Brass Rainbow by Michael Collins Page B

until one A.M. that night, so it was after that.”
    â€œHe was giving you his story about looking for Weiss.”
    â€œI don’t know that he wasn’t,” Gazzo said. “Weiss admits he got to Baron around one-thirty A.M. He says he left around two-thirty. The taxi driver remembers the long haul out to Jamaica Bay, and the super at the place remembers Weiss because of the drunk he was battling when Weiss passed him going out. No one saw Baron alive again.”
    â€œExcept maybe the girl.”
    â€œWe’re bringing her in now. I hope she can clear Weiss.”
    â€œWhat about the shots? Anyone hear them?”
    â€œIt was the Village, Dan. Ten people heard something like shots, ranging between nine and four A.M. Who knows?”
    â€œWhat about the knife and the gun?”
    â€œDon’t fence with me, Dan. Those weapons are in the river, or in Jamacia Bay. We’ll never find them unless Weiss tells us where he threw them.”
    â€œI don’t like a frame that turns into a real murder.”
    â€œIf the first killing is a frame,” Gazzo said. “Let’s say it is. Okay, that’s just what I do like. It gives Weiss a double motive to kill Baron.” He leaned across the desk. “Look, Dan, if Weiss didn’t kill Baron, you’re stuck with only two other explanations, both beauties. Maybe it was two frame-ups of the same man by two different parties, which is some coincidence to hand the D.A. Or maybe Baron worked out a double frame-up that hinged on himself getting killed! Now there’s a theory.”
    I said nothing. What could I say? I was sure Baron had been trying to frame Weiss for Radford’s murder. Only now Weiss was on the hook for Baron’s killing, and it didn’t figure that a man would frame someone for his own murder! The D.A. would have a field day with that. The way it was now, the more I proved that Baron had been framing Weiss for Radford, the worse it was going to look for Weiss as Baron’s killer.
    Gazzo was watching me squirm mentally, when his pretty sergeant came in to announce that Carla Devine was outside.
    â€œSend her in,” Gazzo said.
    She came in slow, taking a little two-step as if pushed. She was a lovely little creature: small, dark, with ivory skin, a madonna face, and eyes as big as a dark satin bed. The eyes were frightened. She held her handbag in both hands like a child holding a schoolbag.
    â€œSit down, Miss Devine,” Gazzo said.
    She perched. Her mini-skirt left little unseen. She had young, hard, fresh legs. I looked. Gazzo didn’t. That seemed to scare her more. Men usually stared at her legs.
    â€œTell me where you were Wednesday night, Miss Devine?”
    â€œWednesday?” She watched Gazzo’s face. “Gee, I think I was with Paul.”
    â€œPaul Baron?” Dark lines grooved between Gazzo’s eyes. He was surprised. So was I. I was also hopeful.
    â€œWe went to dinner. Sure, that was Wednesday,” she said.
    â€œAnd after dinner?” Gazzo said.
    â€œHe took me home. He had to go somewhere.”
    â€œWhere is home?”
    â€œUniversity Place. Number 47, apartment 12-C.”
    â€œWhat time did he take you home?”
    â€œMaybe ten-thirty. He had to go somewhere by eleven.”
    â€œHe went to see me,” Gazzo said. “He left here about one A.M. Where did he pick you up after that?”
    She fluttered her lashes. “You mean that same night? He didn’t pick me up again. He hasn’t been around since he took me home Wednesday. Paul’s like that. He comes, he goes.”
    â€œYou didn’t see Baron after ten-thirty Wednesday night?” Gazzo said. “You’re sure? We’ll find out, Miss Devine.”
    â€œI didn’t, honest. Has … has Paul done something?”
    I leaned toward her. “You were with Baron in his Fifth Street apartment at one-thirty Wednesday night. You saw Baron pay