Lawrence Sanders - Tenth Commandment

'Please, babe,' he croaked piteously.

'Nitchy,' Belle said in tones that were more song than speech, 'please bring this basket case a shot of cognac with about a quart of ice water for a chaser.'

'Coming up,' Nitchy said. She looked sympathetically at Perce. 'Got the whim-whams?' she asked.

'Whim-whams?' Belle said with a scoffing laugh. 'This is the guy who swore he could mix grass, martinis, wine, bourbon, and brandy stingers. "I can handle it," he said.'

'Belle,' Stilton implored. 'Don't shout.'

When our drinks were served, Perce sat there staring at his brandy. He took a deep breath. Then he bent forward so he had to lift the glass only a few inches to his lips. He took half of it in one gulp. Then he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

'Jesus!' he said finally. 'Did you hear that hit?'

280

He took another deep breath, sat back in his chair, drained off his glass of ice water. Nitchy was there with a pitcher to fill it up again.

'Well now,' Percy Stilton said, looking at us with a weak grin. 'This is what I should have done eight hours ago.'

'I wanted you to suffer,' Maybelle Hawks said.

Stilton finished his cognac and handed the empty glass to Nitchy. 'Another plasma, please, nurse,' he said.

By the time Belle and I had finished our wine, the detective seemed recovered, lighting a cigarette with steady fingers, laughing and joking, surveying his surroundings with interest.

'Nice, comfy place,' he said, nodding. 'How's the food'?'

Nitchy was still hovering, proud at having Maybelle Hawks in her establishment. I had seen her boasting at other tables.

'For you,' she said to Stilton, 'I suggest a rare sirloin, a mixed green salad, and nothing else.'

'Marry me,' he said.

'I'll have the same, please,' Belle said, 'Oil and vinegar on the greens.'

I ordered a hamburger and another round of drinks.

'All right, Josh,' Percy said, 'what's all this about?'

I glanced quickly towards Maybelle Hawks. Stilton caught it. 'She knows everything. She thinks it's interesting.'

'Fascinating,' she said.

'You know all the people involved?' I asked her. 'Tippi Kipper? Godfrey Knurr? Marty Reape?'

She nodded.

'Good,' I said. 'But what I have to say will be new to both of you. I've got a lot to tell.'

'Talk away,' Percy Stilton said. 'We're listening.'

I told them about the Stonehouse case: the arsenic poisoning, how I thought it had been done, the personalities of the people involved, how I was attempting to locate a cabdriver who might have picked up Professor Stonehouse on the night he disappeared. They listened intently.

When I told them about the attempted assault on me the previous evening, Detective Stilton paused, his last forkful of steak halfway to his mouth, and stared at me. Then he devoured the final bite, pushed his plate away, and reached for his cigarette case.

I told them how I had shadowed Godfrey Knurr, how he had travelled up to that West Side garage, met a woman, and how the two of them drove northward in a black Mercedes-Benz.

'But it wasn't Tippi Kipper,' I said. 'It was Glynis Stonehouse.'

I finished my hamburger and looked up. Detective Percy Stilton had lighted his cigarette. He was puffing calmly, looking into the space over my head. Maybelle Hawks had also finished her dinner despite my earthshaking news. She was patting her lips delicately with her napkin.

'Good steak,' was all she said.

Stilton's eyes came down slowly until he was staring at me.

'Roll me over,' he sang softly, 'in the clover. Roll me over, lay me down, and do it again.'

'Coffee?' the waitress asked.

We agreed and added brandy to the order. Nothing was said until the waitress moved away. Then Detective Stilton struck the top of the table with his palm. Cutlery jumped.

'That fucker,' Stilton cried. 'That fucker!'

'Easy, babe,' Maybelle Hawks said. 'Don't get physical.'

'You t h i n k. .? ' I said.

'Sheet,' the detective said disgustedly. 'It's him. It's got to be him. I don't know how he managed the Kipper snuff or what he did with Stonehouse, but it's him, it's got to be him. And he thinks he's going to stroll, chuckling.'

'He's doing all right so far,' Belle said dryly.

'Yes,' I said, nodding. 'But it's all guesswork.'

Stilton ground out his cigarette, half-smoked, and immediately lighted another.

'Uh-huh,' he said. 'Guesswork. No hard evidence.

Right. Well, I'll tell you, Josh, sometimes it goes like that.

You got the guy cold but you can't prove.'

'What do you do then?'

He put his head far back, blew smoke at the ceiling.

' W e l l. . ' he said slowly, 'I know a couple of guys who owe me. Not cops,' he added hurriedly. 'Just friends from my old neighbourhood. They like to go hunting.'

I looked at him, puzzled.

'They could take this Knurr hunting with them,' he said.

'In the forest. Lots of trees upstate. Accidents happen all the time. Hunting accidents.'

'No,' I said.

'Why not?' Stilton demanded harshly.

'Perce,' I said, 'I don't believe in brute force and brute morality. I don't believe they rule the world. I don't believe they're what make history and form the future. I just don't believe that. I can't believe that, Perce. Look at me. I'm a shrimp. If brute force is what it's all about, then I haven't got a chance, I'm dead already. Also, I don't want to believe it. If brute morality is the law of survival, then I want to be dead. I don't want to live in a world like that because it would just be nothing, without hope and without joy.'

Stilton stared at me, his eyes wide.

'You're a pisser,' he said finally.

'That's the way I feel,' I said.

Maybelle Hawks reached across the table and put a hand on my arm.

'I'm with you, babe,' she said softly.

The detective leaned back and lighted another cigarette.

'And the meek shall inherit the earth,' he said tonelessly.

'I didn't say that,' I told him angrily. 'I want to nail Godfrey Knurr as much as you do. More maybe. He played me for a fool. I'm not meek about it all. I'm not going to let him escape.'

'And just how do you figure to nail him?'

'I've got a good brain — I know I have. Knurr isn't going to stroll away. Right now I can't tell you exactly how I'm going to nail him, but I know I will. Guile and cunning.

That's what I'm going to use against him. Those are the only weapons of a persecuted minority. And that is how I consider myself: a member of the minority of shorts.'

'All right, Josh,' Stilton said. 'We'll play it your way — for the time being. Tomorrow I'll see what the machine's got on the Reverend Godfrey Knurr.'

'And Tippi Kipper,' I reminded him.

'Right. You're going ahead with those posters?'

'First thing tomorrow.'

'Take my advice: don't describe Stonehouse on the posters. If you do, you'll get a million calls from smartasses. Just run his picture and give the address of his apartment house. Then, if you get any calls, you can check how legit they are by asking the caller to describe Stonehouse.'

'That makes sense.'

'Also,' Stilton went on, 'check out those chemical analyses Stonehouse had made. Go to the lab, blow some smoke. Get copies of the analyses. You think the arsenic was in the brandy, and you're probably right. But you need paper. Find that clinic where Glynis does volunteer work. See if they have any arsenic.'

I was scrawling rapid memoranda in my little notebook.

'Anything else?' I asked him.

'If the clinic doesn't work out, try to discover where she worked previously. Maybe they had arsenic.'

'I don't even know how long ago she worked there,' I said. 'Maybe a year or two, or longer.'

'So?' Percy Stilton said. 'It's possible.'

'Do you know when Glynis met Godfrey Knurr?'