about the cash register?”
“Believe it or not, it’s the truth.”
“Try this on for the truth, Cordell. Bridges is laying this Christine job, and she’s quite a job, and I don’t blame him. Archese knows, and they ask him for a divorce, but he won’t play ball. They hire Knowles to tail Archese, but Bridges is getting impatient by this time. He likes the dame too much; he wants her as a steady diet. Answer? Get Archese out of the way. But who? Why not Matt Cordell, good old buddy Matt who used to live uptown and who proved he knew how to use the ass-end of a .45 when he beat up the guy who put the horns on him. Old Matt’s down and out now, maybe he can use a C-note to keep him in liquid poison for a few days. Maybe old Matt would do me the honor of knocking off my partner for me.”
“To quote you, Miskler, it stinks,” I said.
“I ain’t finished, Cordell. Bridges finds you and tells you the whole setup. You agree to do the job. You use the gun that was in the drawer outside, the gun Bridges owns. You come up to the shop and knock off Archese.”
“I see,” I said. “And Archese can’t see too well, is that it?”
“He saw fine,” Miskler said. “We checked his past medical record, just for kicks. 20/20 vision. What the hell are you driving at?”
“If he saw so fine when I was allegedly shooting him, how come he wrote Johnny’s initials on the wall?”
“He didn’t.”
“No? Then who did?”
“You, maybe. It sure as hell wasn’t Archese.According to our autopsy report, death was instantaneous. He could no more write anything on that wall than he could breathe.”
“Let me get this straight, Miskler. I was hired by Johnny Bridges to kill his partner, right?”
“Right.”
“So I killed him, then picked up a piece of chalk and put Johnny’s initials on the wall, right? Now why the hell would I do something as insane as that?”
“A smoke screen. It wouldn’t be the first time, Cordell. The minute we ascertain that Archese couldn’t have scribbled those initials, we’re also ascertaining the killer
must
have scribbled them. And this automatically eliminates Johnny Bridges. What killer would be crazy enough to sign his job? That’s the way we’re supposed to think, isn’t it?”
“Oh, Jesus, I don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to think. If this is a sample of what you come up with…”
“Give me a better story, Cordell.”
“I gave it to you.”
“And it stinks.”
“And so does yours,” I said.
“It’s a shame I’m the cop, ain’t it?”
“You going to book me?”
“You got a better idea, Cordell?”
“I’ve got a lot of better ideas.”
“Let’s hear them.”
“Let me snoop around a little more. You gain nothing by locking me up.”
“We gain a killer,” Miskler said.
“Then Bridges is clear?”
“Not if he hired you, he ain’t. It don’t matter who pulled the trigger, you know that, Cordell.”
“Okay. If you think I pulled the trigger, you’ve got me cold, right? Put a tail on me to make sure I don’t leave town. You can pick me up whenever you need me.”
“What do I gain?”
“You gain an experienced investigator who happens to have the confidence of most of the people who were closely involved with the deceased and the suspect. That should be worth something to you.”
“The confidence, huh? Like the kind Knowles has?”
“Knowles is harboring a grudge. I once broke his nose. You didn’t expect him to be good to me, did you?”
“It seemed
you
did.”
“I made a mistake.”
“I’m probably making one myself,” Miskler said.
“What do you mean?”
“Take off, Cordell. You’ve got a tail, so don’t leave the city. You make a move toward a bus, train, or an airplane, and you’re on your ass in jail. Got me?”
“I’ve got you. Can I talk to Bridges?”
“What for?”
“To get his story.”
“Why?”
“Maybe
he
put those initials on the wall.”
“Sure. And maybe I did, Cordell.”
I
“Believe it or not, it’s the truth.”
“Try this on for the truth, Cordell. Bridges is laying this Christine job, and she’s quite a job, and I don’t blame him. Archese knows, and they ask him for a divorce, but he won’t play ball. They hire Knowles to tail Archese, but Bridges is getting impatient by this time. He likes the dame too much; he wants her as a steady diet. Answer? Get Archese out of the way. But who? Why not Matt Cordell, good old buddy Matt who used to live uptown and who proved he knew how to use the ass-end of a .45 when he beat up the guy who put the horns on him. Old Matt’s down and out now, maybe he can use a C-note to keep him in liquid poison for a few days. Maybe old Matt would do me the honor of knocking off my partner for me.”
“To quote you, Miskler, it stinks,” I said.
“I ain’t finished, Cordell. Bridges finds you and tells you the whole setup. You agree to do the job. You use the gun that was in the drawer outside, the gun Bridges owns. You come up to the shop and knock off Archese.”
“I see,” I said. “And Archese can’t see too well, is that it?”
“He saw fine,” Miskler said. “We checked his past medical record, just for kicks. 20/20 vision. What the hell are you driving at?”
“If he saw so fine when I was allegedly shooting him, how come he wrote Johnny’s initials on the wall?”
“He didn’t.”
“No? Then who did?”
“You, maybe. It sure as hell wasn’t Archese.According to our autopsy report, death was instantaneous. He could no more write anything on that wall than he could breathe.”
“Let me get this straight, Miskler. I was hired by Johnny Bridges to kill his partner, right?”
“Right.”
“So I killed him, then picked up a piece of chalk and put Johnny’s initials on the wall, right? Now why the hell would I do something as insane as that?”
“A smoke screen. It wouldn’t be the first time, Cordell. The minute we ascertain that Archese couldn’t have scribbled those initials, we’re also ascertaining the killer
must
have scribbled them. And this automatically eliminates Johnny Bridges. What killer would be crazy enough to sign his job? That’s the way we’re supposed to think, isn’t it?”
“Oh, Jesus, I don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to think. If this is a sample of what you come up with…”
“Give me a better story, Cordell.”
“I gave it to you.”
“And it stinks.”
“And so does yours,” I said.
“It’s a shame I’m the cop, ain’t it?”
“You going to book me?”
“You got a better idea, Cordell?”
“I’ve got a lot of better ideas.”
“Let’s hear them.”
“Let me snoop around a little more. You gain nothing by locking me up.”
“We gain a killer,” Miskler said.
“Then Bridges is clear?”
“Not if he hired you, he ain’t. It don’t matter who pulled the trigger, you know that, Cordell.”
“Okay. If you think I pulled the trigger, you’ve got me cold, right? Put a tail on me to make sure I don’t leave town. You can pick me up whenever you need me.”
“What do I gain?”
“You gain an experienced investigator who happens to have the confidence of most of the people who were closely involved with the deceased and the suspect. That should be worth something to you.”
“The confidence, huh? Like the kind Knowles has?”
“Knowles is harboring a grudge. I once broke his nose. You didn’t expect him to be good to me, did you?”
“It seemed
you
did.”
“I made a mistake.”
“I’m probably making one myself,” Miskler said.
“What do you mean?”
“Take off, Cordell. You’ve got a tail, so don’t leave the city. You make a move toward a bus, train, or an airplane, and you’re on your ass in jail. Got me?”
“I’ve got you. Can I talk to Bridges?”
“What for?”
“To get his story.”
“Why?”
“Maybe
he
put those initials on the wall.”
“Sure. And maybe I did, Cordell.”
I
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