Give the Boys a Great Big Hand
- Автор: Хантер Эван
- Серия: 87th Precinct #11
- Год: 1960
- Язык: английский
- Год: Simon & Schuster
- Жанр: Полицейские детективы
Электронная книга - «Give the Boys a Great Big Hand». Краткое содержание книги:
“Hey!” he yelled after the bus. “You forgot your bag!”
Genera picked up the bag — a small, blue overnight bag issued by an airline. He unzipped the bag and reached into it. Then he gripped the bus-stop sign for support.
The bag held... a severed human hand.
The police lab gave both bag and hand a thorough examination and discovered next to nothing. Steve Carella, Cotton Hawes, Meyer Meyer and the other 87th Precinct detectives had a murderer to find, and they had to begin without even knowing who the victim was.
The Missing Persons Bureau files supplied two leads, both of which led nowhere.
Everything that looked even faintly like a clue was checked and double-checked and they all led to the same place — a dead end.
Then, when the break finally came and several clues turned up at once, they neatly contradicted each other. It was the toughest case the 87th Precinct detectives had ever faced.
“There are a few things we’d like to know, Mr. Androvich,” Carella said.
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“To begin with, where were you between February fourteenth and Monday when you came back to this house?”
“That’s my business,” Androvich said. “Next question.”
Carella was silent for a moment.
“Are you going to answer our questions here, Mr. Androvich, or shall we go up to the squadroom where you might become a little more talkative?”
“You going to use a rubber hose on me? Man, I’ve been worked over with a hose before. You don’t scare me.”
“You going to tell us where you were?”
“I told you that’s my business.”
“Okay, get dressed.”
“What the hell for? You can’t arrest me without a charge.”
“I’ve got a whole bagful of charges. You’re withholding information from the police. You’re an accessory before a murder. You’re—”
“A what? A murder? Are you out of your bloody mind?”
“Get dressed Androvich. I don’t want to play around.”
“Okay,” Androvich said angrily. “I was on the town.”
“On the town where?”
“Everywhere. Bars. I was drinking.”
“Why?”
“I felt like it.”
“Did you know your wife had reported you missing?”
“No. How the hell was I supposed to have known that?”
“Why didn’t you call her?”
“What are you, a marriage counselor? I didn’t feel like calling her, okay?”
“He didn’t have to call me if he didn’t feel like it,” Meg said from the stove. “He’s home now. Why don’t you all leave him alone?”
“Keep out of this, Meg,” Androvich warned.
“Which bars did you go to?” Hawes asked.
“I went all over the city. I don’t remember the names of the bars.”
“Did you go to a place called The King and Queen?”
“No.”
“I thought you didn’t remember the names.”
“I don’t.”
“Then how do you know you didn’t go to The King and Queen?”
“It doesn’t sound familiar.” A slight tic had begun in Androvich’s left eye.
“Does the name Bubbles Caesar sound familiar?”
“No.”
“Or Barbara Cesare?”
“No,” Androvich answered, the muscle of his eye jerking.
“How about Marla Phillips?”
“Never heard of her.”
“How about this phone number, Androvich? Sperling 7-0200. Mean anything to you?”
“No.” The eye muscle was twitching wildly now.
“Mrs. Androvich,” Carella said, “I think you’d better leave the room.”
“Why?”
“We’re about to pull out a few skeletons. Go on in the other room.”
“My wife can hear anything you’ve got to say,” Androvich said.
“Okay. Sperling 7-0200 is the telephone number of three girls who share an apartment. One of them is named—”
“Go on in the other room, M-M-Meg,” Androvich said.
“I want to stay here.”
“Do what I t-t-tell you to do.”
“Why is he asking you about that phone number? What have you got to do with those three—?”
“G-G-Get the hell in the other room, Meg, before I slap you silly. Now do what I say!”
Meg Androvich stared at her husband sullenly, and then went out of the kitchen.
“Damn S-S-S-Southern t-t-trash,” Androvich muttered under his breath, the stammering more marked now, the tic beating at the corner of his eye.
“You ready to tell us a few things, Androvich?”
“Okay. I knew her.”
“Bubbles?”
“Bubbles.”
“How well did you know her?”
“Very well.”
“How well is that, Androvich?”
“You want a d-d-diagram?”
“If you’ve got one.”
“We were making it together. Okay?”
“Okay. When did you last see her?”
“February twelfth.”
“You remember the date pretty easily.”
“I ought to.”
“What does that mean?”
“I... look, what the hell d-d-difference does all this make? The last time I saw her was on the t-t-twelfth. Last month. I haven’t seen her since.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m positive.”
“You sure you haven’t been with her all this time?”
“I’m sure. Man, I wish I had been with her. I was supposed—” Androvich cut himself off.
“Supposed to do what?” Hawes asked.
“N-N-Nothing.”
“You called her on the twelfth after your ship docked, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“And you saw her afterwards?”
“Yes, but only for about a half-hour or so.”
“That morning?”
“No. It was in the afternoon.”
“Where’d you see her?”
“At her p-p-p-place.”
“Was anybody else there? Either of her roommates?”
“No. I never met her roommates.”
“But you spoke to them on the telephone?”
“Yeah. I spoke to one of them.”
“Marla Phillips?”
“I d-d-don’t know which one it was.”
“Did you speak to the roommate on the morning of the twelfth?”
“Yeah. I spoke to her, and then she called B-B-Bubbles to the phone.”
“And then you went to the apartment that afternoon, right?”
“Right. For a half-hour.”
“And then what?”
“Then I left. One of the r-r-r-roommates was supposed to be coming back. That d-d-damn place is like the middle of Main Street.”
“And you haven’t seen her since that afternoon?”
“That’s right.”
“Have you tried to contact her?”
Androvich hesitated. Then he said, “No.”
“How come?”
“I just haven’t. I figure she must have gone back to Kansas City.”
“What makes you figure that?”
“I just figure. She isn’t around, is she?”
“How do you know?”
“Huh?”
“If you haven’t tried contacting her, how do you know she isn’t around?”
“Well, m-m-maybe I did try to reach her once or twice.”
“When?”
“I don’t remember. During the past few weeks.”
“And you couldn’t reach her?”
“No.”
“Who did you reach?”
“The g-g-goddamn answering service.”
“Now, let’s go back a little, Androvich. You said you visited Miss Caesar in her apartment on the afternoon of the twelfth. All right, why?”
“I wanted to talk to her.”
“What about?”
“Various things.”
“Like what? Come on, Androvich, let’s stop the teeth-pulling!”
“What d-d-difference does it make to you guys?”
“It may make a lot of difference. Miss Caesar has disappeared. We’re trying to find her.”
“You’re telling me she’s disappeared! Boy, has she disappeared! Well, I d-d-don’t know where she is. If I did know—” Again, he cut himself off.
“If you did know, then what?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you talk about that afternoon?”
“Nothing.”
“You spent a half-hour talking about nothing, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you go to bed with her that afternoon?”
“No. I told you her r-r-roommate was expected back.”
“So you just sat and looked at each other, right?”
“More or less.”
“Get dressed, Androvich. We’re going to have to take a little ride.”