the ice cold nude

Estell stood, his face expressionless, as if he was considering the reasonableness of my explanation. For a few moments I figured the Boyd logic might prevail, even, but then he shook his head again.

“The way Pete tells it, you were real nervous and jumped him first opportunity you got, when he wasn’t looking,” he said. “I don’t believe in coincidence, pal. So I had Pete keep an eye on your hotel—and who does he see real cozy in the bar last night but you and this snotty-nosed broad!” He gestured contemptuously toward Patty.

“Then you’re the guy that finds Louise’s body and the stolen ice yet—only the way it turns out it’s not the genuine tiara after all. You spent all day running around in that fancy convertible, then you’re back in the bar again, only with a different broad—that redhead from the jewelry store. It all stacks up to a hell of a lot more than coincidence, pal.”

“Coincidence or no,” I snarled at him, “it’s the truth.” “Maybe I should take him apart a little more, boss?” Pete asked hungrily. “See what falls out when we open him up a little?”

“It would be a long and tedious process,” Estell said in the same flat monotone. “We don’t have the time. There’s a quicker way.” His right hand slid inside his coat and reappeared holding a .38, and a moment later I was looking straight down the barrel.

“Don’t think I won’t use it, pal,” he said easily. “You don’t want to believe me, that’s fine—just remember you can only be wrong once.”

He didn’t need to convince me. From the first time I’d seen those pale blue eyes that had been dead for a long time already, I’d picked him for a psycho killer, which is one stage worse than a pro. However uncomfortable, at least you know where you are with a pro—these are mostly the competent guys who kill for money and take an assignment the same way a photographer would. But a psycho like Marty Estell would likely kill his mother if she didn’t have his dinner ready on time.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, still watching my reactions. “I can see you’re about to take my word for it, huh, Boyd?” He didn’t bother to look in the giant’s direction. “Pete!” “Yeah, boss?”

“Work the broad over,” Marty suggested evenly. “Maybe the big private eye will get a real kick out of that.” “This is the kind of work I call real pleasure,” Pete said throatily.

He came toward the couch with both his hands outstretched in front of him, the fingers quivering with eager anticipation. Patty thrust herself against the back of the couch, her eyes dilating with horror. “No!” she whimpered. “You can’t—” The broad, stubby fingers hooked into the collar of her blouse and ripped it open right down the front, exposing the lacy black bra beneath.

“Relax, baby,” Pete almost chuckled. “You could get to like it, even.”

Again the fingers worked, and Pattie screamed thinly as the brassiere was literally torn off her body. He knocked her hands away with a scornful gesture as she tried to cover her exposed breasts.

“Hold it,” Estell said. “You want to change your mind, Boyd? From here on in, it’ll get real interesting.”

Patty’s face was a deep scarlet color with mortification, and terror glistened wetly in her eyes. I looked at her exposed bosom, the twin ivory mounds so softly feminine and completely vulnerable, and I knew I couldn’t let those obscene squat fingers violate her any further.

“I didn’t kill Louise and I don’t have the tiara,” I said to Estell. “But I can tell you who did kill her, and who’s got the tiara now.”

“So tell me?”

“You tell Pete to move away from the girl first.”

He shrugged impatiently. “You want to get sentimental about that sniveling broad?”

“The same way you want those diamonds,” I told him. “Okay. Get the hell out of the way, Pete.”

The giant moved away slowly, giving me a look of

animal-like hatred on the way. His fingers were still twitching as he backed off, and I figured maybe one day soon I might get lucky and do the world a favor at the same time.

“All right,” Marty said. “Now let’s hear it”

“The guy you want is Willie Byers,” I told him.

“Byers?” He looked questioningly at the giant, who stared back blankly and shook his head. “Who the hell is Byers?” Marty said coldly.

“He works for Elmo,” 1 said. “He’s the guy who made the original tiara and—”

“And he’s the man who was seeing an awful lot of I Louise a few months back,” Patty said suddenly in a \ cracked voice. “I knew he was no good for her the very first time I saw him! She wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell-—”

“Shut up, will you?” Estell snarled at her. “Boyd’s telling the story.”

Patty froze fearfully, her mouth hanging wide open. Then her whole body started to shake convulsively. 1 went on with the story, giving Estell every detail because I had to have him convinced, the way I was convinced. Byers was the expert and who better to make a paste imitation of the real tiara? The painting on his wall that had to be Louise Lamont—the art classes that both of them had attended. How she must have suckered him into the plot by dangling her dazzling body in front of his eyes. Then somehow he must have found out about her and Marty Estell and realized just how he had been suckered—so he’d killed her and taken the stolen tiara for himself.

There was an agonizing silence after I stopped talking. I watched Estell’s face but it remained completely expressionless—I might just as well have watched the wall. Then one side of his face twitched suddenly. “You got this Willie Byers’ address?” he asked.

“Sure—right here.” I took out my wallet and read out loud.

“You figure it is this Byers character, boss?” Pete asked dubiously. “You figure Boyd’s leveling with you and it's not just a stall?”

“I think there’s a reasonable chance he’s telling the truth,” Marty said flatly. “That’s why we’re going to find out.”

“Sure—anything you say,” Pete said hastily. “But what about these two?—tie broad and all? She could give us a lot of grief if she calls the cops.”

“We’ll leave them here,” Marty said. “If Boyd’s right and we lift the ice from this Willie Byers, we won’t be back. If he’s been kidding us a little, then we’ll be back for another little chat. So we got to make sure they don’t go anyplace meantime.”

“Scout’s honor?” I queried.

“You’re a very funny man, pal,” he said softly. “I got a good mind to come back here anyway and have Pete work you over some more, just for kicks.” The pale blue eyes were even more remote as they looked straight through me for a while. “Pete,” he said slowly, “look around and see if you can find anything to tie them up with.”

The giant hunted through the apartment, noisily opening closets and desecrating Patty’s bedroom. Around five minutes later he triumphantly emerged from the bedroom, carrying a bunch of luggage straps.

“You sure took your goddamned time,” Marty said thinly. “Take the broad into the bathroom and tie her to the faucet.”

Pete smiled nastily at Patty. “On your feet, baby!”

She stood up slowly, trying to pull the shredded blouse across the front of her. Pete grabbed her arm, nearly jerking her off her feet, and propelled her toward the bathroom. “You got no reason to feel shy, baby,” he bellowed, “I seen it all already!”

Another sixty seconds of miserable silence, then he returned with a satisfied grin on his face. “She’s fixed up real good, boss,” he said smugly. “Tied so tight she can’t blink even.”

“All right,” Marty nodded. “Now take care of Boyd and snap it up, will you?”