False colors (20 page)

There was a chilling sound from the bed in front of me. She was crying. It wasn't like any crying I'd ever heard. It was dry and violent, like muslin ripping.

Nancy crushed her face against my shoulder. "Stop it, Pete!" she said. "I can't take any more."

"It's the only way to get anything out of her," I muttered.

Kay said in a choked voice, "What if everything you say is right? I can't prove it. I can't prove it to myself. He's a coward. Do you hear me? A coward! He's always been afraid of me. Did a coward like him kill Mason? Did he try to kill me? Prove it and I'll empty that gun into him the next second. I thought it was being proved when somebody crept up to my bedroom door tonight. I thought he was finally showing he had the guts

for murder. That was all I needed. But it was you instead. Now I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do."

Her voice dropped way down the scale on the last words and ended in a moan. Then she began crying. It sounded more natural this time. Nancy pulled away from me and apparently moved onto the bed and began trying to soothe Kay. I waited in the darkness and listened to the sobs drain slowly away. This hadn't worked out very well. I had hoped Kay would have facts that would pin everything squarely on Lassiter. Instead, she wasn't even sure he was the killer.

Kay said finally in a calmer tone, "I'm all right now. Thanks for the sympathy. I think I can be my old nasty self again."

"Look, Kay," I said, "did you ever think that Lassiter might have done the brain work and let Joe Molo handle the muscle stuff?"

"I thought of it. But if Joe had killed Mason, he would have been strutting around here as if he owned the place. Instead he's always very respectful to Ludwig. And Joe's quite stupid. Ludwig wouldn't have trusted him to strangle me. Don't forget somebody had to stay downstairs in the lobby of the Ritten-house Arms, to phone up a warning when Nick came. Ludwig would never have stayed downstairs and trusted Joe to carry out orders. Besides, Joe could get impatient with a strip of silk. He's more the neck-breaking type."

"I want you to come away with us tonight," I said. "Let the cops take it from here."

Kay said softly, "Do you think you could send Ludwig to the electric chair?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Could you even send him to jail?"

"We don't know what the cops might dig up."

"I wouldn't even trust them to dig up a garden."

"You can't stay here!" Nancy cried.

"And if you do," I said, "you're asking for grief."

"Listen to me, boy scout," Kay said. "You don't think the way I do. You haven't spent nearly two years with a person you hate, trying to pin a murder on him. I don't care what happens

to me. I'm staying. Maybe the next time someone sneaks up to that door, it will be Ludwig."

We argued with her, but it was like trying to talk a time bomb into slowing down. "We'll probably go to the cops anyway," I said. "How do you feel about that?"

"What good will it do?" Kay said. "You haven't got anything on him. All the cops will do is grab your friend Nick."

Nancy asked, "What would you tell them about Nick, if they questioned you?"

"Somebody tried to strangle me last night. I didn't see who it was. When I came to, there was Nick. You like that? It's the truth."

"Unless you told the rest of your story, that would put Nick in a bad spot," I said.

"I'm not making a threat," Kay said. "But if you try to bust this open without any real evidence, don't count on me to help."

I got up and switched on the flashlight and fanned the beam over her dresser until I located the phone. "You say this is a private line?" I asked.

"That's right."

I jotted down the number. "Is it safe to give you a call, if anything happens that you ought to know about?"

"The line may be tapped. But if it's anything important, go ahead. Just be careful what you say."

"Do you think it's safe for us to leave now?"

"It's been almost an hour since Ludwig was here. If it's ever going to be safe, it ought to be now. Do you know how to get out?"

"Walk down to the first floor. If the gate is open, that's all we need. If it isn't, we come back to the second floor and take the elevator to the first, taking the chance that the sound of the elevator will rouse people. Then we go out the front door."

"That's more of your babes in the wood stuff," Kay said. "You'd never make it. For one thing, you need a key to open the front door from the inside. I'll lend you mine."

"Lassiter trusts you with one?"

"He doesn't know I have it. I stole his and took a wax im-

pression and had a duplicate made. I'll get it for you." She borrowed the flashlight and went to the closet and rummaged around. "Here it is," she said, bringing it to me. "Now listen. The alarm system works on the doors as well as the windows. Do you know how to fool an electric eye?"

"I didn't know you could."

"All you need is your flashlight. There's a beam of invisible light—ultra-violet or something—across the front doorway. It goes from left to right, about a foot above floor level. You'll find a little opening at that level on each side of the double doors. The one on the right leads into the photo-electric cell. The door you unlock is the left-hand one. Opening the door breaks the beam of light. But if you shine the flashlight into the cell, that will keep it happy. It can't tell the difference between one kind of light and another."

"You sure of all this?"

"Of course I'm sure. I read up on the subject when I found he had the system. And I've tried it out. But listen. Don't let your hand jiggle. If your flashlight beam moves away for a split second, the alarm will go off. Keep shining it into the cell as you slip outside. When you get the door almost closed, the beam of invisible light will start registering again. Do you understand?"

"What do we do with your key?"

"Slip it under the carpet near the photo-electric cell. I'll get it tomorrow."

"You won't go with us?"

"I'll go with you as far as the gate. It has an automatic catch. I know how to work it."

An idea hit me. "Wouldn't it be simpler," I said, "if you came to the door with us? Then you wouldn't have to worry about getting the key back before somebody else found it."

"I'm only going as far as the gate. I don't trust you."

Maybe we both had the same idea. "Why not?"

"You might set off the alarm on purpose. Then I'd be trapped downstairs and have to leave with you."

"It was just a passing thought."

"It didn't get a passing mark with me. Don't make any mistakes with that alarm system. Joe Molo's room is on the second floor, near the head of the steps. If that alarm goes off, he'll be on your neck* in about five seconds. The front door sets off a special alarm. It sounds like a sleigh bell. If you hear it, don't wait around for Christmas."

"I still think you're nuts to stay. Just because you know how to work a few gadgets around here, you needn't think you're safe."

"Give me back my revolver," Kay said. "That's another gadget I know how to work."

I handed it to her.

"If you're ready," she said, "let's go. Keep close to the walls and to the sides of the stairs. The floor boards in the center make the squeaks. And try to put your foot down where I step. I know all the loose boards."

We trailed after her to the door of the living room. She unlocked it quietly, eased the door open, peered out. The silence seemed thick enough to lean against. She tugged at my sleeve and moved into the hall. I reached back and grabbed Nancy's hand. We made the third floor hall and the steps to the second floor without any noise. Then we had to creep down the second floor hallway toward Lassiter's door. It was open a crack, and a knife-thin edge of light sliced out from his room into the hall. A floor board snapped under my feet.

Kay stopped and whispered in my ear, "You're watching his light. Forget it, and watch where I put my feet. Tell your girl friend too."

I passed it along to Nancy, and we went on. I don't know how Nancy felt, but it made my neck muscles ache to keep watching the floor where Kay was stepping. My head wanted to yank itself up to watch that shaft of light. We reached the head of the final flight going down. Lassiter's door was only a few feet away. Through the crack came a mumble of voices. We turned toward the stairway and had to pass through that shaft of light. I found myself tensing to go through it, as if it had been a solid barrier. It flickered across my face and vanished

behind me. We moved down the stairs, close to the railing. Kay stopped at the gate and felt around for a few moments. There was a faint click and the gate swung open. We crept down to the first floor.

Kay closed the gate between us. "Give me two minutes to get upstairs," she said.

"Please take care of yourself," Nancy whispered.

"You'd better worry about yourself, not me," Kay said. "You have something worth living for." She turned and drifted upstairs like smoke.

When I was sure she was past Lassiter's room, I went to the front door. I got down on hands and knees and flashed the light at the sides of the doorway. There were the two little holes, a foot above floor level. The one at the right led to the photo-electric cell.

"Here's the key," I told Nancy. "When I give the word, you unlock the door. Then take the key out and put it under the carpet near the spot where my light will be shining. Then walk out the door quietly and go into the square and wait for me behind a tree or something."

"I'd rather we both went out together."

"You're wearing high heels. If anything goes wrong, you can't run. For once will you do what I ask?"

For once she said, "Yes, Pete."

I aimed the light into the photo-electric cell. "Take it away."

There was a soft clicking of metal above me, and a sigh from the door hinges. So far, so good. No alarms. Nancy's hand came into sight and lifted a corner of the carpeting and put the key under it.

"You wouldn't dare make any sudden moves right now, would you?" she asked.

"Of course not. Why?"

"I just wanted to make sure," she said, and bent and kissed me.

My hand shook but I managed to keep the cell within the flashlight beam. "What a time for romance," I muttered.

"No time seems to be very good, does it, Pete? I'm leaving now. Don't wait too long or I'll worry."

I heard the whisper of her feet on the stone steps, and began counting to sixty. When I finished the count I backed away from the photo-electric cell, keeping the light on it. I reached behind me for the open half of the door. The heel of my palm hit the door and opened it wider. That made me sweat. I couldn't look away from the cell to see what I was doing. I backed into the open doorway and felt along the door with my free hand, trying to get a grip on it. My fingers touched the edge of the door. I strained a little more, got my fingers around the edge. That was good. Now I could close it. I couldn't have felt better if it had been Christmas.

It was queer that Christmas had popped into my mind. I stared along the beam of the flashlight and saw it wasn't quite covering the photo-electric cell. That last stretch for the door had pulled me off target. I was thinking of Christmas because, far away in the big house, a sleigh bell was tinkling. The alarm was on.

17.

I jumped up and pulled the door shut and raced down the steps and across the street and into the square. My feet sent echoes rattling through the night. That wouldn't do. Lassiter's bodyguard would come after the sound of running feet. I forced myself to stop running and to walk at a normal pace. Maybe I would pass as an ordinary guy going home late.

Behind me a door crashed open. Feet clattered on stone steps. The sounds followed me. The feet weren't running but they were coming down with a hard quick snap. They seemed to be gaining. Sweat burned into my eyes. It was hard not to break into a run. But I couldn't outrun a bullet. I walked along

with my shoulder blades twitching at about the spot where a bullet would hit. I was on a diagonal path leading into the square. Ahead was a waist-high stone balustrade inclosing the center of the square. If I could reach that and swing behind it I could start running. Then I might be hard to hit if I weaved around trees and benches and headed for the lights of Walnut Street.

The sounds behind me weren't gaining now. Maybe since I hadn't run, the guy was ready to cross me off the list. The sounds stopped. I walked on several paces and was almost at the balustrade and then made a mistake. I looked over my shoulder. Sixty feet back stood Joe Molo, head thrust forward, staring at me. The second I turned he leaped forward. Light glinted on the pistol in his hand.

The balustrade was just ahead of me. As I started to run, a figure moved out from behind the balustrade. It was Nancy. She had been crouching behind it, waiting for me. Now she was stepping into the line of fire. She was only an arm's length away. I snapped out my right hand and straight-armed her high on the shoulder. She spun aside. I ran straight ahead to draw Molo away from her. It worked. I heard the slam of his feet racing after me. He was gaining. The lights of Walnut Street were fifty yards away, forty, thirty. I didn't know what good Walnut Street would do me. This time of night it was just an empty lighted graveyard. I might as well take on Molo in the square.

I slowed, swerved right, grabbed a tree trunk and swung around it like a kid on a pole. As I finished the swing Molo was only twenty feet away. He tried to put on the brakes. He was coming too fast. He didn't have time to aim and shoot, either. I started a roundhouse punch toward the spot where his jaw would be the next second. It never landed. In that final second a shadow sliced in at Molo from the side. It slammed into his legs and lifted him and sent him crashing to the ground off to my left. He hit like a sack of concrete and skidded two feet and lay still.

The shadow got up and dusted itself off. "Hello, Pete," the

shadow said. "Clipping. Fifteen yards penalty." It was Sheldon Thorp.

More footsteps pattered along the walk, and Nancy ran up. "Are you hurt, either of you?" she gasped.