room.
‘Look, madam,’ Reynolds whispered and pointed..
Amelia regarded the heap of clothes lying by the furnace. She recognized her husband’s golf ball jacket which Crispin had taken a liking to and often wore, also Crispin’s grey slacks, his blue and white check shirt and his suede shoes. She stared with mounting horror at the unmistakable bloodstains. There was a sheet of paper pinned to the jacket. In Crispin’s artistic writing was the message: Destroy these clothes immediately.
They looked at each other, then Amelia turned and stumbled up the stairs and back into the lounge. Reynolds hurried into his room and poured himself a vast Scotch.
He swallowed the drink, then went unsteadily to the lounge.
Amelia was staring transfixed at the T.V. screen. Pete Hamilton was talking. Like statues, Amelia and Reynolds listened to Hamilton’s lurid description of the finding of Janie Bandler’s mutilated body.
‘Someone must be shielding this maniac,’ he concluded. ‘His clothes must be heavily blood stained.’ To Amelia, Hamilton seemed to be staring directly at her. ‘I earnestly ask whoever it is who is giving this dangerous maniac sanctuary—whether wife, mother, father or friend—to communicate immediately with the police. This vicious maniac could strike again! Until he is apprehended, no woman in our city is safe.’
Shaking, Reynolds turned off the set.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Amelia moaned. ‘God! If Crispin did this! No! He would never do such a thing!’ Then she recalled those dreadful paintings in Crispin’s studio, and she shuddered. ‘Reynolds! We must say nothing! If he has done this dreadful thing, I couldn’t face the disgrace! My friends! They would all desert me! What would my life become? I won’t believe it!’ Then stiffening, she looked wildly at Reynolds. ‘Get rid of those clothes! Burn them! Do it now!’
It was at this moment that Lepski and Jacoby arrived.
* * *
The following morning, Max Jacoby called on Mr. Levine, the tailor and borrowed one of his golf ball button jackets. He then drove to the Salvation Army depot and talked to Jim Craddock who was in charge of distributing the many gifts sent in by the city’s rich.
Craddock was emphatic that the jacket had not been sent with Cyrus Gregg’s other clothes.
‘I would have remembered a jacket like this,’ he said.
‘No. I didn’t receive it.’
‘This is important, Mr. Craddock,’ Jacoby said. ‘Are you absolutely certain this jacket wasn’t among Mr. Gregg’s clothes?’
Craddock nodded.
‘I am absolutely certain Mr. Gregg’s clothes were so good, I sold them to a clothes dealer and the money went to our fund. They were far too good to give away, and this jacket was not among them.’
While this was going on, Lepski drove to Ken Brandon’s home. He arrived at 08.15.
Ken was preparing to go to the office. Surprised at the long ring on his front door bell, he opened the door to find Lepski.
Panic again gripped him. Ken had imagined since no buttons were missing on his jacket, Lepski would no longer bother him.
‘Morning, Mr. Brandon,’ Lepski said in his cop voice.
‘I’ve been checking on these buttons. Mr. Levine tells me he supplied a duplicate set with every jacket. I would like to check the duplicate set you have.’
The blood receded from Ken’s face.
‘Duplicate buttons?’ he repeated. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t help you. I don’t remember Levine giving me a duplicate set.’
‘He says he did!’ Lepski barked.
‘My wife looks after that kind of things She’s in Atlanta right now. Her father has had a heart attack. She would know. I’ve got to get to work. When I return home I’ll look, but I don’t remember any duplicates.’
‘This is important, Mr. Brandon. Will you look and let me know?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘I’m checking all duplicate buttons. Levine is sure he gave you a set,’ Lepski went on. ‘I’ve checked all the other owners of these
‘Look, madam,’ Reynolds whispered and pointed..
Amelia regarded the heap of clothes lying by the furnace. She recognized her husband’s golf ball jacket which Crispin had taken a liking to and often wore, also Crispin’s grey slacks, his blue and white check shirt and his suede shoes. She stared with mounting horror at the unmistakable bloodstains. There was a sheet of paper pinned to the jacket. In Crispin’s artistic writing was the message: Destroy these clothes immediately.
They looked at each other, then Amelia turned and stumbled up the stairs and back into the lounge. Reynolds hurried into his room and poured himself a vast Scotch.
He swallowed the drink, then went unsteadily to the lounge.
Amelia was staring transfixed at the T.V. screen. Pete Hamilton was talking. Like statues, Amelia and Reynolds listened to Hamilton’s lurid description of the finding of Janie Bandler’s mutilated body.
‘Someone must be shielding this maniac,’ he concluded. ‘His clothes must be heavily blood stained.’ To Amelia, Hamilton seemed to be staring directly at her. ‘I earnestly ask whoever it is who is giving this dangerous maniac sanctuary—whether wife, mother, father or friend—to communicate immediately with the police. This vicious maniac could strike again! Until he is apprehended, no woman in our city is safe.’
Shaking, Reynolds turned off the set.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Amelia moaned. ‘God! If Crispin did this! No! He would never do such a thing!’ Then she recalled those dreadful paintings in Crispin’s studio, and she shuddered. ‘Reynolds! We must say nothing! If he has done this dreadful thing, I couldn’t face the disgrace! My friends! They would all desert me! What would my life become? I won’t believe it!’ Then stiffening, she looked wildly at Reynolds. ‘Get rid of those clothes! Burn them! Do it now!’
It was at this moment that Lepski and Jacoby arrived.
* * *
The following morning, Max Jacoby called on Mr. Levine, the tailor and borrowed one of his golf ball button jackets. He then drove to the Salvation Army depot and talked to Jim Craddock who was in charge of distributing the many gifts sent in by the city’s rich.
Craddock was emphatic that the jacket had not been sent with Cyrus Gregg’s other clothes.
‘I would have remembered a jacket like this,’ he said.
‘No. I didn’t receive it.’
‘This is important, Mr. Craddock,’ Jacoby said. ‘Are you absolutely certain this jacket wasn’t among Mr. Gregg’s clothes?’
Craddock nodded.
‘I am absolutely certain Mr. Gregg’s clothes were so good, I sold them to a clothes dealer and the money went to our fund. They were far too good to give away, and this jacket was not among them.’
While this was going on, Lepski drove to Ken Brandon’s home. He arrived at 08.15.
Ken was preparing to go to the office. Surprised at the long ring on his front door bell, he opened the door to find Lepski.
Panic again gripped him. Ken had imagined since no buttons were missing on his jacket, Lepski would no longer bother him.
‘Morning, Mr. Brandon,’ Lepski said in his cop voice.
‘I’ve been checking on these buttons. Mr. Levine tells me he supplied a duplicate set with every jacket. I would like to check the duplicate set you have.’
The blood receded from Ken’s face.
‘Duplicate buttons?’ he repeated. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t help you. I don’t remember Levine giving me a duplicate set.’
‘He says he did!’ Lepski barked.
‘My wife looks after that kind of things She’s in Atlanta right now. Her father has had a heart attack. She would know. I’ve got to get to work. When I return home I’ll look, but I don’t remember any duplicates.’
‘This is important, Mr. Brandon. Will you look and let me know?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘I’m checking all duplicate buttons. Levine is sure he gave you a set,’ Lepski went on. ‘I’ve checked all the other owners of these
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