One Lonely Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

politicians all over the joint. “He’s pretty big,” I said.
    “Very.”
    “Too big to touch?”
    His eyes jumped to mine. “Nobody is that big, Mike. Not even Deamer.”
    “Then why don’t you grab him?”
    “Because he didn’t do it.”
    “What a pretty circle that is. I had you figured for a brain, Pat. He killed a guy and he didn’t do it. That’s great logic, especially when it comes from you.”
    A slow grin started at the corner of his eyes. “When you’re on vacation you can think it over, Mike. I’ll wrap it up for you, just once. A dead man is found. He has one of these cards in his hand. Three people positively identified the killer. Each one saw him under favorable conditions and was able to give a complete description and identification. They came to the police with the story and we were lucky enough to hush it up.
    “Lee Deamer was identified as the killer. He was described right to the scar on his nose, his picture was snapped up the second it was shown and he was identified in person. It’s the most open-and-shut case you ever saw, yet we can’t touch him because when he was supposed to be pulling a murder he was a mile away talking to a group of prominent citizens. I happened to be among those present.”
    I kicked the door closed with my foot and stood there. “Hot damn.”
    “Too hot to handle. Now you know why the D.A. was in such a foul mood.”
    “Yeah,” I agreed. “But it shouldn’t be too tough for you, Pat. There’s only four things that could have happened.”
    “Tell me. See if it’s what I’m thinking.”
    “Sure, kid. One: twins. Two: a killer disguised as Deamer. Three: a deliberate frame-up with witnesses paid to make the wrong identification. Four: it was Deamer after all.”
    “Which do you like, Mike?”
    I laughed at his solemn tone. “Beats me, I’m on vacation.” I found the knob and pulled it open. “See you when I get back.”
    “Sure thing, Mike.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “If you run across any more cards, tell me about them, will you?”
    “Yeah, anything else?”
    “Just that one question. Where did you get them?”
    “I killed a guy and took it off his dead body.”
    Pat was swearing softly to himself when I left. Just as the elevator door closed he must have begun to believe me because I heard his door open and he shouted, “Mike ... damn it, Mike!”
     
    I called the Globe office from a hash house down the street. When I asked the switchboard operator if Marty Kooperman had called in yet she plugged into a couple of circuits, asked around and told me he was just about to go to lunch. I passed the word for him to meet me in the lobby if he wanted a free chow and hung up. I wasn’t in a hurry. I never knew a reporter yet who would pass up a meal he wasn’t paying for.
    Marty was there straddling a chair backwards, trying to keep his eyes on two blondes and a luscious redhead who was apparently waiting for someone else. When I tapped him on the shoulder he scowled and whispered, “Hell, I almost had that redhead nailed. Go away.”
    “Come on, I’ll buy you another one,” I said.
    “I like this one.”
    The city editor came out of the elevator, said hello to the redhead and they went out together. Marty shrugged. “Okay, let’s eat. A lousy political reporter doesn’t stand a chance against that.”
    One of the blondes looked at me and smiled. I winked at her and she winked back. Marty was so disgusted he spit on the polished floor. Some day he’ll learn that all you have to do is ask. They’ll tell you.
    He tried to steer me into a hangout around the comer, but I nixed the idea and kept going up the street to a little bar that put out a good meal without any background noise. When we had a table between us and the orders on the fire, Marty flipped me a cigarette and the angle of his eyebrows told me he was waiting.
    “How much about politics do you know, Marty?”
    He shook the match out. “More than I can write