by Hank Janson
‘I’ll do better than that,’ I said. ‘I’ll put another thousand dollars to it.’ I mopped my brow. ‘Letting me have your confession before you gave it to the police has saved the Chronicle a coupla hundred grand. Maybe they’ll kick in something, too.’
‘I hope so,’ he said. He signed the cheque, handed it to me. I folded it away in my wallet and there was a choked feeling in my throat. I had to admire the lug. He was going to die. He knew it and he was unconcerned. He was thinking only about his daughter and trying to do something for her.
‘I never smoke, Mr Janson,’ he said. ‘But just this one occasion, would you–?’
‘Sure,’ I said. I pulled out my cigarettes and offered him one. I took one myself and we both lit up.
He looked at me broodingly. ‘You must be a very intelligent man, Mr Janson. How did you find out about my daughter?’
‘When I telephoned you here,’ I said, ‘the line was engaged. Later, when I finally got through, you denied the line had been engaged. I didn’t think anything of it then. But later I had to make a decision. I had to believe either that Dane Morris was lying or that you were lying. I began with an assumption. I assumed you were lying. In that case you must have had a motive. And then I remembered your phone call.
‘I tried to trace where that phone call was made to. I had luck. The telephone operator was helpful. She cross-lined me just at the time when you were speaking to the hospital. I heard you asking about Miss Clark.’ I shrugged my shoulders. ‘From then on it was easy. I went to the hospital, found out about Rita, learned more about the Mr Williams who’d been pacing the ward all night and who was also calling to see her two or three times a week where she worked. It was obviously you. I wondered why you should be so interested in Rita Clark. It was the room-mate who put me on to it. She said your attitude was that of a father. It was a lead. I followed it up at the registrar’s office and it yielded results.’
‘It’s only when we get older we realise how wrong we were when young,’ he mused. ‘Things could have been so different if I hadn’t …’
His voice tailed off.
‘What happened to the woman you went away with?’
A cynical smile twisted his lips. ‘She treated me as I deserved to be treated. She fooled me, spent every penny I had and finally went off with somebody else.’ His clear eyes looked at me. ‘You see, I’ve suffered, too.’
Not long afterwards, cars screeched to a standstill outside. The hammering on the door sounded like they were trying to break it down. I opened up and Sharp and Conrad and two or three uniformed cops charged in like they were raiding a bootlegging joint.
‘Take it easy, fellas,’ I said. ‘Take it easy.’
‘What the hell’s all this about?’ yelled Sharp.
I smiled easily. ‘I want to introduce you to somebody,’ I said. ‘Mr Burden’s secretary.’ I nodded towards Carter, who was standing quietly in the doorway of the living-room. He was such a nondescript little man, Sharp almost missed seeing him.
‘What the hell’s he doing here?’ yelled Sharp. Then his eyes lighted up. ‘You’ve been concealing a material witness!’
‘I haven’t been concealing him,’ I objected. ‘Mr Carter wishes to make a confession.’
Sharp glared. His eyes switched around to Carter. ‘What’s he talking about?’ he asked.
‘It’s perfectly true,’ said Carter. He swallowed nervously. ‘You see, I’m Hugh Burden’s secretary. I killed him this morning.’ He swallowed again. ‘I just couldn’t stand him any longer. He was driving me crazy. He was paying me poor wages and everything I did was wrong. I couldn’t stand it any longer.’
The wind came out of Sharp like the air coming out of a pricked balloon. Then he flared round to face me. ‘What are you doing here? What’s it got to do with you?’
‘If you’ll allow me to explain,’ said Carter quickly. ‘I telephoned Mr Janson. I said I wished to speak to him. I wouldn’t tell him where I was. I asked him to meet me somewhere. Mr Janson suggested this place, which I believe belongs to the Editor of the Chronicle. I met him here, made my confession and he telephoned you.’
‘What goes on?’ demanded Sharp angrily. ‘Why in hell can’t people come to the cops in the first place instead of going to news-hawks?’
‘Perhaps,’ suggested Carter with just a wisp of a smile around his lips. ‘Perhaps they have more respect for reporters.’
Sharp said to one of the cops: ‘Put the bracelets on him.’
He was such a nondescript little man. Yet they moved in on him burlily and massively. Two of them. Each handcuffed themselves to Carter. He gave me a brave little smile as much as to say, ‘As if I’d try to escape, anyway.’
Then Sharp spun round to face me. ‘You’re not so smart, Janson,’ he sneered. ‘You think you’re gonna get away to start telephoning. Well, you’ve made a mistake. You’re coming down the station, too. You’re gonna have a lot of talking to do. It’s gonna be hours before you get back to your paper.’ He jerked his thumb towards the door. ‘Come on, get going!’
I smiled. ‘You don’t mind if I smoke?’ I asked.
‘Get going!’ he growled.
We arrived at Police Headquarters in grand style. Two motorbikes went ahead, sirening through the traffic. I was in the front car with Sharp and Conrad, and Carter was brought along in the car behind.
It looked as though the whole of Chicago was gathered around the steps leading up to the station precinct when the cars slewed into the kerb and ground to a stop. We climbed out of the cars and immediately there were flashbulbs popping everywhere. Carter was using his head. He didn’t want Rita to know he was her father. He got one of the cops to hold his cap in front of his face. Not that it mattered, anyway. Who ever saw a newspaper photograph that looked like the subject?
It made a nice picture – those two big cops going up the steps with that poor little man handcuffed between them. And the bulbs went on flashing all the way up the steps. I thought Sharp looked a little surprised, and I chuckled to myself.
Once inside we were hustled through to the Homicide Department. I hung around while Carter was formally charged with murder and he insisted right away on writing out a confession. That satisfied everybody, because with a written confession, it was in the bag. It satisfied Sharp and it satisfied Carter.
And when Carter was taken away to the cells, Sharp turned to me.
‘Now we’ll deal with you,’ he said and rubbed his hands.
‘What exactly do you want?’
‘Just between you and me,’ he said nastily, ‘I wanna keep you here just so long that you can’t get a story out on the streets. And, just to make it official, I’m gonna keep you here for questioning, and …’ He broke off. Conrad was at his elbow, tugging him. He turned around. ‘Don’t bother me now,’ he scowled.
‘I think you ought to see this,’ said Conrad. He pushed it under Sharp’s nose.
I looked at it over Sharp’s shoulder. It was the Chronicle. And in banner headlines across the page it boasted: ‘Chronicle Cracks Burden Murder!’
Underneath that, in smaller type, it said: ‘Hank Janson, Chronicle’s star reporter, has fulfilled the Chronicle’s guarantee to find the murderer of Hugh Burden before the police were able to do so.’
Sharp’s cheeks were flaming. He could hardly speak. He rolled up the paper and stuttered: ‘Where did this come from?’
‘They were selling it outside 20 minutes before we arrived,’ said Conrad. ‘That’s why all the newsboys were here. Every reporter in town knows the Chronicle had the news out before we brought him in.’
Sharp turned towards me, trembling with anger. ‘You – you –!’ he stammered.
‘That’s saved the Chronicle a coupla hundred grand,’ I said. ‘Reads nice, too, don’t it?’
He almost exploded. He would have attacked me if the station hadn’t been crawling with cops and reporters. He contented himself with ripping the newsp
aper into pieces.
I grinned at him cheekily. ‘I take it I won’t be required for questioning now?’ I said gently.
‘Get out!’ roared Sharp. ‘Get out!’
I drifted out down the station steps. There were still a lot of newsboys there. The flashbulbs went on flashing. Just to make the story good, I bought a copy of the Chronicle and posed with it in front of me while they took more pictures.
I supposed I should have felt pleased with life. But I wasn’t. There were one or two things nagging at the back of my mind. This case wasn’t wrapped up yet. I wasn’t going to be happy until everything fitted together and made sense.
I went back to the office and into the Chief’s room. I gave him the true story, exactly as it was. He was the kinda guy you could talk with that way.
And when I was through he said: ‘You’ve missed out on a lot of things.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ I said. ‘I’ve gotta sort them out.’
I sat at the desk, wrote out some expenses chits. ‘Okay these, will you?’ I asked.
He looked at them. ‘Five thousand bucks for Rita Clark. Two hundred bucks for Mrs Saunders!’ He puckered his eyebrows.
‘Rita Clark’s father saved us two hundred grand,’ I pointed out. ‘Mrs Saunders helped. Her two kids could do with a present. Their father’s sick.’
He initialled the chits. ‘Tell the cashier to send them off,’ he said.
I got as far as the door and he called: ‘By the way, Hank. What did you do with that Lulu dame?’
‘I ditched her,’ I said. ‘Lost her on the subway.’
‘She keeps ringing me,’ he complained. ‘Wants to know if you’re gonna keep your promise.’
‘Jeepers!’ I said.
He glared. ‘Make sure you do keep that promise,’ he said. ‘I don’t want that dame around my neck for the rest of my life.’
13
Skinner was at Dorothy’s house when I arrived. They were having dinner together and I was invited to stay.
I excused myself. I had other things to do.
‘There’s one or two things I want to get straightened out, though,’ I added.
Dorothy’s eyes were slightly puzzled. ‘Such as?’
‘It’s you, Charles,’ I said. ‘Why did you go back to Burden’s house last night?’
‘But I didn’t,’ he said. ‘I didn’t go there at all.’
‘I’m sure Mr Janson understands,’ said Dorothy smoothly. ‘You see, it was quite natural. When I heard Hugh was killed I immediately thought that Charles might have been stupid enough to do it. I tried to give him an alibi. I said he was here last night.’
‘I know he wasn’t,’ I said.
‘You do?’
‘I dropped in,’ I said, ‘just about the time you’d crossed over to get a sleeping draught. I knew Skinner hadn’t been here.’
‘And you said nothing?’
‘Probably for the same reason I said nothing,’ said Skinner. He looked at Dorothy tenderly. ‘You see, when Dorothy began to stress I was with her last night, I thought she wanted an alibi herself. So I accepted what she said, pretended I was here with her.’
‘But you did go back to Burden’s house,’ I insisted.
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I went out. I was so upset by what had happened I couldn’t sleep. I went out and walked the streets. I arrived back just about seven o’clock. At no time was I within ten miles of Burden’s house,’
‘What about your fountain pen?’ I said. ‘You left it at Burden’s house last night. This morning when I saw Burden lying there dead, the fountain pen wasn’t on the mantelpiece. That means you must have come back sometime during the night and got it.’
He frowned. ‘You’re all mixed up,’ he said. ‘I did leave last night and leave my fountain pen. But I remembered it before I reached the road, returned for it.’ He furrowed his brow, trying to remember. ‘There was a young lady, Lulu I think she was called. As soon as she saw me, she rushed over to the mantelpiece and got my pen down for me.’
‘I didn’t see you,’ I said.
‘You weren’t there at the time,’ he said. ‘I didn’t notice you either.’
Then it hit me. ‘Lulu actually saw you take that fountain pen?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Is that strange?’
‘Very strange,’ I said grimly. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, folks. I’ve got some visiting to do.’
A little later I was hammering at Lulu’s door. It was an appreciable while before she got the door open, and when she did her face was flushed, her hair tumbled and she wore a dressing-gown tied loosely around her.
Her eyes lighted up when she saw me. ‘Hank,’ she said delightedly. ‘I’m so pleased to see you. How stupid of me to lose you this morning. I’ve been so wanting to see you.’
‘I wanna see you, too,’ I said grimly.
And then she looked anxious. ‘Hank,’ she said. ‘I’m gonna take a shower right now. Will you come back in ten minutes?’
‘I’ll wait,’ I said.
‘No,’ she said urgently. ‘You mustn’t wait! Come back in ten minutes. I’ll be ready for you then.’
She’d been standing in the doorway, holding the door half-closed. I put my hand against the door, shoved hard and pushed my way past her.
She shut the door, circled around in front of me, nervous and agitated. ‘I do wish you’d come back later, Hank,’ she pleaded.
I eased myself down in a chair, stared fixedly across the room at a fedora hanging on a hook, and said: ‘I’ll go soon. There’s just one thing I wanna ask. When you tell me that, I’ll go.’
‘You’ll come back?’
‘That depends.’ I said. I kept staring at the fedora. After a while she saw what I was looking at, raised a weak smile and said: ‘That belongs to a friend of mine.’
‘Looks like it might fit me.’
‘Yes, it might,’ she said. She looked uneasy.
‘Let’s have a look at it.’
She brought it over and I gave it the once-over, turned it over in my hands, looked at the hat-band. There were initials on the hat-band. That confirmed what I’d first thought. That hat had looked familiar to me.
‘Want you to tell me something,’ I said. ‘Last night at the party. Do you remember when Dorothy Burden and Charles Skinner went on home?’
She nodded.
‘I went upstairs,’ I said. ‘While I was gone, did Charles Skinner come back and get his fountain pen?’
She nodded again. She looked like she was anxious to be helpful.
‘So Charles Skinner came back and took that fountain pen?’ I said, amazed she should admit it.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Is there anything wrong in that?’
I got up and roared at her. ‘Then why the hell did you say this morning he went away without it?’
‘But he did,’ she said. ‘He went away without it. Came back a few minutes later for it.’
‘Why in hell didn’t you say so?’ I roared.
She looked at me surprised, just a little indignant. ‘That’s what I wanted to tell you this morning,’ she argued. ‘But you put the words into my mouth. You wanted me to say he went away without it and that was all. You wouldn’t let me say he came back.’
I raised my eyes to heaven, clenched my fists and beat them against my chest. ‘Of all the dumb dames,’ I said bitterly.
‘Don’t you call me dumb!’ she said shrilly.
‘Why couldn’t you tell me this morning?’ I said. ‘All this trouble, all this worry, all on account of you not speaking the truth.’
‘I did what you asked me,’ she protested. ‘Don’t you remember how careful you were to make me repeat it? I had to say it word for word.’
‘Jeepers!’ I muttered to myself. I paced up and down the room. Then saw the bedroom door, which was partly open, move a fraction. I remembered about the hat. I remembered, too, that Lulu knew a whole lot mo
re about the Chronicle business than it was safe for the police to know.
I walked over to the bedroom door, wrenched it open. The guy who was in there musta scampered across the room, climbed under the sheets and covered himself.
My eyes roved around the room. Lulu came in after me, protesting. ‘It’s not what you think, Hank, really. I mean – I mean –’ She faltered. Then, defensively: ‘Well, I’ve got to have some friends, haven’t I? And I did ask you.’
‘Shuddup,’ I said.
‘I was going to get rid of him because of you –’
‘Shuddup!’ I said again.
There were a jacket, trousers and underclothes hanging over a chair. I recognised those, too. I picked them up, stuffed them under my arm.
‘All right, Sharp,’ I said. ‘You can come out. I know you’re there.’
His red face came up over the sheet. He glared at me viciously.
‘You pimp!’ I said bitingly. ‘That’s the kinda fella you are! Going around preaching morality! And this is the kinda thing you do!’
‘You ain’t gonna get away with this, Janson!’ he threatened. ‘I heard what you were saying to this dame. Trying to fix evidence. Concealing evidence. It’s gonna mean real trouble for you!’
I retreated towards the door, still keeping his clothes under my arm.
‘You know the law as well as I do, Sharp,’ I said. ‘Anything you say doesn’t mean a thing. You’ve gotta have witnesses, and as for what went on in our office this morning, my Chief and I don’t know a thing about it. As far as we’re concerned, this dame never existed.’
‘I’ll get you some way, Janson!’ he threatened. ‘I’ll be lucky if I can hold down my job after this. I’ll get you for it!’
‘You tried to do that once before,’ I sneered. ‘You got what was coming to you.’
I was still backing towards the door. Suddenly he realised what I was doing.
‘Hey!’ he yelled. ‘My clothes!’
‘You’re gonna lose those, brother,’ I said.
He made a sudden spring for me. I’d never seen him without clothes before. I managed to shut the bedroom door and lock it before I began to laugh uncontrollably. You’d have laughed too! Without clothes he looked like a guy who’d been in Belsen for a century or so.
