinking right at that moment was I didn’t want anyone nailed for Gordy’s murder. That was stupid thinking. Goldstein now knows about the scanners and he has checked the store for film. There’s no film. He has checked Gordy’s house: no film. So... Goldstein is a very smart cookie. He knows Gordy’s killing involves blackmail and now he is starting an investigation, checking every customer who has used the store.’

‘That doesn’t mean he can prove anything unless he has the film,’ I said.

‘That’s right but he is like a goddamn mongoose. Once he gets his teeth into something, he never lets go.’

‘Let’s look at this, Brenner.’ I was glad to have someone to throw ideas at. ‘The film and the blow-ups could be in a safe deposit or they could be in the care of someone Gordy trusted or they could have been found by the killer. If they are in a safe deposit, sooner or later, Goldstein will find them. If the killer got them, he will have destroyed them.’ I paused, then went on, ‘But if someone Gordy trusted has them, you and I could still be blackmailed.’

‘I’ve thought of all that. That’s why I was hoping you had them. There’s no safe deposit. Goldstein has already checked. This means either the killer found them or else...’

‘Who is this woman: Freda Hawes?’

‘Gordy’s mistress. She’s a drunken toughie. When I arrived she was slobbering over Gordy, getting herself smeared with his blood, crying and screaming. It was while she was going through her act, I spotted the shell case. God knows if she had seen it. I took a chance.’

‘Do you know anything about her?’

‘I’ve seen her around. She’s a drinker and a hustler. She hangs around bars, cadging drinks. I don’t know anything else about her.’

‘Maybe it would be an idea to investigate her. I can’t do it, but you could.’ I went on to tell him about Herman Webber and about his story that Gordy’s file had been stolen and why I knew he had been lying.

‘Webber?’ Brenner sneered. ‘If your boss hadn’t set him up as a private eye and financed him, he would be selling matches on the streets. He was going to be booted off the force for corruption, but your boss saved him. That creep would cut his mother’s throat for a dollar.’

‘So he’s crooked, but what interests me is why he said the Gordy file had been stolen. What’s in the file he doesn’t want me to see?’

Brenner nodded.

‘Yeah... you have something there. Do you think he has destroyed the file?’

I shrugged.

‘I don’t know. Look, Brenner, I’m not the only suspect around here.’ I went on to tell him about finding Frank Latimer outside my house and how I had run into Creeden coming away from Gordy’s place. ‘Either of them could have walked into my house, taken the gun and killed Gordy. They had the same motive. Their wives had also been stealing.’

‘I’ll listen around. What I want to be sure of is the film has been destroyed.’

‘Can you get me some information about Freda Hawes?’

‘Sure, but you can bet Goldstein will be onto her by now.’ He leaned forward and poked a thick finger at me. ‘I’m working on the inside and you will be working on the outside, together we could find the film before Goldstein does. But listen, Manson, this is between you and me and no one else. You talk to anyone and I’ll repeat that... you talk to anyone including your staff, we could be in trouble. So say nothing. We will work together, but no one else... understand?’

I thought of Jean. I had been going to tell her about Brenner. I loved her and I wanted to have her thoughts and advice, but now looking at Brenner’s drawn, anxious face, I realised there was no point telling her. She had someone else. I wasn’t in her life. I must not involve her.

‘I understand.’

He got to his feet.

‘We mustn’t be seen together, Manson. If you get something or I get something, we use the telephone. If we have to meet, I’ll come here late, but it is safer not to meet.’

He went away, leaving me feeling a little less lonely, but not much.

When Cissy arrived the following morning, I told her I had forgotten my keys and had to break in and could she get her husband to repair the window. She rolled her eyes and beamed and said it would be fixed by the time I returned.

I then told her that Mrs. Manson had gone to see her mother and would Cissy pack a couple of suitcases with clothes and have them sent to Dallas. I gave her three dollars for her trouble.

Having settled my home worries, I got in the car and drove to the office. I felt a little embarrassed facing Jean but I need not have been. She was her usual quiet, efficient self and we immediately got caught up in the machinery of the magazine. It wasn’t until close on midday when she came in with printers’ proofs that she said, ‘I’m sorry about tonight, Steve. Is there anything you want to tell me? We have a few moments.’

‘I’ve been thinking about it, Jean.’ I looked at her. ‘You have done enough. I could be in a jam but I’m not involving you further. The fact you got rid of the gun is more than enough.’ I forced a smile. ‘It’ll work out.’

‘I’m not scared of getting involved. If I can help, I want to help.’

‘It’s okay and thanks for the offer.’ I paused, then went on, ‘Whoever it is, Jean, I hope you will be happy.’

She flushed a little, then putting the proofs on my desk, she said, ‘Thank you. I’ll go to lunch. I won’t be long,’ and she left me.

I sat for some moments feeling sorry for myself. I wondered who the man was, then the telephone brought me back to work. Later, I remembered I hadn’t warned Shirley to tell Wally to keep his mouth shut about the Welcome store.

I called her home.

When she came on the line, I said, ‘Great news about Wally! You must be relieved.’

‘Oh, boy! You can say that again.’ Shirley sounded very elated. ‘I’m seeing him tomorrow afternoon. I might see him sooner. It depends on what Dr. Stanstead says.’

‘Shirley... I hate to bother you with this, but the police will talk to Wally. It is essential he says nothing about the Welcome store. Would you tell him that?’

‘The Welcome store? I don’t understand.’

‘Wally has been researching the store. He’s not to tell the police.’

‘But he hasn’t!’ A pause, then she said, ‘Well, at least, he didn’t tell me about it.’

‘I think he has. We are not ready yet to give out publicity to anyone about the store. It’s important.’

‘I’ll tell him, of course. Isn’t there a murder inquiry going on about the store? I’ve been so het-up, I have scarcely looked at a newspaper.’

‘That’s right. That’s why it’s important for Wally to say nothing until I’ve talked to him. This is really important, Shirley. Mr. Chandler wants it that way.’

‘All right, Steve. I’ll tell him... say nothing about the Welcome store... right?’

‘That’s it... nothing to nobody. Did Chandler tell you he is sending you and Wally to Palm Beach once Wally is on his feet?’

‘He told me. He’s a wonderful boss, Steve.’

‘Yes. I hope to see Wally sometime tomorrow after noon,’ and I hung up.

On an impulse, I picked up the telephone book and looked up Freda Hawes. She was in the book: 1189, East Street: not a good district: on the fringe of the city’s little Harlem.

I was wondering about her when Max Berry came in and from then on until I had lunch I was occupied.

I went to my club for lunch and as I sat down at a table, Harry Mitchell joined me.

We both had the rather dreary businessman’s lunch: mostly lettuce and tomatoes with a thin slice of ham.

We talked of this and that, then Mitchell said, ‘Steve, you know, in Eastlake, we live in a goldfish bowl. Punch me on the jaw if I’m stepping out of turn, but rumour says you and Linda are parting. Now... wait. If I’ve said anything out of turn, say so and let’s forget it, but this happens to be important to me.’

I stared at him.

‘I’m not with you.’

‘Could you confirm that you and Linda are parting?’ He forked up a bit of tomato, then put it back on his plate.

‘I can confirm that.’

‘I’m sorry, but I can see how it is. Linda needs living with.’ He grinned at me. ‘Look, Steve, do you plan to stay on in that big house? If you don’t, I have a buyer for you.’

I sat back, my lunch forgotten. The idea of being saddled with the house, with Cissy bleeding me white was a sudden nightmare I hadn’t thought of.

‘I could be in the market,’ I said cautiously.

He leaned forward and patted my wrist.

‘Man! Have I good news for you! Mom and Dad have been dying to live at Eastlake. We all get along fine together. There has been no, house vacant I could fix for them. You paid seventy-five thousand dollars... right?’

‘Yes.’

‘My old man is loaded. Suppose he offers eight-five? Would you be interested?’

‘I’ll have to think about that, Harry. Property has jumped way ahead. Give me a week, huh?’

He pushed his salad this way and that, then he said, ‘I’ve already talked to Dad. He’s crazy mad to have your place. Look, he’s already got two homes. He doesn’t want to bother to refit another house. I know your place. It has class. Would you sell it as it stands: all the furniture, the linen and so on? Would you do that?’

I drew in a long deep breath.

‘I might do, but this is a little sudden.’

He paused while he chewed some ham.

‘Sure. Would a hundred thousand, including the furniture and fittings interest you?’

‘For a hundred and thirty thousand, Harry, you have yourself a deal.’

He grinned widely and slapped me on the shoulder.

‘You old horse thief! It’s a deal. Man! How I love spending other people’s money! When can they move in?’

‘When I get the money, I move out.’

‘That’s fighting talk.’ He produced a chequebook, scribbled and handed the cheque to me.

‘Okay. So I move out at the end of the week.’

‘This calls for a drink. What will you have?’

I shook my head, pushed back my chair and stood up.

‘I have a magazine to produce, Harry. Tell your parents they can move in if they want to next Monday.’ I patted his shoulder and walked away, leaving most of my lunch uneaten.

Back in the office, I told Jean about the deal.

‘It’s fantastic! A hundred and thirty thousand! No bother about getting rid of the furniture and I’ll be shot of Eastlake!’

‘I’m so glad,’ she said, ‘but you will be homeless. You have only five days to move out.’

In my excitement to get all that money and to be rid of the house, I hadn’t thought of that.

‘I’ll go to a hotel.’

‘Do you want to live in the city?’

‘I guess so. This commuting has been driving me crazy.’

‘I’ll find you a service apartment. That’s no problem. If you will put everything you want to keep in one room, I’ll arrange for someone to pack and deliver it to the apartment.’

I stared at her. If only she could be my wife!

‘That’s marvellous, Jean. Will you really do that?’

‘Of course. That’s what I’m paid for.’ She smiled to take the curse off that. ‘I’ll fix it,’ and she left me.

I got away from the office soon after 18.00. As I was walking to my car, Frank Latimer came from his office building.

‘Hi, Steve! What’s this I hear... you leaving Eastlake?’

I knew I was going to get a lot of this so I made it short.

‘That’s right. Linda and I are parting. I don’t want to keep the house.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He wagged his head. ‘When Harry told me, I couldn’t believe it. Still, you have done a swell deal with him. His old man must be loaded to turn out that kind of money. We’ll miss you. Come on over and have dinner with us.’

‘I have packing to do... thanks all the same.’

‘Well, because you’re leaving Eastlake that doesn’t mean we won’t see you. Sally will be upset. Like me, she loves you two.’

‘That’s the way the cookie crumbles,’ I said and got in my car.

How glad I would be to be rid of Eastlake! Every move, every whisper were known in seconds. At least, living in the city I would be out of the goldfish bowl.

I spent a depressing evening and half the night putting my personal things and Linda’s things in the study. I was surprised they amounted to so little. Cissy had packed most of Linda’s clothes. I had to pack mine. There were books, gramophone discs and a few knick-knacks but little else.

Finally, around midnight, I went to bed, but not to sleep.

I kept thinking of that reel of tape that had been stolen. I also kept thinking of Jean. She was really marvellous. All right, she had said that was what she was paid to do, but that didn’t make her any less marvellous to me. What really kept me awake until the small hours was the knowledge that Harry Mitchell had yakked around that he was paying me one hundred and thirty thousand dollars for my house. If there was a second blackmailer, and I felt in my bones there was, this news if it reached him/her would be like sweet music. I wondered too if Brenner had found out anything about Freda Hawes. Could she be the second blackmailer if there was to be one?

I thought of tomorrow. With luck I might have a word with Wally. I realised how much I was relying on him to get me clear of this jam. He must have got his information about the stealing from someone, and maybe this someone could point to Gordy’s killer and get me off the hook.

Reaching the office the following morning, I told Jean I had put all my personal things in the study and she said she would take care of it. I gave her a duplicate key to the front door.

‘I’ve asked around, Steve,’ she went on. ‘There’s a good furnished apartment on Eastern Avenue which I think you will like. Would you take a look at it lunch time?’

‘As quick as that?’

She smiled.

‘I hope you will like it.’ She put a slip of paper on my desk. ‘Here’s the address and the rent and the name of the agents. The rent comes a little high, but I think you’ll agree it is worth it.’

‘You have seen it?’

‘I looked at it last night.’

I regarded her.

‘But you said you had a date last night.’

‘I can do two things at once. I was a little late, but I wanted you to be fixed up.’ Then picking up the mail and before I could thank her, she went back to her office.

I had a quick lunch and then drove to Eastern Avenue: a good district, overlooking the park. The janitor, a large, smiling Negro who told me his name was Sam Washington (‘No relation to the great Mr. George, Mr. Manson’) showed me the apartment. It couldn’t have been better. It consisted of a large bedroom, a large sitting-room and the rest, comfortably furnished.

I said I would take it.

‘Yeah, Mr. Manson, you could do a lot worse.’

I returned to the office, thanked Jean and she said she would fix it with the agents.

Around 17.00 I telephoned the hospital and was again lucky to catch Stanstead.

‘Can I see Wally?’ I asked.

‘Suppose we make it tomorrow morning, Steve? He has already seen his wife and also Lieutenant Goldstein. I think he has had enough for today.’

‘This is really important, Henry. I promise I won’t stay for more than ten minutes.’

‘Well, all right, if it is that important. No longer than ten minutes.’

I told Jean I was seeing Wally.

‘I’ll get you some flowers and give him my love.’

I arrived at the hospital soon after 18.00, carrying a bouquet of violets. I ran into Stanstead who was leaving.

‘How is he?’ I asked.

‘Better than I thought possible, but he still needs care. His eye will be all right. There is also a suggestion of amnesia. The police didn’t seem satisfied.’

I smiled to myself. Shirley had got the message home.

I took the elevator to the third floor, found Wally’s room, tapped and entered.

Wally, his head in bandages, one eye covered, lay in the bed. As I closed the door, I said, ‘Wally! Is it good to see you!’

‘Hello, Steve.’ His voice sounded depressingly feeble. ‘Good of you to come.’

I put down the violets.

‘From Jean... she sends her love.’

‘Great girl.’ His hands moved over the sheet.

‘How do you feel?’

‘Not so good.’

Looking at him I realised the truth of what Stanstead had said about Wally being too fat and too flabby.

‘You’re going to be all right, Wally. As soon as you can get on your feet you and Shirley will be off to Palm Beach.’

‘Yes.’ He didn’t appear to be particularly pleased.

‘Wally... I mustn’t stay long. Stanstead said ten minutes, but this is important. Jean told me you have been researching the Welcome store and you have come up with three names... Lucilla Bower, Mabel Creeden and Sally Latimer. Who told you?’

His fat face was as expressionless as a hole in a wall.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Did you research the Welcome store?’

‘No.’

I began to feel a chilly sensation.

‘Think, Wally. How did Jean get those names unless from you?’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

‘Wally, please concentrate. This is vitally important to me to know the source of your information. I know you are always secretive about where you get your facts, but this time, because you and I are close friends, I ask you who told you these three women were stealing from the store.’

He lay there: a fat, broken lump and stared at me.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘What did you have in your briefcase that was stolen?’

His one eye closed and he moaned a little.

‘The Hammond thing.’

‘Nothing about the Welcome store?’

‘I don’t know a thing about that. I don’t know even what you are saying.’

Leaning forward, my voice hard, I said, ‘Wally! Pull yourself together! Think! You have been working on this stealing! You found someone who talked. You got names! Wally! Who was this someone?’

Okay, I was getting worked up and I must have raised my voice for the door opened and a nurse came in.

‘Your time is up, Mr. Manson,’ she said in that flat, final voice nurses have.

‘Wally!’

‘I don’t know anything,’ he said and putting his hands to his bandaged head, he began to groan.

The nurse practically threw me out. I walked down the corridor, into the elevator and into the night.

I stood by my car. Wally had been my big hope. I had a feeling that a door was slowly shutting and I was trying to hold it open, but the force of the door as it closed was pushing me back and defeating me.

Was Wally really suffering from amnesia or had someone so badly frightened him he was lying to me... as Webber had lied to me?

Leaving my car, I crossed the road to a drug store and rang Jean. There was a delay, then she answered.

‘Jean... it’s Steve. I’ve just seen Wally. He says he hasn’t researched the Welcome store. Did you keep a copy of his report you typed?’

A pause, then she said, ‘No.’

‘But you’re sure he did mention Lucilla Bower, Mabel Creeden and Sally Latimer?’

‘I am quite sure. I did warn you, Steve, that Wally just won’t give his informants away.’

‘You said there were other names. Try to think, Jean. It’s important.’

‘I’ve already thought. I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t remember any of the other names. His report was very brief. It said he had evidence that a number of women living at Eastlake had been stealing from the store. He then gave names. This was scribbled in his notebook. I typed it and gave him two copies.’

‘His notebook?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Maybe Shirley would have that.’

‘Should I ask her?’

‘No. I’ll do it. Well, thanks Jean... see you tomorrow.’

I got in my car and drove over to Wally’s home.

Shirley welcomed me. After talking about Wally and her delight about going to Palm Beach, I said, ‘Shirley, Wally had notebooks. I need them. Do you know where they are?’

‘Why sure. Mr. Webber took them all when he came. He said Mr. Chandler wanted them. You ask him... he’ll give them to you.’

‘Herman Webber?’ I stared at her.

‘He was here just as I got back. He said Mr. Chandler wanted all Wally’s notebooks.’

‘I see. I’ll talk to him.’

‘You do that.’ She wrinkled her pretty nose. ‘I can’t say I like Mr. Webber very much.’

‘Neither do I,’ I said and left her.