Richard Deming - Tweak the Devil’s Nose

She paused to smile expectantly.

“I’m insanely jealous,” I growled. “Get on with it.”

“All during the meal Barney watched Mr. Lancaster. I noticed because Barney is such a handsome man, and I like to look at him. He is not ugly like you, and also he loves me more than you do.”

She looked at me inquiringly.

“No doubt,” I said.

Fausta frowned. “I also love him,” she said recklessly.

“Sure. That’s why you’re ratting on him. Listen, I love you madly, and I’ll kill Barney Seldon with my bare hands if he so much as caresses your fingers. Now get on with it.”

“You do not mean it,” she said sulkily. “Mr. Lancaster finished his dinner before Barney, and left while Barney waited for dessert. His dessert was delivered just as the shot came from out front.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “You told me you had just stepped outside from the ballroom’s side door when the gun went off. How’d you manage to be two places at once?”

Without pause she said glibly, “I watched Barney up to the moment I entered the ballroom. His waiter told me what happened afterward.”

“All right,” I conceded. “Go on.”

“Barney was not at the table when his dessert was delivered.”

For a long time I looked at her. “Where was he?” I asked finally.

She shrugged. “There is a cigarette machine by the side door. A minute or two after the shot Barney returned from that direction with a package of cigarettes in his hand.”

“Could be coincidence,” I said slowly.

“Maybe. But there is also a cigarette machine in the cocktail lounge, which was much nearer Barney’s table. Also he did not open the pack, but after his dessert took a cigarette from his case, which was full.”

“So he could have stepped out the dining room’s side door, ducked across the drive in the dark, plugged Lancaster and got back in again in a matter of seconds,” I said thoughtfully. “I suppose the cops searched him though.”

“Perhaps he threw away the gun.”

“It wasn’t found. Besides, I heard the killer, or at least somebody, run off after the shot and scoot away in a car. Barney isn’t accustomed to doing his own killing anyway. If he’s our lad, I like it better that he used the side door to signal a confederate Lancaster was leaving by the front.”

“Figure it any way you want,” Fausta said. “Just so you do not forget to come for me at nine tomorrow night.”

“You say you expect Seldon again tonight?” I asked.

“I expect him every night. Twenty miles he drives just to see me.”

“Maybe it’s the food,” I suggested. “There’s something I don’t understand. What made you stand around watching Seldon so closely?”

“I told you he is a handsome man.”

“Nuts,” I said. “You’re holding something back. If Barney is as hot after you as you say, he’d have had his eye on you too. And if he thought you had nothing better to do than stand around looking at him, he’d have had you over at his table.”

She frowned at me. “I am a very reserved woman. I do not wish Barney to know how much I admire him, so I watched him from behind one of the potted palms.”

Before I could express my opinion of this obviously barefaced lie, a knock sounded at the door, then it immediately swung open before Fausta could call an invitation to come in. Mouldy Greene entered.

I said, “Hello, Mouldy,” then quickly side-stepped when his face beamed with friendliness and he raised a hand the size of a pancake griddle to bring down on my back.

“Hi yuh, Sarge?” he inquired, merely waving the hand instead of fracturing my spine with it. Then he scowled at Fausta. “Romeo Seldon just come in and took his usual table. He asked for you, but I told him you had mumps.”

Fausta said quickly, “I’ll talk to you about it later, Mouldy,” and started to shoo him out of the office.

“Wait a minute,” I said, suddenly getting an idea. “What’s your opinion of Barney Seldon, Mouldy?”

Absently brushing Fausta aside, he said, “Same as Fausta’s. He’s a jerk. She tell you about last night?”

“Yeah. How come you were watching him so closely?”

“ ‘Cause he’s a jerk, see. Sometimes he don’t want to take my word for it Fausta’s busy, and starts back for the office on his own. Then I got to put my arm on him so he don’t bother her.”

Fausta stamped her foot. “You lie, Mouldy Greene!

Barney Seldon is a big romance in my life. I go now to supervise his dinner with my own loving hands.”

And she went out, slamming the office door behind her.

Mouldy stared at the closed door in astonishment. “Dames!” he commented. “She tells me to keep the jerk off her neck, now all of a sudden she’s nuts about the guy.”

“You told Fausta about Seldon’s peculiar actions last night, eh?” I asked.

“Sure. And she said to clam up about it. When the cops asked questions, I just pretended to be stupid.”

“That must have required wonderful acting. How about introducing me to Barney Seldon?”

“Sure, Sarge. If you think you can stand him.”

My meeting with Barney Seldon was not exactly a success, primarily because I don’t know how to be subtle with hoods. I can’t resist the impulse to push them around, even when they’re supposed to be big shots, for I don’t recognize degrees of importance in hoods. As I look at it, living in a mansion and riding in a Cadillac doesn’t give a hood any more social status than the punks you see in a morning police showup. No doubt this is a laudable sentiment, but it inclines to get me in trouble.

Barney Seldon was in his early thirties and looked like a movie idol. He had a wide, pale face with features like a Trojan’s and a nicely cleft chin. His shoulders didn’t require padding to make his dinner jacket look like it was supposed to look, and his waist would have suited a girl.

Apparently he had not yet ordered dinner, for he was sipping a cocktail when we went over to his table. Fausta was not in sight, presumably being in the kitchen preparing food for Barney with her own loving hands, or else having locked herself in her upstairs apartment until both Barney and I left. I had asked Mouldy to leave us alone and keep the waiter away until Barney and I finished our talk, so he moved off again as soon as the racketeer and I neglected to shake hands with each other.

Seldon waved me to a chair. “I’ve heard of you, Mr. Moon,” he said in a tone implying he did not care much for what he had heard. “Not as a private dick,” he added. “From Fausta.”

“She tells me about you too,” I said. “Understand we’re rivals.”

He gave me a sharp look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just an unnecessary crack,” I said. “What I wanted to talk to you about was Walter Lancaster.”

“Why?” he asked coldly.

“You were here last night, weren’t you?”

He shrugged. “So were a hundred or so other people.”

“But not all of them went out the side door just before Lancaster was shot, and came in again just after.”

His face stiffened and his big brown eyes narrowed. “Did I do that?”

“A bus boy saw you come in. Fausta doesn’t know about it, so don’t try to learn from her what bus boy.” I wasn’t sure his yen for Fausta would prevent him from taking revenge for squealing, and I didn’t want to find out.

“You’re a damn liar, Moon,” he said flatly. “Mr. Moon,” I said.

He shrugged indifferently. “Mr. Moon, if you prefer. You’re still a damn liar. I wasn’t away from this table except to get cigarettes.”

“Why’d you have him bumped?” I asked.

For a moment he didn’t reply, and when he did his voice could have frozen ice cubes. “Just from hearing about you, I didn’t like you, Mr. Moon. Now that we’ve met, I realize my first judgment was conservative. Stay away from me and stay away from Fausta, or I’ll make you a corpse.”