Chapter 16

BUST OR BREAK?

At precisely what time he had fallen asleep, Jeff had no way of knowing. But a loud banging on the door of his apartment awakened him from troubled dreams.

From somewhere among the rumpled bedsheets, he fumbled his shorts, put them on and hurried to the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes as the knocking continued.

"Who is it?" he asked through the barrier, cautiously.

"Police-open up!" came the reply.

Police? He fumbled the key in the lock and got the door open. Two wide-shouldered guys who looked like serious business stood in the corridor.

"Mr. Jeffrey Harlow?" asked the shorter and more corpulent of the men.

Jeff nodded, bewilderedly.

The man who had addressed him flapped open his wallet and showed him his badge. "I'm Sergeant Warren."

His partner, he said, was Detective Lester. "Better get dressed, Mr. Harlow. You're taking a little ride with us," the sergeant said brusquely. "Where to?"

"Police headquarters?"

"May I ask why?"

"You know a man named Val Salem, right?"

"Yes...."

"He's dead. Murdered."

Jeff was shocked but he offered no further argument. He just invited the two officers inside while he dressed. Then he went with them to the police car parked in front of the apartment. They told him about his rights, that he didn't have to tell them anything until he'd spoken to his attorney.

"But I guess you know all about that," Sergeant Warren said wisely as he sat with Jeff on the back seat, while Detective Lester took the wheel and headed the prowl car toward the Midtown Tunnel. "We got your complete file by teletype from the coast."

They rode a short distance before Jeff's natural curiosity got the best of him and he asked, "When was Salem killed?"

Warren looked at him, ironically. "You don't know?"

"I don't know," Jeff said flatly.

"Sometime between three and four this morning," Warren said wearily.

Jeff breathed a little easier because he had a fool-proof alibi for that time. Janice had been with him from a little after twelve until well after five A.M. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the moment she heard they'd arrested him, she'd come forward and substantiate it.

It was late afternoon when one of the guards halted before the cell at Police Headquarters, where Jeff was being held without bail. The big barred door swung open, and the guard said, "Okay, Harlow. You got yourself a visitor. Let's go."

Jeff asked no questions but followed the guard upstairs, wondering if the visitor could possibly be Janice-The guard led him down a corridor flanked with closed doors. They halted midway and the guard opened the door and ushered Jeff into a room with barred-windows. What surprised Jeff the most was to see a man-and not Janice-seated at the table. He arose at once and came forward to greet Jeff. He was a small man with thinning hair, nicely dressed. Heavy, black-rimmed glasses gave him an owlish look.

"Mr. Harlow?"

Jeff nodded.

"I'm Wilson Kraft. I've been retained as your counsel," the man said and frowned at the guard.

The guard got the message and left them alone, closing the door behind him as he went out.

Jeff's heart smiled, happily, as he sat across the small table from the attorney. Janice, he told himself, hadn't wasted any time getting the show on the road.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Mr. Harlow, and I don't expect you to lie to me," Kraft said in a pessimistic tone that surprised Jeff a little. "I've been handling murder trials long enough to know that you aren't in a very enviable position. I don't know what the police told you, or whether you've seen the papers."

Jeff shook his head no to both questions.

"Well, I'll fill you in on what the police have to go on-so far," the lawyer continued. "Aside from the fact that you'd known Val Salem for a long time, that you and he were once partners on the coast and that you insisted he framed you on that narcotics charge, there are other condemning factors working against you. You were once in love with his wife, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"You travelled three thousand miles after you got out of prison to be near one-or perhaps both of them?"

"That's right."

"Which gives you at least two excellent motives for murder."

"But I didn't kill him!" Jeff declared adamantly.

Kraft took off his glasses and cleaned the lens with his handkerchief, then put them back on and his greatly magnified black eyes studied Jeff's good-looking, strong-jawed, determined face for several moments before he said, solemnly, "I hope we can prove it."

"But we can-without any sweat. Didn't Mrs. Salem tell you that when she retained you?"

Kraft's thin face wrinkled with a frown. "But Mrs. Salem DIDN'T retain me."

Jeff slumped back in the chair as if the lawyer had struck him full in the face.

"Then who-who did?" he muttered.

"Donna Dee."

"Donna?" Jeff echoed hollowly.

Kraft looked greatly puzzled. "Whatever gave you the idea that Mrs. Salem retained me?"

Jeff hesitated a moment as if trying to settle in his own mind whether or not to share this confidence with the lawyer. But he was sure that sooner or later, Janice would admit the truth, so there was no point in hiding it from Kraft-especially if he expected Kraft to help him.

"We-we spent the night together," Jeff said softly.

"LAST night?"

Jeff nodded and explained when he met her and at what time she left his apartment.

Kraft looked truly confused as he rubbed his bony chin, reflectively. "Funny. Mrs. Salem told the police an entirely different story. According to her she was home all night."

Jeff's mouth twisted into a humorless smile. "You must be mistaken, Mr. Kraft."

The lawyer shook his head, emphatically. "She said she was in her bedroom asleep. That she didn't even know her husband had come home-until a shot awakened her. She said she rushed into the study where the shot came from and someone struck her over the head. She claims the study was too dark for her to see the murderer. But when she came to-it was morning and she was lying on the floor of the study. A few feet away lay the lifeless body of her husband."

"But that isn't true!" Jeff shouted emotionally. "Somebody must have twisted her story. She'd never say a thing like that. She was with me all night!"

Kraft made no comment. He didn't say whether or not he believed any part of Jeff's story. He simply waited until Jeff got over that first shock, then dropped another block-buster into his lap.

"The're's a little something else that's going to take considerable explaining, Mr. Harlow," he said solemnly. "On the gun that killed Salem, ballistics found YOUR fingerprints!"