The Doomsters

16

WE RAN INTO OSTERVELT in the front hallway, ran into him almost literally as he came out of the living-room. He pushed between us, his belly projecting like a football concealed in his clothes. His jowls became convulsive: “What goes on?”

“Mr. Archer wanted to see the Senator’s bathroom,” Lawson said. “You remember the morning they found him, Chief. Was the key in the lock?”

“What lock, for Christ sake?”

“The lock on the bathroom door.”

“I don’t know.” Ostervelt’s head jerked as he hammered out the words: “I’ll tell you what I do know, Lawson. You don’t talk official business to strangers. How many times do we have to go into that?”

Lawson removed his glasses and wiped them with the inside of his tie. Without them, his face looked unformed and vulnerable. But he had guts and some professional poise: “Mr. Archer isn’t a stranger, exactly. He’s employed by the Hallman family.”

“To do what? Pick your brains, if you have any?”

“You can’t talk to me like that.”

“What do you think you’re going to do about it? Resign?”

Lawson turned on his heel, stiffly, and walked out. Ostervelt called after him: “Go ahead and resign. I accept your resignation.”

Feeling some compunction, since I had been picking Lawson’s brains, I said to Ostervelt: “Lay off him. What’s the beef?”

“The beef is you. Mrs. Hallman said you asked her for money, made a pass at her.”

“Did she rip her dress open at the neck? They usually rip their dresses open at the neck.”

“It’s no joke. I could put you in jail.”

“What are you waiting for? The suit for false arrest will make my fortune.”

“Don’t get flip with me.” Under his anger, Ostervelt seemed to be badly shaken. His little eyes were dirty with dismay. He took out his gun to make himself feel better.

“Put it away,” I said. “It takes more than a Colt revolver to change a Keystone cop into an officer.”

Ostervelt raised the Colt and laid it raking and burning across the side of my head. The ceiling slanted, then rose away from me as I went down. As I got up, a thin young man in a brown corduroy jacket appeared in the doorway. Ostervelt started to raise the gun for another blow. The thin young man took hold of his arm and almost ascended with it.

Ostervelt said: “I’ll cut him to pieces. Get away from me, Slovekin.”

Slovekin held onto his arm. I held onto my impulse to hit an old man. Slovekin said: “Wait a minute, Sheriff. Who is this man, anyway?”

“A crooked private dick from Hollywood.”

“Are you arresting him?”

“You’re damn right I’m arresting him.”

“What for? Is he connected with this case?”

Ostervelt shook him off. “That’s between him and I. You stay out of it, Slovekin.”

“How can I, when I’m assigned to it? I’m just doing my job, the same as you are, Sheriff.” The black eyes in Slovekin’s sharp young face glittered with irony. “I can’t do my job if you give me no information. I have to fall back on reporting what I see. I see a public official beating a man with a gun, naturally I’m interested.”

“Don’t try to blackmail me, you little twerp.”

Slovekin stayed cool and smiling. “You want me to deliver that message to Mr. Spaulding? Mr. Spaulding’s always looking for a good local topic for an editorial. This could be just what he needs.”

“Screw Spaulding. You know what you can do with that rag you work for, too.”

“That’s pretty language from the top law-enforcement official in the county. An elected official, at that. I suppose you don’t mind if I quote you.” Slovekin produced a notebook from a side pocket.

Ostervelt’s face tried various colors and settled for a kind of mottled purple. He put his gun away. “Okay, Slovekin. What else do you want to know?” His voice was a rough whisper.

“Is this man a suspect? I thought Carl Hallman was the only one.”

“He is, and we’ll have him in twenty-four hours. Dead or alive. You can quote me on that.”

I said to Slovekin: “You’re a newspaperman, are you?”

“I try to be.” He looked at me quizzically, as if he wondered what I was trying to be.

“I’d like to talk to you about this murder. The sheriff’s got Hallman convicted already, but there are certain discrepancies–”

“The hell there are!” Ostervelt said.

Slovekin whipped out a pencil and opened his notebook. “Clue me in.”

“Not now. I need more time to pin them down.”

“He’s bluffing,” Ostervelt said. “He’s just trying to make me look bad. He’s one of these jokers, tries to make a hero out of himself.”

Disregarding him, I said to Slovekin: “Where can I get in touch with you, tomorrow, say?”

“You’re not going to be here tomorrow,” Ostervelt put in. “I want you out of this county in one hour, or else.”

Slovekin said mildly: “I thought you were arresting him.”

Ostervelt was getting frantic. He began to yammer: “Don’t get too cocky, Mr. Slovekin. Bigger men than you thought they could cross me, and lost their jobs.”

“Oh, come off it, Sheriff. Do you go to movies much?” Slovekin unwrapped a piece of gum, put it in his mouth, and began to chew it. He said to me: “You can reach me through the paper any time – Purissima Record.”

“You think so, eh?” Ostervelt said. “After today you won’t be working there.”

“Phone 6328,” Slovekin said. “If I’m not there, talk to Spaulding. He’s the editor.”

“I can go higher than Spaulding, if I have to.”

“Take it to the Supreme Court, Sheriff.” Slovekin’s chewing face had an expression of pained superiority which made him look like an intellectual camel. “I’d certainly like to get what you have now. Spaulding’s holding the city edition for this story.”

“I’d like to give it to you, but it hasn’t jelled.”

“You see?” Ostervelt said. “He’s got nothing to back it up. He’s only trying to make trouble. You’re crazy if you take his word against mine. Christ, he may even be in cahoots with the psycho. He let Hallman use his car, remember.”

“It’s getting pretty noisy in here,” I said to Slovekin, and moved toward the door.

He followed me outside to my car. “What you said about the evidence – you weren’t kidding?”

“No. I think there’s a good chance that Hallman’s getting the dirty end of the stick.”

“I hope you’re right. I rather like the guy, or used to before he got sick.”

“You know Carl, do you?”

“Ever since high school. I’ve known Ostervelt for quite a long time, too. But this is no time to go into Ostervelt.” He leaned on the car window, smelling of Dentyne chewing gum. “Do you have another suspect in mind?”

“Several.”

“Like that, eh?”

“Like that. Thanks for the assist.”

“Don’t mention it.” His black gaze shifted to the side of my head. “Did you know you’ve got a torn ear? You should see a doctor.”

“I intend to.”