Ed McBain - Doll

He was somewhat winded by the time he reached the seventh floor. He paused on the landing for a moment, and then walked into the corridor, looking for apartment 7A. He found it just off the stairwell, and rang the bell.

There was no answer.

He rang the bell again.

He was about to ring it a third time when the door to the apartment alongside opened and a young girl rushed out, looking at her wrist watch and almost colliding with Kling.

‘Oh, hi,’ she said, surprised. ‘Excuse me.’

‘That’s all right.’ He reached for the bell again. The girl had gone past him and was starting down the steps. She turned suddenly.

‘Are you looking for Mr Messner?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘He isn’t home.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Well, he doesn’t get home until about nine,’ she said. ‘He works nights, you know.’

‘Does he live here alone?’

‘Yes, he does. His wife died a few years back. He’s lived here a long time, I know him from when I was a little girl.’ She looked at her watch again. ‘Listen, I’m going to be late. Who are you, anyway?’

‘I’m from the police,’ Kling said.

‘Oh, hi.’ The girl smiled, ‘I’m Marjorie Gorman.’

‘Would you know where I can reach him, Maijorie?’

‘Did you try his building? He works in a fancy apartment house on—’

‘Yes, I just came from there.’

‘Wasn’t he there?’

‘No.’

That’s funny,’ Maijorie said. ‘Although, come to think of it, we didn’t hear him last night, either.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The television. The walls are very thin, you know. When he’s home, we can hear the television going.’

‘Yes, but he works nights.’

‘I mean before he leaves. He doesn’t go to work until eleven o’clock. He starts at midnight, you know.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Well, that’s what I meant. Listen, I really do have to hurry. If you want to talk, you’ll have to walk me to the station.’

‘Okay,’ Kling said, and they started down the steps. ‘Are you sure you didn’t hear the television going last night?’

‘I’m positive.’

‘Does he usually have it on?’

‘Oh, constantly,’ Maijorie said. ‘He lives alone, you know, the poor old man. He’s got to do some thing with his time.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘Why did you want to see him?’

She spoke with a pronounced Riverhead accent that somehow marred her clean good looks. She was a tall girl, perhaps nineteen years old, wearing a dark-grey suit and a white blouse, her auburn hair brushed back behind her ears, the lobes decorated with tiny pearl earrings.

‘There are some things I want to ask him,’ Kling said.

‘About the Tinka Sachs murder?’

‘Yes.’

‘He was telling me about that just recently.’

‘When was that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Let me think.’ They walked out of the lobby and into the street. Marjorie had long legs, and she walked very swiftly. Kling, in fact, was having trouble keeping up with her. ‘What’s today, anyway?’

‘Wednesday,’ Kling said.

‘Wednesday, mmm, boy where does the week go? It must have been Monday. That’s right. When I got home from the movies Monday night, he was downstairs putting out his garbage. So we talked awhile. He said he was expecting a detective.’

‘A detective? Who?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Did he say which detective he was expecting? Did he mention a name?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He said he’d talked to some detectives just that morning — that was Monday, right? — and that he’d got a call a few minutes ago saying another detective was coming up to see him.’

‘Did he say that exactly? That another detective was coming up to see him? A different detective?’

‘Oh. I don’t know if he said just that I mean, it could have been one of the detectives he’d talked to that morning. I really don’t know for sure.’

‘Does the name Carella mean anything to you?’

‘No.’ Maijorie paused. ‘Should it?’

‘Did Mr Messner use that name when he was talking about the detective who was coming to see him?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He only said he’d had a call from a detective, that was all. He seemed very proud. He told me they probably wanted him to describe the man again, the one he saw going up to her apartment. The dead girl’s. Brrrr, it gives you the creeps, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Kling said. ‘It does.’

They were approaching the elevated station now. They paused at the bottom of the steps.

‘This was Monday afternoon, you say?’

‘No. Monday night. Monday night, I said.’

‘What time Monday night?’

‘About ten-thirty, I guess. I told you, I was coming home from the movies.’

‘Let me get this straight,’ Kling said. ‘At ten-thirty Monday night, Mr Messner was putting out his garbage, and he told you he had just received a call from a detective who was on his way over? Is that it?’

‘That’s it.’ Maijorie frowned. ‘It was kind of late, wasn’t it? I mean, to be making a business visit. Or do you people work that late?’

‘Well, yes, but…’ Kling shook his head.

‘Listen, I really have to go,’ Maijorie said. ‘I’d like to talk to you, but—’

‘I’d appreciate a few more minutes of your time, if you can—’

‘Yes, but my boss—’

‘I’ll call him later and explain.’

‘Yeah, you don’t know him,’ Marjorie said, and rolled her eyes.

‘Can you just tell me whether Mr Messner mentioned anything about this detective the next time you saw him. I mean, after the detective was there.’

‘Well, I haven’t seen him since Monday night.’

‘You didn’t see him at all yesterday?’

‘Nope. Well, I usually miss him in the morning, you know, because I’m gone before he gets home. But sometimes I drop in at night, just to say hello, or he’ll come in for something, you know, like that. And I told you about the television. We just didn’t hear it. My mother commented about it, as a matter of fact. She said Cyclops was probably — that’s what we call him, Cyclops, everybody does, he doesn’t mind — she said Cyclops was probably out on the town.’

‘Does he often go out on the town?’

‘Well. I don’t think so — but who knows? Maybe he felt like having himself a good time, you know? Listen, I really have to—’

‘All right, I won’t keep you. Thank you very much, Marjorie. If you’ll tell me where you work. I’ll be happy to—’

‘Oh, the hell with him. I’ll tell him what happened, and he can take it or leave it. I’m thinking of quitting, anyway.’

‘Well, thank you again.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Maijorie said, and went up the steps to the platform.

Kling thought for a moment, and then searched in his pocket for a dime. He went into the cafeteria on the comer, found a phone booth, and identified himself to the operator, telling her he wanted the listing for the lobby phone in Tinka’s building on Stafford Place. She gave him the number, and he dialed it. A man answered the phone. Kling said, ‘I’d like to talk to the superintendent, please.’

‘This is the super.’

‘This is Detective Kling of the 87th Squad,’ Kling said. ‘I’m investigating—’

‘Who?’ the superintendent said.

‘Detective Kling. Who’s this I’m speaking to?’

‘I’m the super of the building. Emmanuel Farber. Manny. Did you say this was a detective?’

That’s right.’

‘Boy, when are you guys going to give us some rest here?’