by Steve Fisher
“Well, I’m not. I’ve never done that. I’ve always had such proof there could be no doubt. Neither time nor investigation has ever unproved a single thing I ever established!”
Jill got up. “Aren’t you wonderful though, Mr. Cornell?” She crossed to the windows. There was a breeze rattling cocoa fronds and you could hear the traffic on Franklin Avenue.
I glanced back at Cornell. The color in his cheeks had died. The derby was still pushed back. There were little beads of sweat on his forehead.
“Do you think I’m lying, mister? Do you think I can’t back up what I say?”
I couldn’t answer.
“Do you think I’ve worked all this time,” he said, “to have the thing fall through? No. You were intensely jealous of Vicky Lynn. Do you admit it? It doesn’t matter. It’s already established. I have witnesses who’ll testify to it. Friends of yours.”
The room was a vacuum. I was putting pressure against the handcuffs. For no reason, except that I wanted to feel pain other than the ache that was in my teeth.
“You’re emotional … you were jealous almost to the point of insanity.”
“That’s not true.”
“But it is. There’s a line in one of your Broadway plays to the effect that a man would kill for the woman he loves.”
“Oh, my God!”
“It’ll make a fine point for the prosecution,” Ed Cornell said. “You know how juries are. But there’s material stuff to back it up. I’m telling you all this so you’ll know what you face. So this girl will know what a liar you are.”
“What material stuff?”
“Of letters you’ve written, things you’ve said. I’ll have a raft of witnesses. Secretaries and hotel desk clerks … a shoe shine man, a movie star. Never knew you talked so much, did you? But with a little prodding, people remembered the things you said.”
“You put the words in their mouth!”
“Perhaps … to help them remember.”
“You’re a fake … and you admit it!”
“No,” Ed Cornell said, “it was simply a job of building up an airtight case. There’s the real proof, too. On the day Vicky Lynn was getting her screen test you wrote her a note. You said that she was your day and night obsession. You said there wasn’t anything without her. You said if she loved Robin Ray, you’d want to kill her!”
Jill turned from the window.
I was watching Cornell. I remembered the note. I had written it at the studio, in my office, on that awful rainy day Vicky was being tested. It was just the day before she was murdered! But I’d never sent it. I’d balled it up and jammed it in the pocket of my suit.
I’d worn the suit only because it was raining that day. It was an old suit, and it had hung in the closet ever since. Cornell must have searched my hotel room and found it.
“That fixes the motive,” he said.
“But anybody might have written a note like that,” I said. “It was just—”
“I have the rest, too,” he went on. “I’ve figured out what your route must have been on the day of the murder. I’ve made a little diagram … which I’ll present to the jury. You didn’t show up at the studio that day, remember? They pay you almost a hundred and twenty-five dollars a day for your services … figuring a five and a half day week. But you didn’t show up …”
“I was upset.”
“Certainly! The jury will love that! What man isn’t upset on the day he commits murder! And you have no alibi for the way you spent your time. Nobody saw you in the places you daimed you went. Particularly in the afternoon!”
“No, but—”
“It was the apartment upstairs. You arrived early in the afternoon. You had a key. Vicky had given it to you! Have you missed the key lately? I found it in your hotel room one day—and pieced this whole thing together after that! That little key was the solution, mister!”
Jill crossed the room, restlessly.
“You let yourself in with that key. The apartment was empty and you decided to wait for Vicky. This was between three and five in the afternoon. Lanny Craig arrived at five o’clock with the switchboard kid in tow. At that very moment you were hidden in one of the closets.”
“That’s fantastic!”
“Is it? I have a shoe that belonged to Vicky. It had been in the closet. Somebody had stood on it and it’s all crushed. Moreoever there was a cigarette stub mashed out in a corner of the closet. It was found there directly after the murder. I still have it.” He looked at me coldly. “You wanted material evidence. I’ve got a barrel of it. All little bits like this. But linked together—”
Jill suddenly walked to a closet door, turned the key in the lock, and put the key in her pocket. Her unexplained movement upset Cornell and he watched her curiously. She walked past him and out into the kitchen. I heard running water. Then I saw her drinking from a glass.
Good Lord! Doesn’t she even care?
“Well, we’ll get this over,” Cornell said. “I’ll construct the picture briefly. There’s lots more to it. But this’ll do:
“You were in the apartment when Vicky came in. There was a bitter scene over Robin Ray. In a fit of jealous rage you killed her.” He paused. “But the very fact that you were in the apartment waiting, that you wrote her the note, that you had in your possession the lethal weapon with which to kill—”
“The—lethal weapon?”
Ed Cornell nodded. “All of these things add up to the one word: premeditated. That promotes the murder to the first class degree, and fries you in oil. Nothing you could say or do would get you off on a second degree charge. You see how it is?”
The iron bands were burning against my wrists. In the kitchen Jill was taking in the garbage pail. At least it sounded that way. You could hear her banging around.
“After the murder you left the apartment,” Cornell went on. “But you met Harry Williams in the hall. He had gotten rid of Lanny Craig only a few minutes before and he was still excited. He had come up to tell Vicky about the incident. You were on the spot. Williams would testify he’d seen you leaving the scene of crime. You had to get him out of the way.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. I was thinking of Jill.
“It does to me,” said Cornell. “It matters a hell of a lot … Williams, naturally, was unaware that you had killed Vicky. You bribed or scared him into going downstairs with you. You got him into your car. You drove off to a quiet spot and killed him … the same way you killed Vicky. After that you buried him. Probably in the Hollywood Hills, or Laurel Canyon. Once we get you to headquarters, mister, you’re going to tell us exactly where!”
Jill had come back into the room. There was a row of books on the writing desk and she fussed about, straightening them up. I remember one of the books was Fast Company.
“You figured,” Cornell said, “that it’d look as though Williams had done the murder and lammed. That was a sweet touch. The night we arrested you, you told the story of how Williams had been in love with Vicky. It’ll sound swell when we tell the jury how you tried to sell us that one!”
“But how did I kill these people? What’s this lethal weapon that you—”
“You don’t remember?”
“No!”
“Brass knucks,” Ed Cornell said. “They were the first thing I came across when I searched through your stuff. Remember Vicky was hit just behind the ear, with a weapon the size of a fist, but much harder—”
I felt as though I were going to collapse. If I’d held out any hope that I could puncture his story, it was gone. I had bought the brass knucks in a hock shop on Main Street, meaning to send them East as a Christmas present for a friend.
I could see the whole set-up. It would look as though I had bought the things for the express purpose of murder. Nobody would ever believe that they were antiques … and that I had a friend who collected and cherished such things. Even if I could prove it, it’d sound like an alibi … a weak one. Cornell’s case was complete. I was finished. I wa
s through!
He watched me for a minute, his face very white.
“You’re not going to scream, or ask for a cigarette?”
I dropped my head, and looked down at the handcuffs. “Aren’t you going to say the jig’s up, and—”
“Let’s get going,” I said. “You don’t have to make it any worse. You’ve got everything you want. Let’s just get the hell out of here …”
He shrugged, and turned to open the door.
I saw Jill move across the room. My eyes came up. I saw the thing in her hand. I tried to shout but it was too late. She’d knocked Cornell’s derby off, and came down with a terrific bl9w at the base of his skull. She was using a flat, metal bookend.
In one horrible, petrified moment—something in the way she struck the blow, just the ifick of her arm—swept the scene from my eyes and put another one there. The apartment upstairs—Vicky! I shook my head groggily. The scene went away.
Instead Ed Cornell was there. His knees buckled. His eyes flickered, and he looked at me. Jill was backing up. I saw blood run in a little stream down around Cornell’s neck. ‘Tll the very last moment he kept watching me, almost as though he were shaking his head, repeating again and again You’ll never get away. Then he hit the carpet with a thud. Jill was bending over him, her eyes burning.
“He’ll be all right. A doctor told me once how to hit a person.”
A doctor told her once. God!
I moved toward her, my wrists shackled. Then the words began to tumble out:
“Jill, listen—you can’t—can’t do this! It makes you an accomplice! Besides, there’s another detective in the hall. He—”
She looked up. Her face was white and strained. But there was no hysteria. She had planned this! While Ed Cornell talked she had worked it all out. She had known exactly what she was going to do.
“He’ll be all right,” she said. “You’ve got to get out!”
Cornell was moving; his arm jerked nervously.
I looked around.
“The kitchen,” she said. “The cubide where we put the trash at night to be picked up. There’s a door that opens on the hall. You can squeeze through.”
“But this other cop—”
“I’ll take care of him,” she said. “I’ll meet you on the steps.”
“Jill—” I was wretched. “I can’t let you do this! I can’t—”
”Hurry!” she said.
I looked at her. I took both of her hands and kissed them. The iron cuffs were tight against my wrists. Now I turned. I beat it for the kitchen.
17
SHE HAD PULLED in the garbage pail, and the cupboard door was open. It was just large enough to crawl through.
But I waited.
In the other room Jill had opened the door. She was calling the detective in from the hall. I heard her say:
“He’s in there, officer! In the bedroom!”
Bedroom?
The apartment had none, of course. But the detective didn’t know it. He was already throwing his shoulders against the closet door. I got down on my hands and knees and began wriggling through the cubby hole. The handcuffs made it awkward. My hands thumped in a woodchopping motion.
I landed out in the hall and struggled to my feet.
The apartment door stood open and I could see the detective crashing against the closet door. Jill slipped into the hall. The cop was so busy he didn’t notice.
Jill joined me, and I followed her down the stairs to a side exit. She opened it, then we were out on the street. Cars were swishing by on Franklin. Jill was catching her breath, looking both ways for a taxi.
These damn shackles!
“Come on,” she said.
We started in the direction of Western Avenue. It was four blocks, and the sidewalks were dark. There was a steady stream of traffic on Franklin. Jill and I were half running. Somebody was out walking his dog and we slowed down our gait as we passed him. The guy turned around and stared after us.
“Do you suppose he saw—”
We stopped. Jill gazed down at the handcuffs. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed. I was wearing slacks and a tan sports coat. Jill studied the situation, then she jerked the coat back off my shoulders. She had me duck down, and taking the back of my coat she swung it up over my head. It was off now, except the bottom of the sleeves, and it hung in front of me. It was turned inside out, but she folded it neatly.
With a little imagination it would seem as though— because it was a hot night, which it wasn’t—I was carrying my coat. The way you sit with your coat in your lap at a baseball game.
The handcuffs were entirely hidden!
I just looked at her. There wasn’t time to talk. We were both out of breath. We started off again.
A block from Western a siren screamed in our ears. We stood back up against a dark store front. A police car, the siren going, red headlights shining, raced past, headed for the apartment.
The detective must have discovered the ruse. I could imagine the look on his face when he turned around and saw that Jill was gone! He had undoubtedly grabbed for a phone. It was a radio patrol car that had swept past. They’d have three or four of them combing the streets in this neighborhood looking for us. They probably didn’t expect that I’d get far wearing handcuffs. They’d send men to cover hardware stores right off the bat.
We reached Western.
“Walk slowly,” Jill said.
We crossed the sidewalk and she opened the door of a taxicab. I got in and she climbed in beside me.
“Sixth and Vermont,” she said.
The driver stepped on the starter. I thought the motor would never turn over! Then we were moving up Western Avenue. Another siren scream burst upon us. The taxi hauled over to the curb, and let the police car pass. Now we were rolling again.
“Jill—”
“Yes, darling?”
“Will you put a cigarette in my mouth? They’re in my side pocket.”
She lit the cigarette for me and put it between my lips. The cab had turned on Sunset and was going in the direction of Vermont. I could lift the locked wrists up to my face and handle the cigarette all right.
“Why’d you do it?”
“You mustn’t talk,” she said.
“He can’t hear. Not with that glass partition closed.”
“There’s no use taking chances,” she said. She was very calm.
“Why’d you do it? I’ve got to know!”
She looked at me. “Don’t you know already? Can’t you even guess?”
“Sure, but—”
“Then keep still, darling!”
“I can’t! You shouldn’t have done it, Jill! Do you know what the cops will do to you for this? Do you know what it means?”
“Of course I do!”
“It’s such a mess,” I said. “What are we going to do?”
“Why, darling, you can grow a beard and we’ll work in the mills the rest of our lives! I—Oh, Lord!”
“What’s the matter?”
“My ring!” she said. “Our engagement ring … I was washing out some stockings when Ed Cornell came and I’d taken it off. It’s back there on the bathroom shelf!”
“Shall we go back?”
“Darling, it’s serious! We could have pawned it. How much money have you?”
“Just a few bucks,” I said.
“I’ve got fifteen dollars.”
“Oh, hell, then, we’re practically set for life.”
“Don’t worry Peg! We’ll be all right.”
“Sure, we’ll be swell!—But we won’t. We’re used to one kind of life—and there’s no escape for us. You know that, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t know it, darling. And I’m not one bit afraid. I’ll never be afraid as long as I’m with you.”
“You’re so sweet… ! Where was Wanda tonight?”
“Working,” Jill said.
“A good thing.”
“No. She would have helped us. She’s that
kind of person.”
“One vote for Nikita Khrushchev.”
“You can’t blame her for being bitter.”
“No—I guess she’s had a rotten time of it. We’ll send her a Christmas card from Tahiti.”
“How nice!”
“Then when she gets hungry she can eat it.”
“Peg, you’re horrible!”
“Why not? What the hell am I doing in a jam like this? And why did I have to get you in it? After all that bastard’s evidence how can even you trust me?”
“Because I would anyway. But also, I know that Vicky intended to give up Robin Ray. She told me.”
Suddenly that was a scene too: Vicky telling Jill she was going to give up Robin Ray. I had a hell of a headache. I couldn’t think any more.
“Did you tell Cornell she said that?”
“Yes. He didn’t believe it. He said I was shielding you.”
“He didn’t want to believe it.” I sucked for breath. “Now what’s going to happen? You shouldn’t have gotten into this!”
“But I wanted to!”
I nodded. “One day I’ll thank you for it. I can’t tonight. I haven’t any emotion left. It’s all washed out. I just feel kind of sick at my stomach. Like there isn’t anything left in me.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You can’t know. You go all your life believing in justice. That right will triumph. Then it’s all pulled out from under you. When I was a kid I used to believe in Santa Claus. I think I felt something like this when they told me the truth.”
“Oh, Peg!”
“Throw the cigarette out for me, will you? Thanks … It is good having you here. I don’t know what I would have done. Gone to court and yelled my God-damn lungs out, I guess. Let them beat the hell out of me in that third degree they put me through before. I’ve still got scars on my hand where they burned me with cigarettes. I don’t know where we’ll go. But we’ll get married. See, Jill, we’ll—”
“No, we won’t.” I looked up.
“They’d find us right away if we tried to get married,” she said. “Don’t worry about that.” She looked at me. “Are you cold without your coat, darling?”
I was shivering.
“I wish I could get these bracelets off.”
