Эд Макбейн: Lady, Lady, I Did It!

“We didn’t expect to find you here today,” Carella said. “Do you always have classes on Saturday?”

“What? Oh, no. Practice.”

“What do you mean?”

“Basketball.”

“We thought you were on the baseball team.”

“I am. I’m also on the basket...” Robinson paused. “How’d you know that? What is this?”

“Anyway, we’re glad we caught you,” Carella said.

“Caught me?”

“That’s just an expression.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Robinson said glumly.

“How tall are you, Mr. Robinson?” Meyer asked.

“Six-two.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Mr. Robinson, did you once take a class with Professor Land?”

“Yeah.” Robinson kept squinting up at the detectives, trying to understand what they were driving at. His tone was cautious but not overly wary. He seemed only to be extremely puzzled.

“When was this?”

“Last semester.”

“What was the class?”

“Logic.”

“How’d you make out?”

“I flunked.”

“Why?”

Robinson shrugged.

“Do you think you deserved to flunk?”

Robinson shrugged again.

“Well, what do you say?” Meyer asked.

“I don’t know. I flunked, that’s all.”

“Were you doing the work?”

“Sure I was doing the work.”

“Did you understand what you were doing?”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Robinson said.

“But you flunked anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, how’d you feel about that?” Meyer asked. “You were doing the work, and you say you understood it, but still you flunked. How about that? How’d it make you feel?”

“Lousy — how do you think?” Robinson said. “Would you mind telling me what this is all about? Since when do detectives—”

“This is just a routine investigation,” Carella said.

“Into what?” Robinson asked.

“How’d you feel about flunking?”

“I told you. Lousy. An investigation into what?”

“Well, that’s not important, Mr. Robinson. The only—”

“What is it? Is there a fix in or something?”

“A fix?”

“Yeah. The team, is that it? Is somebody trying to fix a game?”

“Why? Have you been approached?”

“Hell, no. If there’s something going on, I don’t know anything about it.”

“Are you a good basketball player, Mr. Robinson?”

“Fair. Baseball’s my game.”

“You pitch, is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. You know an awful lot about me, don’t you? For a routine investigation—”

“Are you a good pitcher?”

“Yes,” Robinson answered without hesitation.

“What happened when Land flunked you?”

“I got benched.”

“For how long?”

“For the rest of the season.”

“How’d this affect the team?”

Robinson shrugged. “I don’t want to blow my own horn...”

“Go ahead,” Meyer said, “blow it.”

“We lost eight out of twelve.”

“Think you’d have won them if you were pitching?”

“Let’s put it this way,” Robinson said. “I think we’d have won some of them.”

“But, instead, you lost.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d the team feel about this?”

“Lousy. We thought we might cop the city championship. We were unbeaten until I was benched. Then we lost those eight games and we wound up in second place.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Carella said.

“There’s only one first place,” Robinson answered.

“Did the team feel Mr. Land had been unfair?”

“I don’t know how they felt.”

“How’d you feel?”

“Look, those are the breaks,” Robinson said.

“Yes, but how’d you feel?”

“I thought I knew the work.”

“Then why’d he flunk you?”

“Why don’t you go ask him?” Robinson said.

This was the place to say “Because he’s dead,” but neither Meyer nor Carella said the words. They watched Robinson squinting up into their faces and into the sun, and Carella said, “Where were you last night about five o’clock, Mr. Robinson?”

“Why?”

“We’d like to know.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Robinson said.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to be the judge of what’s our business or what isn’t.”

“Then maybe you better go get a warrant for my arrest,” Robinson said. “If this is as serious as all that—”

“Nobody said it was serious, Mr. Robinson.”

“No?”

“No.” Meyer paused. “Do you want us to get that warrant?”

“I don’t see why I have to tell you—”

“It might help us to clear up a few things, Mr. Robinson.”

“What things?”

“Where were you last night at five o’clock?”

“I was... I was involved in something personal.

“Like what?”

“Look, I don’t see any reason—”

“What were you involved in?”

“I was with a girl,” Robinson said, sighing.

“From what time to what time?”

“From about four... well, a little before four... my last class broke at three forty-five...”

“Yes, from three forty-five until when?”

“Until about eight.”

“Where were you?”

“At the girl’s apartment.”

“Where?”

“Downtown.”

“Where downtown?”

“For Christ’s sake...”

“Where?”

“On Tremayne Avenue. It’s in the Quarter, near Canopy.”

“You were at the apartment at four o’clock?”

“No, we must’ve got there about four-fifteen, four-thirty.”

“But you were there at five?”

“Yes.”

“What were you doing?”

“Well, you know...”

“Tell us.”

“I don’t have to tell you! You figure it out for yourself, goddamn it!”

“Okay. What’s the girl’s name?”

“Olga.”

“Olga what?”

“Olga Wittensten.”

“Was that the girl just sitting here with you?”

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do — question her, too? You gonna foul up a good thing?”

“All we want to do is check your story, Mr. Robinson. The rest is your problem.”

“This is a very high-strung girl,” Robinson said. “She’s liable to spook. I don’t understand what this is all about anyway. Why do you have to check my story? What is it I’m supposed to have done?”

“You’re supposed to have been in an apartment on Tremayne Avenue from four-fifteen yesterday afternoon to eight o’clock last night. If you were doing what you’re supposed to have been doing, you’ll never see us again as long as you live, Mr. Robinson.”

“Well, maybe not as long as you live,” Meyer amended.

“Which means you’ll be back Monday morning,” Robinson said.

“Why? Weren’t you in that apartment?”

“I was there, I was there. Go on and check. But the last time there was a basketball scandal, we had detectives and district attorneys and special investigators crawling all over the campus for weeks. If this is the same thing—”

“This isn’t the same thing, Mr. Robinson.”

“I hope not. I’m clean. I play a clean game. I never took a nickel, and I never will. You just remember that.”

“We will.”

“And when you talk to Olga, for Pete’s sake, try not to foul this up, will you? Will you please do me that favor? She’s a very high-strung girl.”

They found Olga Wittensten in the student cafeteria drinking a cup of black coffee. She said like man, she had never before seen fuzz up close like this. She said yeah, she had a pad on Tremayne, downtown in the Quarter. She said she like waited for Barney yesterday afternoon, and they cut out to her place and got there about 4:00, 4:30, something like that. She said they were there all afternoon, like maybe till 8:00 or so, when they went out to break some bread. Like what was this all about?