I took out my keys, but on second thoughts[12], reached for the door handle and turned it. The door wasnt locked although I had locked it when I had left the previous evening. I pushed open the door and looked into the small outer office that contained a table on which lay some dog-eared magazines[13], four well-worn leather lounging chairs and a strip of carpet: a gesture to anyone with tender feet.
The inner door, leading to my office stood ajar.
This too had been locked before I had left. Again aware of the creepy feeling, I crossed to the door and pushed it wide open.
Sitting, facing me in the clients chair was a lovely-looking Chinese girl, her hands folded rather primly in her lap. She was wearing a green and silver Cheongsam, slit up either side to show off her beautiful legs. She looked peaceful and not even surprised. From the small bloodstain over her left breast, I guessed she had been shot quickly and expertly: so quickly, she had had no chance even to be scared. Whoever had shot her had done a good, swift job. Moving as if I were wading through water, I entered the room and touched the side of her cold face. She had been dead some hours.
Taking in a long deep breath, I reached for the telephone and called the police.
2
While waiting for the cops to arrive, I took a closer look at my dead Asian visitor. At a guess she had been around twenty-three or four and apparently not short of money[14]. I assumed this since her clothes seemed expensive, her stockings sheer nylon and her shoes nearly brand new. Also she was well-groomed: her nails were immaculate and her hair impeccable. I had no mean knowing who she was. She had no handbag. I assumed the killer had taken it. I couldnt imagine a woman as well turned out as this one would go around without a handbag. Having satisfied myself that she was anonymous, I went into the other room and waited for the sound of trampling feet that would tell me the boys were arriving. I didnt have to wait long. Within ten minutes of my telephone call they came swarming over me like ants over a lump of sugar.
The last to arrive was Detective Lieutenant Dan Retnick. I had known him off and on for the past four years. He was an undersized bird with thin, foxy features and a snappy line in clothes. The only reason why he held his position on the citys police force was because he had been lucky enough to have married the Mayors sister. As a police officer he was about as useful as a hole in a bucket[15]. Luckily for him there had been no major crime in Pasadena City since he had got his appointment. This affair would be the first murder case since he had been upped to Detective Lieutenant from a desk sergeant in a small, unimportant cop house along the Coast.
But Ill say this for him: even though be hadnt the brains to solve a childs crossword puzzle, he certainly looked the pan of an efficient tough cop as he breezed into my office with Sergeant Pulski, his side kick, trampling along in his rear.
Sergeant Pulski was a big man with a red fleshy face, small vicious eyes and two fists that seemed to be itching all the time to connect with a human jaw. He had less brains than Retnick if that is possible, but what he lacked in mental equipment, he made up in muscle. Neither of them looked at me as they came in. They went into my office and stared for a long time at the dead woman, then while Pulski was going through the motions of being a police officer, Retnick joined me in the outer room. He now looked a little worried and a lot less breezy.
Okay, shamus[16], give with the story[17], he said, sitting on the desk and swinging his immaculately polished shoes. She a client of yours?
I dont know who she is or what shes doing here, I said. I found her like that when I opened up this morning.
He chewed on his dead cigar while he stared his hard cop stare. You usually open up this early?
I gave him the story without holding anything back. He listened. Pulski who had finished acting the police officer with the boys in my office, propped up the door-post and listened too.
As soon as I found out the bungalow was empty, I came straight back here, I concluded. I figured something was going on, but I didnt expect this.
Wheres her handbag? Retnick said.
I dont know. While I was waiting for you to arrive I searched for it, but couldnt find it. She must have had one. Maybe the killer took it away with him.
He scratched the side of his jaw, took the dead cigar out of his mouth and looked at it, then put it back into his face again.
What did she have in it, shamus, that tempted you to kill her? he demanded finally.
There was never anything subtle about Retnick. I knew when I telephoned for the police, I would be his suspect number one.
Even if she had had the Koh-i-Noor diamond[18], I wouldnt have been that dumb to knock her off here, I said patiently. I would have tailed her back to where she lived and fixed her there.
How do you explain what she was doing here and how she got in if you had locked up?
I could make a guess.
His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head on one side. Go ahead and guess.
I think this woman had business with me. A guy calling himself John Hardwick didnt want her to talk to me. I dont know why nor do I know what she wanted to talk to me about Im just guessing. Its my guess Hardwick sent me to sit outside an empty bungalow to be sure I wouldnt be in my office when she arrived. I think he was waiting here for her. My locks are nothing special.[19] He wouldnt have any trouble opening the doors. He was probably sitting at my desk when she walked in. The fact she doesnt look scared makes me think she didnt know this guy and thought he was me. After she had said her say, he shot her. It was a quick expert shot. She didnt have time even to change the expression on her face.
Retnick looked at Pulski. If we dont watch out, this shamus will be stealing our jobs.
Pulski removed something from a back tooth and spat it on my carpet. He didnt say anything: it wasnt his job to talk. He was a professional listener.
Retnick thought for a moment. It was a process that apparently gave him some pain. Finally, he said, Ill tell you what makes your guess stink, bright boy. This guy called you from the airport which is two miles from here. If youre not lying, you left your office just after six. He couldnt have got here much before seven-thirty the way the traffic is on that highway at that time, and anyone, even a yellow skin, would know thats after business hours. She wouldnt have come here on the off-chance of finding you here. She would have telephoned first.
What makes you so sure she didnt? Maybe she did and Hardwick was in my office to take the call. Maybe he told her he would be waiting for her and for her to come right along.
By his change of expression I knew he was irritated with himself for not having worked this out for himself.
The M.O.[20], plus two interns, plus the usual stretcher appeared in the doorway.
Pulski reluctantly pushed himself off the doorpost and took the M.O., a fussy little guy with a lemon-sour face, into the inner room to view the remains. Retnick adjusted a pearl stickpin in his tie.
She shouldnt be difficult to trace, he said as if he were talking to himself. When a yellow skin is as pretty as this one, she gets noticed. When did you say this guy Hardwick was going to call on you?
Tomorrow Friday.
Think he will?
Not a chance.
He nodded his head.
Yeah. He looked at his watch, then yawned. You look like hell. Suppose you go get yourself a cup of coffee? Dont go far and dont flap your mouth[21]. Ill be ready to talk to you in about half an hour.
I wasnt kidded for a moment. He wasnt being considerate: he wanted me out of the way.
I guess I can use some coffee, I said. Okay for me to go home and take a shower?
Who cares how bad you smell? he said. Just coffee and where you can be seen.
I took the elevator to the ground floor. Although it was only twenty minutes to eight oclock, a small crowd had collected to stare at the waiting ambulance and the four police cars parked in front of the building.
As I walked to the Quick Snack Bar I heard heavy footfalls behind me. I didnt bother to look around. I expected to drink my coffee under police supervision.
I entered the bar and eased myself up onto a stool. Sparrow, his eyes bugging, tore himself from the window where he was watching the ambulance and looked expectantly at me.
Whats cooking, Mr. Ryan? he asked, his breath hissing between his teeth.
A coffee, strong and black and fast, I said, then two fried eggs on ham.
The big plain-clothes man[22] who had followed me didnt come into the bar. He stood just outside where he could watch me.
Containing his patience with an effort that brought dark circles to his armpits, Sparrow drew coffee and then got busy with the eggs and ham.
Someone dead, Mr. Ryan? he asked as be broke the eggs onto the hot-plate.
What time do you shut down for the night? I asked, watching the cop outside who scowled at me through the plate-glass window.
Ten oclock sharp, Sparrow said, doing an unconscious little jig with impatience. Whats going on across the way?
A Chinese woman got herself murdered. I drank some of the coffee. It was hot and strong and good. I found her in my office half an hour ago.
His Adams apple did a rock n roll. No kidding, Mr. Ryan?
Gospel truth.[23] I finished the coffee and pushed the cup towards him. And again.
A Chinese woman?
Yeah. Dont ask questions. I know as much as you do about it. Did you see a Chinese woman go in my office block after I had left?
He shook his head as he refilled my cup.
No. I think Id have seen her if she had gone in before I shut up. I hadnt much to do last night.
I began to sweat gently. I had an alibi up to half past eight: the time the girl and the poodle had passed me. I had reckoned the Chinese woman had been in my office at that time. After half past eight, I had only me to say I had been sitting all night outside Jack S. Myers Jnr.s empty bungalow.
Did you notice any stranger going in there from the time I left to the time you closed?
Cant say I did. Around nine the janitor locked up as usual. He served the ham and eggs. Who killed her?
I dont know. I had suddenly lost my appetite. The set-up now began to look bad for me. I knew Retnick. He was essentially a guy who clutched at straws. If I hadnt a cast-iron alibi that would convince an idiot child, he would pounce on me.
You could have missed seeing her, couldnt you?
I guess thats right. I wasnt looking out of the window all the time.
Two men came in and ordered breakfast. They asked Sparrow what was going on. After a glance at me, he said he didnt know. One of the men, a fat fellow wearing a Brando leather jacket said, Someones got knocked off.[24] Thats the blood-wagon outside.
I pushed aside my plate. I just couldnt eat food right now. I finished the coffee and slid off the stool. Sparrow looked unhappily at me. Something wrong, Mr. Ryan?
Just too ambitious I guess, I said. Put it on the slate[25], and I went out onto the street.
The big cop closed in on me. Where do you imagine youre going? he demanded.
Back to my office, I told him. That worry you?
When the Lieutenants ready for you, Ill tell you. Go sit in one of them cars.
I went to one of the police cars and sat in the back. The forty-odd people standing staring, stared at me instead of the ambulance. I lit a cigarette and tried to ignore them.
I sat there smoking and letting my mind work on the past and the present without allowing it to move into the future. The more I considered my position the less I liked it. I had a feeling of being in a trap.
After nearly an hour the two interns came out carrying the stretcher. The Chinese woman, under the sheet, looked small and child-like. The crowd made the usual noise a crowd makes when it is being morbid. The interns loaded the stretcher into the ambulance and drove away. A few minutes later the M.O. came out, and getting in his car, drove after the ambulance. There was another long wait, then the Homicide boys came out. One of them signalled to the big cop who was standing watching me. They all crammed into their cars and drove away. The big cop opened the car door and jerked his thumb at me. Get moving, he said. The Lieutenant wants you.
As I started across the sidewalk, Jay Wayde, the Industrial Chemist, who had the office next to mine came from his car. He joined me in the elevator.
He was three or four years younger than myself: a big, athletic college type with a crewcut, a suntanned complexion and alert eyes. Every now and then we would meet as we left our offices and would ride down in the elevator together to our cars. He seemed a pretty regular fellow and like Sparrow, he had shown an interest in my way of life. I guess most respectable people cant resist the so-called glamour of an investigators life. He often asked me what excitement I had had, and in the short time we were in the elevator and walking to our cars, I fed him the kind of lies I fed Sparrow.
What goes on? he asked as the elevator began its slow climb to the fourth floor.
I found a dead Chinese woman in my office this morning, I said. The cops are getting excited about it.
He stared at me. Dead?
Someone shot her.
This piece of information appeared to stand him on his ear[26]. You mean shes been murdered?
Thats the technical term for it.
Well! For the love of Mike![27]
Ive been saying exactly that since I found her.
Who killed her?
Ah! Now that is the question. What time did you leave your office last night? You hadnt gone when I left.
Around nine. The janitor was closing up.
You didnt hear a shot?
For Gods sake no!
When you left did you notice if there was a light on in my office?
There wasnt. Didnt I hear you leave about six?
Thats right.
I was getting rattled now. This Chinese girl must have been murdered after nine oclock. My alibi was looking sicker than a wet hen.
The elevator came to rest at the fourth floor. We got out. Coming from my office was the janitor and Sergeant Pulski. The janitor looked at me as if I were a two-headed monster. They got into the elevator and sank out of sight.
Well, I guess youre going to be busy, Wayde said, eyeing the cop standing at my office door. If theres anything I can do