Westlake, Donald E - Novel 41 by Levine (v1.1) Read Free Book Online Page A

Bostonian friend had told him about a City of Boston regulation that buildings used as residence
had to have elevators if they were more than four stories high. Oh, to live in Boston . Or, even better, in Levittown , where there isn't a
building higher than two stories anywhere.
                   He reached the fifth floor, finally, and
knocked on the door of apartment 5b . Rustlings
from within culminated in the peephole in the door being opened, and a blue eye
peered suspiciously out at him, "Who is it?" asked a muffled voice.
                   "Police," said Levine. He dragged
out his wallet, and held it high, so the eye in the peephole could read the
identification.
                   "Second," said the muffled voice,
and the peephole closed. A seemingly endless series of rattles and clicks
indicated locks being released, and then the door opened, and a short, slender
girl, dressed in pink toreador plants, gray bulky sweater and blonde pony tail,
motioned to Levine to come in. "Have a seat," she said, closing the
door after him,
                   "Thank you." Levine sat in a
new-fangled basket chair, as uncomfortable as it looked, and the girl sat in
another chair of the same type, facing him. But she managed to look comfortable
in the thing,
                   "Is this something I did?" she asked
him. "Jaywalking or something?"
                   Levine smiled. No matter how innocent, a
citizen always presumes himself guilty when the police
come calling. "No," he said. "It concerns two friends of yours,
Al Gruber and Larry Perkins."
                   "Those two?" The girl seemed calm, though curious, but not at all worried or apprehensive.
She was still thinking in terms of something no more serious than jaywalking or
a neighbor calling the police to complain about loud noises. "What are
they up to?"
                   "How close are you to them?"
                   The girl shrugged. "I've gone out with
both of them, that's all. We all take courses at Columbia . They're both nice guys, but there's
nothing serious, you know. Not with either of them."
                   "I don't know how to say this," said
Levine, "except the blunt way. Early this afternoon, Perkins turned
himself in and admitted he'd just killed Gruber."
                   The girl stared at him. Twice, she opened her
mouth to speak, but both times she closed it again. The silence lengthened, and
Levine wondered belatedly if the girl had been telling the truth, if perhaps
there had been something serious in her relationship with one of the boys after
all. Then she blinked and looked away from him, clearing her throat. She stared
out the window for a second, then looked back and said, "He's pulling your
leg."
                   Levine shook his head. "I'm afraid
not."
                   "Larry's got a wierd sense of humor
sometimes," she said.
                  "It's a sick joke, that's all. Al's still
around. You haven't found the body, have you?"
                   "I'm afraid we have. He was poisoned, and
Perkins admitted he was the one who gave him the poison."
                   "That little bottle Al had around the
place? That was only a gag."
                   "Not any more."
                   She thought about it a minute longer, then
shrugged, as though giving up the struggle to either believe or disbelieve.
"Why come to me?" she asked him.
                   "I'm not sure, to tell you the truth. Something
smells wrong about the case, and I don't know what. There isn't any logic to
it. I can't get through to Perkins, and it's too late to get through to Gruber.
But I've got to get to know them both, if I'm going to understand what
happened."
                   "And you want me to tell you about
them."
                   "Yes."