The Chinese Doll полностью

“Build it this way: the night before the hit-and-run business this gambler got hold of Evans and pumped him full of stuff, pure stuff. He sold Evans some cock and bull story to the general effect that they were in for trouble in Boone. It doesn’t matter what it was. It could have been anything that sounded sincere, anything that sounded as though the cops were framing a rap on one or the both of them in order to hit at the gambling joint in the barn.”

“Keep going.” It sounded fairly good.

“The yarn was sincere enough to keep Evans over there all night with his ‘friend.’ Plotting all sorts of ways to beat the rap, who knows? Who cares? Point is, Evans was kept separated from Leonore.

“Meanwhile the friend sent Leonore a forged note and gave her the brush-off. He mentioned the bracelet not only because it would be the added insult to injury, but because it was the clincher. It made the note sound authentic. I have a hunch Evans gave that bracelet to Leonore as a sort of wedding ring. Now put yourself in her place. What would you do if the louse suddenly dropped you cold and demanded his ‘wedding ring’ back?”

“I’d shoot the stinker.”

“Damned right you would. You’d put a gun in your pocket, get in the car and start hunting for the guy. And if you found him in a nice position while you were behind the wheel of the car, you wouldn’t bother with the gun. Nor would you stop to ask ‘Darling, why did you do this to me?’ You’d do just what Leonore did. And you’d play right into the gambler’s hands. As Leonore did.

“She runs to him. And that evening he puts her to driving the taxi. Risky business sure, but it’s dark, and the customers probably expect to be picked up by a woman. Perhaps this sister, Eleanor, had been doing the driving but he also wanted to keep the two of them apart. So when Leonore comes to him he tells Eleanor to stay in Croyden. Leonore drives; she picks you up by mistake, and you, damned fool that you are, let the guy know she talked to you.”

I said very slowly: “That’s something that was beginning to seep in.” And I didn’t like the thought behind it.

“Don’t take it too hard, Chuck. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“How did you mean it?”

“You didn’t kill her by talking out of turn. You helped, because he couldn’t know what she had said to you, but you didn’t kill her. Look: she was a dead pigeon the minute she drove Evans’ car out to this barn, after running down Evans.

“See that? See how she upset his careful applecart? He had supposed she would come back to Croyden afterwards; or run away; or just disappear somewhere. He didn’t expect her to come running to him for a second time.”

“But if she had run away somewhere?”

“Then that would have been the last of it until if and when she was caught. Of course he would have come forth with a lawyer — Ashley, probably — and put up a beautiful, anonymous legal battle for her. Anything to sell her the idea he was on her side. Out of loyalty she would have kept her mouth shut. And no one would ever know Evans hadn’t sent the note, and that would be the end of the unpleasant business. All very slick.”

“How about the guy who actually carried the note?”

“He was told it came from Evans. After all, Evans was probably at the barn all night.

“But as it happened, things didn’t go exactly as the gambler had planned. Instead, Leonore makes the fatal mistake of going to him for help once more. She drove Evans’ car, in broad daylight, to Evans’ partner and asks him to do something. Presto, she was a dead pigeon.

“The friend helped her. He puts her to bed. He has to. He can’t turn her over to the police as the hit-and-run driver because all she has to do is open her red mouth and his house of cards comes tumbling down.

“He can’t give her a roll of bills and say, ‘Get the devil out of here, you little fool,’ because that not only would make him an accessory after the fact when she was caught, it would also tell her he, too, had turned against her. His giving her get-away money would be the only tie to bind him to Evans’ death. And out of his sight and sound, she could be made to talk.

“No, Horne, when she came running to him that second time he had to protect her to protect himself. For the time being. Which, of course, meant silencing her. And then you come stumbling along. You may or may not have advanced the time of Leonore’s death; I personally doubt it. But that night she ‘drowned.’ ”

After a long five minutes Liebscher broke the silence that held the office.

“I think he’s right, chum.”

“I think so too, now,” I seconded. “It covers just about all the exposed points.”

“I’m willing to bet money on it,” Rothman rumbled.

Liebscher turned to me, “What are we going to do with your shadow?”

The man was still lounging in the doorway across the street. He watched the doorway where Liebscher tied his laces.

“My shadow!”

“Why not? He didn’t want to follow me when I went out. Rothman and me, we live here. You’re the stranger in town. And you have been busy — not us.”