The Black Hearts Murder by Ellery Queen Read Free Book Online Page B

get against him, Mr. Volper.”
    Volper started to puff up. “You sound like a lawyer.”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œOh? Which bar?”
    â€œIllinois.”
    â€œI see.” Volper seemed to be considering his options. Finally he said, “As it happens, I haven’t asked Mr. Rawlings anything yet, so his constitutional rights haven’t been violated. And Mrs. Franks, as you heard me tell her, isn’t under arrest.”
    McCall shrugged. “I could give you an argument about her right to a lawyer, too, but it’s your bailiwick, Mr. Volper. I hope you won’t mind my observing?”
    Volper’s expression suggested that he minded very much. At this moment a little half-bald man wearing oversized horn eyeglasses stuck his head timidly into the squadroom. At sight of District Attorney Volper he looked relieved and hurried over. He had the look of a minor executive, and McCall put him down as ten years younger than he looked, which was fiftyish.
    â€œI hurried fast as I could, Mr. Volper,” he panted, trotting up. “I mean after I got your message.”
    â€œOh, Mr. Cordes,” the district attorney said. “Thanks for coming. Though I did expect you sooner.”
    â€œI was out of the studio when you phoned—didn’t get back till just now.” His look of worry deepened. “What did you want me for?”
    The little man was a floor-starer, and McCall almost expected Volper to take him by the chin and jerk his head up. But all Volper said was, “Do you recognize anyone here, Mr. Cordes?”
    The newcomer wrenched his gaze from his study of the floor and looked uneasily from face to face. When he reached the face of LeRoy Rawlings, he drew back, a startled movement. “He’s the one,” he quavered. “He’s the one!”
    â€œThe one who, Mr. Cordes?”
    â€œThe messenger who delivered the package from Harlan James!”
    â€œYou’re sure of that, Mr. Cordes?”
    â€œOh, yes. Oh, yes!”
    â€œI never saw this honky before in my whole life,” LeRoy Rawlings said.
    â€œThat was a pretty positive identification, Rawlings,” Volper said with a smile. “But I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you. You tell me where Harlan James is hiding out and I think I can promise you the charge against you will be nullified.”
    â€œYou know what, pig?” Rawlings said, spitting at Volper’s shoe. “Go screw.”

SIX
    McCall had never witnessed an official identification like this one. A black man was to be identified, and only one black man was present. Apparently the lineup technique was not part of Banbury’s law enforcement system.
    He decided for the time being to remain in the role of observer.
    â€œYou fool, Roy,” Mrs. Franks said. “Don’t you know you’re just playing their game?”
    â€œI’m a man!” Rawlings said.
    â€œYou’re an idiot.”
    Volper smiled again. He ordered Lieutenant Cox and Sergeant Fenner to take Rawlings downstairs for booking while he questioned Mrs. Franks.
    The little man named Cordes asked uneasily, “You through with me, Art—I mean, Mr. Volper?”
    Interesting slip, McCall thought. The BOKO station manager wasn’t very bright. Of course he and his boss Gerald Horton would be hand-in-glove with the district attorney.
    â€œFor now, Mr. Cordes, for now. I’ll require you to appear in court later, of course, as a witness.”
    â€œWell, sure.” The little man shuffled. “Well. I guess in that case I’ll run along.”
    â€œYou do that,” Volper said.
    The question was, was Cordes party to a police frame-up, or had his been a genuine identification? It was hard to say. At any rate, it merited following up. McCall raised a hand in a general goodbye and sauntered after Cordes. He managed to catch up with the little man at the elevators.
    Cordes glanced around at him