Эд Макбейн - ’Til Death

“Sit down,” he said to Darcy.

Darcy sat.

“Why do you want Tommy dead?” Carella asked bluntly.

“What?”

“You heard me.” He stood to the right of Darcy’s chair. Kling, knowing what was happening, immediately assumed a position to the left of the chair.

“Tommy dead?” Darcy said. “Are you kidding me? Why would I...?”

“That’s what I asked you.”

“But I—”

“You said a man slightly taller than you came up behind you in the bushes and circled your neck with his arm, is that right?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s the truth.”

“And then he hit you on the head, right? Once? Right?”

“Yes. That’s what happened. How does that...?”

“I’m six feet tall,” Carella said, “give or take a quarter of an inch. Bert here is about six-two. That’s about the difference in height between you and your alleged attacker, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Yes, that’s what I—”

“Would you mind grabbing me from behind, Bert? Put your arm far enough around me so that I can see what kind of clothes you’re wearing. You did tell me your attacker was wearing a tuxedo, didn’t you?”

“Well, I—”

“Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Darcy said.

“Okay, Bert.”

Kling wrapped his arm around Carella’s neck. Carella stood facing Darcy, the gun in his right hand.

“We’re pretty close, aren’t we, Darcy? I’m practically smack up against him. In fact, it would be impossible for Bert to take a whack at my head unless he shoved me on the head this way. Am I right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Darcy said quickly. “The attacker did shove me away from him. I remember that now. I yelled and then just before he hit me, he shoved me a few feet away from him. So that he could swing. That’s right. That’s just the way it happened.”

“Well, that’s different,” Carella said, smiling. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? So he shoved you away from him, right?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind demonstrating that, Bert?”

Kling shoved out gently at Carella, and Carella stepped forward a few paces. “About like that?” he asked Darcy.

“Well, with considerably more force. But that’s about where I wound up, yes. A few feet ahead of him.”

“Well, you should have told me that to begin with,” Carella said, still smiling. “He hit you from a few feet behind you, right?”

“Yes.”

“That makes a big difference,” Carella said, smiling pleasantly. “And he didn’t kick you or anything, am I right?”

“That’s right,” Darcy said, nodding. “He pushed me away from him and then he hit me. That was all.”

“Then suppose you tell me, Ben, why the hell that cut is in the exact center of your skull, on the top of your head? Suppose you tell me that, Ben?”

“What? I don’t—”

“If you were hit from behind, you’d most likely have been hit either on the side or the back of your head. Unless the man who hit you was an absolute giant, the cut would not be in the center of your skull. The size man you described would never have been able to get force enough into a blow that presupposes his extending the weapon above your head and then bringing it down vertically.”

“He... he was bigger than I thought.”

“How big?”

“Six-six, maybe. Maybe bigger.”

“That isn’t big enough! The natural swing of his arm would have brought that gun down on a slant at the back of your head. Or, if he took a side swing, at either the right or the left of your head, behind the ears. How about it, Darcy? The wound was self-inflicted, wasn’t it? You ducked your head and ran into that big maple, didn’t you?”

“No, no, why would I want to—?”

“To throw suspicion away from yourself. Because you sawed through that tie rod end!” Kling said.

“You were out for a walk this morning, weren’t you? That’s what you told me when I first saw you,” Carella said.

“Yes, but—”

“Did you run yourself into that tree? Did you saw through that tie rod end on your little stroll?”

“No, no, I—”

“Did you send Tommy that black widow spider?”

“No, no, I swear I didn’t do any of—”

“A note came with the spider,” Carella shouted. “We’ll compare your handwriting—”

“My handwriting?... But I didn’t—”

“Is that blonde in this with you?” Kling shouted.

“What blonde?”

“The one whose gun killed Birnbaum!”

“Birnbaum!”

“Or did you kill Birnbaum?”

“I didn’t kill anybody. I only—”

“Only what?”

“I only wanted to—”

“To what?”

“I... I...”

“Take him away, Bert,” Carella snapped. “Book him for the murder of the old man. Premeditated homicide. It’s an open-and-shut Murder One.”

“Murder?” Darcy shouted. “I didn’t touch the old man! I only wanted—”

“What did you want? Goddamnit, Darcy, spit it out!”

“I... I... I only wanted to scare Tommy at first. With... with the spider. I... I thought maybe I’d scare him enough so that he’d... he’d back out of the wedding. But... he... he didn’t, he wouldn’t... he wouldn’t scare.”

“So you went to work on the car, right?”

“Yes, but not to kill him! I didn’t want to kill him!”

“What the hell did you think would happen when that rod snapped?”

“An accident, I thought, to stop the wedding, but that... that didn’t work, either. And then I—”

“Where does the blonde come in?”

“I don’t know any blonde. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The blonde who shot Birnbaum! Come clean, Darcy!”

“I’m telling you everything. I was only trying to scare Tommy. The wine was to make him sick, yes, but then I took Angela for a ride in my car, and I tried to talk sense to her. If she’d agreed to what I—”

“What wine? What do you mean, wine?”

“The wine. For him and her. And if Angela had told me she’d go along with me, I’d have taken the bottles back. But anyway, it’s only to make him sick, so he’ll... he’ll look like a boob on his honeymoon. So she’ll be... disgusted with him. And then maybe she’ll come to me, after all. I love her, Steve! I love Angela!”

“You gave them wine?”

“Two bottles. One for him, and one for her. To take on the honeymoon. Two small little bottles. I left them on the bridal table. With cards.”

“Where’d you get the wine?”

“My father makes it. He makes a barrel each year.”

“And bottles it?”

“Yes.”

“You put something in that wine? To make them sick?”

“Only Tommy’s bottle. Only the one marked ‘For the Groom.’ I wouldn’t want Angela to get sick. That’s why I put two separate bottles on the table. One for the bride and one for the groom. Only his bottle has the stuff in it.”

“What stuff?”

“You don’t have to worry. It’ll only make him sick. I only used a little of it.”

“A little of what, goddamnit!”

“The stuff we use in the garden. To kill weeds. But I only put it in Tommy’s bottle. I wouldn’t want Angela to—”

“Weed killer? Weed killer?” Carella shouted. “With an arsenic base?”

“I don’t know what it had in it. I only used a little. Just to make him get sick.”

“Didn’t it say POISON on the can?”

“Yes, but I only used a little. Just to—”

“How much did you use?”

“It was just a small bottle of wine. I put in about half a cupful.”

“Half a... and you mix that stuff twenty to one with water to kill weeds! And you put half a cup of it into Tommy’s wine! That’d kill an army!”