I THOUGHT THERE WAS still time to ask more questions. The police would be doing that officially all too soon. I hoped I could glean some information before it was either embellished or buried.
Across the road, at the corner, was an auto repair shop. Presumably where the telephone was housed. I could hear clanging coming from that direction. I walked over.
A husky man in stained overalls was banging out dents from the fender of a car that looked as if it had lost a fierce argument for road rights.
“Hello there.”
I tried to time my greeting in between bangs. I had to repeat it, and the second time the man turned around. I beamed a full wattage, admiring smile. I have no hesita-tion in using feminine wiles if they will get me somewhere.
“That must be hot work. I hope the owners appreciate it.”
He shrugged. “Doubt it. Most like they’ll buy another new one.”
“Too bad to just toss it on the trash heap, considering it’s such a beauty. It’s an Auburn Speedster, isn’t it?”
That really got his attention. He used his bandana to wipe the sweat off his face.
“How’d you know that?”
“Why shouldn’t I? Not all of us women are empty-headed.”
“No, of course not. I didn’t mean to give offence …”
His voice trailed off.
“No offence taken. It’s just that I’ve made it a bit of a hobby to study cars.”
That at least was true, but I wasn’t about to go into the reason for this unfeminine interest. Knowing the makes of cars was an essential part of the business of surveillance.
“Me, if I ever get enough money, I’d buy a LaSalle. Used, naturally.”
He guffawed. “Ha. Fat chance. They never come up for sale.”
“Oh, well. A girl can dream, can’t she?” I held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Charlotte.”
He wiped his palm down his shirt and shook hands with me. “Vince. Vince Alexander.” He jerked his head. “Me and my dad own this place. That’s our name, Alexander Auto Repairs.”
“Good thing people like you exist. There seem to be more accidents every day. You’d think there’d be fewer cars on the roads these days, given the price of gasoline.” I screwed up my mouth. “Never seems to bother rich people, does it? Tough times, I mean. They just go on buy-ing whatever they fancy.”
“You’re right about that.”
I flapped my hand in the general direction of the street. “Not much traffic on this street, obviously. What you’d call a quiet neighbourhood.”
He mopped his face again. “True. It is that. Say, you’re not a reporter, are you?”
“Me? No. Why would I be? Did something happen here?”
“It sure did. One of the neighbours was attacked this morning. Word is she might not survive.”
“My goodness! Fancy that. Who did it?”
“Nobody knows. I was talking to one of the constables, and he says they’ve taken the husband into custody.” He pushed a strand of greasy hair out of his eyes. “Me, I’d never have suspected that. Gilmore is a quiet sort of fellow. But you never know what goes on behind closed doors, do you?”
“Indeed not. On the other hand, maybe they’ve got it wrong, the coppers. They’re not infallible. Maybe it wasn’t him. Could’ve been a tramp looking for something to steal.”
He nodded. “You could be right. God knows there’re enough of those around these days. She might’ve sur-prised him. I have to make sure I lock up real secure at night. I’ve had some tools nipped about a week ago.”
“Did you yourself see anybody hanging around?”
“Nope.”
“And you’d notice, I’m sure. You’ve got a good view of the street.”
“I don’t spend my time watching. I’ve got work to do.”
He stared at me for a moment. He was getting suspicious, I could tell.
“I’ll let you get back to it, then. Don’t forget, if a used LaSalle comes up, let me know. Any condition.”
“How would I get hold of you?”
I fished in my purse and took out one of my business cards. He looked at it.
“What? You a private cop?”
“I work for the company.”
He waved away a colony of flies that were exploring his face and arms. He looked at the card again.
“Wait a minute. This says Gilmore. Is it the same man?”
“Yes, it is.”
“You should have said so right off the bat.”
“Sorry. Sometimes people get the wrong impression … ‘off the bat.’ Mr. Gilmore hasn’t been charged, by the way. The police took him to the hospital to be with his wife. Needless to say, he’s very upset about what has happened, and he’s asked me to see if I could find out anything.”
Vince was silent for a moment, chewing on his lip. Then he gave me a sly little grin. “Are you really interested in a used LaSalle?”
I grinned back. “Who wouldn’t be? They’re the best.”
“Well. Now that you ask, I did hear something early this morning. It was so bloody hot, my old lady was tossing and turning like she was on a ship. I got up and went out to the back garden to have a smoke.”
He paused, either remembering the discomfort of the night or what it was he had heard and was about to reveal to me. I nodded encouragingly.
“I’d just lit up when somebody let out one hell of a scream. A woman. Now, sometimes Mrs. Gilmore shouts in her sleep. She has nightmares, according to what I understand. But this didn’t sound like the usual. It was only the once. Quiet after that.”
“Do you think it was Mrs. Gilmore?”
His gaze shifted. “Wouldn’t swear to it, but it was coming from that direction. Seemed like their house.”
“What time would you say?”
“I must’ve got up at half past six, and I’d almost finished my smoke so it could have been close to seven. Might have been later, might have been earlier.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“No. It slipped my mind until just now.”
I suspected my desire to purchase a used La Salle had jogged his memory.
“D’you think it’s important?” he asked.
“It could be. Thanks for telling me.”
He touched his forehead. “Sure. If I remember anything else, I’ll let you know. We’re on the phone, I could ring you.”
“That would be great. Much appreciated. I’d like to get to the bottom of this. As you said, Mr. Gilmore is a mighty decent man.”
He nodded. “Never given me any trouble, anyways.”
“I haven’t met his wife. She suffers from bad health as I understand.”
“So I hear, but doesn’t slow her down none.” He frowned. “Sometimes I think she’s organizing a wives’ union on the street.”
“Really? Never heard of such a thing.”
“She comes over to visit my wife regularly, and after, you can bet your boots, Lillian is going to have something to complain about.”
“What sort of thing?”
“You know, why don’t I help out more around the house? Why don’t I take her to the pictures once in a while? Even a dance, God forbid. She seems to forget I’m working to put food on the table. I’m fagged out at the end of the day. I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“I see your point. And you say Mrs. Gilmore seemed to be instigating these discontents in your wife?”
“Definitely.”
He wiped his face down. He was still a young man and good-looking in a rough way.
“Not a reason to attack a defenceless woman, though, is it?”
“Hey, you’re not implying anything, are you?”
“Not at all. But if Mrs Gilmore was interfering in your marriage, maybe she was doing it with other couples. Maybe with somebody not as tolerant as you.”
“Well, you can take your pick on this street. Like I said, you’d think she was organizing a union.” He thrust his fist in the air in a mock salute. “’Women of the world unite. Down with tyrants.’”
I rather liked the sound of that, but this was not the moment to take sides.
“I assume Mr. Gilmore doesn’t object to his wife’s politics?”
“Doesn’t seem to. To tell the truth, I think he might agree.”
He said this with a note of incredulity. Then he turned back to the auto. “I’ve got a lot to do. ’Less you have any more questions, I’ll get on with it.”
He slapped at his arm, picked off a dead fly, and dropped it to the ground.
“Bloody flies. They’s out in full force.”
He picked up his hammer and gave the damaged car a hard blow on the snout as if it were responsible.
It was time for me to get going. “Thanks a lot. I’ll keep you informed of any developments.”
He grunted a reply, and I continued on my way.
This information put a different slant on Mr. Kauf-mann’s statement that Mrs. Gilmore was a madwoman. But then, I suppose from his point of view, inciting wives to stand up for themselves was a kind of madness.