Ed McBain - Killer's Choice

'I met her for the first time when she answered an ad I placed in the newspaper.'

'What was your relationship with Annie Boone?'

'I was her employer.'

'How much did you pay her?'

'A hundred and twenty-five dollars a week.'

'Do you remember sending her roses once when she was ill?' Kling asked.

'I don't recall.'

'You did,' Kling said.

'Perhaps.'

'Isn't that a little unusual?'

'If I did send them, I don't see anything unusual about it. Annie was a trusted employee. Without her, I could not have run that shop.'

'When did you first meet, Mr Phelps?'

'When she answered my ad.'

'Where did you run the ad?'

'In most of the local dailies.'

'Why did you hire her?'

'She'd had selling experience.'

'Selling whisky?'

'No. Furniture.'

'Where had she sold furniture?'

'Herman Dodson, Inc.,' Phelps said.

'She told you that?'

'Yes.'

'You remember it?'

'Yes, certainly.'

'Was Annie a drunkard?'

'A what?'

'A drunkard.'

'That's preposterous! Of course not!'

'How do you know?'

'Well, I never saw her drink more than a glass of…' Phelps paused.

'A glass of what, Mr Phelps?'

'Wine,' he completed.

'Where was this, Mr Phelps?'

'I don't remember.'

'You knew her socially, did you, Mr Phelps?'

'Socially? No, no, of course not. I don't remember where I saw her drink. Perhaps at the store.'

'Your stock?'

'Yes. Yes, my stock.'

'What was the occasion?'

'No occasion. We… we opened a bottle of wine.'

'Was that the only time you saw her drink?'

'Yes.'

'Then how do you know she wasn't a drunkard?'

'Well, a man can tell, can't he? She worked for me, you know. I saw her in the shop, and she was never drunk.'

'How much did you pay her, Mr Phelps?'

'I told you. A hundred and twenty-five dollars a week. What is this? A third degree of some kind? Am I going to have to call my lawyer?'

'You can if you wish, Mr Phelps. You can very easily do that. I suggest, however, that you sit tight and start answering some of these questions straight.'

'I'm answering as honestly as I know how. I don't have to answer a damn thing if I don't want to.'

'You will if we book you.'

'On what charge?'

'Suspicion of murder,' Kling said flatly.

Phelps was silent for a moment.

'I think I'd better call my lawyer,' he said at last.

'If that's what you plan, Mr Phelps,' Meyer said, 'you'll have to call him after we get to the squad room.'

Phelps blinked.

'Here or there,' Meyer said. 'You can answer the questions anywhere you like. If you didn't kill her, you've got nothing to fear.'

'I didn't kill her.'

'Okay. Why'd you lie to us then?'

'I haven't lied to you.'

'Were you having an affair with Annie Boone?'

Phelps was silent.

'Were you?'

'Yes,' he said.

'Why didn't you tell us that in the beginning?'

'For several reasons.'

'Like?'

'First, I didn't want to get involved in a possible murder charge.'

'That possibility still exists, Mr Phelps.'

'Secondly, I thought this might make the newspapers. I didn't want Marna to… well, you understand.'

'Sure,' Meyer said. 'Now how about giving us the straight story?'

'Where do you want me to start?'

'Where'd you meet Annie?'

Phelps sighed heavily. 'At Herman Dodson, Inc. In the modern furniture department. I wandered on to the wrong floor by mistake. Marna and I prefer period stuff.'

'Go ahead.'

'I asked her out. She accepted. Oh, not quite that suddenly. We chatted awhile, you know how it works.'

'No, I don't know how it works,' Meyer said. 'I'm married. You tell me how it works, Mr Phelps.'

'I didn't know policemen were invested with moral indignation,' Phelps said. 'I didn't know love was a crime in this state.'

'It isn't,' Meyer said. 'But adultery is .'

'Annie wasn't married!' Phelps said.

'You were, and are. The law makes it adultery if either or both partners are married. Let's not get off the track, Mr Phelps. The crime we're discussing is homicide!'

'I didn't kill her.'

'We're still listening.'

'I loved her. Why should I kill her?'

'You didn't seem to be worrying too damn much about her the first time I spoke to you. You seemed more concerned with your stock.'

'I was concerned with the stock. But I was concerned about Annie, too. Of course I was concerned. I'd known her for more than a year.'

'Why'd you give her a job at the liquor store? So you could be closer to her?'

'Well… not exactly. I very rarely went to the shop. Annie handled it mostly singlehanded. I dropped by at the end of the day, usually, to make my collection.'

'Had you dropped by on the night she was killed?'

'Yes. I told you that before. I'd left her just enough money to keep things going until closing time. That was the usual procedure. I made out my bank deposit slips every night and made my deposit each morning.'

'Which bank?'

'Here. In town. First National of Crestion.'

'Why'd you give her the job?'

'To help her.'

'How?'

'She was divorced, you know. She wasn't earning a hell of a lot at Dodson. I found that out after I'd… after I'd known her awhile. I thought I could help her by taking her on. I paid her more than a hundred and a quarter.'

'How much more?'

'I paid her two hundred dollars a week,' Phelps said.

'Did Mrs Phelps know this?'

'No, of course not. The highest I'd ever paid any employee was a hundred and a quarter.'

'In other words, Mr Phelps,' Meyer said, 'you charged Annie Boone to the business, is that right?'

'That's a particularly callous way to put it, Detective Meyer.'

'Is it? How would you put it, Mr Phelps?'

'I was trying to help the girl. She was supporting her mother and her daughter. It was the least I could do.'

'Sure. Why'd you pretend you didn't know about the daughter when I first talked to you, Mr Phelps?'

'I pretended no such thing.'

'You said you thought she had a son.'

'Well, perhaps I did. I lied because I didn't want the police to know how involved I was with Annie. I didn't want her murder to… to reflect upon me.'

'What time did you make your collection on the night she was killed, Mr Phelps?'

'At about eight. I always make my collection at about that time.'

'She was killed at about ten-thirty, near as we can figure it. Where were you between eight and ten-thirty?'

'I don't remember,' Phelps said quickly.

Meyer looked at him with something close to vast astonishment on his face. 'Mr Phelps,' he said, 'perhaps you didn't understand my question. Where were you on the night Annie Boone was killed between the hours of eight and ten-thirty?'

'I don't remember,' Phelps said.

Meyer continued to look astonished. 'Well, maybe you better start remembering, Mr Phelps. Maybe you better start remembering damn fast.'

'If I don't remember, I don't remember.'

'Were you here?' Kling asked.

'No, I wasn't.'

'Where then?'

'I don't remember.'

'But you do remember that you weren't here?'

'Yes, I remember that.'

'Were you maybe in your own liquor store shooting Annie Boone and destroying your own stock maybe?' Meyer asked.

'Don't be ridiculous!'

'Well then, where the hell were you, Mr Phelps? Start remembering. I suggest that you start remembering!'

'Look…'

'Look, I don't want you to think…' Phelps shook his head. 'Look, I…'

'Go ahead, Mr Phelps. Drag out the skeletons.'

'Did you question Ted Boone? Did you question her ex-husband?'

'He was out of the city at the time of the shooting. His alibi has been corroborated. He's clear, Mr Phelps.'