'I won't,' I said, and I didn't as I watched her climb the carpeted steps to the second floor. That was really a leviathan behind.
She came stepping down in a few minutes, carrying two folded documents. I took a quick look at them. A marriage licence issued to Sylvia Wiesenfeld and Godfrey Knurr by the State of Indiana, dated February 6th, 1959, and a letter from a Mexican attorney dated fourteen months later, informing Sylvia that a divorce had been granted to Knurr.
I refolded both documents, slid them into my inside jacket pocket.
'You'll get them back,' I promised once more.
'I got your watch,' she said, and then grinned again at me: that marvellous, warm, human smile of complicity.
'Thank you for all your help,' I said.
'I don't know why,' she said, 'but I trusts you. You play me false, don't never come back here again — I tear you apart.'
On the early evening New York-bound airliner, a Scotch-and-water in my hand, I relaxed gratefully. The seats on both sides of me were empty, and I could sprawl in 411
comfort. I emulated the passenger across the aisle and removed my shoes. I wiggled my stockinged toes, a pleasurable sensation at 33,000 feet, and planned the defeat of Godfrey Knurr.
It seemed to me that our original assessment of the situation had been correct; in the absence of adequate physical evidence the only hope of bringing the Kipper and Stonehouse cases to satisfactory solutions was to take advantage of the individual weaknesses of the guilty participants. If we had failed so far in trying to 'run a game' on them, it was because we did not have sufficient leverage to stir them, set one against the other, find the weakest link and twist that until it snapped.
By the time we started our descent for LaGuardia Airport in New York, I thought I had worked out a way in which it might be done. It would be a gamble, but not as dangerous as the risks Godfrey Knurr had run.
Also, it would require that I mislead several people, including Detective Percy Stilton.
I was sorry for that, but consoled myself by recalling that at our first meeting he had given me valuable tips on how to be a successful liar. Surely he could not object if I followed his advice.
I arrived home at my apartment in Chelsea shortly after 11.00 p.m. It looked good to me. I was desperately hungry, and longing for a hot shower. But first I wanted to contact Percy Stilton while my resolve was still hot. I had rehearsed my role shamelessly, and knew I must be definite, optimistic, enthusiastic, I must convince him, since as an officer of the law he could add the weight of his position to trickery that would surely flounder if I tried it by myself.
I called his office, but they told me he was not on duty. I then called his home. No answer. Finally I dialled the number of Maybell Hawks' apartment. She answered:
'Hello?'
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'Miss Hawks?'
'Yes. Who is this?'
'Joshua Bigg.'
A short pause, then:
'Josh! So good to hear from you. How are you, babe?'
'Very well, thank you. And you?'
'Full of beans,' she said. 'Literally. We just finished a pot of chili. Perce said you went to Chicago. You calling from there?'
'No, I'm back in New York. Miss Hawks, I -'
'Belle,' she said.
'Belle, I apologize for calling at this hour, but I'm trying to locate Percy. Is he -'
'Sure,' she said breezily, 'his majesty is here. You got something to tell him about those cases?'
'I certainly do,' I said heartily.
'I'll put him on,' she said. 'Mind if I listen on the extension?'
'Not at all,' I said. 'It's good news.'
'Great,' she said. 'Just a m i n u t e . . . '
There was a banging of phones, voices in the background, then Stilton came on the line.
'Josh?' he said. 'How are you doing?'
'Just fine. Sorry to disturb you.'
'I'm glad you did. Lousy dinner. Dull broad.'
'Up yours,' Maybelle Hawks said on the extension.
'Got some good news for you, Josh. They reopened the Kipper case. Your bosses swung some heavy clout.'
'Good,' I said happily. 'Glad to hear it. Now listen to what I've g o t . . . '
I kept my report as short and succinct as I could. I told him Goldie Knurr really was Godfrey's sister. I gave a brief account of my meeting with Jesse Karp and what he had told me of the boyhood of Godfrey Knurr. I went into more detail in describing the interviews with the Reverend Ludwig Stokes and Sylvia Wiesenfeld. I told Stilton I had 413
returned with the original marriage licence. I did not mention the letter from the Mexican attorney.
They didn't interrupt my report, except once when I was describing Knurr's physical abuse of Sylvia Wiesenfeld, which I exaggerated. Maybelle Hawks broke in with a furious 'That bastard!'
When I finished, I waited for Stilton's questions. They came rapidly.
'Let's take it from the top,' he said. 'This priest — he's how old?'
'About seventy-five. Around there.'
'And Knurr has been blackmailing him for twenty-five years?'
'About.'
'Why didn't he blow the whistle before this?'
'Personal shame. And what it would do to his church.'
'What did Knurr take him for?'
'I don't know the exact dollar amount. A lot of money.
Plus getting Knurr into the seminary. And performing the marriage ceremony, probably without the bride's father's knowledge.'
'And you say this Stokes is willing to bring charges now?'
'He says so. He says he's an old man and wants to make his peace with God.'
'Uh-huh. What kind of a guy is he? Got all his marbles?'
'Oh yes,' I said, and found myself crossing my fingers, a childish gesture. 'He's a dignified old gentleman, very scholarly, who lives alone and has plenty of time to think about his past life. He says he wants to atone for his sins.'
'He may get a chance. All right, now about the w i f e . . .
The marriage licence is legit?'
'Absolutely.'
'No record of a divorce, legal separation — nothing like that?'
'She says no. She's living on a trust fund her father left 414
her. After the way Knurr treated her, she was glad to get rid of him and assume her maiden name.'
'He deserted her?'
'Right,' I said definitely. 'She was happy to find out where he is. I don't think it would take much to convince her to bring charges. The reasons are economic. That trust fund that seemed like a lot of money twenty years ago doesn't amount to much now. She's hurting.'
'And what kind of a woman is she? A whacko?'
'Oh no,' I protested. 'A very mature, intelligent woman.'
There was silence awhile. Then Detective Stilton said:
'What we've got are two out-of-state possibles. Charges would have to be brought in Indiana, then we have extradition. If that goes through, we've lost him on the homicides.'
'Correct,' I agreed. 'The blackmail and desertion charges are just small ammunition. But the big guns are that marriage licence — and his affair with Glynis Stonehouse.'
He knew at once what I meant.
'You want to brace Tippi Kipper?' he said.
'That's right, Perce. Be absolutely honest with her. Lay out all we've got. Show her the marriage licence. I think she'll make a deal.'
'Mmm,' he said. 'Maybe. Belle, what do you think? Will it work?'
'A good chance,' she said on the extension. 'I'll bet my left tit he never told her he was married. A guy like him wouldn't be that stupid. And when you tell her about Glynis Stonehouse, it'll just confirm what she read in that poison-pen letter Josh sent her. She'll be burning. He played her for a sucker. She's a woman who's been around the block twice. Her ego's not going to let him make her a patsy. I'm betting she'll pull the rug on him.'
'Yeah,' Stilton said slowly. 'And we can always try the 415
publicity angle on her, just happen t
o mention we know about her prostitution arrest. She's a grand lady now; she'd die if that got in the papers.'
'Let's go after her,' I urged. 'Really twist.'
He made up his mind.
'Right,' he said, 'we'll do it. Go in early before she's had a chance to put herself together. Josh, I'll meet you outside the Kipper place at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Got that? Bring all the paper, especially that marriage licence.'
'I'll be there,' I promised.
'We'll break her,' he said, beginning to get exited by the prospect. 'No rough stuff. Kid gloves. Very sincere and low-key. Treat a whore like a lady and a lady like a whore.
Who said that, Josh?'
'I'm not sure. It sounds like Lord Chesterfield.'
'Whoever,' he said.
'If you believe that, Perce,' Maybelle Hawks said, 'it makes me a lady.'
We all laughed, talked for a moment of how we should dress for our confrontation with Tippi Kipper, and then said goodnight.
I went immediately to my kitchen and began to eat ravenously. I cleaned out the refrigerator. I had three fried eggs, a sardine and onion sandwich, almost a quart of milk, a pint of chocolate ice cream. Then, still hungry, I heated up a can of noodle soup and had that with two vanilla cupcakes and half a cucumber.
Belching, I undressed and went into the shower. The water was blessedly hot. I soaped and rinsed three times, washed my hair, shaved, and doused myself with cologne.
Groaning with contentment, I rolled into bed about 1.00
a.m. It may have been my excitement, or perhaps that sardine and onion sandwich, but I did not fall asleep immediately. I lay on my back, thinking of what we would do in the morning, what we would say to Tippi Kipper, how important it was that we should break her.
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I did not pray to God because, although I am a religious man, I did not much believe in prayer. What was the point — since God must know what is in our hearts? But I felt my lies and low cunning would be pardoned if they succeeded in bringing down Godfrey Knurr.
He was an abomination. As Jesse Karp had said, Knurr went bulling his way through life, all shoulders and elbows. He just didn't care; that was what I could not forgive. He exemplified brute force and brute morality. I felt no guilt for what I was trying to do to him.
Just before I fell asleep, I remembered Cleo Hufnagel. I realized, groaning that she had been out of my thoughts for days. I felt guilt about that.
7
On Saturday, the March sky was hard, an icy blue whitened by a blurry sun, and in the west a faded wedge of morning moon. Not a cloud. But an angry wind came steadily and swirled the streets.
I took a cab uptown and marvelled at how sharp the city looked, chopped out, everything standing clear. The air was washed clean, and pierced.
I was wearing my good pinstripe suit, vested, with a white shirt and dull tie. Stilton and I had agreed to dress like undertakers: conservative, solemn, but sympathetic.
Men to be trusted.
A dusty-blue Plymouth was parked in front of the Kipper townhouse. Behind the wheel was a carelessly dressed giant of a man with a scraggly blond moustache that covered his mouth. Percy sat beside him, looking like 417
a judge. He motioned me into the back seat. I climbed in, closed the door. I held my scruffy briefcase on my lap.
'Josh,' Perce said, 'this slob is Lou, my partner.'
'Good morning, Lou,' I said.
'Got all the paper?' Stilton asked.
'Everything,' I said, feeling slightly ill.
'Good,' he said. 'When we get inside, let me do the spiel.
You follow my lead. Just nod. You're the shill. Got that?'
'I understand.'
'Act sincere,' he said. 'You can act sincere, can't you?'
'Of course,' I said in a low voice.
'Sure you can,' he said. I knew he was trying to encourage me and I appreciated it. 'Don't worry, Josh, this is going down. This is going to be the greatest hustle known to living man. A classic.'
Lou spoke for the first time.
'The world is composed of five elements,' he stated.
'Earth, air, fire, water, and bullshit.'
'You're singing our song, baby,' Percy told him. 'Okay, Josh, let's do it.'
Chester Heavens came to the door.
'Gentlemen?' he said sombrely.
'Good morning, Chester,' I mumbled.
'Morning,' Percy said briskly. 'I am Detective Percy Stilton of the New York Police Department. I believe we've met before. Here is my identification.'
He flipped open his leather, held it up. Heavens peered at it.
'Yes, sah,' he said. 'I remember. How may I be of service?'
'It's important we see Mrs Kipper,' Stilton said. 'As soon as possible. She's home?'
Chester hesitated a moment, then surrendered.
'Please to step in,' he said. 'I'll speak with mom.'
We waited in that towering entrance hall. Heavens had disappeared into the dining room and closed the door. We 418
waited for what I thought was a long time. I fidgeted, but Stilton stood stolidly. Finally Chester returned.
'Mom will see you now,' he said, expressionless. 'She is at breakfast. May I take your things?'
He took our coats and hats, hung them away. He opened the door to the dining room, stood aside. Percy entered first. As I was about to go in, Chester put a soft hand on my arm.
'Bad, sah?' he whispered.
I nodded.
He nodded, too. Sorrowfully.
She was seated at the head of that long, shining table.
Regal. Wearing a flowing, lettuce-green peignoir. But her hair was down and not too tidy. Moreover, as I drew closer, I saw her face was slightly distorted, puffy. Staring, I saw that the left cheek from eye to chin was swollen, discoloured. She had attempted to cover the bruise with pancake makeup, but it was there.
Then I understood Godfrey Knurr's smarmy comment:
'I think I persuaded the lady.'
Stilton and I stood side by side. She stared at us, unblinking. She did not ask us to sit down.
'Ma'am,' Percy said humbly, 'I am Detective -'
'I know who you are,' she said sharply. 'We've met.
What do you want?'
'I am engaged in an official investigation of the Reverend Godfrey Knurr,' Stilton said, still apologetic. 'I hoped you would be willing to co-operate with the New York Police Department and furnish what information you can.'
She turned her eyes to me.
'And what are you doing here?' she demanded.
'Mr Bigg asked to come along, ma'am,' Percy said swiftly. 'The request for an investigation originated with his legal firm.'
She thought about that. She didn't quite believe, but she 419
didn't not believe. She wanted to learn more.
'Sit down then,' she said coldly. 'Both of you. Coffee?'
'Not for me,' Perce said, 'thank you, Mrs Kipper. You, Mr Bigg?'
'Thank you, no,' I said.
We drew up chairs, Stilton on her right, me on her left.
We had her surrounded, hemmed in. I don't think she expected that.
She shook a cigarette from an almost empty pack.
Stilton was there with his lighter before I could make a move. I think his courtesy reassured her. She blew smoke at the ceiling.
'Well,' she said, 'what's this all about?'
'Ma'am,' Stilton said, hunching forward earnestly, 'it's a rather involved story, so I hope you'll bear with me.
About two weeks ago the NYPD received a request from the police department of Gary, Indiana, asking us to determine if the Reverend Godfrey Knurr was in our area.
A warrant had been issued for his arrest. Two warrants, actually.'
'Arrest?' she cried. 'What for?'
'One was for blackmail, Mrs Kipper. Allegedly, for a period of many years, Knurr has been blackmailing an elderly clergyman in the neighbourhood where he grew up.
The other warrant wa
s for desertion.'
We were both watching closely. She may have been an actress, but she couldn't conceal her reaction to that. The hand that held the cigarette began to quiver; the bruise stood out, a nasty blue. She leaned forward to pour herself more coffee.
Maybelle Hawks had been right; she hadn't known.
'Desertion?' she asked casually, and I noted that the charge of blackmail hadn't stirred her at all.
'Oh yes,' Detective Stilton said. 'Knurr was married about twenty years ago and has never been divorced or legally separated. Mr Bigg, do you have the licence?'
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I plucked it from my briefcase and held it up before Tippi Kipper, making certain it did not leave my hands.
She leaned forward to read it.
'Yes,' she said dully, 'I see.'
Percy leaned back in his chair and folded his hands comfortably on the tabletop.
'Well,' he said, 'the request from the Gary, Indiana, police was circulated, and a copy came across my desk.
Ordinarily I would just file it and forget it. I'm sure you appreciate how busy we are, ma'am, and how an out-of-state request gets a very low priority on our schedule. You can understand that, Mrs Kipper?'
I admired the way he was taking her into his confidence — even confessing a little weakness with a small chuckle.
'Oh sure,' she said, still stunned. 'I can understand that.'
'But the name caught my eyes,' Detective Stilton went on. 'Only because I had interviewed Godfrey Knurr in connection with your husband's unfortunate death. So I knew who he was and where I could find him.'
She didn't say anything. She was pulling herself together, sipping her coffee and lighting another cigarette.
Fussing. Doing anything to keep from looking at us.
'Then,' Stilton continued, speaking gently and almost reflectively, 'before we had a chance to reply to the request from the Gary police, Mr Bigg came to us, representing the attorneys he works for. They wanted us to dig deeper into the case of a missing client of theirs. A Professor Yale Stonehouse. He had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Well, we looked into it and discovered that prior to his disappearance he had been the victim of arsenic poisoning. Mr Bigg?'
I whipped out the chemical analyses and held them up before her eyes. I don't think she even read them, but she was impressed. They were official documents. I began to appreciate Detective Stilton's insistence on such evidence.
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