The Case of the Crime King

Chapter 20

12:29 a.m. Andy and LaMonica had returned to Homicide Division by the time we got back to the Police Building. They reported that a blue ’56 Buick sedan, believed to be the one used in the robbery, had been found parked a dozen blocks from the robbery scene. D.M.V. had identified it as a stolen car.

It had been wiped clear of prints.

They also told us that twelve bullets had been recovered from food tins and boxes in the grocery store. These, and the gun belonging to the store manager, had been turned over to the Crime Lab.

We told Andy and LaMonica about the suspects’ alibi, Andy’s reaction was a sour grin. LaMonica gave his head a disgusted shake.

“Their tickets were actually in the box, huh?” LaMonica said.

“Yeah,” I said. “They didn’t miss a bet.”

Frank said, “Probably did what you suggested first, Joe. Handed in their tickets a couple of minutes before the show broke, then walked back out with the crowd when it did break.”

“What do you think, Joe?” Andy asked. “They got us beat again?”

I looked at him. “We won’t give up just yet.”

“How you going to stick them? Our own stakeouts will have to testify that at four p.m. they were dressed exactly as they are now. The bandits were dressed entirely different. Sure the alibi’s phony, but how you going to break it? We’ve all had enough previous dealings with them to know how far we’ll get with just questioning. On the evidence we’ve got, the D.A. wouldn’t issue a complaint in a thousand years.”

“Then we’ll get more.”

“How?” Andy asked.

“For one thing, we can hold a special show-up tomorrow night. Dress them as the robbers were dressed and put false noses on them. Show them with a few other men about their sizes dressed in the same way. It’s a long shot, but there’s at least a chance we’ll get positive makes.”

Andy screwed up his nose. “What’s another thing?” he asked.

I turned to Frank. “You got the stakeout reports on Martin and Strite?”

“Over in the office,” he said.

“How about bringing them over?”

Frank crossed the hall to Robbery Division and returned with a sheaf of papers. I thumbed through them.

“Nothing in here about them attending the Odean prior to tonight,” I said.

LaMonica said, “What you mean?”

“The same show’s been on since Sunday. According to the stakeout reports, they weren’t near the Odean before tonight.”

An understanding light grew in LaMonica’s eyes. “You mean maybe they don’t know what the show was about?”

“Unless they saw it tonight, they’re going to have a tough time describing it.”

Andy shook his head. “As cute as they’re playing this, they wouldn’t slip on a detail like that. They could have had some other member of the gang see the show and describe it to them.”

“Imagine they did,” I said. “But you can’t get all the details of a show from somebody else’s description. You fellows got anything on tomorrow afternoon?”

LaMonica shook his head and Andy said, “Nothing I can’t get out of.”

“Then meet us at the Odean at one p.m. We’ll take in a matinee.”

The following morning, Wednesday, April 23rd, Frank and I checked with the Crime Lab. Four of the recovered bullets had been identified as from the store manager’s gun. Of the remaining eight, five were .45 caliber and three were .38. It was one of the .45-caliber slugs that had killed the clerk.

Ray Pinker, technical director of the Crime Lab, told us that the murder bullet was in good enough shape for comparison purposes, in the event we ever turned the weapon it came from.

Later that morning we arranged for a special show-up that evening. We contacted Howard J. McQuary, who agreed to close his store an hour early in order to get himself and his clerks to the auditorium by 8:00 p.m. He said both clerks could be there. The wounded man had proved to have only a flesh wound, which had incapacitated him for work, but was not serious enough to keep him from the show-up.

At 1 p.m. we met Andy and LaMonica at the Odean and spent two hours watching “Summer Lust,” plus a selection of shorts.

3:32 p.m. We had the two suspects brought upstairs for questioning. At the moment there was less going on in Homicide than in Robbery, so we questioned them in the Homicide squad room.

We had Strite and Martin take chairs in a corner of the room. Andy seated himself on a table facing them. LaMonica slouched against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Frank and I remained standing.

Big Julie ran his eyes over the circle of faces around him and said, “Seems like a lot of inquisitors for a minor offense like creating a disturbance.”

“We’re movie fans,” LaMonica said. “Like to hear what the show at the Odean was about.”

Big Julie raised his eyebrows. “Why? Too cheap to buy tickets?”

“Save the gags,” I said. “Did you see the show?”

“You saw our stubs, didn’t you?”

I turned from him to Harry Strite. “Outline the plot for us, Harry.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I said so. Were not going to play games with you, mister. You know why were asking. Here’s your chance to pin down your alibi. Either take it, or you go back in the can until you get a chance to talk in court.”

Big Julie said, “Why do we need an alibi? You haven’t told us what we’re suspected of yet. We could have been out of here by now if we’d insisted on calling a lawyer. We preferred to cooperate.”

“Okay,” I said. “On your feet. We’ll go back downstairs.”

“Wait a minute,” Strite protested. “If you want to know what the show was about, we’ll tell you.”

“Then do it.”

“Can I have a cigarette first?”

I gave him one. LaMonica shook one from his pack for Big Julie. Each of us struck a match and held it to a cigarette. Strite blew out a stream of smoke and comfortably crossed his legs.

“It’s kind of a long story,” he said.

“We’ve got all day, mister,” I told him.

“Well, the thing takes place on a little farm in France. It’s a French-made picture, you know, with English subtitles.”

“Uh-huh.”

“There’s this girl Lucette, and her mother, and a guy named Jacques on the farm. Lucette’s mother and Jacques’s father were married. Only the kids aren’t no blood relation. They’re both from previous marriages, and they’re jealous of each other. Grew up hating each other’s guts. But all this happened before the picture starts, see. You find out about it from what they all say to each other.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Go on.”

“When the picture opens, the old man is already dead. It was the old lady who owned the farm, so Jacques didn’t inherit nothing. He’s sort of in the spot of being just a hired hand, only he don’t get no salary because he’s also a member of the family. He don’t like any part of it, and he’d take off, except there ain’t no place to go. The old lady don’t like him any better than Lucette does. She’d kick him out, except she needs him to run the farm.”

Frank said, “What was the old lady’s name?”

“Ceil,” Strite said without hesitation. “Anyway, the kids are about twenty when the picture starts. And all they do is battle. It comes summer, and one day they’re in the barn together doing chores. They have their usual argument, and she slaps him. He grabs her, they struggle around some, and all of a sudden something happens. He finds himself kissing her.”

I said, “What was the argument about?”

“Huh?” Strite asked. “Oh, just one of those things. Anyway—”

“What was the argument about?” I repeated.

Strite glanced at Big Julie, who smiled mockingly and said, “You’re telling the story.”

The smaller man shrugged. “I don’t remember. They was always arguing about something. Anyway—”

“What color dress did Lucette have on in the barn?” I asked

He looked blank. “Color?”

“Didn’t you notice it was in Technicolor?”

“Well, sure—”

“You damned fool!” Big Julie said. He gave me a companionable smile. “Harry was about half drunk, Lieutenant. I’m surprised he remembered as much as he did. The picture was in black and white.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, and motioned the two men to their feet.

“What now?” Big Julie asked.

“Back to the Felony Section.”

“Don’t you want to know how the picture came out?”

“We saw it,” I told him.

Frank and I took the two suspects back downstairs. As we went down the steps, Frank said, “You’re not having much luck for a master criminal, are you, Julie?”

The big man glanced sidewise at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, the way you louse these jobs up,” Frank said cheerfully.

“What jobs?”

“Well, the one at Grammon’s Supermarket, for instance. Guess you planned that. And muffed it because you forgot to check about the burglar alarm. Poor stupid little Strite here set himself up for the gas chamber by killing a police officer, and didn’t even get any loot.”

Strite said, “Hey, I never killed anybody in my life!”

We reached the bottom of the stairs, and Frank rang the buzzer to the Felony Section. The electrical lock buzzed, and he pushed it open. All four of us passed through the door.

Frank said, “Then take last night, for instance. First job you’ve pulled personally, and you muffed it like an amateur. Wouldn’t be surprised if the gang kicked you out and got a boss with brains.”

Big Julie’s face started to redden. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and let a slow smile form on his face. He shook his head chidingly.

“Huh-uh, Sergeant,” he said. “It’s not going to work.”

“What?” Frank asked.

“Making me mad. I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”