“That this man had come to see Mr Hale three times in a row…”
“Well, not in a row. He came once at the beginning of September, again around the fifteenth, and the third time about a week later.”
“To make an offer for whatever it was Mr Hale had.”
“Yes.”
“Three times.”
“Yes. Was my impression from what I heard.”
“And Mr Hale kept refusing to give him whatever this was.”
“Told the man to stop bothering him.”
“How did the man react to this?”
“He threatened Mr Hale.”
“When was this?”
“The last time he was here.”
“Which was when? Can you give us some idea of the date?”
“I know it was a holiday.”
Brown was already looking at his calendar.
“Not Labor Day,” he said.
“No, no, much later.”
“Only other holiday in September was Yom Kippur.”
“Then that’s when it was,” Mrs Kipp said.
“September twentieth.”
“That’s the last time he came here.”
The room went silent. Again, as Mrs Kipp had promised, they could hear all the noises of the building, unseen, secret, almost furtive. In the silence, they became aware again of the baneful stink from the pot boiling on the kitchen stove.
“And you say he threatened Mr Hale?” Brown asked.
“Told him he’d be sorry, yes. Said they’d get what they wanted one way or another.”
“‘They’? Was that the word he used? ‘They’?”
“Pardon?”
“‘They’d’ get what they wanted?”
“Yes. I’m pretty sure he said ‘they.’”
“What was it he wanted?” Brown said again.
“Well, I’m sure I don’t know,” Mrs Kipp said, and got up to go stir her pot again.
“Danny told me this man was boasting about having received five grand,”
Carella said.
“Oh, I think he was making all that up,” Hopwell said.
“Making what up?”
“The five thousand dollars.”
“Why would he do that?”
“To impress me.”
“Told you somebody had given him five thousand dollars…”
“Well, yes, but he was making it up.”
“Five thousand dollars to kill somebody.”
“No, he didn’t say that.”
“What did he say?”
“I hardly remember. We were drinking a lot.”
“Did he tell you there was an old man…”
“Yes.”
“Who had something somebody else wanted…”
“Well, yes, but that was all make-believe.”
“The old man was make-believe?”
“Oh, I think so.”
“Someone wanting him dead was make-believe?”
“John had an active imagination.”
“Someone willing to pay five thousand dollars to kill this old man and make it look like an accident…”
“I didn’t believe a word of it.”
“But it’s what he told you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, to impress me.”
“I see. To impress you. Did he give you a strip of roofers when you left the hotel?”
“As a matter of fact, he did. But roofers aren’t a controlled substance.”
“Mr Hopwell, if I told you that an old man was drugged with Rohypnol and later hanged to make it look like a suicide, would you still believe John Bridges was trying to impress you when he told you he’d been paid five thousand…”
“He didn’t say exactly that. You’re putting words in my mouth.”
What’d he put in your mouth? Ollie wondered.
“What did he say, exactly?” Meyer asked.
“He was telling a story. He was saying suppose a person had been offered a certain amount of money…”
“Five thousand dollars.”
“Yes, he mentioned that sum. But it was all supposition. He was making up a story.”
“A story about someone who was offered five grand to kill someone…”
“He never used that word. He never said the word ‘kill.’ I’d have been out of there in a minute. He was just bragging. To impress me.”
“What word did he use?”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t the word ‘kill,’ he never said anything about killing anyone. Listen, who remembers what he said? We were drinking a lot.”
“And smoking a lot of pot, too, is that right?”
“Well, a little.”
“Which is a controlled substance.”
“Haven’t you ever smoked pot, Detective?”
“Did he mention any names?” Meyer asked.
“No.”
“Didn’t say which old man he’d been hired to…”
“It was just a story.”
“Didn’t say who had hired him to kill this old man?”
“A good story, that was all.”
“Didn’t say who had given him the five grand he later used as his stake in the poker game…”
“He was just a terrific storyteller,” Hopwell said.
“You didn’t think you should call the police after you heard this terrific story, huh?” Carella said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Don’t you read the papers, Mr Hopwell?”
“Only for items about the reverend.”
“How about television? Don’t you watch television?”
“Again, only to…”
“So when John Bridges told you he’d been paid five thousand dollars to kill an old man and make it look like…”
“He never used the word ‘kill.’ I told you that.”
“Whatever word or words he used, you never made a connection between what he was saying and a man named Andrew Hale, who’d been all over television that week?”
“Never. I still don’t make any connection. I don’t know anything about this old man you say was killed. Look, I told you John’s name, I told you where he was staying. If he did something wrong, you’ll have to take that up with him.”
“What else can you tell us about him?”
“He had a scar down the left-hand side of his face.”
“What kind of scar?”
“It looked like a knife scar.”
