Lawrence Block - Enough Rope

Oh, he could have killed her. He could kill anyone if he had to, if someone was making too much of a hassle. But if he were to kill cleverly, faking the suicide in such an artful fashion, fastening the chain bolt on his way out, he’d pick a time when he had a solid alibi. He was not the sort to be so precise and so slipshod all at the same time.

“So you went and picked up your stuff.”

“Right.”

“Including the stereo and records.”

“The stereo was mine. The records, I left the folk music and the classical shit because that belonged to Paula. I just took my records.”

“And the stereo.”

“Right.”

“You got a bill of sale for it, I suppose.”

“Who keeps that crap?”

“What if I said Paula kept the bill of sale? What if I said it was in with her papers and canceled checks?”

“You’re fishing.”

“You sure of that?”

“Nope. But if you did say that, I suppose I’d say the stereo was a gift from her to me. You’re not really gonna charge me with stealing a stereo, are you?”

“Why should I? Robbing the dead’s a sacred tradition. You took the drugs, too, didn’t you? Her medicine cabinet used to look like a drugstore but there was nothing stronger than Excedrin when I took a look. That’s why Sunny’s in the bathroom. If I hit the door all the pretty little pills go down the toilet.”

“I guess you can think that if you want.”

“And I can come back with a warrant if I want.”

“That’s the idea.”

“I ought to rap on the door just to do you out of the drugs but it doesn’t seem worth the trouble. That’s Paula Wittlauer’s stereo. I suppose it’s worth a couple hundred dollars. And you’re not her heir. Unplug that thing and wrap it up, McCloud. I’m taking it with me.”

“The hell you are.”

“The hell I’m not.”

“You want to take anything but your own ass out of here, you come back with a warrant. Then we’ll talk about it.”

“I don’t need a warrant.”

“You can’t—”

“I don’t need a warrant because I’m not a cop. I’m a detective, McCloud, I’m private, and I’m working for Ruth Wittlauer, and that’s who’s getting the stereo. I don’t know if she wants it or not, but that’s her problem. She doesn’t want Paula’s pills so you can pop them yourself or give them to your girlfriend. You can shove ’em up your ass for all I care. But I’m walking out of here with that stereo and I’ll walk through you if I have to, and don’t think I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“You’re not even a cop.”

“Right.”

“You got no authority at all.” He spoke in tones of wonder. “You said you were a cop.”

“You can always sue me.”

“You can’t take that stereo. You can’t even be in this room.”

“That’s right.” I was itching for him. I could feel my blood in my veins. “I’m bigger than you,” I said, “and I’m a whole lot harder, and I’d get a certain amount of satisfaction in beating the crap out of you. I don’t like you. It bothers me that you didn’t kill her because somebody did and it would be a pleasure to hang it on you. But you didn’t do it. Unplug the stereo and pack it up so I can carry it or I’m going to take you apart.”

I meant it and he realized as much. He thought about taking a shot at me and he decided it wasn’t worth it. Maybe it wasn’t all that much of a stereo. While he was unhooking it I dumped a carton of his clothes on the floor and we packed the stereo in it. On my way out the door he said he could always go to the cops and tell them what I’d done.

“I don’t think you want to do that,” I said.

“You said somebody killed her.”

“That’s right.”

“You just making noise?”

“No.”

“You’re serious?” I nodded. “She didn’t kill herself? I thought it was open and shut, from what the cops said. It’s interesting. In a way, I guess you could say it’s a load off my mind.”

“How do you figure that?”

He shrugged. “I thought, you know, maybe she was upset it wasn’t working out between us. At the Web the vibes were on the heavy side, if you follow me. Our thing was falling apart and I was seeing Sunny and she was seeing other guys and I thought maybe that was what did it for her. I suppose I blamed myself, like.”

“I can see it was eating away at you.”

“I just said it was on my mind.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Man,” he said, “ nothing eats away at me. You let things get to you that way and it’s death.”

I shouldered the carton and headed on down the stairs.

Ruth Wittlauer hadsupplied me with an Irving Place address and a Gramercy 5 telephone number. I called the number and didn’t get an answer, so I walked over to Hudson and caught a northbound cab. There were no messages for me at the hotel desk. I put Paula’s stereo in my room, tried Ruth’s number again, then walked over to the Eighteenth Precinct. Guzik had gone off duty but the desk man told me to try a restaurant around the corner, and I found him there drinking draft Heinekens with another cop, named Birnbaum. I sat at their table and ordered bourbon for myself and another round for the two of them.

I said, “I have a favor to ask. I’d like you to seal Paula Wittlauer’s apartment.”

“We closed that out,” Guzik reminded me.

“I know, and the boyfriend closed out the dead girl’s stereo.” I told him how I’d reclaimed the unit from Cary McCloud. “I’m working for Ruth, Paula’s sister. The least I can do is make sure she gets what’s coming to her. She’s not up to cleaning out the apartment now and it’s rented through the first of October. McCloud’s got a key and God knows how many other people have keys. If you slap a seal on the door it’d keep the grave robbers away.”

“I guess we can do that. Tomorrow all right?”

“Tonight would be better.”

“What’s there to steal? You got the stereo out of there and I didn’t see anything else around that was worth much.”

“Things have a sentimental value.”

He eyed me, frowned. “I’ll make a phone call,” he said. He went to the booth in the back and I jawed with Birnbaum until he came back and told me it was all taken care of.

I said, “Another thing I was wondering. You must have had a photographer on the scene. Somebody to take pictures of the body and all that.”

“Sure. That’s routine.”

“Did he go up to the apartment while he was at it? Take a roll of interior shots?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I thought maybe I could have a look at them.”

“What for?”

“You never know. The reason I knew it was Paula’s stereo in McCloud’s apartment was I could see the pattern in the dust on top of the dresser where it had been. If you’ve got interior pictures maybe I’ll see something else that’s not there anymore and I can lean on McCloud a little and recover it for my client.”

“And that’s why you’d like to see the pictures.”

“Right.”

He gave me a look. “That door was bolted from the inside, Matt. With a chain bolt.”

“I know.”

“And there was no one in the apartment when we went in there.”

“I know that, too.”

“You’re still barking up the murder tree, aren’t you? Jesus, the case is closed and the reason it’s closed is the ditzy broad killed herself. What are you making waves for?”

“I’m not. I just wanted to see the pictures.”

“To see if somebody stole her diaphragm or something.”

“Something like that.” I drank what remained of my drink. “You need a new hat anyway, Guzik. The weather’s turning and a fellow like you needs a hat for fall.”