James Chase - You Must Be Kidding

An all grey-haired man walked into Police headquarters. Someone had once told him he looked like James Stewart, the movie actor, and from then on, he had aped the actor’s mannerisms. He was Pete Hamilton, crime reporter on the City’s T.V. network. As he covered scandal, society gossip as well as crime, he had a vast audience. He was regarded by the police as the original pain in the ass.

Ignoring Sergeant Tanner who was at the charge desk, he walked briskly down the corridor and swept into Beigler’s tiny office.

‘Hi, Joe!’ he said, coming to rest before Beigler’s desk. ‘Let’s have it! I’m on the air in a couple of hours.’ He pulled up a chair, sat down and took out a notebook. ‘Janie Bandler. What clues? What are you guys doing?’

Beigler sighed. He would have liked to have caught hold of Hamilton and kicked him out of his office, but no one did that to a man of Hamilton’s influence.

‘It would seem,’ Beigler said carefully, ‘we have a sex nut around. Apart from rape, there seems no other motive. We are checking. I don’t have to tell you, Pete, that finding, a sex nut is the hardest nut to crack.’

‘You’re becoming quite a wit, Joe. So, okay, what have you got so far? Any clues? Any leads? This poor girl... what do you know about her?’

‘No clues so far,’ Beigler said. He never gave out information unless he had to. ‘Janie asked for trouble. She was a whore. Maybe she ran into some guy, propositioned him and was unlucky.’

‘He ripped her... right?’

‘Sure.’

Hamilton stared at him.

‘A ripper could do it again.’

‘Yeah, but he could have been passing through the City. We don’t want to start a panic, Pete, so play that angle down.’

Hamilton’s eyes narrowed.

‘Listen, Joe, I have a sixteen year old daughter! Girls should be warned. If there is a nut around, it’s Mayor Hedley’s and your job to show the red light. I don’t give a damn about panic! Girls must be warned!’

‘I can’t stop you,’ Beigler said quietly. ‘The Chief is talking now with the Mayor.’

‘Have you talked to Chet Miscolo?’

‘We’ve talked to him.’

‘Didn’t he come up with anything?’

‘We have the names and addresses of all those in the colony last night,’ Beigler said. ‘We’re checking each and every one. It’ll take a little time. Right now as I’ve said we have nothing to go on. As soon as we have, I’ll alert you.’

Instinct told Hamilton that Beigler was holding back on him.

‘Do you want me to say the police don’t know a thing?’

Beigler gave him a sour smile.

‘You say what you like, Pete. It’s early days.’ He waved to a mass of papers littering his desk. ‘We’re checking. Just remember this girl was a whore and she asked for trouble. In spite of what she was, we will find her killer. That’s our job. If you want to be helpful, say we are doing just that.’

Hamilton got to his feet.

‘Got a photo of her, Joe?’

Beigler produced a copy of the polaroid print. Hamilton studied it, and grimaced.

‘Yeah, I see what you mean: a real toughie. Okay, I’ll play it down. After all, as you say, she was only a hooker.’

While this interview was in progress, Lepski with Jacoby was visiting the various men’s wear shops in the city.

While Lepski was driving, Jacob asked, ‘How did that car key drama with Carroll work out, Tom?’

Lepski grinned.

‘Did I get away with that! I had the goddamn keys in my pocket. I thought they were mine! When I got home last night I put them under her car mat. I got her to apologize!’ He pulled up outside Henry Levine’s tailor shop. ‘When you get married, Max, you watch it! A husband has to act smart all the time or else he’s in trouble.’

They entered the shop and asked for Mr. Levine. This was the fifth unsuccessful call on tailors they had made.

Mr. Levine, fat and aging, but prosperous, immediately identified the golf ball button.

‘Sure, Mr. Lepski,’ he said. ‘This is a speciality of mine.’ He walked to a rack and produced a blue jacket with golf hall buttons. ‘See? Nice idea, huh?’

‘We are trying to trace this button, Mr. Levine. Can you tell us who has bought one of these jackets?’

‘No problem. Just wait,’ and Levine went into his office.

While waiting, Lepski examined the rack of jackets. He located one that attracted his attention.

‘How about this, Max?’ he asked. ‘Pretty sharp, huh?’

Jacoby examined the jacket of pale yellow with broad blue stripes. He thought it was an abortion.

He made a non — committal grunting noise. Lepski continued to regard the jacket, then taking off his own jacket, he slipped on the jacket and surveyed himself in the long mirror.

‘Boy! Is this great?’

Jacoby thought Lepski looked like an escapee from a circus.

‘You could stop the traffic in that,’ he said.

Lepski looked suspiciously at him.

‘Don’t you like it?’

‘I don’t have to live with it,’ Jacoby said, ‘but would Carroll like it?’

‘Yeah.’ He again regarded himself, frowning. He realized that Carroll would create a scene if he took the jacket home.

Levine came from his office.

‘Ah, Mr. Lepski!’ he exclaimed, seeing Lepski had put on the jacket. ‘I’ve always thought you had a touch of class. Now that jacket is something very, very special. It’s an original. You won’t find a similar jacket in the city. Feel the cloth... wonderful! Look at yourself! It is made for you! It gives you a look of considerable distinction.’

Lepski hesitated, stroking the cloth. He again regarded himself in the mirror.

Seeing his hesitation, and because Jacoby was fond of both Lepski and Carroll, he said, ‘Carroll!’

Lepski sighed, removed the jacket and put on his own. Looking at himself in the mirror again, he decided he looked like any other cop, and he sighed again.

‘Mrs. Lepski likes to be around when I choose clothes.’ He gave a false laugh. ‘She imagines her taste is better than mine.’

Levine who had already encountered Carroll, abandoned the sale. He handed Lepski a slip of paper.

‘Those are the names and addresses of my clients who bought the jacket: only four of them. Is something wrong, Mr. Lepski?’

‘Just routine, and thanks,’ Lepski said, and he left followed by Jacoby.

Back in their car, Lepski examined the list.

‘Ken Brandon!’ he exclaimed. ‘This button places him on the murder scene!’

‘Why say that?’ Jacoby demanded. ‘We don’t even know if he has a button missing on his jacket!’

‘I bet he has!’ Lepski got excited. ‘I bet he was with that sex chick last night in her cabin. Use your head. Brandon works all day in close contact with her. Ask yourself how you would react to be in daily contact with dynamite like her.’

‘If I were in Brandon’s place, knowing she was Sternwood’s daughter, I’d leave her strictly alone. I would think of my job first.’

Lepski looked pityingly at him.

‘You’re kidding yourself. She even turned me on, and I was with her for less than ten minutes. I bet he was with her last night!’

‘So maybe, but that doesn’t prove a thing. I know the guy, I’ve done insurance business with him. He would no more rip a hooker than I would. So okay, maybe he and the girl were screwing. Where does that get us?’

Lepski frowned, pulling at his underlip.

‘After leaving her, he could have walked right into the killer, and is too scared to explain why he was on the murder scene. Anyway, who knows what goes on in a man’s mind? He could have flipped his lid and ripped the girl.’

‘So what do we do?’