respectively, Mahoney, Fleming and Lawson, and were, again respectively, electrician, stage hand and stage hand. They seemed rather bored with the whole matter. Pam North seemed about to rise, but Weigand, to his own surprise, quelled her with a glance. He said a general âThank you.â
âIâm afraid Iâll have to keep you here for a time longer,â he said. âI shall need to talk to each of you separately. Meanwhile, make yourselves as comfortable as you can, and donât try to leave the theatre. I should prefer that, so far as itâs possible, you stay on, or in the vicinity of, the stage. Right?â
Nobody said it wasnât right, although several looked the words. Mr. Christopher sulked obviously. It was too bad about him, Weigand decided. It was going to keep on being bad. He left the circle as it began to break into groups and found the temporary flight of stairs reaching down from the stage to the orchestra aisle up which he had climbed a few minutes before. He started down them, thought of something, and called, âMr. Kirk.â
Kirk turned from Ellen Grady and said, âYes?â
âI want your help, Mr. Kirk,â Weigand said. Mr. Kirk followed.
III
T UESDAYâ3:45 P.M. TO 4 P.M.
At the foot of the steps down from the stage, Weigand turned to Kirk.
âWhat I want,â he said, âis to have youââ
He was interrupted by a heavy, official voice from up the aisle, which said: âLieutenant?â Weigand said, âYes?â
âThe docâs here,â the voice told him. âWants to see you.â
Weigand said âRightâ and went up the aisle toward the knot of men about the huddled body. Kirk, after hesitating a moment, followed him. As they were halfway up, flashlights suddenly glowed, focusing on the body of Dr. Bolton. And a well-known voice said:
âDamn it! How do you expect a manââ
Weigand, followed by Kirk, appeared and Dr. Jerome Francis, assistant medical examiner, stood up.
âThis,â Dr. Francis said, âis the devil of a place for a cadaver. Youâd have to be an acrobat.â
âWell,â Weigand said. âI didnât put him there, Doctor. And where would you have been all these hours? Out seeing a man about a guinea pig?â
It wasnât, Francis said with some exasperation, âall these hours.â It was exactly ⦠he looked at his watch ⦠one hour and sixteen minutes since word came through about Weigandâs corpse.
âAnd,â Dr. Francis said, âthere were two ahead of you.â He looked at Weigand. âEvery corpse in its turn, Lieutenant,â he said. âWe canât make exceptions.â
Weigand half smiled at him.
âRight,â he said. âAnd now youâre here?â
âNow Iâm here,â Francis said, âIâd have to be an acrobat. But itâs a corpse.â
Weigand said he thought it was. How long had it been?
âAnd donât put on your song and dance about exactitude,â the detective advised. âWeâve been over that. Just a close guess, seeing as itâs a nice fresh one.â
Dr. Francis wanted to know if it would be all right to take it out. Weigand nodded. They took Dr. Bolton out, with some difficulty, and laid him in the aisle. Kirk made a small, distressed sound and Dr. Francis looked up at him.
âYouâll get used to them,â Dr. Francis assured him.
âMy God!â Kirk said. âI hope not.â
Dr. Francis was busy. He took temperatures and examined eyes. He bent fingers and swore mildly when ink from the fingerprint pads came off on his hands. He grumbled that âthey ought to wipe them off.â After a while he stood up.
âUnder three hours,â he said. âOver an hour. Iâd suggest you split the difference.â
Weigand looked at his watch.
âThree hours ago it was a quarter to one,â he said.
Learning to Kill: Stories