The Black Hearts Murder Read Online Free PDF

demanded.
    â€œTo aid a fugitive felon.”
    â€œOn what ground?”
    The mayor shook his head. “Volper claims he has evidence that Rawlings not only knows where James is, he set up his hideout.”
    â€œJames’s letter to BOKO said that no Black Hearts member knows where he is.”
    â€œJames is hardly a disinterested party. He would naturally want to protect his membership. Anyway, Volper chooses not to believe him. I hardly believe him myself.”
    â€œDo you suppose the D.A. really has evidence of Rawlings’s complicity?”
    â€œI doubt it,” the old man said dryly. “I think Volper’s game is to give the black community something to raise hell about, now that James has gone underground and removed their reason for rioting about him . Yes, sir, that’s what I think.”
    â€œNice town you’ve got here, Mr. Mayor.” McCall rose. “I do believe I’ll amble on over to police headquarters. What kind of reception do you expect I’ll get there?”
    â€œDistant, my boy. Oh, you’ll just love my chief of police. If I didn’t regularly sit on Jay Condon, he’d be running nightly patrols through the west side whooping it up with riot guns and tear gas.”
    â€œSeems to me Banbury’s biggest problem is its law enforcement personnel.”
    Mayor Potter spat out a shred of tobacco. “Why do you think I’m retiring?”
    Governor Holland had chuckled that Heywood Potter’s reason for quitting the political arena was that he wanted more time to cultivate the boudoir. Since his wife’s death, the octogenarian had been seen around town hitting the night spots with highly attractive lady companions—mature ones, to be sure, but even those half his age were in that category. The gossip was that His Honor was enjoying a second juvenescence; the late Mrs. Potter had hardly been the type, either physically or psychologically, to nourish a man’s libido. Looking down on the vigorous man in the big chair, McCall could well believe it.
    He grinned, waved, and walked out—to the beauteous Miss Laurel Tate, whose selection as the mayor’s secretary seemed suddenly to have taken on added meaning.
    Then McCall felt ashamed of himself, kissed the top of Miss Tate’s startled auburn locks en passant , said, “Remember, six-thirty,” and left.

FOUR
    It was past eleven, and McCall decided to get himself settled before visiting police headquarters. He chose the Banbury Plaza. It was in the heart of the downtown district, within a short distance of the county courthouse, the city hall, and police headquarters.
    Because his work for Governor Holland had him on the road living in hotels or motels much of the time, McCall had developed a hearty distaste for the usual bedroom accommodation. He checked into a two-room suite that had a bar and a refrigerator in the sitting room.
    By the time he had settled in, showered, and changed his clothes, it was half past noon. He lunched in the Revolutionary Room (they were thinking of a different revolution, he grinned to himself, when they planned its red, white, and blue décor) on mediocre steak and kidney pie, fortified himself with a couple of digestive tablets against the almost certain future, and got to the police building at 1:15.
    Police headquarters occupied a square redstone of four stories, circa 1915, full of stone curlicues and chipped gilt. The lobby was narrow, high-ceilinged and dirty-tiled. An arch to the right announced itself in gilt as CENTRAL DISTRICT . The left displayed a long counter and a single door. The sign over the door said PRESS ROOM . The sign over the counter advertised INFORMATION . An officer in uniform presided behind the counter; he was reading a copy of Playboy concealed under an afternoon newspaper.
    Directly ahead of McCall, at the end of the lobby, were the elevators.
    It seemed a shame to disturb the officer at the information