The Wise Guy

it was a mean trick to play on a pretty girl, but lieutenant hayward's trick was even meaner

Lieutenant Eddie Hayward slid out of the squad car. He nodded to the cop waiting for him at the door.

"Top floor, Lieutenant," the man said.

The building was an old walk-up. A scared-looking little girl of three or four peered lonesomely at Lieutenant Hayward on the third floor landing, and as he smiled at the child a bony hand jerked her through the doorway like a toy on the end of a string.

The door of the top floor apartment was open. The living room was immaculate, and more: it had been decorated in sure taste. A long and narrow whitemarble coffee table stood bright on brass legs before a chocolate-brown couch, a crystal bowl of roses at one end of it. There were bright Victorian prints on the walls, and in a corner of the room a hi-fi set gleamed in a plexiglass cabinet.

The girl was in the tiny bedroom, half sitting against the bed, one hand on the coverlet. She was wearing pajamas and a robe and she was a pretty girl in her middle twenties. Hayward closed the bedroom door.

The patrolman handed him a slip of paper carrying a few scrawled words. Name, Jane Conklin, resident in the building two years, employed as a copywriter, heavy blow on the right temple, and so on. Hayward went back to the living room.

"Sergeant McElroy?" he asked the patrolman.

"Coming up the stairs now, Lieutenant," the man said.

Sergeant McElroy was a big man, heavy, and he was puffing.

"Always on the top floor, eh, Lieutenant?" he said.

"Yeah," Hayward said.

"Where's the girl?"

"Never mind that right now. What did you find out?"

"Everybody liked the girl," the sergeant said. "She was nice to the kids in the building, once she bought a hotwater bottle for the old lady across the hall, things like that. She made good money, and they say she supported her father, lives in Virginia someplace. Paid $42.50 a month for this place, fixed it up herself. None of the others look like this, I can tell you that. She went out a lot, had quite a few boyfriends, nobody knows their names. Had a party up here once in a while, quiet."

"Sounds like a heavy case, maybe," Hayward said.

"I dunno," the sergeant said. "I've got the super out in the hall."

"Let's see him," Hayward said.

"His name's Tobias," the sergeant said. He hooked a finger toward the hallway and the patrolman came in, a scared-looking fat man of 50-odd shambling along in front of him. His belly bulged in a dirty T-shirt.

"I don't know nothin' about it, Captain," he said. "I don't know a thing about it."

"I didn't say you did," Hayward said.

"You were up here yesterday, though," the sergeant said, "and the girl asked you why the devil you hadn't fixed the drain in the sink. That right?"

The man nodded.

"And she asked you what you did with the five bucks she gave you to put new locks on the bedroom windows, loud enough so that the people next door heard her. That right?"

The man nodded again.

"So you came up here again this morning, and one thing led to another, and you with a hangover and all, and you just belted her a lick on the head. That right?" Sergeant McElroy shoved a heavy finger into the man's chest.

"I never touched her," Tobias said. "I fixed the drain. Go look at it. I told her I'd get the locks today and I will, too. I never touched her. I didn't even see her this morning."

A buzzer rasped from the kitchen.

"Punch it, Mac," Hayward said. "We got company." He turned back to Tobias. "I think we'll want to talk to you some more," he said.

"I never touched her," the man said. "I told you that." The patrolman pulled his arm. "What about the locks for the windows?" Tobias said. "I got to buy the locks."

"She doesn't need them any more," Hayward said. "You drank up her five bucks, anyway."

Sergeant McElroy spoke to someone in the hallway. "Come on in, son," he said.

A young man walked slowly into the room. He was tall and pink-cheeked in an olive-green suit, a black knit tie. "What's the matter here?" he said. "Where's Miss Conklin?"

"What's your name?" Hayward said.

"Michael Talbert."

"Miss Conklin's in the bedroom."

"Is she ----"

"That's right," Hayward said. "When did you see her?"

"Last night," Talbert said. "We went out last night."

"Until when?"

"Oh, one, two, about."

"You go home then?"

"I stayed about half an hour, then I went home," Talbert said.

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. We had dinner and went to a show, then we had a couple of drinks and then we came home."

"Home?"

"Here, we came here."

"What brought you back this morning?" Hayward said. "You forget something?"

"I told Jane I'd come by and have breakfast with her this morning," Talbert said. "It's Saturday, neither of us has to work."

"I see," Hayward said. "Tell me, where did you get that scratch on your face?"

Talbert laughed shortly. "I haven't got a scratch on my face."

"You sure?" Hayward said. "You check this morning, shaving?"

"I'm sure," Talbert said.

"Have Johnson walk him around, Mac," Hayward said. "See if anybody remembers him. Maybe somebody saw him leave last night, one, two o'clock."

"Now, wait a minute," Talbert said. "You can't haul me around like an exhibit. I haven't done anything."

"Why don't you be nice, and cooperate?" Hayward said. "Save me the trouble of taking you over to the station house and booking you and bringing you all the way back here. OK?"

Talbert shrugged and the patrolman followed him out the door.

"What do you think?" McElroy asked.

"Who knows?" Hayward said. "The fella who killed her is probably halfway to Kansas City right now."

"I think we should sweat the super a little," McElroy said. "This young guy would never come back this morning, if he did it."

"He might," Hayward said. "I think he's a wise guy. He might just figure it would throw us off."

"Well, we got time," McElroy said. "We haven't even started. We got probably 50 people to talk to."

"Yeah." Hayward said. "But before we spend any time on anybody else, even the super, I'd like to try one little thing on that Talbert. Look. You go find him, take Johnson off him and say you're going back to the house. And tell Talbert to amble back up here by himself. Tell him I just want to see him for a minute. Then you come up, quiet, and hang in the hallway where you can hear. You got that?"

"I got it," McElroy said. "But I don't get it." He lumbered out ...

Soon, Hayward heard Talbert on the stairs.

"The sergeant said you wanted to see me again," he said.

"That's right. Sit down," Hayward said.

"Isn't that the shower?" Talbert said. "Who's running the shower?"

"Jane," Hayward said. Talbert's eyes were staring. He popped bolt upright in his chair.

"But Jane's dead!" he said. "You told me she was dead!"

"I know," Hayward said. "Heartless of me, wasn't it? I have to give her credit for the idea, though. You've been walking around all morning figuring you had a murder rap on you. Right?"

Talbert nodded slowly.

"You can change it to assault and battery now," Hayward said. "And you've lost a girlfriend."

"I want to see her," Talbert said. He got up suddenly and started toward the bedroom.

"I wouldn't," Hayward said. "She's mad enough at you as it is. Besides, I object to men walking in on young ladies in the shower. Sit down. She'll be out soon enough. You better think of what you're going to say to her."

"I just lost my head," Talbert said.

"Sure," Hayward said. "But you hit her too hard. And what a dumb thing to lose your temper over, anyway."

"It was because she was so damned stubborn," Talbert said. "It wasn't as if she hadn't lent me money before. She had, and I always paid her back."

"When she said no the first time you should have given up." Hayward said. "Instead you sat around here all night, drinking Jane's liquor and arguing with her. She got ready for bed, and you still wouldn't leave. Finally you lost your head, as you say, and you hit her a few shots. Then you went home, scared, and sobered yourself up. You walked around and you talked to yourself and finally you had to come and see if you'd killed her or just knocked her out. By that time she'd blown the whistle and we were here. You rang the phone first, didn't you?"

Talbert nodded.

"She wouldn't let us answer," Hayward said. "She'd had this cute idea about letting you think you'd killed her, and she wanted you to get the full benefit of it. Maybe she thought you'd pass out yourself, from shock. I'm afraid the girl really dislikes you. So you come up, you find the place full of cops and you try to bluff it out. That's about it, isn't it?"

"Yes," Talbert said. "That's about it."

"So you wind up in trouble," Hayward said. He walked to the bedroom door, opened it, went in. Talbert heard the shower shut off. He was sitting on the edge of the chair, white, his eyes staring and bulging in his face, when Hayward came out, the open cuffs in his hand.

"On your feet, bum," he said. "Let's go."

He hustled him down the stairs to the street, turned him over to the patrolman. "Take him in," he said. He watched the car drive away, Talbert jammed between two uniformed men.

"That was a quick one," McElroy said. "What made you think he did it?"

"When he first came in," Hayward said, "and he walked toward the bedroom, he was looking to the left, where she was, before he even got to the door. So I figured maybe he was remembering where he'd seen her last. Besides, he goofed when I asked him if he had a scratch on his face. Obviously, he'd checked that little detail."

"Pretty mean of you, turning on the shower like that," McElroy said.

Hayward shrugged. "He killed her a mean way, too," he said. "The creep."

They stood on the sidewalk in the hot sun, waiting for the squad car to come back.