Эд Макбейн - Jigsaw

Petitpas stared at his client. Kahn stared back at him.

“Well, answer it,” Petitpas said.

“It clearly identifies the nature of the list, yes,” Kahn said.

“Then the list does exist?”

“It exists.”

“And a torn portion of it is indeed in your cash box?”

“It is, yes, but how...?”

“Never mind how. Where’d you get that list?”

“Gerry gave it to me for safekeeping.”

“Where’d she get it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mr. Kahn, try to help us,” Meyer said gently.

“I didn’t kill her,” Kahn said.

“Somebody did,” Carella said.

“It wasn’t me.”

“We’re not suggesting it was.”

“All right. As long as you know.”

“Who gave her the list?”

“Carmine.”

“Bonamico?”

“Yes. Carmine Bonamico. He gave half of the list to his wife, and half to Geraldine.”

“Why Geraldine?”

“They were having a thing.”

“They were lovers?”

“Yes.”

“Did he also give her a piece of the photograph?”

“No. She got that from her brother-in-law, Lou D’Amore. There were four men on the holdup. Bonamico cut the picture into eight parts, a wiggly line across the middle horizontally, three wiggly lines vertically, eight pieces in all. He gave two pieces to each of the men, and kept two for himself. He asked the men to distribute the pieces to people they could trust. It was an insurance policy, so to speak. The beneficiaries were the people who held sections of the photograph. The trustees were Alice Bonamico and Gerry Ferguson, the only two people who could put together the list and collect the photograph segments and uncover the loot.”

“Who told you all this?”

“Gerry.”

“How’d she know?”

“Pillow talk. Bonamico told her everything. I don’t think his wife knew who had the other half of the list. But Gerry sure as hell knew.”

“So Gerry was in possession of half of the list as well as one piece of the photograph.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t she put the list together and go after the other pieces?”

“She tried to.”

“What stopped her?”

“Alice.” Kahn paused. “Well, after all, would your wife cooperate with your mistress?”

“I don’t have a mistress,” Carella said.

“Here’s a typewritten copy of the list,” Brown said. “Take a look at it.”

“Is it all right to look at it?” Kahn asked his lawyer.

“Yes,” Petitpas said. He turned to the police stenographer and said, “Let the record indicate that Mr. Kahn is being shown a list with such-and-such names on it; record all the names as they appear on the list.”

“May I see the list?” the stenographer asked.

Brown handed it to him. The stenographer studied it, noted the names, and then handed it back to Brown.

“All right, Mr. Kahn, would you now please look at this list?”

Kahn accepted the list.

ALBERT WEINBERG

DONALD RENNINGER

EUGENE E. EHRBACH

ALICE BONAMICO

GERALDINE FERGUSON

DOROTHEA MCNALLY

ROBERT COOMBS

“I’ve looked at it,” he said, and handed it back to Brown.

“Which of those names are familiar to you?”

“Only three of them.”

“Which?”

“Gerry, of course, Alice Bonamico, and Donald Renninger. He’s the other person who got a piece of the picture from Lou D’Amore.”

“How come?”

“They were cell mates at Caramoor. In fact, Lou mailed the piece to him there. He was still behind bars at the time of the robbery.”

“What about these other names?”

“I don’t know any of them.”

“Robert Coombs?”

“Don’t know him.”

“His name was on the half of the list you had in your possession. Didn’t you ever try to contact him?”

“Gerry may have. I didn’t.”

“You weren’t at all curious about him, is that right?”

“Oh, I was curious, I suppose, but not curious enough to go all the way out to...” Kahn suddenly stopped.

“Out to where, Mr. Kahn?”

“All right, Bethtown. I did go to see him. He wouldn’t give up the piece. I offered him twelve hundred dollars for it, but he wouldn’t give it up.”

“How about some of these other names? Did you ever try to contact any of them?”

“How could I? I only had half the list.”

“There are only seven names on this list, Mr. Kahn.”

“Yes, I noticed that.”

“You said the picture had been divided into eight pieces.”

“That’s what Gerry told me.”

“Who’s got the eighth piece?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about this first name on the list, Mr. Kahn? Albert Weinberg? Are you trying to say you’ve never heard of him?”

“Never.”

“Don’t you read the newspapers?”

“Oh, you mean his murder. Yes, of course, I read about his murder. I thought you were referring...”

“Yes?”

“To my having some knowledge of him before then.”

“Did you kill Albert Weinberg?”

“Just a second, Mr. Brown...”

“It’s all right, Anatole,” Kahn said. “No, I did not kill him, Mr. Brown. In fact, before the night of his murder, I didn’t even know he existed.”

“I see,” Brown said. “Even though he’d been in the gallery several times to inquire about the photograph?”

“Yes, but always using an assumed name.”

“I see.”

“I had nothing to do with either murder.”

“Did you have anything to do with beating me up?”

“I should say not!”

“Where were you at the time?”

“Home in bed!”

“When?”

“The night you were beat up.”

“How do you know it happened at night?”

“Just a second, Mr. Brown...”

“No, it’s all right, Anatole,” Kahn said. “Gerry told me.”

“Who told Gerry?”

“Why, you, I would guess.”

“No, I didn’t tell her anything about it.”

“Then she must have known some other way. Maybe she was involved in it. Maybe she hired someone to go to your hotel...”

“How do you know that’s where it happened?”

“She... she said so.”

“She said I’d been attacked by two men in my hotel room?”

“Yes, she told me about it the next day.”

“She couldn’t have told you there were two men, Mr. Kahn, because I just made that up. There was only one man, wearing a stocking over his face.”

“Well, it wasn’t me! ” Kahn shouted.

“Then who was it?” Brown shouted back. “You just said you learned about Albert Weinberg on the night of his murder. How?”

“The morning after, I meant. The newspapers...”

“You said ‘the night of his murder,’ you said you didn’t even know he existed until that night. How’d you find out about his existence, Mr. Kahn? From my open notebook by the telephone?”

“Just a second, just a second,” Petitpas shouted.

“I didn’t kill him!” Kahn shouted.

“What’d you do, go after him the minute you left me?”

“No!”

“Just a second!”

“Walk the three blocks to his room...”

“No!”

“You killed him, Kahn, admit it!”

“No!”

“You attacked me...”

“Yes, no, NO!”

“Yes or no?”

Kahn had half-risen from his chair, and now he collapsed back into it, and began sobbing.

“Yes or no, Mr. Kahn?” Carella asked gently.

“I didn’t want to... to hit you, I deplore violence,” Kahn said, sobbing, not looking up at Brown. “I intended only to... to force you to give me the piece you had... to... to threaten you with the gun. And then... when you opened the door, I... You looked so big... and... and in that split second, I... I decided to... to strike out at you. I was very frightened, so frightened. I... I was afraid you might hurt me.”