Chapter 6

Outside the house two uniformed policemen shooed away noisy citizens with a brusque, "Awright, awright, get on your way. Nothing to see."

Occasionally the second of the policemen, obviously enjoying the growing number of spectators, said, "Read about it in the papers, will you? I'm not here to answer questions."

But if anyone pressed him, he allowed as how a lady had just been raped and supplied any details requested.

"They get the guy?" a tall man in a dark suit, asked politely. He leaned over the shoulders of two tired looking housewives in orange-colored shorts to catch the policeman's reply.

"Not yet," the policeman said. "We've only been here twenty minutes. All right there, move along, huh?"

"How did it happen exactly?" the tall man asked. His frame glasses gave him an owlish look.

"No one saw anyone enter?" the man with the spectacles said incredulously. "I can't believe it. Just anybody can walk into a house or an alley without being noticed? I can't believe it."

The housewives craned their necks to look at him curiously and one of the cops eyed him carefully.

"Who said he went into the alley?" the cop asked. "You know anything about this?"

"No," the man said, pulling in his horns suddenly. "I just asked."

"Okay, okay," the policeman said. "Just thought you might have been around when it happened, that's all."

"He was," a female voice in the rear of the crowd said quickly. "I saw him."

The tall man paled as a dozen faces turned on him. He laughed weakly.

"Must have been someone else, lady," he said, turning to look at her. "I just got here."

The owner of the voice snorted. "I saw you."

"You're crazy," the man said excitedly. "I've been miles away all day."

He gripped his briefcase tightly and used it to clear a path through the knot of people around him.

"Wait a minute," the cop said, uncertainly. He was a rookie on the force and not too sure of himself. He looked to the older policeman for reassurance.

"I think you'd better talk to the lieutenant, sir," the older cop said, politely.

"What on earth for?" the man in the spectacles said. He was aware of the cold stares from people around him. "I don't know anything about it."

"Just routine, sir. Lady-yes, you-the one who saw him. Will you please step in here? Look, wait here, huh? This'll just take a minute."

The man in the business suit waited obediently until a small, plump detective in a brown suit emerged from the house. He tried to avoid the stare of the woman beside him.

"I'm sorry, mister," the woman said. She was a short, dumpy woman in her forties and wore a mustard-colored summer dress with large green circles. "I definitely saw you on the block. That don't mean anything. You could have been passing, just like me. Anyway, it might have been long after it all happened. I'm not sure."

Lieutenant Bishop mopped his balding head slowly and asked the man and woman to step to one side. He listened carefully while the woman repeated her story. She insisted she had seen the man in a kind of running walk, moving toward the north corner of the block as she rounded the southern one. The police car arrived a few minutes later.

"How do you know it was him if you were that far away?" the detective said.

"Well, for one thing, the street was pretty empty," the woman said, breathlessly. "You don't hardly see anyone that hour. On foot, I mean."

A woman behind them laughed. Lieutenant Bishop glanced behind his shoulder.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," the woman who had laughed said, cautious now.

"No, tell me, what's so funny?" the little detective persisted.

"Well, it ain't nothing," the woman said. "It's just that Kate's always there when anything happens."

"You keep your damned nose out of this," the stocky woman yelled. "Who asked for your two-cents?" She turned to the detective. "Don't listen to that lush, Lieutenant. She's half-drunk on beer all the time. All she ever does is hang around a crummy bar in the neighborhood."

"Don't call me no names, you goddamned publicity hound!" the other woman said.

Bishop noticed the red nose and the inflamed eyes of the woman who had laughed. As the woman came closer, he could smell her sudsy breath. It was as overwhelming as a blast of hot air coming from the kitchen of a restaurant.

"She's all the time seeing accidents or fights. Anything to get her name in the papers," the beer-drinker said scornfully. "Didn't I tell you Kate Hody would be around as soon as she saw the reporters and the TV news car?" she asked some people behind her.

"Yeah," a hoarse, offstage voice said.

"Look, Lieutenant," the tall man in the business suit said, "can I please go now? I'm going to miss an urgent business appointment."

"Just a minute," the detective said softly, "and you'll be on your way."

He turned to the woman who claimed she had seen him on Penny's block.

"You say you saw him here before the police car came?"

"Yes."

"Close enough to recognize him?" Bishop persisted.

"Well, he was wearing the same kind of suit and carrying the same case," the woman said, uncertainly. "There ain't many people wearing business suits that time of day in this part of town."

"You couldn't tell the difference between him and Gregory Peck-the distance you were at," the beer-drinker snorted. "You can hardly see the side of a barn fifty feet away."

Lieutenant Bishop ignored her and turned to the tall man.

"What's your name, please?" he asked softly.

"Look," the man said, flustered, "that woman's got me all wrong. I wasn't within miles of this place. I swear it."

"I didn't say you were. I just asked your name."

"Tom Swaller. Well, what's the questions for?"

"Look, mister," another voice behind him said. "This is just a friendly conversation, that's all. But remember, there's almost been a murder committed here and another woman was killed the same way a few blocks from here. That's why we're asking questions."

Swaller looked behind him into the robin-blue eyes of Sergeant Trask.

"Now, would you rather answer the questions here or wait till we go back to the station house?"

"No, no," Swaller said hastily. "All I meant was I don't know why she picked me? I wasn't near the place. Not within miles."

"We'll figure that out," Bishop said. "Let's see your wallet."

The man handed the detective a large wallet of brown calfskin and watched apprehensively as he examined the driver's license and other cards.

"You live in the neighborhood?" Bishop asked.

The man nodded quickly. "The next block."

"Can I see your briefcase, please?"

Tom Swaller reddened. "There's nothing in it. Just some reading matter."

"I'd still like to see it," Bishop said carefully.

Swaller handed him the case. The detective opened it and took out two magazines with undraped females on the covers. Slowly he flipped the pages and studied the pictures of nudes.

"I-I'm interested in art," Swaller said nervously.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Kate Hody said skeptically. She turned away from him disgustedly.

Swaller colored and, turning to her with his face a mask of rage, shouted, "Will you keep your goddamned opinions to yourself? You be damned careful what you say about me or I'll sue you for slander. And I have two police witnesses to support me."

"Take it easy, Mr. Swaller. You too, Miss Hody." Bishop turned to the uniformed men who were now busy policing a good-sized crowd. "All right, Reilly. Keep them all back."

He handed Swaller back his briefcase.

"What line are you in, Mr. Swaller?"

"I'm an advertising man," he said. "I supervise a number of accounts."

The plump detective's continued scrutiny disturbed him. Misreading it, he began to explain what an account executive was.

"You see, Lieutenant, in advertising, an account executive-"

Bishop waved his explanation aside. "Don't tell me, Mac. I grew up around the corner from Madison Avenue. You weren't around this area this afternoon, you say?"

"No. I was miles away-in Buena Park."

Bishop studied his face. "You ever been booked for anything? Arrested?"

"Absolutely not," Swaller protested.

"Well, we'll have to ask you to come with us for a minute."

"You mean I'm being arrested?"

"No," Bishop said. "We'd like the lady to look at you."

"But I told you-" the man began again, flustered.

"Look, mister, if you've done nothing, there's nothing to be afraid of. Is there? All we want is for her to look at you a minute."

"All right," Swaller said, unhappily.

He accompanied the detectives to Penny's house. Bishop rang the bell and waited. There was a moment's wait and then the door swung open and Penny stared at them.

"Oh, hello," she began and then saw Swaller. Her face reddened and her lip trembled.

"Can we come in a minute, please?" Bishop asked.

She nodded and moved away from the door. When he had closed it behind him, he said, "Is this the man?"

Penny stared at Swaller as if she were mesmerized.

"Is he or isn't he?" Bishop said patiently. "Mrs. Bruce!" Trask said louder. His voice seemed to awaken her. She shook her head. "No. He isn't."

"You're sure? You've never seen this man?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I see him often. He's in my art class."

Bishop looked puzzled. "Art class? You mean the Acme school?"

She nodded. Her eyes avoided Swaller's.

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Swaller. You understand we have to be careful."

"Surely," he said politely. "Can I go now?"

"Of course." The detectives said goodby to Penny again and accompanied Swaller to the street. A puzzled expression remained on Bishop's face as they reached the sidewalk. He turned to Swaller.

"Have you been in that art class long," Bishop asked.

Swaller's Adam's apple jiggled nervously. "A while."

"You know the people there pretty well?"

The tall advertising man nodded. Bishop could see the man was genuinely frightened. The detective studied him carefully.

"We may call on you for some information, Mr. Swaller. Hope you don't mind?"

"No. Not at all. I go out of town sometimes but if you need me-"

"Well, we may want to ask you some things. Why don't you check with me if you have to leave town?"

"Of course," the tall man said. "I'll be glad to."

Bishop nodded. "Sorry we had to take you in there like that. Must have been pretty embarrassing."

"Well," Swaller said, reddening. "Since we are in the same class, it was." He gave Bishop one of his cards.

"Thank you, Mr. Swaller. We'll be calling you." Bishop watched the tall, smartly dressed figure move briskly toward the corner.

"I don't like that bird," Trask said. "He's a phony."

"Yeah," Bishop said thoughtfully. "Maybe he is, but she gave him a clean bill."