The Staked Goat - Jeremiah Healy by Jeremiah Healy Read Free Book Online

their revue on the road.
Teevens was a carbon copy of Bell, though Teevens' jacket fit a
little better. Bell was already gone, so I used the same ploy to warm
up his successor. It worked again, Teevens allowing me to take him
through Cross' interrogation of him.
    "Now, did she ask you if anything unusual
happened during your shift?"
    Teevens frowned a minute. "No, I don't think so.
I think she just asked me if anybody asked for Mr. Sachs or Room
304."
    I paused. Maybe Cross should still be on probation.
    "Well," I said, "did anything unusual
happen?"
    "No . . . unless . . ."
    "Yes?"
    "Well . . . it wasn't really unusual."
    "Why don't you explain it to me."
    "O.K. You see, the lounge closes at two, and so
around two-thirty, Milt, he's the bartender, usually calls me in to
check his dollar count against his cash register tape. It's kind of
unnecessary, you know, since the tape is always checked against his
cash pouch anyways. But it's a hotel rule, so we do it. It was maybe
two-fifteen when a guy comes into the lobby.
    He smiles at me and goes into the lounge, then comes
out again and says the bartender wants to see me. I figured the guy
had wanted a drink and saw the lounge was closed. Also, it was an
awfully slow night, so I figured that maybe Milt had his count done
and wanted to leave early. So I thanked the guy and walked into the
bar. I didn't see Milt right away because he was squatting down
counting liquor bottles or something. He said he hadn't asked any guy
to get me. In fact, he hadn't even seen anybody. I walked back out
and the guy was gone. That's it."
    I had a sinking feeling but quelled it. "Can you
describe this guy?"
    He closed his eyes and opened them again. "I
didn't pay too much attention, you know. I mean it isn't so unusual
for Milt to ask somebody to get me or tell me something. The guy was
short, maybe five-six or five-seven, with a hat, glasses, I think."
    "Color hair?"
    "Don't know with the hat and all."
    "And all?".
    "Well, he had on a raincoat with the collar up.
You really couldn't see much of him."
    "Color raincoat?"
    "Trenchcoat type, you know."
    "Color eyes?"
    "Didn't notice."
    "Mustache, beard?"
    "Don't remember one, but he could have. Honest,
I really didn't pay much attention."
    I nodded. He continued, "Is this gonna get the
woman detective in trouble?"
    "N0, no," I said, "I doubt if it's
related at all to what she was doing." I resurrected my
unsettling thought. "One thing, though."
    "Yeah?"
    "Would this guy have had time, while you were in
the bar, to go through anything at the desk here?"
    "Actually, I thought of that and checked around.
Everything was still here."
    "Yes," I said patiently, "but would he
have had time to look at the register, that sort of thing?"
    "Well, we don't have a register exactly, we use
cards and put them in this View-dex thing. But, yeah, he would have
had ten or twenty seconds to look at something before I got back.
Course he would have had to use some of that to take off."
    "Right," I said and thanked him. As I
walked out to my car, I kept glancing around. If I had killed the man
in 304 earlier that evening, I would have had his hotel key, and I
damn well would have wanted to check his room for any trace that
could lead the cops to me. I also would have wanted to read the pink
message slip in his mail box. You know, the slip with the name "J.
F. Cuddy" on it. The slip implying that the man who had to be
killed for some reason had spoken with Cuddy earlier that day. Shit
and double shit.
 
 
    SIX
-•-
    I GOT HOME FROM MIDTOWN ABOUT 1:15 A.M. I played back
the telephone tape machine in case anything had happened in
Pittsburgh. Dale Pa1mer's voice read the name and address of a
no-rip-off, nondenominational funeral home to me and then said Carol
would be with Martha all night. Next came George's voice, asking me
to call him at home or at work for the details on transporting Al's
body. Last came Jesse Cooper, asking me to call. I checked my watch.
If I called