Make Room! Make Room! (8 page)

“I don’t know if I can do that, he’s …”

“If I say you can do it—
do it
. This is my precinct, not yours, Rusch. Go with this man and report to me personally when you come back.” The belch was smaller this time, more of a punctuation than anything else.

“Your lieutenant has some temper,” the messenger said when they were out in the street.

“Shut up,” Andy snapped without looking at the man. He had had another bad night and was tired. And the heat wave was still on; the sun almost unbearable when they left the shadow of the expressway and walked north. He squinted into the glare and felt the beginning of a headache squeeze at his temples. There was trash blocking the sidewalk and he kicked it angrily aside. They turned a corner and were in shadow again, the crenelated battlements and towers of the apartment buildings rose like a cliff above them. Andy forgot the headache as they walked across the drawbridge; he had only been inside the place once before, just in the lobby. The door opened before they reached it and the doorman stepped aside to let them in.

“Police,” Andy said, showing his badge to the doorman. “What’s wrong here?”

The big man didn’t answer at first, just swiveled his head to follow the retreating messenger until he was out of earshot. Then he licked his lips and whispered: “It’s pretty bad.” He tried to look depressed but his eyes glittered with excitement. “It’s … murder … someone’s been killed.”

Andy wasn’t impressed; the City of New York averaged seven murders a day, and ten on good days. “Let’s go see about it,” he said, and followed the doorman toward the elevator.

“This is the one,” the doorman said, opening the hall door of apartment 41-E; cool air surged out, fresh on Andy’s face.

“That’s all,” he said to the disappointed doorman, “I’ll take it from here.” He walked in and at once noticed the jimmy grooves on the inner doorjamb, looked beyond them to the long length of hall where the two people sat on chairs backed to the wall. A full bag of groceries leaned against the nearest chair.

They were all alike in their expressions with fixed round eyes, shocked at the sudden impact of the totally unexpected. The girl was an attractive redhead, nice long hair and a delicate pink complexion. When the man got quickly to his feet Andy saw he was a bodyguard, a chunky Negro.

“I’m Detective Rusch, 12-A Precinct.”

“My name is Tab Fielding, this is Miss Greene—she lives here. We just came back from shopping a little while ago and I saw the jimmy marks on the door. I came in my myself and went in there.” He jerked his thumb at a nearby closed door. “I found him. Mr.O’Brien. Miss Greene came in a minute later and saw him too. I looked through the whole place but there was no one else here. Miss Shirl—Miss Greene—stayed here in the hall while I went to call the police, we’ve been here ever since. We didn’t touch anything inside.”

Andy glanced back and forth at them and suspected the story was true; it could be checked easily enough with the elevator boy and the doorman. Still, there was no point in taking chances.

“Will you both please come in with me.”

“I don’t want to,” the girl said quickly, her fingers tightening on the sides of the chair. “I don’t want to see him like that again.”

“I’m sorry. But I’m afraid I can’t leave you out here alone.”

She didn’t argue any more, just stood up slowly and brushed at the wrinkles in her gray dress. A very good-looking girl, Andy realized as she walked by him. The bodyguard held the door open and Andy followed them both into the bedroom. Keeping her face turned toward the wall, the girl went quickly to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

“She’ll be all right,” Tab said, noticing the detective’s attention. “She’s a tough enough kid but you can’t blame her for not wanting to see Mr. O’Brien, not like that.”

For the first time Andy looked at the body. He had seen a lot worse. Michael O’Brien was still as impressive in death as he had been in life: sprawled on his back, arms and legs spread wide, mouth agape and eyes open and staring. The length of iron projected from the side of his head and a thin trickle of dark blood ran down the side of his neck to the floor. Andy knelt and touched the bared skin on his forearm; it was very cool. The air-conditioned room would have something to do with that. He stood and looked at the bathroom door.

“Can she hear us in there?” he asked.

“No, sir. It’s soundproofed, the whole apartment is.”

“You said she lives here. What does that mean?”

“She is—was Mr. O’Brien’s girl. She’s got nothing to do with this, no reason to have anything to do with it. He was her cracker and marge—” Realization hit and his shoulders slumped. “Mine too. We both gotta look for a new job now.” He retired into himself, looking with great unhappiness at a suddenly insecure future.

Andy glanced around at the disordered clothing and the splintered dresser. “They could have had a fight before she went out today, she might have done it then.”

“Not Miss Shirl!” Tab’s fists clenched tight. “She’s not the kind of person who could do this sort of thing. When I said tough I meant she could roll with things, you know, get along with the world. She couldn’t of done this. It would have to be before I met her downstairs, I wait for her in the lobby, and she came down today just like she always does. Nice and happy, she couldn’t of acted like that if she had just come from
this.”
He pointed angrily at the mountainous corpse that lay between them.

He didn’t say so but Andy agreed with the bodyguard. A good-looking bird like this one didn’t have to kill anyone. What she did she did for D’s and if a guy gave her too much trouble she’d just walk out and find someone else with money. Not murder.

“What about you, Tab, did you knock the old boy off?”

“Me?” He was surprised, not angry. “I wasn’t even up in the building until I came back with Miss Shirl and found him.” He straightened up with professional pride. “And I’m a bodyguard. I have a contract to protect him. I don’t break contracts. And when I kill anyone it’s not like
that
—that’s no way to kill anyone.”

Every minute in the air-conditioned room made Andy feel better. The drying sweat was cool on his body and the headache was almost gone. He smiled. “Off the record—strictly—I agree with you. But don’t quote me until I make a report. It looks like a break and entry, O’Brien walked in on whoever was burglaring the place and caught that thing in the side of his head.” He glanced down at the silenced figure. “Who was he—what did he do for a living? O’Brien’s a common name.”

“He was in business,” Tab said flatly.

“You’re not telling me much, Fielding. Why don’t you run that through again.”

Tab glanced toward the closed door of the bathroom and shrugged. “I don’t know exactly what he did—and I have enough brains not to bother myself about it. He had something to do with the rackets, politics too. I know he had a lot of top-brass people from City Hall coming here—”

Andy snapped his fingers. “O’Brien—he wouldn’t be Big Mike O’Brien?”

“That’s what they called him.”

“Big Mike … well, there’s no loss then. In fact we could lose a few more like him and not miss any of them.”

“I would n’t know about that.” Tab looked straight ahead, his face expressionless.

“Relax. You’re not working for him any more. Your contract has just been canceled.”

“I been paid to the end of the month. I’ll finish my job.”

“It was finished at the same time as the guy on the floor. I think you better look after the girl instead.”

“I’m going to do that.” His face relaxed and he glanced at the detective. “It’s not going to be easy for her.”

“She’ll get by,” Andy said flatly. He took out his notepad and stylo. “I’ll talk to her now, I need a complete report. Stick around the apartment until I see her and the building employees. If their stories back you up there’ll be no reason to keep you.”

When he was alone with the body, Andy took the polythene evidence bag from his pocket and worked it down over the iron without touching it, then pulled the weapon free of the skull by holding on to it through the bag, as low down as possible; it came away easily enough and there was only a slow trickle of blood from the wound. He sealed the bag, then took a pillowcase from the bed and dropped the bag and tire iron into this. There would be no complaints now if he carried the bloody iron in the street—and if he worked it right he could get to keep the pillowcase. He spread a sheet over the body before knocking on the bathroom door.

Shirl opened the door a few inches and looked out at him. “I want to talk to you,” he said, then remembered the body on the floor behind him. “Is there another room—?”

“The living room. I’ll show you.”

She opened the door all the way and came out, once more
walking close to the wall without looking down at the floor. Tab was sitting in the hall, and he watched them silently as they passed.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Shirl said. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” She went into the kitchen.

Andy sat on the couch, it was very soft, and put his notepad on his knee. Another air-conditioner hummed in the window and the floor-to-ceiling curtains were closed almost all the way, so that the light was dim and comfortable. The television set was a monster. There were pictures on the walls (they looked like real paintings), books, a dining table and chairs in some kind of red wood. Very nice for someone.

“Do you want a drink?” Shirl called out from the kitchen, holding up a tall glass. “This is vodka.”

“I’m on duty, thanks all the same. Some cold water will do fine.”

She brought the two glasses in on a tray and, instead of handing his glass to him, pressed it against the side of the couch near his hand. When she let go the glass remained there, defying gravity. Andy pulled at it and it came free with a slight tug; he saw that there were rings of metal worked into the glass, so there must be magnets concealed under the fabric. Very elegant. For some reason this annoyed him and, after drinking some of the cold, flavorless water, he put the glass on the floor by his foot.

“I would like to ask you some questions,” he said, making a tick mark on the notepad. “What time did you leave the apartment this morning?”

“Just seven o’clock, that’s when Tab comes on duty. I wanted to do the shopping before it was too hot.”

“Did you lock the door behind you?”

“It’s automatic, it locks itself, there’s no way to leave it open unless you block it with something.”

“Was O’Brien alive when you left?”

She looked up at him angrily. “Of course! He was asleep, snoring. Do you think that I killed him?” The anger in her face turned to pain as she remembered what was lying in the other room; she took a quick gulp from her drink.

Tab’s voice came from the doorway. “When I touched Mr. O’Brien’s body it was still warm. Whoever killed him must have done it just a little while before we came in—”

“Go sit down and don’t come in here again,” Andy said
sharply, without turning his head. He took a sip of the ice water and wondered what he was getting excited about. What difference did it make who had polished off Big Mike? It was a public service. The odds were all against this girl having done it. What motive? He looked at her closely and she caught his eye and turned away, pulling her skirt down over her knees as she did.

“What I think doesn’t matter,” he said, but the words didn’t even satisfy him. “Look, Miss Greene, I’m just a cop doing my job. Tell me what I want to know so I can write it down and give it to the lieutenant, so he can make a report. Personally, I don’t think that you had anything to do with this killing. But I still have to ask the questions.”

It was the first time he had seen her smile and he liked it. Her nose wrinkled and it was a broad friendly grin. She was a cute kid and she would make out, oh yes, she would make out with anyone who had the D’s. He looked back at his notepad and slashed a heavy line under
Big Mike
.

Tab closed the door behind Andy when he left, then waited a few minutes to be sure he wasn’t coming back. When he went into the living room he stood so that he could watch the hall door and would know the moment it was opened.

“Miss Shirl, there’s something you should know.”

She was on her third large drink, but the alcohol did not seem to be having any effect. “What is that?” she asked tiredly.

“I’m not trying to be personal or anything, and I don’t know anything about Mr. O’Brien’s will …”

“You can put your mind at rest. I’ve seen it and everything goes to his sister. I’m not mentioned in it—and neither are you.”

“I wasn’t thinking about myself,” he said coldly, his face suddenly hard. She was sorry at once.

“Please, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just being—I don’t know, bitchy. Everything happening at once like this. Don’t be angry at me, Tab—please …”

“I guess you were being a little bitchy.” He smiled for a moment before he dug into his pocket. “I figured it would be something like that. I have no complaints about Mr. O’Brien as an employer, but he took care of his money. Didn’t throw it around, that’s what I mean. Before the detective came I went through Mr. O’Brien’s wallet. It was in his jacket. I left a few D’s there but I took the rest—here.” He pushed his hand out with a folded wad of bills in it. “It’s yours, yours by right.”

“I couldn’t …”

“You
have
to. Things are going to be rough, Shirl. You’re going to need it more than his family. There’s no record of it. It’s yours by right.”

He put the money on the end table and she looked at it. “I suppose I should. That sister of his has enough without this. But we better split it—”

“No,” he said flatly, just as the dull buzz of the announcer signaled that someone had opened the outer door from the hall.

“Department of Hospitals,” a voice said and Tab could see two men in white uniforms on the TV screen inset near the door. They were carrying a stretcher. He went to let them in.

“How long you gonna be, Charlie?”

“That’s my business—you just hold the fort until I get back,” the doorman grunted, and looked the uniformed guard over with what he liked to think was a military eye. “I seen a lot better-looking gold buttons in my time.”