Witch Rhymes With ...

by Larry Kent

  Grady looked around my apartment with an insolent little smile on his mouth. His eyes scorned my taste in paintings and furniture. I put my hands in the pockets of my dressing-gown, sat down and examined my fingernails. Grady continued to glance around, not saying a word. It was a cheap cop trick. Grady should have known that by this time I was aware of all the little dodges that are calculated to make a man nervous and unsure of himself.

  “I had a talk with some colleagues down on the Jersey shore,” Grady said finally. He paused. I just looked at him. “Oceanview,” he said. “Have you ever been to Oceanview, Kent?”

  “Quite a few times, but not so much lately.”

  “Oh? Not lately, eh? You haven’t been down there lately, eh?”

  “That’s not what I said, Lieutenant. I said not so much lately. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t been down there for a year or more until last night.”

  Grady’s mouth went crooked. He didn’t like the way things were going. “Did you say you were in Oceanview last night?”

  “That was what I said.”

  “Why’d you go there?”

  “To see Mrs. Eve Delmar. The late Mrs. Delmar.”

  “Why?”

  “A woman called my answering service. She gave her name as Eve Delmar. She said she had to see me on an urgent matter. But when I got down there, Eve claimed she hadn’t been in touch with my answering service.”

  Grady made a face. “Why do things get so complicated when you’re involved?”

  It was a rhetorical question so I didn’t bother to answer.

  “We’re looking for a friend of yours,” Grady said. “Jack Delmar. You wouldn’t have any idea where we could find him, would you?”

  “He’ll be in his office about nine o’clock. Delmar and Associates, on Mad Avenue.”

  “I want to know where he is now.”

  “He’s in a lady’s apartment.”

  “Who’s the lady?”

  “Lila Reynolds, his secretary.”

  Grady’s face went nasty. “A shack job, eh?”

  “He’s going to marry the girl.”

  “If the warden allows it.”

  I moved my head back and forth. “He didn’t kill his wife, Lieutenant.”

  “The police in Oceanview think he did.” Grady puffed on his cigarette, inhaled, let smoke out in a thin stream. “I understand that you and Delmar are very close friends.”

  “That’s right.”

  Grady inhaled more smoke. Now he liked the way things were going. He said, “You appear at the woman’s apartment, then Delmar turns up there later. She’s shot dead. He shacks up with a chick from his office. Very interesting. When you add to that the fact that Delmar was separated from his wife for about a year and she wouldn’t give him a divorce—well, then it gets even more interesting.”

  I lit a cigarette and looked at him.

  “I have a theory,” Grady said. “Do you want to hear it?”

  “Love to. It isn’t often that a police officer lets me in on a theory.”

  “I think Delmar sent you down to see his wife. I don’t go for that answering service bit.”

  “It’s easy to check out, Lieutenant.”

  “You could have paid a woman to talk to your answering service. You’re a pretty smart guy, Kent. You think of little wrinkles like that. If you weren’t so careful to cover your tracks, you’d have lost that license of yours a long time ago.”

  My license was a source of irritation to at least one-fourth of the plain-clothes men in the police department. They hated the idea of clients paying me big money to look into things that were, more often than not, the province of the police. Some of the men who wanted to see me lose my license were good cops; I was sorry about that; I appreciate good cops. Grady was not a good cop. If the right deal came along, he’d put his hand out. Maybe the real reason he hated me so much was that I knew the truth about him.

  “Here’s my theory,” Grady said. “I think Delmar sent you to Oceanview to soften up his wife.”

  I smiled within myself. Grady and Peller had the same theory regarding my reason for paying Eve Delmar a visit. Well, it wasn’t the only thing they had in common.

  “I had a long talk with Inspector Ballantine of the Monmouth County police over the phone about an hour ago,” Grady said. “Ballantine knows that Eve Delmar was demanding a stiff price for a divorce.”

  He knows all right, I thought—Peller lost no time telling him.

  “So,” Grady went on, “Delmar sent you to break her down ... scare her a little maybe. But it didn’t work, so he went and killed her.” Grady hesitated. “But now you tell me that Delmar spent the whole night with his girlfriend. If he was with the dame all night, then he couldn’t have been in Oceanview ...”

  Grady was so transparent I almost laughed. He wanted me to substantiate an alibi for Jack Delmar. The blank-faced detective was his witness. No doubt Grady would also want me to sign a statement. Then, later, when Peller and maybe another witness or two swore that Jack was at the Sunshine Garden Hotel, Grady would have me on a charge of giving false and misleading information to a police officer.

  I said, “Jack was with Lila all night. They’ll both swear to it.”

  Grady was casual, almost nonchalant. “Will you swear to it?”

  “No.”

  Grady’s mouth opened.

  I said, “I saw Jack in his car last night; about two miles from the Sunshine Garden Hotel. It was a little after ten o’clock, I guess he went to Lila’s apartment after he got back.”

  Grady turned away. I heard his teeth grind. The legman looked down at his shoes. Maybe ten seconds passed, but it seemed a lot longer before Grady turned to face me.

  “One of these days. Kent.” he said, his voice thin and edgy, “you’re going to …” But he didn’t finish it. He threw a quick glance at his legman, probably decided it wasn’t a good idea to admit defeat in the presence of a subordinate. He blinked his eyes, wet his lips, lifted his shoulders. “The Oceanview police would like to have a talk with you. They want to see you this morning. Of course, you don’t have to go—I’ve got no right to force you to go.”

  He never gave up. If I refused to see the Oceanview police, they could obtain a court order demanding my appearance for questioning. Without a valid reason for not making the trip to Oceanview when requested, my license was as good as cancelled.

  I said, “I’ll be happy to go down to Oceanview. In fact, I’ll drive down as soon as I shave and shower and get some clothes on. You know me, Lieutenant; I’m always anxious to co-operate with the police.”

  The legman smiled. Grady glared at him and the smile disappeared.

  “Should I go to the Oceanview police station?” I asked.

  “No,” Grady snarled. “They’ve got a room set up in the main building of the hotel. You’re to report there.”

  “Fine. Thanks for coming over personally to tell me, Lieutenant.”

  My sweet gratitude, laid on thick, was too much for Grady to take. He spun on his heel and headed straight for the door. His legman opened the door; if he hadn’t, Grady might have gone right through it. I winked at the legman as he closed the door. He almost—but not quite—smiled.

  I put the coffee pot on the electric stove and went into the bathroom. The pot was perking merrily after I shaved and showered. I turned the coil down and got dressed, then I had two cups of coffee and two cigarettes. At ten minutes to nine I dialed the number of Jack’s ad agency. He answered.

  I told Jack about Lieutenant Grady’s visit. He repeated that he did not kill Eve. I said I believed him, pointed out the importance of telling the truth—the whole truth—even though Lila might get some adverse publicity. He and Lila had already discussed it and had come to the decision that nothing could be gained by lying to the police in an effort to protect Lila’s reputation. The police had phoned only minutes before, and Jack and Lila were going to Central Headquarters with their lawyer. I told him I was going to drive down to Oceanv
iew. I said nothing about Stanley Peller’s proposition.

  Ten minutes later I emerged from the Lincoln Tunnel on the New Jersey side of the Hudson River. Most of the traffic was coming into the city. Southbound, it was clear.

  I reached the Sunshine Garden Hotel forty minutes after setting out. Benny was in the parking lot. He was excited.

  “Geez. Mr. Kent, I guess you heard about Mrs. Delmar?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” I said as I got out of the car. “The local police want to ask me some questions.”

  “They’re in the main building.” Benny said. “Just go in the lobby. There are cops all over the place. Reporters, too. And guys taking pictures. They even asked me some questions.”

  “The police?”

  “The reporters, too.”

  “What did you tell them, Benny?”

  “Well. I … there was nothing I could tell ’em.”

  “But you must have been around last night when that shot was fired.”

  “No.” Benny looked dazed, puzzled. “I guess I must have gone to my room and fell asleep. I had dreams, though.”

  “What kind of dreams, Benny?”

  “Crazy dreams. But I couldn’t remember what the dreams were about when I woke up.”

  “Did you see Jack Delmar last night?”

  “Mr. Delmar? I haven’t seen Mr. Delmar for more than a year. Why … why do you ask a question like that, Mr. Kent? You know I haven’t seen Mr. Delmar—”

  “The police think he murdered her, Benny.”

  “Murder? Mr. Delmar? That’s crazy!” Benny laughed at the impossibility of it. “Mr. Delmar wouldn’t kill anybody. That’s what I told the cops.”

  “What kind of questions did they ask?”

  “Oh, they just asked when was the last time I saw Mr. Delmar. Funny. They wanted to know if I saw him last night, too.”

  “Did you, Benny?”

  “Why no. Mr. Kent I know I forget things, but I wouldn’t forget something like that. You know how I feel about Mr. Delmar. If he came here last night. I’d be sure to remember something like that.”

  “Unless you felt you were protecting him by saying you didn’t see him.”

  Benny nodded. “I guess I would lie for him if I got the chance. But I don’t have to lie. I didn’t see him.”

  “Did you go straight to your room after I left?”

  “No. I stayed here for a while.”

  “Ten or fifteen minutes maybe?”

  “Longer than that.” Benny frowned. “No. I went somewhere after you left.”

  “Where?”

  Benny closed his eyes, put a hand on his forehead. “Maybe that was part of the dream. I can’t remember. Don’t ask me to remember, Mr. Kent. My head hurts. Please don’t ask me to remember ...”

  I wondered how much of Benny’s dream had really happened. What had he seen the night before that he was trying so hard to keep buried in his damaged brain? I had always thought he was harmless, but now I wasn’t quite sure.

  “Hi there, Mr. Kent ...”

  I turned away from Benny, saw Peller approaching.

  “Hey, Benny,” Peller said, “Mr. Terwillinger just told me to ask you if you’ve cleaned his car yet.”

  “I’ll do it now,” Benny said. He looked at me.

  “I’ll see you before I go,” I said.

  “All right, Mr. Kent.”

  I watched Benny shuffle away.

  Peller made sympathetic noises. “Poor feller. Went out to Korea to serve his country. Look at him now, eh? I feel real sorry for people like Benny.”

  “People like Benny,” I snapped, “don’t need your sympathy.”

  Peller’s eyebrows went up, then he chuckled. “You’re all worked up this morning. Mr. Kent. Well, that’s understandable. You’re concerned about your friend, Mr. Delmar.”

  “Benny says he wasn’t here.”

  “Benny says that, does he?” More chuckling. “I don’t think the police are paying too much attention to what poor Benny says.” Peller circled his index finger near his forehead. “He forgets things, Benny does. Sometimes he sees things that aren’t there.”

  “He’s not the only one,” I said. “You saw something that wasn’t there last night. It got you so scared you pulled your gun.”

  “Oh, that.” Peller looked repentant. “I’m real sorry about that, Mr. Kent. I was all nerved up last night. I never felt like it before in my life. I had this feeling that something bad was going to happen last night. I just didn’t want it to happen to me, that’s why I pulled the gun. I didn’t mean any harm by it; I was just protecting myself. By the way, did you get in touch with Mr. Delmar before you drove down?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, good.” Peller rubbed his hands together. “I was afraid maybe he was on the run and you couldn’t get to talk to him about our little business deal. Did you bring the money?”

  “Let’s talk about the proposition,” I said.

  Peller’s eyes became slits. “If you didn’t bring the money, there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Maybe I have the money in the car.”

  “Let me see the color of it.”

  “That’s not the way I do business.”

  “You didn’t bring any money,” Peller said, his eyes narrowing. “It looks to me like you want to see your friend get crucified.”

  I took a step towards him.

  “That wouldn’t be smart,” Peller said. “There are cops and rubber-necks all over the place. It wouldn’t look too good for your friend if you started muscling me around.”

  He was right.

  “I’m giving you one more chance,” Peller said. “Get on the phone before you go to see Captain Ballantine. Arrange for the money. If it gets here by one o’clock, I’ll save your friend’s hide.”

  “Answer me just one question, Peller, and maybe I’ll use the phone. Can you prove to the police that Jack Delmar didn’t kill his wife?”

  “Prove,?” Peller gave a short laugh. “You’re not sure if he did it or not yourself, are you?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “I answer no questions till I’ve got the money in my hands. I can save your friend—that’s all you need to know right now.”

  “If you can save him, Peller, then he’s innocent.”

  “Not necessarily, Mr. Kent.”

  “I think you saw him leave Eve’s suite before the shot was fired.”

  “I’m willing to say I saw him leave. It’s not the same thing.”

  “Over the phone you mentioned something about another suspect.”

  “Did I?”

  “You know Jack Delmar didn’t commit the murder. What’s more, I think you can finger the real murderer. You said just a little too much over the phone, Peller.”

  “I said nothing over the phone.” Peller said, smiling, sure of himself. “There was never any phone call. You’ve got quite an imagination, Mr. Kent.”

  “I’ve got some advice for you, Peller. If you don’t clear Jack Delmar before the day is out, I’m going to sweat it out of you.”

  Peller went into a crouch, thrust his head forward, showed long yellow teeth. “You think you can scare me, do you? Well, you’re making a mistake! I’m through being pushed around. Nobody pushes me around ever again!”

  “No, I think you were born to be pushed around, Peller. You’re just a dirty, gutless little man. In the end it’ll come out that way every time—and you know it.”

  “You just made the biggest mistake of your life,” Peller hissed.

  I watched him walk across the parking lot, head down, hands thrust deep in his overcoat pockets. His coat trailed to within a few inches of the ground. He presented an incongruous sight. But I had never felt less like laughing. Peller was vicious. In his cesspool of a world, human decency was an alien stranger. He was yellow, yes, but a coward can be the most dangerous of men if he has someone to hide behind, or if he’s cornered—and for a moment there, when I had threatened him,
he looked like a cornered rat.

  I walked to the main building. The entrance was roped off. Two uniformed cops were keeping a small crowd behind the ropes.

  One of the cops lifted the rope for me and said, “Captain Ballantine is waiting for you.”

  Inside the main building, a thin man with a bald head was wearing out the carpet. This was Clarence Terwillinger, manager of the hotel. He had his hands behind his back like an ice skater. “Dreadful,” he muttered under his breath. “Absolutely dreadful. To think that such a thing ...”

  I walked past him and he didn’t even look at me. Standing near the wall beyond the desk, with a door between them, were two bored looking uniformed cops.

  “My name is Larry Kent,” I said. “Captain Ballantine is expecting me.”

  “Wait a minute,” one of the cops said. He rapped on the door, opened it and stuck his head in the room. “Kent is here,” he said.

  “Send him in,” said a deep voice.

  The cop pushed the door all the way open and stepped aside. I entered a large office. Terwillinger’s office, I guessed. A mountain of a man sat on the edge of the desk. His rumpled brown suit looked like it had been slept in. It also looked as though he had bought it when he was about thirty pounds heavier. But if he was on a diet, he had at least another forty pounds to lose. I corrected this estimate to a lower figure as he got to his feet. I’m six feet and a fraction, but I had to look up to meet his eyes. He stuck out his hand.

  “Nice of you to drive down at such short notice,” he said.

  His grip was gentle, but I could feel the power in the man. I said, “Pleased to meet you, Captain.”

  He indicated a chair with a sweep of his hand. I sat down. He lowered his big frame onto the edge of the desk, looked at me. He had light gray, almost colorless eyes. His face was wide, large-featured, pleasant. He had a thick shock of sandy hair that was touched with silver at the temples. There were sun crinkles at the corners of his eyes, smile wrinkles in his cheeks and near the corners of his mouth. I guessed that he was good-natured, but the hard, square lines of his jaw indicated that Captain Ballantine was not one to be trifled with.