Somebody Owes Me Money

37

Nobody said anything. Fred frowned, looking troubled and worried and sad but somehow not like a murderer, and everybody else looked alternately at him and at me.

Leo broke the silence at last. He said, “Why do you think it’s Fred?”

I said, “Because he jumped a mile when we came in here, and then covered it up by saying he thought Abbie was Cora. But Abbie doesn’t look at all like Cora, and Fred just saw Abbie four days ago and knew she might be coming back tonight. And because Cora didn’t call last Wednesday and I bet she doesn’t call tonight, and that’s because she knows what happened and she’s agreed to let Fred go on with his normal life as though nothing had happened, to cover up.”

Leo said, “That isn’t very much, Chet.”

“I don’t have very much,” I said, “I admit that. But I have a little more. When I started talking, everybody got excited. Everybody but Fred. Jerry accused Doug, Leo accused Jerry, Doug got mad, Leo accused Sid, everybody was full of questions and excitement and disbelief. Everybody but Fred. He just sat there and didn’t say anything for a long while. Until I made it clear that Abbie and I were now murder targets ourselves and the one who’d killed Tommy was indirectly responsible. Then he asked questions, hoping to get answers that would make it less tough. All he is is worried and troubled and sad, and everybody else is excited and irritated and surprised.”

Abbie said, “But why do you say it doesn’t seem right?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “There’s something that just doesn’t jibe. Fred’s reactions are wrong for him to be innocent, but somehow they’re wrong for him to be guilty, too. He should be tougher if he’s guilty. I don’t understand.”

Fred gave me a wan smile and said, “You’re pretty good, Chet. I don’t know how you did that, but you’re pretty doggone good.”

Jerry gaped at him. “You mean you did do it?”

“No,” Fred said. “I didn’t shoot Tommy. But I did shoot you, Chet, and God, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hit anybody, I aimed between you and Abbie. When I saw I’d hit you I almost died myself. Christ, I’ve always been a pretty good shot, I don’t know what went wrong.”

“That gun shoots off to the left,” I said. “You should have taken it out on a practice range for a while.”

“It must shoot way the hell to the left,” he said.

“It does,” Abbie said.

Sid said to him, “You took the gun out of my pocket?”

Fred nodded. “I was going through Chet’s and Abbie’s pockets,” he said. “I wanted to see if they had any clues or evidence or anything about the murder they weren’t telling us about. I felt the heavy thing in your pocket, and took a look, and there was the gun. I knew you had something to do with the underworld, so I figured it was your gun, and I swiped it. I didn’t know it belonged to you, Chet.”

“To me,” Abbie said. “Where is it?”

“In the Harlem River,” Fred said. “I thought I’d killed Chet for sure, so I got rid of that gun right away.”

I said, “But you didn’t kill Tommy.”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

“Then why do all this other stuff? To cover up for the real killer? But who?”

Fred just smiled sadly at me.

We all stared at him, and it hit all of us simultaneously, and six voices raised as one to cry, “CORA!”

Fred nodded. “Cora,” he said. “Chet, you saw her right after she did it.”

I said, “I did not.”

“Sure you did. She was coming out of the building when you were going in.”

I frowned, drawing a blank, and suddenly remembered. “The woman with the baby carriage!”

“Sure,” he said. “Cora’s a smart woman, Chet. She saw you through the glass, and she didn’t want to be recognized, and there was a baby carriage in the hallway, so she figured that would make a good disguise, and with the two of you meeting in the doorway, you holding the door and the baby carriage in the way and all, her keeping her head down, she got away with it. She went right through and you never even noticed.”

I said, “A day or two later I saw a sign in the entranceway there about a stolen baby carriage, and I never connected it at all.”

Abbie, in an outraged tone, said, “Cora? I don’t even know who she is!”

“She’s Fred’s wife,” I said.

“But that isn’t fair,” she said. “How can I solve the murder if I don’t even know the murderer, if I never even met her? The woman never even put in an appearance!”

“Sure she did,” I said. “She walked right by me with a baby carriage.”

“Well, she never walked by me,” she insisted. “I say it isn’t fair. You wouldn’t get away with that in a detective story.”

I said, “Why not? Remember the story about the dog who didn’t bark in the night? Well, this is the same thing. The wife who didn’t phone in the night.”

“Oh, foo,” Abbie said, and folded her arms. “I say it isn’t fair, and I won’t have any more to do with it.”

Jerry said, “Never mind all that. Fred, why on earth would Cora do a thing like that?”

“You’re the one she punched in the nose,” Fred reminded him. “She’s a very violent woman, Cora. She’d been on Tommy’s back not to take any bets from me, and she found out we were still doing business, and she went down there to really let him have it, and she took the gun along to scare him. She wasn’t even sure she’d show it to him. But he apparently had something on his mind—”

“That’s an understatement,” I said. “His wife was running around with another man, and he was running around with another boss.”

“Well, anyway,” Fred said, “she showed him the gun. Then, instead of getting scared, he made a jump for her, and she started shooting.” To me he said, “It’s an old gun of mine, I’ve had it since I was in the Army. I do pot-shooting with it sometimes. That’s why I didn’t believe it when I saw I’d hit you the other night, because I knew I was a better shot than that.”

“Why did you do it?” I said.

“I wanted to convince you it was a gang thing,” he said. “I was afraid you two would find out the truth if you kept poking around. If you kept thinking about the case, Chet, you might suddenly remember the woman with the baby carriage. I didn’t know. I figured if I took a shot at you, to miss, it might scare you into laying off. Or anyway convince you the mob was behind the killing.”

Nobody said anything then for a minute or two, and then Leo said, “Where’s your wife now, Fred?”

Fred looked embarrassed. “You won’t believe this,” he said.

Doug said, “Try us.”

“She’s in a convent,” Fred said.

Everybody said, “What?”

“It preyed on her mind,” he said. “So Friday night she packed her things and went to a convent. She says she’s going in for good.”

Abbie, returning to us after all, said, “Why didn’t she go to the police if she felt so bad?”

“I didn’t want her to,” Fred said. “I feel responsible for the whole thing, damn it. I knew Cora hated me gambling, but I went right ahead and did it. So finally she blew her top and your brother got killed, but I’m just as much to blame as she is, and I just couldn’t stand to see her go to jail for it.”

Abbie said, “A convent’s better?”

“Yes,” he said. “And believe me, I hated the idea of coming here the last two times, but I figured I had to, to keep up appearances. I figure this is my last game.”

I said, “Fred, are you telling me Cora took my money? To make up for your losses?”

“No,” he said, and almost looked offended. “A lot of people were in and out of that apartment, Chet. Who knows whose sticky fingers carried that cash away. Cora’s hotheaded, but she isn’t a thief.”

“Only a murderer,” Abbie said.

Fred sighed. “I’m sorry about this,” he said. “Whatever you want me to do, Chet, that’s what I’ll do. You want me to make a statement to the police? I don’t want you and Abbie getting killed over this. Enough has happened already.”

“More than enough,” I said. I looked at Abbie. “What do you think? Is a convent punishment enough?”

“It would be for me,” she said.

I said, “We don’t care about the cops anyway. It’s the mobs that worry us. Just so they know the story, that should satisfy us. Okay, Abbie?”

She hesitated, but I knew she couldn’t retain the white-hot desire for vengeance against a woman who’d already turned herself in at a convent. “Okay,” she said.

“Good.” I turned to Sid. “You’ve got the story straight?”

“I’ve got it,” he said.

“Okay. You go make your phone call now. And first you tell them what really happened to Tommy McKay. And then you tell them about the lawyer I stopped off to see on my way in here, and you tell them I dictated a long letter to that lawyer to be opened in the event of either my or Abbie’s death, and you tell them that lawyer went to school with John Lindsay, and you tell them we want to be left one hundred percent alone from now on. You tell them we don’t intend to make any waves, and we don’t want any waves making on us, if you get what I mean.”

“I’ve got it,” he said.

“And you also tell them,” I said, “to be sure things are squared with Golderman.”

He frowned. “I don’t know Golderman.”

“You don’t have to. Just tell them. And tell them to pass the word to Droble and his clowns before they screw things up. And tell them I want my doggone nine hundred thirty dollars.”

Was he grinning behind that poker face? I don’t know. “I’ll tell them,” he said.

“Let me think,” I said. “Oh, yeah. And get word to Golderman to go outside and see if I left the meter running, and if I did, to turn it off, and I’ll be out tomorrow for the cab.”

“You’ll be out tomorrow for the cab.”

“Can you remember all that?”

“Of course,” he said.

“And I’ll tell you something I’m going to remember,” I told him. “I’m going to remember that you were willing to turn me over to people to murder me.”

He shook his head. “What would have happened if I said no, Chet? They would have killed me instead. You’re a nice guy and I like you, but I can get along without you. I can’t get along without me for a minute.” He got to his feet. “I’ll make that call now,” he said, and he left.

There was a little silence, and then Fred said, “What about me, Chet?”

“You can do what you want, Fred,” I said. “I don’t hold a grudge against you. I’m glad your aim wasn’t any worse than it was, that’s all. But I’m not going to turn you over to the police. You can go or stay, it’s up to you.”

“Then I believe I’ll go,” he said, and got wearily to his feet. “I don’t have much chips here,” he said. “Just toss these in the next pot.” He walked around the table and stood in front of me. “I’m sorry, Chet,” he said. “I honestly am.”

“I know you are.”

Hesitantly he stuck out his hand. Hesitantly I took it. Then he nodded to Abbie, nodded to the table at large, and left, very slope-shouldered.

Leo had the cards in his hand again. He said, “I know momentous things are happening all around me, but I don’t get to play poker that often. Are we ready?”

“We’re ready,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “Five-card stud, in the lady’s honor,” he said, and started to deal. When he got to Sid’s chair he said, “What about Sid?”

“Deal him out,” I said.