Росс Томас - The Fools in Town Are on Our Side

“It was obvious.”

“So you shot Pai.”

“Yes.”

“To keep him from doing what?”

“From fingering Dye.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Vicker looked pained. “You know what fingering means, for God’s sake. They were on to Pai. He was going to accuse Dye.”

“Of what?” Carmingler said and made it sound as if he were deeply interested.

“Of having bribed him to feed Dye information from the bank.”

“I see,” Carmingler said and made another note.

“How long were you in the back room before Pai came in the shop?” Carmingler asked Vicker.

“Two or three minutes.”

“Pai was prompt?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have your gun in your hand when he entered or did you wait until the two men came in?”

“I didn’t draw it until they came in.”

“And you still say that they came in with their guns drawn?”

“Yes.”

“They pulled the guns from their pockets on Upper Lascar? Wasn’t it crowded as usual?”

Vicker crossed his legs. It was the first thing that he had moved other than his mouth. “It was crowded.”

“Doesn’t it seem strange that they would pull guns on a crowded street?”

“I didn’t think about it.”

“I find it very unlikely that they would.”

Vicker shrugged. “Maybe they pulled them just as they entered the shop.”

“Did you see them do that?”

“No.”

“But if they hadn’t pulled the guns, then you would have thought they were just a couple of customers?”

“I suppose. Maybe.”

“And if they hadn’t pulled them, and if you had taken them for a couple of customers, you wouldn’t have shot Pai? You would have let him tell Dye what he came to tell?”

Vicker waited before answering that one. Then he said yes.

“All right,” Carmingler said, making another note. “Let’s suppose, just for the hell of it, that Dye’s version is correct. The two men didn’t pull their revolvers or automatics or whatever until after you had shot Pai. If that’s true, then you couldn’t have known that they were the opposition, could you?”

“No.”

“And you would have had no reason for shooting Pai? I mean he couldn’t have fingered Dye to a couple of strangers?”

“That’s right.”

Carmingler reached for his briefcase again and produced a sheaf of papers. “This is the Hong Kong Special Branch report on the murder of one Pai Chung-liang. It’s quite interesting. They’re most thorough people, you know. They interviewed twenty-three persons before they came up with a reliable eyewitness. They then interviewed another fifty-two before they found one who could corroborate his story. Let’s see, I’ll just paraphrase it for you.” Carmingler ran his right forefinger down the first sheet, flipped it over, and then ran it halfway down the second sheet. “Yes, here it is. At about ten o’clock on the morning in question two male foreigners (that’s you two) dressed thus and so entered the shop on Upper Lascar... then the proprietor left... then a Chinese in a white suit carrying a briefcase entered... then two other Chinese entered... and, yes, here it is, no guns were visible. A few minutes later there was the sound of a single shot and the two Chinese were seen running from the shop carrying a briefcase. They disappeared. That’s from the first witness. Another witness, a twelve-year-old-boy, actually saw the whole thing. Through the shop’s window. He backs up the first witness in full and then swears, or whatever they do here, that the two Chinese gentlemen in question did not pull their guns until after Pai was shot. So...” Carmingler put the report back into his briefcase. He put the briefcase on the floor and then smiled at Vicker.

“So,” he said again. “We have two witnesses now who swear, or affirm, or whatever it is, that the pair didn’t draw their guns until after you shot Pai.”

“Who’s the other witness besides the twelve-year-old?” Vicker said.

“Dye, of course,” Carmingler said.

“Shit,” Vicker said.

“So it would seem that you knew who the two gentlemen were before they even produced their guns. It would also seem that you had a very good reason for shooting Pai. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me what it was.”

“It’s the reason I gave you,” Vicker said.

“Yes,” Carmingler said. “Well, I think that does it nicely. You’re through, Vicker. Don’t remove anything from the office. Any personal effects will be sent to you. So will your back pay and leave time, if you have any coming. And by the way, don’t try to stir this up in any fashion. Special Branch is still awfully anxious to talk to you and we’ve had a hell of a time smoothing things over.”

Vicker looked at me and then back at Carmingler. “This goes to the review board, fella.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Carmingler said. “Not if you think about it, it doesn’t. Those two Chinese gentlemen. The opposition, as we’re so fond of calling them. Unless they came in with drawn guns, you couldn’t possibly have known who they were. But they didn’t. That indicates that you knew who they were and that, I think you’ll agree, might lead us all down a rather rocky path. We don’t want that, Vicker, and you’re lucky that we don’t. Very lucky. So don’t press.”

Vicker frowned, first at Carmingler, then at me, and then back at Carmingler. It was a very sincere frown. His voice was level and low when he spoke. His brown eyes were steady. He lied beautifully. “I thought it was a setup when I shot Pai. I still do. What I think is in my report to you and I don’t care how many so-called eyewitnesses Special Branch dug up. Somebody had to be the goat. Someone picked me and then sent you out to give me the news. I don’t blame you, Carmingler. You’re just the chore boy.” He turned to look at me then. “But you’re something else, Dye. You’re really something. I owe you a lot. I really mean that. I owe you a hell of a lot and one of these days I’ll remember to pay it all off.” He rose then and headed for the door. He stopped when he was almost there and then his right arm flashed under his coat and a .38 revolver appeared in his hand, the twin of the Smith & Wesson that I had locked away in a suitcase. He was fast. Too fast for his age. He looked at the gun, smiled slightly, and then walked over and laid it carefully on the desk next to the sharpened pencils. “This belongs under office equipment, I believe,” he said, nodded at Carmingler, but not at me, and left.

Carmingler picked up a pencil and poked idly at the revolver. “Nasty things, aren’t they?” he said.

“I liked the part about the twelve-year-old boy,” I said.

“Yes.”

“There wasn’t any.”

“No?”

“No. It wasn’t even Star Chamber. Not even that. It was all laid on before you got here. It was locked in.”

“You disagree with the verdict?”

“The method maybe. Not the verdict.”

“The means,” Carmingler said. “You don’t like the means.” He picked up his pipe and got it going again. “You don’t really believe that we’d leave something like this to chance or whimsy?”

“Why not?” I said. “It would match everything else. Blend right in.”

Carmingler nodded and looked out the window. Another new building was going up. Hong Kong was booming. “There’re a couple of things I really like about old Vicker,” he said.

“What?”

“Well, first of all he lies better than you do.”

“Better than anybody.”

“Secondly, his reports.”

“What about them?”

“Very well written,” Carmingler said. “Damned fine reading, in fact. It’s a pity that there was hardly a word of truth in any of them.”