If Death Ever Slept

“Where did you tell them you went?”

“To three shoe shops.”

“Did you name the shops?”

“Yes. They asked. Zussman’s, and Yorio’s, and Weeden’s.”

“Did you buy any shoes?”

“Yes, I-” She chopped it off. “Of course not, if I wasn’t there. How could I?”

I shook my head at her. “Drink up. What was the name of the girl who hung onto the clapper so the bell couldn’t ring, or was it a boy?”

“Damn it, don’t be droll!”

“I’m not. You are. Beyond remarking that they’ll check at those three shops, and that if you tried that mess on them they’d find that you didn’t get your car from the garage that morning, there’s no point in listing the dozen or so other holes. I should be sore at you for thinking I could be sap enough to play with you, but you meant well, and it’s a tough trick to be both noble and nimble. So drink up and forget it-unless you want to tell me who did take the gun. Do you know?”

“Of course I don’t!”

“Just protecting the whole bunch, including Nora?”

“I’m not protecting anybody! I just want this awful business to stop!” She touched my hand with fingertips. “Archie. So I made a mess of it, but it wouldn’t be a mess if you would help me work it out. We could have done it Wednesday night. We didn’t take my car, we took a taxi-or we walked to the East River and threw it in. Won’t you help me?”

And there you are. What if I had lost sight of basic facts? The circumstances had been favorable. When I first saw her Monday afternoon on the terrace, as she approached with the sun full on her, I had realized that no alterations were needed anywhere, from the top of her head clear down to her toes. Talking with her, I had realized that she was fine company. At Colonna’s Tuesday evening I had realized that she was good to be close to. Not to mention that by the time I was too old to provide properly for the family her father would have died and left her a mint. What if I had lost my head, made a supreme effort, rushed her off her feet, and wrapped her up? I would now be stuck with a female who got so rattled in a pinch that she thought she could sidetrack a murder investigation with a plant so half-baked it was pathetic. There you are.

But she meant well, so I let her down easy, paid for the drinks without entering it on my expense pad, helped her into a taxi, and had no hard feelings as I took another one, to 20th Street.

Nothing doing on the reports. Neither Cramer nor Stebbins was around, and all Rowcliff had for me was a glassy eye.