Escape
It was the second time Breen had been in the office. The only other time had been when the D.A. had questioned most of the boys in the fight game regarding an alleged fixed fight. He had known nothing about the fight. He certainly hadn’t killed either Paddy or Elaine Fitzel. But how the D. A. would score the round was entirely in the hands of the gods.
He sat in a hard-back chair with his sodden trench coat folded across his knees. Mary was probably worried sick by now. Certain he hadn’t done anything wrong, he had told her he would be back in a few minutes.
The smoke in the office grew thicker. The hour hand of the big clock on the wall tapped lightly at the figure twelve. A new day was beginninng.
A new day, Breen thought wryly. He’d thought he was beginning a new day when he and Mary had been married, when Mary Joe had been born, when he’d taken the job with McCarty.
“Sure. Door-to-door selling is the lowest form of salesmanship,” the little black Irishman had admitted. “But it’s also one of the most difficult and highly specialized. A man who can make a living selling door to door can sell anything, son. It’s the best possible training and there’s always room at the top for a good salesman.”
All he had to do to succeed was keep on banging doors. But it would seem that he had banged on one door too many.
The D. A. was talking to Captain Hanson. “Is there a back door to the place?”
“Yes, there is. But anyone using it would have to go through the boiler room. And the janitor claims he was in the boiler room all afternoon replacing a set of burned-out fire grates.”
“What’s his reputation?”
“Good.”
The D. A. consulted his memorandum pad. “And this Miss Fay?”
“She sings at one of Como Marino’s places. The Pink Lady. I don’t imagine she’s any girl scout. But on the other hand she hasn’t any record and I can’t figure out any motive for her to lie.”
“How about her statement that Breen tried to break into her apartment?”
Captain Hanson shook his head. “That was so much bushwah. You know how some folks feel about door-to-door salesmen. And she admits now all he did was rap. But she was peeved because she thought he was her boy friend and the boy friend never did show up.”
“And Breen?” the D. A. asked. “How about his record?”
Captain Hanson was fair. “That’s the hell of it. He hasn’t any. He was always a square fighter and his service record is top drawer.”
“You searched his apartment and his car?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How about his vacuum cleaner? I mean the one he admits demonstrating for Shale?”
“Clean as a whistle. Not even a pinch of dust.”
Breen opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it as the germ of an idea rooted in his mind.
“It’s a problem,” the D. A. admitted. “You’ve definitely established the fact that Shale did raise fifty thousand dollars yesterday afternoon?”
“We’ve back-tracked thirty-six thousand. And, man, are the money boys weeping!”
“Hmm. And no jewel theft in that class reported. Unless, of course, Elaine turned a trick somewhere else and came here to do business with Paddy.”
Captain Hanson pointed out, “If Paddy was willing to fence them for fifty G’s, that means the stuff was worth five to ten times that. There might have been more, too. And there’s been no theft of that magnitude reported anywhere in the country.”
The D. A. sighed. “Well, it’s your problem, Captain. I can’t ask for an indictment on what you have so far. But if I were you, I think I’d hold Breen the seventy-two hours the law allows us for investigation. In that time something may turn up.”
“Yes, sir.” Hanson picked two of his younger detectives from the men in the office. “You. Morgan, Tonelli. Take Breen upstairs and put him in a detention cell.”
“Yes, sir,” Morgan said.
The D. A. stopped them in the doorway. “Just one more question, Breen. How did Paddy and Miss Fitzel act? I mean, were they composed or did they appear to be nervous.”
Breen thought a moment. “Well, like I told the captain. They didn’t seem to be nervous. But both of them were perspiring. You know. Like it was hot. And it wasn’t.”
“I’ll bet,” Tonelli said. “I’ll bet they were perspiring. Come on. Let’s get going, fellow.” He pushed Breen out into the hall and toward the bank of elevators.
It was a fetish with Breen. He didn’t like to be pushed. And, accused of murder or not, he didn’t intend to be pushed. “Watch it, fellow,” he said sharply. “I don’t like that.”
Morgan opened the door of the cage. Once inside with the steel door closed, Tonelli said, “Oh, so you don’t like to be pushed around, eh? Then why don’t you come clean and admit you killed Paddy and the doll and save us a lot of leg work proving it on you?” He pushed Breen again, harder this time.
The gesture was instinctive. Breen’s fist traveled less than six inches but Tonelli’s head banged off the wall of the cage as if he’d been hit with a mallet.
Morgan reached for his holstered gun. “Hold it right there, Breen.” To widen the distance between them, he pushed Breen away with his left hand—and got what his partner had gotten. His eyes glazed, he forget his gun and kneeled on the floor of the cage.
Breen had no thought of escape. But a lawyer would come high. A lawyer would take every penny he and Mary had saved. But if he could talk to the blonde in 1B, get her to admit she was lying about no one else having entered 2154 Grant Street, and then look in a certain trash can—well, it could just be he wouldn’t need a lawyer.
The gesture was as instinctive as the two blows had been. Reaching out, he pushed the stop button of the self-service elevator, then started it down toward the lobby.
The midnight shift had already gone on duty. The four-to-twelve shift had gone home. There was no one in the lobby but a fat custodian pushing sweeping compound across the tiles. Closing the door of the cage behind him, Breen limped across the lobby to the street. There would be hell to pay in a few minutes. But he wouldn’t need much time. At least so he thought at the moment.
Out on the wide walk it was still raining. There were a dozen police and private cars at the curb but there wasn’t a cab in sight.
As far as escape was concerned he might as well go back in the Bureau, get back in the cage with Morgan and Tonelli and run himself up to the tank. He hadn’t hit either man hard. Both men would be stirring by now. In a few seconds full consciousness would return. Time had been when he could run. He couldn’t now. And by the time he had limped a block a dozen police car sirens and spotlights would be splitting and criss-crossing the night.
He said an unprintable word. Then, lighting a cigarette, he turned to walk back in the Bureau, turned again to look towards the street as the door of the sedan in front of which he had been standing opened and a tall, white-haired man in evening clothes stepped out on the walk.
“Aren’t you Harry Breen, son?” the man asked.
“Yes,” Breen admitted. “I am.” The old man’s face was vaguely familiar. Then he realized he was Mike Fennel. “Yeah. That’s right. I’m Harry Breen, Counselor. But I didn’t do it. Honest. All I did was sell the guy a vacuum cleaner.”
From in back of the wheel of the car, a second man said, “Sweetheart.”
The lawyer asked, “You out on bail, or what?”
“What, mostly,” Breen said wryly. “Captain Hanson and the D. A. think I’m on my way up to the tank. But I slugged the two dicks who were in the cage with me and—”
“Escaped?”
“Yeah.”
Fennel stooped and spoke to the man in the car. “It’s all yours from here on in. I want no part of it.”
Turning up the short black velvet collar of his coat he turned and walked off swiftly through the rain.
“Get in, Harry,” the man in the car invited.
Breen got into the car and it pulled away from the curb before he could recognize the driver. Then he saw he was Como Marino.
They drove two blocks in silence. Then the first of a half-dozen sirens screamed in the night behind them.
Marino increased the speed of the car. “Kinda looks like they’ve missed you, eh?”
“Yeah.” Breen rode in puzzled silence, wondering why a big shot like Marino should to this thing for him. He asked him bluntly, “How come?”
“Let’s say I want to talk to you,” Marino said, and left it there.