Canvas Coffin by William Campbell Gault Read Free Book Online Page B

give you. I’ll be up later.”
    They went on, but the sergeant remained immovable. He said, “What is this?” Then, before I could answer, he looked at Sally. “Who are you?”
    “Queen of the May,” my girl said. “What makes it your business?”
    I said quickly, “This is Sergeant Sands, Sally. He’s a detective.”
    “How do you do?” Sally said, and started past him.
    “Just a minute,” Sands said. “Come on down to the car, both of you.”
    I thought for a moment Sally was going to refuse, but she followed meekly enough. We sat in the back; he sat in the front, twisted around so he could face us.
    He said, “What’s the story, this time?” He was looking at me.
    “It wasn’t my idea,” I said. “My girl doesn’t want to believe I didn’t go home with this Brenda Vane night before last.”
    He looked at Sally. “Did he? What’d you find out?”
    “Nothing.” Sally’s chin was up, and she was wearing the queenly look.
    “And where were you, that night?”
    “In Chicago. I just got here, by plane, last night.”
    “I see.” He had a notebook out now. “Your name, please?”
    She gave him that, and there were more questions. Her address in Chicago, and her work and people she’d seen there up to the time she left.
    Then he nodded at the apartment. “And how long have you been here?”
    “A few minutes. I don’t know exactly.”
    He studied us quietly a moment. Then he said, “Sam Wald was over to see you, last night. What did he want?”
    “A title fight, for that new arena he’s building, in the Valley.”
    “Oh. Who’s the opponent?”
    “Patsy Giani.”
    His eyes appraised me. “You’ve been ducking Patsy a long time. Wald have a new approach?”
    “You’ll have to make that clearer, Sergeant,” I told him evenly.
    “Some club, some lever, some angle. The party was at his house; that’s where you met Brenda Vane. The next night he comes over, and you’re going to fight Patsy Giani, you’re going to commit suicide.”
    “I didn’t say I was going to fight him, Sergeant. Wald wants me to; it’s probably why he threw the party.” I took a breath. “I’ll overlook the crack about suicide.”
    “You going to fight him?”
    “If I can talk my manager into it. If I do, and you’ve got some money you want to lose, I’d be glad to cover it.”
    “Okay. We’ll forget I hurt your feelings.” His grin was sarcastic. “I thought I’d been playing along too much, as it is. Any reasonable cop would have you in the cooler this second. You were with her; the only person who claims you weren’t with her when she died is your manager. That’s phony enough. Then, two days later, I come out here and find you talking to Mrs. Ketelaar.
Why?”
    Sally said softly, “My fault, Sergeant.
All
my fault. I’m crazy about the ape, and crazy jealous.”
    “I’ll buy that for now,” he said, after a second. He looked at me. “Even if you are clean on the murder, it’s plain enough to me you’re in the middle of it, one way or another. Maybe you don’t even know it, and that’s why I’m going along, for now.” He got out of the car and held our door open. His dark-blue eyes rested on me gravely. “Publicity on this could just about ruin the fight game. It stinks enough, today. I’m still more cop than fight fan, though, and so’s the chief. Remember that.”
    I nodded. Sally nodded. We had no dialogue as we walked to the convertible, as Sally started it, as we moved back Sunset, the way we’d come.
    Traffic whizzed by us, the sun glinted off the windshield, the Ford murmured to herself. We went past the turning windmill insignia on the front of the supermarket, and came to a red light against us.
    Then Sally looked over at me. “That man gives me the creeps. Relentless, cold, analytical. I thought cops were dumb.”
    “Only the dumb cops.” I turned to look at the Dutch windmill revolving. “Isn’t that a silly thing to stick in my memory?”
    “It must have some