Эд Макбейн - Learning to Kill - Stories

“Did you speak to her in English at all?”

“No. All Chinese.”

“I see. Is that customary? I mean, do you usually check with the chef after she gives her quotation?”

“Yes, of course. The chef is the only one who’d know. Sometimes, of course, the chef himself answers the phone. But if he doesn’t, we always leave the phone to check with him.”

“And you didn’t speak to her in English at all?”

“No, sir.”

“And you didn’t know her, other than through these phone conversations?”

“No, sir.”

“Ever have breakfast with her?” Donny asked.

“Sir?”

“Did you ever...”

“No, of course not. I told you, I didn’t know her personally.”

“All right, Mr. Loo, thank you very much. We may be back.”

“Please feel free to return,” he said a little coldly.

We left the restaurant, and outside Donny said, “So?”

“So now we know who she was speaking to. What do you think of him?”

“Educated guy. Could conceivably run in the same circles as a Columbia student. And if he did poison her this morning and then tell her about it on the phone, it’s a cinch he’d lie his goddamned head off.”

“Sure. Let’s check Miss Chang’s residence. Someone there might know whether or not Loo knew her better than he says he did.”

Mary Chang, when she was alive, lived at International House near the Columbia campus, on Riverside Drive. Her roommate was a girl named Frieda who was a transfer student from Vienna. The girl was shocked to learn of Miss Chang’s death. She actually wept for several moments, and then she pulled herself together when we started questioning her.

“Did she have any boyfriends?”

“Yes. A few.”

“Do you know any of their names?”

“I know all of their names. She always talked about them.”

“Would you let us have them, please.”

Frieda reeled off a list of names, and Donny and I listened. Then Donny asked, “A David Loo? Did he ever come around?”

“No, I don’t think so. She never mentioned a David Loo.”

“Never talked about him at all?”

“No.”

“That list you gave us — all Chinese names. Did. she ever date any American boys?”

“No. Mary was funny that way. She didn’t like to go out with Americans. I mean, she liked the country and all, but I guess she figured there was no future in dating Occidentals.” Frieda paused. “She was a pretty girl, Mary, and a very happy one, always laughing, always full of life. A lot of American boys figured her for... an easy mark, I suppose. She... sensed this. She wouldn’t date any of them.”

“Did they ask her?”

“Oh, yes, all the time. She was always very angry when an American asked her for a date. It was sort of an insult to her. She... knew what they wanted.”

“Where’d she eat breakfast?”

“Breakfast?”

“Yes. Where’d she eat? Who’d she eat with?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember ever seeing her eat breakfast.”

“She didn’t eat breakfast?”

“I don’t think so. We always left here together in the morning. I have a job, too, you see. I work at Lord and Taylor’s. I’m...”

“Yes, you left here together?”

“To take the subway. She never stopped to eat.”

“Coffee?” I asked. “An English muffin? Something?”

“No, not when I was with her.”

“I see. What subway did you take?”

“The Broadway line.”

“Where did she get off?”

“At Seventy-second Street.”

“What time did she get off the subway usually?”

“At about nine, or maybe a few minutes before. Yes, just about nine.”

“But she didn’t stop for breakfast.”

“No. Mary was very slim, very well-built. I don’t think she ate breakfast in the morning.”

“She ate breakfast this morning,” I said. “Thank you, miss. Come on, Donny.”

There was an Automat on West 72nd Street, a few doors from Broadway. Mary Chang wouldn’t have gone to the Automat because Mary Chang had to be at work at nine, and she got off the train at nine. We walked down the street, all the way up to the building that housed the offices of Gotham Lobster, close to Columbus Avenue. There was a luncheonette on the ground floor of that building. Donny and I went inside and took seats at the counter, and then we ordered coffee. When our coffee came, we showed the counterman our buzzers. He got scared all at once, the way some people will get scared when a cop shows his shield.

“Just a few questions,” we told him.

“Sure. Sure,” he said. He gulped. “I don’t know why...”

“You know any of the people who work in this building?”

“Sure, most of ’em. But...”

“Did you know Mary Chang?”

He seemed immensely relieved. “Oh, her. There’s some trouble with her, ain’t there? She got shot, or stabbed, or something, didn’t she?”

“Did you know her?”

“I seen her around, yeah. Quite a piece, you know? With them tight silk dresses, slit up there on the side.” He smiled. “You ever seen her? Man, I go for them Chinese broads.”

“Did she ever eat here?”

“No.”

“Breakfast?”

“No.”

“She never stopped here in the morning for coffee?”

“No, why should she do that?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Well, what I mean, he always come down for the coffee, you know.”

I felt Donny tense beside me:

“Who?” I asked. “Who came down for the coffee?”

“Why, Freddie. From the lobster joint. Every morning like clockwork, before he went upstairs. Two coffees, one heavy on the sugar. That Chinese broad liked it sweet. Also a jelly doughnut and a toasted English. Sure, every morning.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Oh yes, sure. The boss didn’t know nothing about it, you know. Mr. Godrow. He don’t go for that junk. They always had their coffee before he come in in the morning.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Did Freddie come down for the coffee this morning?”

“Sure, every morning.”

We left the luncheonette and went upstairs. Freddie was working the addressing machine when we came in. The machine made a hell of a clatter as the metal address plates fed through it. We said hello to Mr. Godrow and then walked right to the machine. Freddie fed postcards and stepped on the foot lever and the address plates banged onto the cards and then dropped into the tray below.

“We’ve got an idea, Freddie,” I said.

He didn’t look up. He kept feeding postcards into the machine. The cards read MAINE LIVE LOBSTERS AT FANTASTIC PRICES!

“We figure a guy who kept asking Mary Chang out, Freddie. A guy who constantly got refused.”

Freddie said nothing.

“You ever ask her out, Freddie?”

“Yes,” he said under the roar of the machine.

“We figure she drove the guy nuts, sitting there in her tight dresses, drinking coffee with him, being friendly, but never anything more, never what he wanted. We figured he got sore at all the Chinese boys who could date her just because they were Chinese. We figure he decided to do something about it. Want to hear more, Freddie?”

“What is this?” Godrow asked. “This is a place of business, you know. Those cards have to...”

“You went down for your customary coffee this morning, Freddie.”

“Coffee?” Godrow asked. “What coffee? Have you been...”

“Only this time you dumped strychnine into Mary Chang’s. She took her coffee very sweet, and that probably helped to hide the bitter taste. Or maybe you made some comment about the coffee being very bitter this morning, anything to hide the fact that you were poisoning her.”

“No...” Freddie said.