Ed McBain - The Last Brief

‘Do you know who she was calling?’

‘No. She always dials... dialed... the numbers and then started talking right off in Chinese. She called all the Chinese restau...’

‘Yes, I know. Go on.’

‘Well, she was talking on her phone, and I was talking on mine, and all of a sudden she said in English, “no, why?”’

‘She said this in English?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you hear this, Mr. Godrow?’

‘No. My desk is rather far away, over here near the windows. But I heard what she said next. I couldn’t miss hearing that. She yelled it out loud.’

‘What was that, sir?’

‘She said “Kill me? No! No!”’

‘What happened then?’

‘Well,’ Freddie said, ‘I was still on the phone. I looked up, and I didn’t know what was going on. Mary started to shove her chair back, and then she began... shaking all over... like... like...’

‘The girl had a convulsion,’ Godrow put in. ‘If I’d known she was predisposed toward...’

‘Did she pass out?’

‘Yes,’ Freddie said.

‘What did you do then?’

‘I didn’t know what to do.’

‘Why didn’t you call a doctor?’

‘Well, we did, after the second convulsion.’

‘When was that?’

‘About... oh, I don’t know... ten, fifteen minutes later. I really don’t know.’

‘And when the doctor came, what did he say?’

‘Well, he didn’t come,’ Freddie said apologetically.

‘Why not? I thought you called him.’

‘The girl died after the second convulsion,’ Godrow said. ‘Good Lord, man, she turned blue! Why should I pay a doctor for a visit when the girl was dead? I cancelled the call.’

‘I see.’

‘It’s obvious she was predisposed toward convulsions, and whoever spoke to her on the phone frightened her, bringing one on,’ Godrow said. ‘He obviously told her he was going to kill her or something.’

‘This is all very obvious, is it, Mr. Godrow?’ I asked.

‘Well, of course. You can see the girl is blue. What else...’

‘Lots of things,’ I said. ‘Lots of things could have cause her coloration. But only one thing would put that grin on her face.’

‘What’s that?’ Godrow asked.

‘Strychnine poisoning,’ I said.

When we got back to the squadroom, I put a call through to Mike Reilly. The coroner had already confirmed my suspicions, but I wanted the official autopsy report on it. Mike picked up the phone on the third ring and said, ‘Reilly here.’

‘This is Ralph,’ I said. ‘What’ve you got on the Chinese girl?’

‘Oh. Like you figured, Ralph. It’s strychnine, all right.’

‘No question?’

‘None at all. She sure took enough of the stuff. Any witnesses around when she went under?’

‘Yes, two.’

‘She complain of a stiff neck, twitching, spasms?’

‘Yes.’

‘Convulsions?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sure, that’s all strychnine. Yeah, Ralph. And her jaws locked the way they were, that grin. And the cyanotic coloring of lips and face. Oh, no question. Hell, I could have diagnosed this without taking a test.’

‘What else did you find, Mike?’

‘She didn’t have a very big breakfast, Ralph. Coffee and an English muffin.’

‘Have any idea when she got the strychnine?’

‘Hard to say. Around breakfast, I suppose. You’re gonna have a tough nut with strychnine, Ralph.’

‘How so?’

‘Tracing it, I mean. Hell, Ralph, they sell it by the can. For getting rid of animal pests.’

‘Yeah. Well, thanks, Mike.’

‘No trouble at all. Drop in anytime.’

He hung up, and I turned to Donny who had already started on a cup of coffee.

‘Strychnine, all right.’

‘What’d you expect? he said. ‘Malted milk?’

‘So where now?’

‘Got a check on the contents of the girl’s purse from the lab. Nothing important. Lipstick. Some change. Five-dollar bill, and three singles. Theatre stubs.’

‘For where?’

‘Chinese theatre in Chinatown.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Letter to a sister in Hong Kong.’

‘In Chinese?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘That’s it. Oh yes, a program card. She was a transfer student at Columbia. Went there nights.’

‘So what do you figure, Donny?’

‘I figure some bastard slipped the strychnine to her this morning before she came to work. Maybe a lover, how do I know? She called him later to say hello. She talks Chinese on the phone, so who can tell whether she’s calling a restaurant or her uncle in Singapore? The guy all at once says, “You know why you’re feeling so punk, honey?” So she is feeling punk. She’s got a stiff neck, and her reflexes are hypersensitive, and she’s beginning to shake a little. She forgets she’s supposed to be talking to a Chinese restaurant owner. She drops the pose for a minute and says “No, why?” in English. The boyfriend on the other end says, ‘Here’s why, honey. I gave you a dose of strychnine when I saw you this morning. It’s going to kill you in about zero minutes flat.” The kid jumps up and screams “Kill me? No! No!” Curtain. The poison’s already hit her.’

‘Sounds good,’ I said. ‘Except for one thing?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Would the poisoner take a chance like that? Tipping her off on the phone?’

‘Why not? He probably knew how long it would take for the poison to kill her.’

‘But why would she call him?’

‘Assuming it was him. How do I know? Maybe she didn’t call anybody special. Maybe the joker works at one of the Chinese restaurants she always called. Maybe she met him every morning for chop suey, and then he went his way and she went hers. Or maybe she called... Ralph, she could have called anyone.’

‘No. Someone who spoke Chinese. She spoke Chinese to the party in the beginning.’

‘Lots of Chinese in this city, Ralph.’

‘Why don’t we start with the restaurants? This book was open on her desk; Two pages showing. She could have been talking to someone at any one of the restaurants listed on those pages — assuming she opened the book to refer to a number. If she called a sweetheart, we’re up the creek.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Donny said. ‘It’ll just take longer, that’s all.’

There were a lot of Chinese restaurants listed on those two pages. They were not listed in any geographical order. Apparently, Mary Chang knew the best times to call each of the owners, and she’d listed the restaurant numbers in a system all her own. So where the first number on the list was in Chinatown, the second was up on Fordham Road in the Bronx. We had a typist rearrange the list according to location, and then we asked the skipper for two extra men to help with the legwork. He gave us Belloni and Hicks, yanking them off a case that was ready for the D.A. anyway. Since they were our guests, so to speak, we gave them the easy half of the list, the portion in Chinatown where all the restaurants were clustered together and there wouldn’t be as much hoofing to do. Donny and I took the half that covered Upper Manhattan and the Bronx.

A Chinese restaurant in the early afternoon is something like a bar at that time. There arc few diners. Everyone looks bleary-eyed. The dim lights somehow clash with the bright sunshine outside. It’s like stepping out of reality into something unreal and vague. Besides, a lot of the doors were locked solid, and when a man can’t speak English it’s a little difficult to make him understand what a police shield means.

It took a lot of time. We pounded on the door first, and then we talked to whoever’s face appeared behind the plate glass. We showed shields, we gestured, we waited for someone who spoke English. When the doors opened, we told them who we were and what we wanted. There was distrust, a natural distrust of cops, and another natural distrust of Westerners.