They were all looking at him now, looking at him and knowing it was true. They weren’t thinking of whether this kind of evidence would hold up in a court of law. It was the sort of thing that convinced people. Susan, and the detective, and this fellow Hamet. They were looking at him and knowing it was true. That Victor Jones had become Raven, and Raven had become Arthur Rowe. Because of a name in a book, a long time ago.
“But I would have seen him at the dinner!” Susan argued again.
“That stopped me for a while,” Barney admitted, “until I remembered where I’d seen the man with the beard who fired the shots at me. I’d seen him, or someone very similar, at the dinner when I was on the podium. I’d seen him standing near the back of the ballroom. And I wondered at the time who he was—what group he belonged to. The answer, of course, was that he belonged to no group. He had simply walked in, as I pointed out earlier that anyone could. He had walked in, wearing a beard as a disguise. Because of course you would have known him, Susan. And certainly others in the publishing world would have recognised him too. Craigthorn never noticed, of course. He was just one more person, and the beard was a good enough disguise for his brief presence there.
“Once I decided that the killer had entered the ballroom wearing a disguise, it put a whole new aspect on the case. It proved to me at least, that the killer was not one of the three hundred invited guests, nor one of the waiters, or someone associated with the hotel. Because none of these people would have needed a disguise. The killer was someone from the outside. And again, all roads led to your boss, Susan. It was a perfect setup for him. By coincidence, he’d already assigned you to cover these various awards presentations. I imagine he had the MWA dinner date jotted in his notebook when Ross Craigthorn originally contacted him. So it was a simple matter to send you there and, when murder became necessary, to assign you to write the series.”
He turned to Victor once again. “You didn’t really care, of course, whether the articles made good copy or not. Your main interest was in following the course of my investigation, and you did that. You did it quite well, Arthur, or Victor. You had Susan giving you written daily reports of exactly what went on. That was all you needed to find Irma Black, and to follow us to Nebraska. There were a lot of other little things, of course. The man who shot at me in Nebraska dropped some cigarette butts. You’re smoking a pipe now, but I see there are cigarettes on your desk too. So obviously you smoke both. Also, you’re known to come originally from the midwest, as did Victor Jones. I’ve already mentioned about Susan’s flowered briefcase, and the rest of it.”
“You’d better come along,” the detective said quietly. “Just while we check your background. If you’re innocent, sir, you have nothing to fear.”
Victor Jones rose and came slowly from behind his desk. He was nodding his head. “Yes. Yes, certainly I’ll come along. I have nothing to fear. I never did any of these things you’re talking about I never robbed a bank! I never…”
But now he was coming around the side of the desk, and suddenly the window was there. A solid sheet of glass, protecting him against the outside world. “I never …” he began again.
And in that instant, it seemed the easy way out. The only way out.
“Grab him!” Barney yelled, diving across the desk, upsetting the pipe rack and the cigarette box, scattering manuscript pages.
But it was too late. It was too late for any of them to reach him now. The window shattered under his weight, splinters of glass cutting into his skin. They had his jacket, but not enough to hold him. He felt it rip as he went into the air, away from them, free.
He had often wondered if it would be a hard thing to do. But now he knew it wasn’t. As the pavement rushed up to meet him, he knew it was the easiest thing in the world.
24 Barney Hamet
“IT WAS SUCH A long way down,” Susan said sometime later.
Barney finished his drink and ordered two more. They were in a little bar, somewhere off Fifth. They’d been in there a long time, ever since the police finished questioning them.
“It’s always a long way down,” he said. “For guys like Arthur Rowe.”
“I still can’t believe it, Barney. Sometimes he was almost like a father to me.”
“It’s over now. I hope you’re not out of job.”
“I don’t think I could go back there now.”
“Maybe I can find you something around town,” he said. “I still have a few connections.”
She sipped her fresh drink, made a face and pushed it away. “Let’s go somewhere, Barney.”
“Like where?”
“Like up to my apartment.”
“I was there once before. Remember?”
“That was a long time ago.”
Barney nodded and signalled for the check. He’d always been one to take a chance, especially with a girl like Susan Veldt.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1970 by Davis Publications, Inc.
Stories in this volume copyrighted © 1965, 1966, 1967, 1968, 1969, 1970 by Edward D. Hoch
Cover design by Jason Gabbert
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