The Big Money by Harold Q. Masur

Author:Harold Q. Masur
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: OCR, Crime
ISBN: 9780425019061
Publisher: Dell
Published: 1953-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

14

It was daylight before they finished with me.

That was one night I would like to forget.

They had descended on my apartment in force, civil servants and elected officials, from laboratory boys to the District Attorney himself, who had been rudely snatched from a political shindig at the Waldorf. He'd been in fine fettle too, slightly lubricated, exuding an aroma of rare scotch and Havana cigars, his manner cynical, ironic, and slightly incredulous. There has never been and probably never will be a time when the presence of the Rt. Hon. Philip Lohman would afford me the slightest degree of pleasure.

But there was very little he could learn.

From me—nothing.

From the building superintendent, only that he had admitted Lydia Tallant to my apartment with a passkey on her representation that she was an important client of mine and had an appointment. He refused to acknowledge receipt of a gratuity, but I knew how neatly and quickly he must have fielded the bill.

Lieutenant Nola had made an unsuccessful attempt to trace Lydia Tallant’s movements earlier that evening. Cassidy said she had called the office several times and seemed anxious to speak with me. My own alibi had been checked and scrutinized through a microscope. Dr. Pike of the Medical Examiner’s office had given the remains a perfunctory examination and signed a DOA form. His tentative conclusion was death by strangulation.

It was dawn before the boys came to haul her away, and the sun was high by the time the last of the cops had trooped out.

Lieutenant Nola was on his way to see the victim’s husband.

The District Attorney went home to bed.

I managed two hours of sleep broken by nightmares and tossing. It isn't every day you find a dead woman at home in your living room.

The phone woke me up for good. I answered and it was Ellen, her voice blurred on a very bad connection.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"At the City Prison. I read the morning papers and came down here to see you."

"Me?"

"I thought you'd been arrested."

"Why, bless your heart! Will you visit me regularly at Sing Sing if they ship me over?"

"Once a week. With home-made cookies."

"Hold on while I go out and commit a crime."

"Scott." Her voice was grave and subdued.

"Yes?"

"I’ve decided to take your advice."

I was silent for a moment. It was a wise decision, but I didn’t see where she had much choice. I had no intention of keeping her secret another twenty-four hours. And if I went to the cops first, she'd be in a jam for suppressing evidence helpful to the solution of a homicide.

I said, "I’m proud of you."

"What shall I do, Scott?"

"Get the money, take it back to your apartment, call Lieutenant Nola at Watkins 9-8241, and tell him you just found it. He'll do the rest."

"All right. When will I see you?”

"Later. I’ll drop in at the store. You'll be there?"

"Yes."

"By the way, do you remember the address on Leopold Stack’s announcement? I'd like to see him."

"Why don’t you call Information? They have a record of all new listings.

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