This Way for a Shroud

Seigel lit a cigarette, his eyes on the back of Maurer's head. He licked his lips as if they had gone suddenly dry.

Gollowitz stared down at his hands, frowning.

McCann's hard little eyes took in each man, watching his reactions, a grinding, rising fury inside him made him feel short of breath.

"Well, say something!" he snarled. "Is this something Gollowitz can take care of?"

Maurer looked up. The flat snake's eyes glowed as if they were on fire, and under his direct look, McCann's eyes gave ground.

"I want to talk to the Captain," Maurer said softly.

Gollowitz immediately got up and, followed by Seigel, left the room.

When the door closed behind them, Maurer crossed one short fat leg over the other. He took his cigar out of his mouth, leaned forward and touched off the ash into a cut-glass bowl. He didn't look at McCann.

McCann sat still, his big fists on his knees, his face purple. Sweat gave an oily

appearance to his complexion.

"Frances Coleman, did you say?" Maurer said suddenly, keeping his voice down.

"That's right," McCann said.

"Who is she?"

"Let's get this straight, Mr. Maurer, are you . . .?"

"Who is she?" Maurer repeated without raising his voice, but

McCann recognized the danger signals.

"She's an out-of-work movie extra. She checked out of her room on Glendale Avenue on the night of the murder. The Central Casting Agency haven't her new address."

"Did she know Miss Arnot?"

"She worked with her on her last picture: a bit part."

"You're looking for her now?"

"Yeah. We should turn her up in a few hours."

Maurer nodded.

"Got a photograph of her?"

McCann took out a print from his inside pocket.

"I got this from the C.C.A."

Maurer took the photograph, looked at it, then put the photograph face down on the arm of his chair. He looked up suddenly and smiled.

"You've finished your drink, Captain. Help yourself."

"No, thanks," McCann said.

He wasn't fooled by the smile. The atmosphere in the room affected him like

the pressure of an approaching electric storm.

Maurer got up and walked across the room to a door near the casement windows. He opened the door and went into the room that McCann knew Seigel used as an office.

McCann sat still, his cigar gripped tightly between his teeth. He was aware that his heart was beating unevenly and his mouth was dry.

Maurer returned from the office carrying a long white envelope. As he crossed the room, McCann got to his feet and faced him.

"I have been meaning to give you this for some time," Maurer said, smiling. "A little investment I made in your name came out pretty well."

McCann took the envelope.

"Fifteen thousand bucks," Maurer said in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

McCann drew in a slow deep breath. He slid the envelope into his hip pocket.

"Perhaps I can return the favour," he said woodenly.

"Well, yes," Maurer said, and moved over to the empty fireplace. "I should like to be the first to know where Miss Coleman is to be found. Could that be arranged ?"

McCann became aware that sweat was running down his face.

"She may not have seen anything," he said thickly. "The chances are she didn't. Miss Arnot wouldn't have let her come up to the house. She probably left her name and then went away."

"Could it be arranged?" Maurer repeated.

"I guess so. I've told my men to report direct to me as soon as they have found her, and to take no action until I give instructions. I've promised to contact the D.A.'s office. They want to see her: they'll take charge of her."

'I think I should see her first. When you have found her address, please telephone here. Louis will be waiting."

"The D.A. will be waiting too," McCann said quietly. "I have to be careful about this, Mr. Maurer. There mustn't be much of a time lag. I can't give you more than half an hour."

Maurer smiled. He reached out and patted McCann's shoulder.

"A half-hour will do splendidly."

"Can't you give me this straight?" McCann said hoarsely. "Has Conrad got a case? You – you didn't . . .?"

Maurer put his hand on McCann's arm and led him to the door.

"He won't have a case, Captain," he said softly. "I promise you that."

He opened the door and waved McCann to the passage.

"Good night, Captain, and thank you for your co-operation. We shall wait to hear from you."

It wasn't until McCann was driving down the narrow dark lane away from the club that he gave vent to his pent-up feelings. He swore vilely and obscenely for as long as it took him to reach the bright lights of the sea front

II

Gollowitz came into the room, closed the door, and walked slowly over to where Maurer was sitting.

There was a long silence. Neither of the men looked at each other. Maurer continued to smoke his cigar, his face thoughtful. Gollowitz waited, his hands clasped behind his back, his mouth hard and set.

"I shouldn't have used Paretti," Maurer said suddenly. "That was a mistake. I always thought he was the best man I had. Imagine leaving that sketch-plan where it could be found."

Gollowitz shut his eyes, opened them and drew in a deep breath.