rs.toomanywomen-第25部分

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　bounced　because　he　wanted　me　around。　The　first　session　with　him　I　stalled　a　little　on　the　ground　that　it　would　be　outrageous　for　me　to　betray　the　confidence　of　a　client；　but　when　he　got　to　the　point　of　a　certain　tone　I　gave　him　everything　that　I　knew　he　would　soon　be　getting　elsewhere　anyway。　I　told　him　all；　or　nearly　all；　about　the　folks　I　had　been　meeting　down　at　Naylor…Kerr；　including；　of　course；　such　details　as　the　impression　Ben　Frenkel　had　been　carrying　around　since　December。　When　I　had　tried　to　loosen　Gwynne　Ferris　up　by　threatening　to　tell　the　cops　all　and　let　them　take　a　crack　at　her　I　hadn't　dreamed　I　would　actually　be　doing　so　within　ten　hours。
　　Cramer　shifted　headquarters　three　times；　taking　me　along。　For　half　an　hour　or　so　he　worked　outdoors　there　on　Thirty…ninth　Street　and　then　moved　inside；　to　the　18th　Precinct　Station　House　on　Fifty…fourth　Street。　Around　three　o'clock　he　moved　again；　to　his　own　hangout；　the　office　of　the　squad　on　Twentieth　Street；　and　an　hour　later　made　another　transfer；　this　time　to　the　office　of　Deputy　missioner　O'Hara　at　Center　Street。　O'Hara　himself　was　there　and　things　had　really　started　to　hum。　I　was　right　in　the　middle　of　it　and　was　even　given　the　pleasure　of　an　interview　with　the　Deputy！　missioner　himself。　From　the　way　he　started　in　on　me　it　was　a　fair　inference　that　he　not　only　regarded　me　as　a　damn　liar　but　also　had　inside　dope　to　the　effect　that　I　had　done　it　all　myself；　and　that　when　I　had　got　home　and　joined　Wolfe　and　Cramer　in　the　office　at　11：30　I　had　just　e；　not　from　a　movie；　but　from　parking　the　murder　car　on　Ninety…fifth　Street。　Since　I　had　already　given　Cramer　all　the　information　I　had　that　could　help　any；　I　thought　I　might　as　well　let　O'Hara　keep　his　illusions　and　fed　him　a　peck　or　more　of　miscellaneous　lies　such　as　I　didn't　know　how　to　drive　a　car　and　in　strict　confidence　I　had　not　been　at　a　movie；　but　in　a　hotel　room　with　the　wife　of　a　prominent　politician　whom　I　would　rather　die　than　name。　Eventually　O'Hara　caught　on　and　there　was　quite　a　scene。
　　Kerr　Naylor's　sister　had　of　course　been　notified；　not　on　the　phone；　but　by　dispatching　Lieutenant　Rowcliff　to　her　house　on　Sixty…seventh　Street。　When　Rowcliff　returned…we　were　then　at　the　18th　Precinct　Station　House…Jasper　Pine　was　with　him；　having　had　his　sleep　broken　into　after　all。　Pine　had　been　taken　by　Rowcliff；　on　their　way；　to　identify　the　body；　and　since　I　knew　from　having　done　it　myself　how　jolly　that　was；　I　didn't　blame　him　for　looking　a　little　pale。　He　didn't　have　the　appearance　of　a　man　overe　by　grief；　but　neither　did　he　look　like　a　top　executive　with　everything　under　control。　Cramer；　having　learned　that　both　he　and　his　wife　disclaimed　any　knowledge　of　Kerr　Naylor's　whereabouts　Friday　evening　and　had　no　idea　of　what　he　might　have　been　doing　on　Thirty…ninth　Street；　spent　only　a　short　time　on　him　and　then　gave　him　back　to　Rowcliff　for　more　talk。　I　spoke　just　sixteen　words　to　him。　As　he　started　away　with　Rowcliff　he　confronted　me　and　demanded；　〃Did　Naylor　tell　you　what　you　reported　to　me？　That　he　knew　who　had　killed　Moore？〃
　　〃Yes；〃　I　said。　〃If　I　had　wanted　to　make　something　up　I　could　have　done　better　than　that。〃
　　Before　the　night　shift　was　through　I　met　other　acquaintances；　after　we　got　down　to　Centre　Street。　Not　Hester　Livsey。　The　dick　who　was　sent　for　her　came　back　with　a　report　that　her　mother；　with　whom　she　lived　in　Brooklyn；　had　stated　that　her　daughter　was　not　there　and　had　not　been　home　that　evening　because　she　had　gone　straight　from　work　to　Grand　Central　to　catch　a　train；　to　spend　the　week…end　with　friends　in　Westport；　Connecticut。　She　had　furnished　the　name　of　the　friends；　and　they　had　been　phoned　to。　No　answer。　But　Cramer　and　his　boys　were　moving　fast　and　in　all　directions。　They　had　phoned　the　Westport　police；　who　had　made　a　call　on　the　friends　and　reported　back　that　Hester　Livsey　was　there；　snug　in　bed；　having　arrived　on　a　train　that　had　reached　Westport　at　one…nine　A。M。　Since　it　takes　around　seventy　minutes；　not　eight　hours；　for　a　train　to　go　from　Grand　Central　to　Westport；　the　caller　had　insisted　on　speaking　to　Miss　Livsey　and　had　done　so。　She　had　stated　that　she　had　decided　to　take　a　later　train　and　that　how　she　had　spent　the　evening　in　New　York　was　her　own　business。　Told　of　the　death　of　Kerr　Naylor；　she　repeated　her　statement；　and　said　that　she　knew　nothing　about　Mr。　Naylor　and　that　her　association　with　him　was　extremely　remote；　since　he　was　head　of　a　large　department　and　she　was　merely　a　stenographer。　Asked　if　she　would　return　to　New　York　in　the　morning　so　the　police　could　talk　with　her；　she　refused；　saying　that　she　couldn't　possibly　tell　them　anything　helpful。
　　There　was　a　report　from　a　sergeant　who　had　had　a　chat　with　Sumner　Hoff　in　his　apartment　in　the　East　Fifties。　Hoff　had　been　able　to　contribute　nothing；　but　was　quite　willing；　as　a　responsible　citizen；　to　cooperate　with　the　police　in　the　investigation　of　a　crime…which　sounded　to　me　like　a　distinct　and　encouraging　improvement　in　his　manners。
　　Bell　ringing　and　door　knocking　had　produced　no　results　at　the　Greenwich　Village　room…and…bath　tenanted　by　Rosa　Bendini。　In　her　case　there　was　no　mother　around　to　get　information　from；　and　no　one　else　in　the　building　knew　where　Rosa　was。　I　had　a　healthy　conviction；　knowing　as　I　do　what　a　liking　for　panionship　can　lead　to；　that　when　Rosa　showed　up　her　mind　would　be　a　blank　as　to　where　she　had　spent　Friday　night；　but　that　was　one　of　the　things　I　didn't　municate　to　Cramer；　not　wanting　to　lower　his　opinion　of　American　womanhood。　They　thought　they　might　find　her　with　her　husband；　where　he　lived　with　his　folks　on　Washington　Heights；　but　no。　Harold　Anthony；　hauled　out　of　bed；　dressed　and　came　down　to　Centre　Street　without　being　asked。　His　story　was　that　he　hadn't　seen　Rosa　since　Wednesday　evening；　when　she　had　left　him　and　me　to　fight　it　out　on　the　sidewalk　in　front　of　Wolfe's　house；　and　as　for　him；　he　didn't　know　Kerr　Naylor　from　Adam；　and　had　spent　Friday　evening　at　a　basketball　game　at　the　Garden；　where　he　had　gone　by　his　lonesome；　and　had　then　walked　all　the　way　home…some　six　miles…to　use　up　energy。
　　I　asked　him；　〃So　you　got　some　energy　back　in　the　short　space　of　forty…eight　hours？　After　what　I　took　out　of　you？〃
　　〃What　the　hell；〃　he　bragged；　〃I'd　forgotten　about　that　the　next　day。　What　do　they　want　Rosa　for？　Are　they　fools　enough　to　think　she　would　kill　a　man？　What　have　they　got？〃
　　He　had　actually　e　clear　down　to　Centre　Street　at　that　time　of　night　through　anxiety　for　his　wife！　Loyalty　is　a　very　fine　thing；　but　it　shouldn't　be　allowed　to　get　the　bit　between　its　teeth。　I　told　him　not　to　worry；　the　cops　were　just　shaking　it　all　through　a　sieve。　Regarding　his　energy；　I　didn't　believe　him。　Three　of　my　kidney　punches　do　not　kill　a　man；　but　neither　do　they　fade　utterly　from　recollection　the　next　day。
　　But　that　was　along　toward　the　end。　Before　that　we　had　had　a　session　with　Ben　Frenkel；　one　of　the　first　things　after　our　arrival　at　O'Hara's　office。　At　the　moment　Cramer　was　seated　at　the　big　desk　and　I　was　standing　behind　him；　looking　over　his　shoulder　at　the　carbon　copy　of　my　reports　to　Naylor…Kerr；　which　I　had　stopped　off　at　Wolfe's　office　to　get。　A　dick　towed　Frenkel　in　and　planted　him　in　a　chair　at　the　end　of　the　desk。　I　had　thought　his　hair　was　undisciplined　when　he　came　to　see　me　on　Thursday；　but　now　no　two　hairs　were　parallel。　He　was　trying　to　look　nowhere　and　at　no　one；　which　really　cannot　be　done　unless　you　go　at　it　with　all　your　might　and　shut　your　eyes。
　　〃Hello　there；〃　I　said。
　　He　returned　no　sign　of　recognition。
　　Cramer　growled　at　him；　〃You're　Benjamin　Frenkel？〃
　　〃Yes；　that's　my　name。〃
　　〃Are　you　under　the　impression　that　you　killed　Kerr　Naylor？〃
　　Frenkel　gawked　at　him；　then　made　another　try　at　looking　at　nothing；　and　did　not　speak。
　　〃Well；　are　you？〃
　　Frenkel　looked　straight　at　me　and　cried；　〃You　rat！　I　told　you　that　in　confidence！〃
　　〃You　did　not；〃　I　denied。　〃I　told　you　I　couldn't　keep　a　confession　of　murder　confidential。〃
　　〃I　didn't　confess　to　a　murder！〃
　　〃Then　do　it　now；〃　Cramer　urged。　〃Confess　now。　e　on；　let's　have　it；　get　it　off　your　chest；　you'll　feel　better。〃
　　That　didn't　work　at　all。　Put　straight　that　way；　an　invitation　to　con