I made an anonymous telephone call to the police. I had been walking past apartment 1203 when. . . .
Then I dialled the Belters’ number. Vera Edwards answered. I asked her whether Miller was still there. She said that he had left with his prisoner a few minutes after the ambulance had collected the policewoman.
‘How is she?’
‘They say it’s not serious,’ Vera Edwards said.
I was very much relieved.
‘What did Lieutenant Miller say about Wanda Edwards?’
‘That he thought she had killed Ella.’
‘I see.’
‘Did she kill Ella?’ Vera Edwards asked.
‘Let me talk to Mr Belter, will you?’
She hesitated, but in the gap I heard voices in the background.
The receiver was transferred and Paula Belter burst into my ear. ‘Tamae says that is Mr Samson. Is it Mr Samson?’
‘Hello Mrs Belter.’
‘Have you heard the good news?’
‘Which good news is that?’
‘I’m going to be a mother-in-law! I’ve been practising being wicked, but the picture Chip’s shown me is so beautiful I just don’t think I’m going to be able to rise to the part. She’s wonderful and they want to get married in June and I just love her!’
‘I’m pleased for you,’ I said, but while I did so I was being transferred again.
Douglas Belter’s voice said, ‘Tamae said you want a word with me, Samson. If I can get a little space here. Thank you.’
Even Belter’s grey personality came across more silver, a reflection of his wife’s ecstasies.
I said, ‘I would like to talk to you. Preferably alone.’
He said, ‘Well, if it’s necessary, I suppose I could come in for a chat.’
‘This evening?’
‘All right. Is it by way of a wrap-up?’
‘Probably.’
‘Although I haven’t given it much thought, I think it’s fair to say we don’t feel the urgency about things that we did before.’
‘Give it to me, Doug,’ Paula Belter said near him. She took the telephone and bubbled to me, ‘We couldn’t go to Europe this summer now even if we still wanted to, what with the wedding. Isn’t it a wonderful anniversary present, Mr Samson? What could be better?’
I left the phone booth and went home to a depressed solitude.
I didn’t make any notes.
I didn’t do any thinking.
I put some effort into cooking myself a palatable meal and sat down with it in front of the television in time to watch the local news on WTRH.
The wounded policewoman was the lead item. The reporter was Tanya Wilkerson and she interviewed Miller live.
Tanya!
Miller came across well, projecting the solidity and competence we like to associate with our law enforcement personnel. He praised highly the bravery of the officer whom I had put into the line of fire.
But I was able to deduce that he had had time to talk to Wanda Edwards: while he explained that Miss Edwards would be charged with attempted murder and that the situation which had led to the arrest had arisen from information supplied to him by a personal source, he said nothing about the Murchison murder.
And he wouldn’t need to. I would tell him what I knew and he could close the case quietly.
There would still be plenty of PR for him as he gradually revealed more background to the press. Tanya would love it when she found out that Wanda Edwards had already tried to kill Vera Edwards, forty odd years before.
I finished my meal and washed up the dishes.