James Chase - Tiger by the Tail

Ken got into the car and Adams drove off, heading for his own apartment. He didn’t say anything until he pulled up outside a house in Cranbourne Avenue.

“I live here,” he said as he got out of the car. “You can talk your head off in my apartment without interruption.”

Ken followed him into a ground-floor, comfortably furnished sittingroom.

“Make yourself at home,” Adams said, tossing his hat on to a chair. “Have a drink?”

“I don’t understand what all this is about,” Ken said, facing him. “Why have you brought me here? I want to make a statement to the officer in charge of the murder. Who are you?”

Adams smiled as he fixed two highballs.

“I’m Lieutenant Adams of the Homicide Department. Take it easy. You don’t know it yet, but the last thing you want to do is to make a statement to the officer in charge of the Carson killing. He’s got a one-track mind. Now sit down and stop wasting time. I want your story. I want to know who you are, how you met Fay Carson and what happened last night. Don’t rush it. I want as many details as you can remember. Now start talking.”

Ken made his statement. He told Adams what had happened the previous evening, omitting no details, and as he came to the end of his story there was something about the little Lieutenant’s expression that gave him hope.

“I know I have behaved badly,” he concluded, “and I’m paying for it, but I didn’t kill her. I should have come to you before this, but I funked it. I wasn’t so much thinking of myself, I had to think of my wife. I wanted to keep it from her, but I don’t see how I can now.”

Adams stared at him for a long minute, then he pulled thoughtfully at his nose.

“If I were married, which fortunately I’m not,” he said, “and if I had been mug enough to have gone to a callgirl, I would have acted as you did in the same circumstances.”

“Does that mean you believe me?” Ken asked eagerly.

Adams shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter a damn if I believe you or not. The final word is with the jury. Now, let’s check on a few details. You had no idea there was someone else in the apartment beside you until the lights went out?”

“No idea at all.”

“You didn’t see this guy?”

“No. It was pitch dark. I heard him cross the room and bolt downstairs, but I hadn’t a chance of seeing him.”

“You didn’t hear her cry out?”

“There was a thunderstorm on. I don’t think I should have heard her if she had cried out.”

“Hmm…” Adams crossed one leg over the other, then asked, “This fat guy with the Pekinese: is he bald with a hooked nose and pointed ears?”

Ken looked startled.

“Why, yes. That exactly describes him. Do you know him?”

“I know him,” Adams said. “You don’t have to worry about him. He won’t give you any trouble. He’s only been out of jail six months. You can forget about him.”

“You mean he was bluffing?”

“Sure,” Adams said, and took a cautious sip from his glass. “He saw you last night going up and coming down. He might have seen this other guy. Did you ask him?”

Ken shook his head.

“I didn’t think of it.”

“I’ll ask him,” Adams said grimly. “You’ve told me everything? There’s nothing else you can remember?”

“I don’t think so,” Ken said, thought for a moment, then he remembered the tall, fair man who had ducked out of sight when he and Fay had come out of the Blue Rose. “There was a guy outside the Blue Rose I noticed. He seemed anxious not to be seen. He was tall and fair and good-looking. When he saw I had spotted him, he ducked back out of sight.”

Adams frowned.

“Tall, fair and good-looking?” he asked, and he was thinking of Johnny Dorman. “Would you know him again?”

“I think so. The light wasn’t too good, but I think I would.”

“Nothing else?”

Ken shook his head.

There was a long silence, then Ken asked, “Do you believe my story, Lieutenant?”

“Sure, it hangs together and makes sense, but don’t kid yourself that puts you in the clear. You’re in a hell of a jam; a far worse jam than you imagine.”

As Ken began to ask him what he meant, the telephone bell rang.

“Let me get this,” Adams said, and picked up the receiver.

“Yeah? What is it?” he said into the mouthpiece. He lay back in the easy chair, listening to the excited voice that came over the line. “Okay, sergeant. I’ll be right over. Yeah, if Donovan isn’t there, someone’s got to be. Okay, I’m coming,” and he hung up. He looked at Ken and grimaced. “There’s a general call out for you. They’ve found your suit and shoes at Gaza’s store. My two bright assistants have also found your car and the card Parker gave you with Carson’s telephone number on it. Right now every cop in town is looking for you.”

Ken sat rigid.

“But they can’t prove I killed her!” he exclaimed. “You believe me! You’ve just said so. You can call them off…”

Adams lit his cigarette, stretched out his short legs and shook his head.

“Know anything about politics, Mr. Holland?” he asked.

“What has politics to do with this?”

“Everything. You’d better get a picture of the set-up.” He sank further into the chair. “The boss behind the present Administration is a guy named Sean O’Brien. He intends to marry Gilda Dorman, a nightclub crooner. O’Brien has money, power and ability. If he wants anything, he has it, and nothing stands in his way. He wants this woman. Her brother is Johnny Dorman who was Fay Carson’s lover before he was put in a nut-house. He came out yesterday. He was the guy who killed Fay Carson. I can’t prove it yet, but I’ll bet my last buck he was the guy. O’Brien isn’t likely to let him go to the chair for murder. He’ll cover him up, and he can do it. He’ll look around for a fall guy, and the fall guy is you.”

Ken stared at him.

“You must be joking,” he said blankly.

“It’s no joke. You’ll find that out fast enough. What O’Brien says goes in this town. Sergeant Donovan will turn in a report. The Commissioner will hand it over to O’Brien. They have a certain amount of evidence against you. Any other evidence in your favour will be suppressed. They have enough on you to put you into the chair right now.”

Ken grappled with the feeling of rising panic.

“Then why are you telling me this? Why don’t you go ahead and arrest me?” he said angrily. “You’re a member of the police. Why bring me here?”

Adams crossed and uncrossed his legs.

“I happen to be in the opposition camp. I guess I must be crazy to stick my neck out, but that’s the way it is. If I could pull the rug from under O’Brien I would do it. I have an idea I might do it through you. If I can prove Dorman killed this Carson girl, I might force O’Brien to show his hand. Dorman’s sister would put pressure on O’Brien, and he might make a false move. I want my men to be hunting you so I can hunt Dorman. That’s why I’ve brought you here. It’s essential they don’t catch you before I catch him. I want to get Lindsay Burt interested in you. He’ll take care of you if I can convince him you are being framed. But you’ve got to have patience. This could take a few days, even a few weeks. You’re safe here, but don’t go showing yourself on the streets. My men are efficient. They’re looking for you, and they’ll find you if you show yourself.”

“But my wife will be coming home soon,” Ken said anxiously. “I’ve my job to think of. You can’t expect me…”

Adams raised his hand.

“Wait a minute. I’ve told you already: you’re in a jam. Your wife and your job aren’t important. It’s your life you have to think of. If they catch you, you’re through, and don’t forget it!”