think?”
Alfred walked over to a chair. I noticed the lithe spring to his step and the careful poise of his body. He turned at the chair, looked at the Inspector a moment and sat down.
In a low, very slow voice he said, “She may have come up here.”
Gavigan’s calm was professional. “Let’s hear about it.” LaClaire seemed to be having trouble finding the words and Gavigan helped out. “She do that often?”
The expressions on LaClaire’s face were a mixed lot and not easily sorted. He said, “I’ve reason to think so, yes.”
“And last night? Just what makes you think she came here?”
Alfred looked up at him. And suddenly began talking fast, as if trying to get it over.
“She phoned Sabbat from the club last night. I heard her. When she thought I’d gone, I was outside the door, and I heard her say, ‘Cesare, I’m coming up.’ ”
“What else?”
“That’s all. It was enough. I went out and got plastered. I’ve known about it for some time. I guess it’s no secret by now. What I can’t understand is why she wants to play around with that old goat. If she has to sleep out like an alley cat, she might at least…” He leaned forward suddenly and put conviction in his voice. “But she wouldn’t have killed him, Inspector. I know that.”
Somehow I had a definite impression that, on the contrary, he thought her quite capable of it.
“And yet,” Gavigan said, “you go on living with her. Why is that, Mr. LaClaire?”
He felt in his pockets for a cigarette but found none. Merlini offered his pack. LaClaire took one. “Thanks, Merlini. You explain it to him, will you? I think you understand.”
Merlini nodded and then spoke to the Inspector in a flat, noncommittal voice. “Mr. and Mrs. LaClaire’s act, Inspector, consists in apparent extra-sensory communication. Mental telepathy or clairvoyance or both, depending on how you look at it. That sort of act is the result of long practice and close cooperation. The two members of such a team must have worked together so consistently as to have acquired the ability of almost predicting each other’s actions and thoughts. Breaking in a new partner is a tedious, highly speculative job. And since one can’t earn while one learns, there would be no income during the process. I think you get the idea.”
Gavigan said, “Bring her in, Malloy.”
LaClaire looked up quickly. “Listen, I’ve got to know. Was Sabbat killed last night? ”
Gavigan nodded, “Yes.”
“When?”
“That’s one of the questions I’m supposed to ask.”
“You’re going to tell her I said she might have come up here?”
“If necessary, yes. I’ve got to know if she did.”
“I’d better warn you, then.” LaClaire spoke quickly. “I’ll deny it. You’ve had your hint. Use the information any way you like, but don’t ask me to back you up. Understand?”
The Inspector glanced toward Quinn bending over his notebook at the desk.
“Yes,” LaClaire said, “I know, you’ve got it on paper, but I haven’t signed it. And I won’t.”
Merlini, behind LaClaire, was frantically trying to signal the Inspector, jerking with his thumb toward the bedroom.
Gavigan scowled. “Brady, take Mr. LaClaire into the next room.”
LaClaire didn’t move from his chair until Gavigan added, “Come on, snap into it.” Then he stood up and walked out. Brady closed the door behind them.
“What’s all this thumb jerking about?” Gavigan asked suspiciously.
“The general underlying theory is that telepathists, even pseudo ones, should be questioned separately. Even then, you never know. Those two could toss hints, whole paragraphs even, back and forth right under your nose and you wouldn’t catch them at it. Not sure I could follow through myself. They all have their own variations…”
We heard Malloy’s voice. “This way, please.” Merlini stopped, watching the door.
Zelma LaClaire came in, walking toward us with considerable self-assurance and rather
Alfred walked over to a chair. I noticed the lithe spring to his step and the careful poise of his body. He turned at the chair, looked at the Inspector a moment and sat down.
In a low, very slow voice he said, “She may have come up here.”
Gavigan’s calm was professional. “Let’s hear about it.” LaClaire seemed to be having trouble finding the words and Gavigan helped out. “She do that often?”
The expressions on LaClaire’s face were a mixed lot and not easily sorted. He said, “I’ve reason to think so, yes.”
“And last night? Just what makes you think she came here?”
Alfred looked up at him. And suddenly began talking fast, as if trying to get it over.
“She phoned Sabbat from the club last night. I heard her. When she thought I’d gone, I was outside the door, and I heard her say, ‘Cesare, I’m coming up.’ ”
“What else?”
“That’s all. It was enough. I went out and got plastered. I’ve known about it for some time. I guess it’s no secret by now. What I can’t understand is why she wants to play around with that old goat. If she has to sleep out like an alley cat, she might at least…” He leaned forward suddenly and put conviction in his voice. “But she wouldn’t have killed him, Inspector. I know that.”
Somehow I had a definite impression that, on the contrary, he thought her quite capable of it.
“And yet,” Gavigan said, “you go on living with her. Why is that, Mr. LaClaire?”
He felt in his pockets for a cigarette but found none. Merlini offered his pack. LaClaire took one. “Thanks, Merlini. You explain it to him, will you? I think you understand.”
Merlini nodded and then spoke to the Inspector in a flat, noncommittal voice. “Mr. and Mrs. LaClaire’s act, Inspector, consists in apparent extra-sensory communication. Mental telepathy or clairvoyance or both, depending on how you look at it. That sort of act is the result of long practice and close cooperation. The two members of such a team must have worked together so consistently as to have acquired the ability of almost predicting each other’s actions and thoughts. Breaking in a new partner is a tedious, highly speculative job. And since one can’t earn while one learns, there would be no income during the process. I think you get the idea.”
Gavigan said, “Bring her in, Malloy.”
LaClaire looked up quickly. “Listen, I’ve got to know. Was Sabbat killed last night? ”
Gavigan nodded, “Yes.”
“When?”
“That’s one of the questions I’m supposed to ask.”
“You’re going to tell her I said she might have come up here?”
“If necessary, yes. I’ve got to know if she did.”
“I’d better warn you, then.” LaClaire spoke quickly. “I’ll deny it. You’ve had your hint. Use the information any way you like, but don’t ask me to back you up. Understand?”
The Inspector glanced toward Quinn bending over his notebook at the desk.
“Yes,” LaClaire said, “I know, you’ve got it on paper, but I haven’t signed it. And I won’t.”
Merlini, behind LaClaire, was frantically trying to signal the Inspector, jerking with his thumb toward the bedroom.
Gavigan scowled. “Brady, take Mr. LaClaire into the next room.”
LaClaire didn’t move from his chair until Gavigan added, “Come on, snap into it.” Then he stood up and walked out. Brady closed the door behind them.
“What’s all this thumb jerking about?” Gavigan asked suspiciously.
“The general underlying theory is that telepathists, even pseudo ones, should be questioned separately. Even then, you never know. Those two could toss hints, whole paragraphs even, back and forth right under your nose and you wouldn’t catch them at it. Not sure I could follow through myself. They all have their own variations…”
We heard Malloy’s voice. “This way, please.” Merlini stopped, watching the door.
Zelma LaClaire came in, walking toward us with considerable self-assurance and rather
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