Ed McBain: Doll

‘Which shift is yours?’ Kling asked.

‘The graveyard shift. You just caught me, in fact. I’ll be relieved here in ten minutes.’

‘If you start work at midnight, what were you doing here at nine p.m. Monday?’

‘Fellow who has the shift before mine went home sick. The super called me about eight o’clock, asked if I could come in early. I did him the favor. That was a long night, believe me.’

‘It was an even longer night for Tinka Sachs,’ Kling said.

‘Yeah. Well, anyway, I took that fellow up at nine, nine-thirty, and he still hadn’t come down by the time I was relieved.’

‘At eight in the morning,’ Carella said.

‘That’s right.’

‘Is that usual?’ Kling asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Did Tinka Sachs usually have men coming here who went up to her apartment at nine, nine-thirty, and weren’t down by eight the next morning?’

Cyclops blinked with his single eye. ‘I don’t like to talk about the dead,’ he said.

‘We’re here precisely so you can talk about the dead,’ Kling answered. ‘And about the living who visited the dead. I asked a simple question, and I’d appreciate a simple answer. Was Tinka Sachs in the habit of entertaining men all night long?’

Cyclops blinked again. Take it easy, young fellow,’ he said. ‘You’ll scare me right back into my elevator.’

Carella chose to laugh at this point, breaking the tension. Cyclops smiled in appreciation.

‘You understand, don’t you?’ he said to Carella. ‘What Mrs Sachs did up there in her apartment was her business, not anyone else’s.’

‘Of course,’ Carella said. ‘I guess my partner was just wondering why you weren’t suspicious. About taking a man up who didn’t come down again. That’s all.’

‘Oh,’ Cyclops thought for a moment. Then he said ‘Well, I didn’t give it a second thought.’

‘Then it was usual, is that right?’ Kling asked.

‘I’m not saying it was usual, and I’m not saying it wasn’t. I’m saying if a woman over twenty-one wants to have a man in her apartment, it’s not for me to say how long he should stay, all day or all night, it doesn’t matter to me, sonny. You got that?’

‘I’ve got it,’ Kling said flatly.

‘And I don’t give a damn what they do up there, either, all day or all night, that’s their business if they’re old enough to vote. You got that, too?’

‘I’ve got it,’ Kling said.

‘Fine,’ Cyclops answered, and he nodded.

‘Actually,’ Carella said, ‘the man didn’t have to take the elevator down, did he? He could have gone up to the roof, and crossed over to the next building.’

‘Sure,’ Cyclops said. ‘I’m only saying that neither me nor anybody else working in this building has the right to wonder about what anybody’s doing up there or how long they’re taking to do it, or whether they choose to leave the building by the front door or the roof or the steps leading to the basement or even by jumping out the window, it’s none of our business. You close that door, you’re private. That’s my notion.’

‘That’s a good notion,’ Carella said.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘What’d the man look like?’ Kling asked. ‘Do you remember?’

‘Yes, I remember,’ Cyclops said. He glanced at Kling coldly, and then turned to Carella. ‘Have you got a pencil and some paper?’

‘Yes,’ Carella said. He took a notebook and a slender gold pen from his inside jacket pocket. ‘Go ahead.’

‘He was a tall man, maybe six-two or six-three. He was blond. His hair was very straight, the kind of hair Sonny Tufts has, do you know him?’

‘Sonny Tufts?’ Carella said.

‘That’s right, the movie star, him. This fellow didn’t look at all like him, but his hair was the same sort of straight blond hair.’

‘What color were his eyes?’ Kling asked.

‘Didn’t see them. He was wearing sunglasses.’

‘At night?’

‘Lots of people wear sunglasses at night nowadays,’ Cyclops said.

‘That’s true,’ Carella said.

‘Like masks,’ Cyclops added.

‘Yes.’

‘He was wearing sunglasses, and also he had a very deep tan, as if he’d just come back from down south someplace. He had on a light grey raincoat; it was drizzling a little Friday night, do you recall?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Carella said. ‘Was he carrying an umbrella?’

‘No umbrella.’

‘Did you notice any of his clothing under the raincoat?’

‘His suit was a dark grey, charcoal grey, I could tell that by his trousers. He was wearing a white shirt — it showed up here, in the opening of the coat — and a black tie.’

‘What color were his shoes?’

‘Black.’

‘Did you notice any scars or other marks on his face or hands?’

‘No.’

‘Was he wearing any rings?’

‘A gold ring with a green stone on the pinky of his right hand — no, wait a minute, it was his left hand.’

‘Any other jewelry you might have noticed? Cuff links, tie clasp?’

‘No, I didn’t see any.’

‘Was he wearing a hat?’

‘No hat.’

‘Was he clean-shaven?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Did he have a beard or a mustache?’ Kling said.

‘No. He was clean-shaven.’

‘How old would you say he was?’

‘Late thirties, early forties.’

‘What about his build? Heavy, medium, or slight?’

‘He was a big man. He wasn’t fat, but he was a big man, muscular. I guess I’d have to say he was heavy. He had very big hands. I noticed the ring on his pinky looked very small for his hand. He was heavy, I’d say, yes, very definitely.’

‘Was he carrying anything? Briefcase, suitcase, attaché—’

‘Nothing.’

‘Did he speak to you?’

‘He just gave me the floor number, that’s all. Nine, he said. That was all.’

‘What sort of voice did he have? Deep, medium, high?’

‘Deep.’

‘Did you notice any accent or regional dialect?’

‘He only said one word. He sounded like anybody else in the city.’

‘I’m going to say that word several ways,’ Carella said. ‘Would you tell me which way sounded most like him?’

‘Sure, go ahead.’

‘Ny-un,’ Carella said.

‘Nope.’

‘Noin.’

‘Nope.’

‘Nahn.’

‘Nope.’

‘Nan.’

‘Nope.’

‘Nine.’

‘That’s it. Straight out. No decorations.’

‘Okay, good,’ Carella said. ‘You got anything else, Bert?’

‘Nothing else,’ Kling said.

‘You’re a very observant man,’ Carella said to Cyclops.

‘All I do every day is look at the people I take up and down,’ Cyclops answered. He shrugged. ‘It makes the job a little more interesting.’

‘We appreciate everything you’ve told us,’ Carella said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

Outside the building, Kling said, ‘The snotty old bastard.’

‘He gave us a lot,’ Carella said mildly.

‘Yeah.’

‘We’ve really got a good description now.’

‘ Too good, if you ask me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The guy has one eye in his head, and one foot in the grave. So he reels off details even a trained observer would have missed. He might have been making up the whole thing, just to prove he’s not a worthless old man.’

‘Nobody’s worthless,’ Carella said mildly. ‘Old or otherwise.’

‘The humanitarian school of criminal detection,’ Kling said.

‘What’s wrong with humanity?’

‘Nothing. It was a human being who slashed Tinka Sachs to ribbons, wasn’t it?’ Kling asked.