Curiosity Didn't Kill the Cat (16 page)

Conan stared at him, attempting to raise his head, but quickly giving it up. The aching in his head threw his eyes out of focus.

“Rose? Harvey Rose?”

“Yeah. About the time the Doc and Miss Dobie arrived, Chief Rose drives up, and—”

“Did anyone call him?”

“No. I was waiting for Miss Dobie before I called in the troops, and this wasn’t ten minutes after I found you. He just walked right on in. Damn, I almost took a potshot at him until I saw the badge. Anyway, he was making with the big Sergeant Friday bit. Wanted to know what happened, and if you’d said anything. We took you out to the Doc’s car, and Rose kept on asking questions. Nicky finally got fed up and told him to get the hell out of there.”

Conan smiled faintly. “Did he leave?”

“Yeah. Said for Nicky to let him know when you were up to talking.”

“I’ll have her tell him I’m in a coma.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “I wonder what got to Rose. That sort of attention to duty is nothing short of a miracle.”

“I don’t know. He said he was just cruising around and saw the lights in the shop and the Doc’s car.”

“It doesn’t matter. What about Miss Dobie?”

“She locked up the shop and came to the hospital with me. As soon as the Doc had a good look at you, she said we might as well leave, since she had a little stitching to do. I took Miss Dobie back to the shop so she could pick up her car, then she went on home. I’d better give her a call; let her know you’re still with us. Poor old gal was really shaken up.” He paused, then laughed to himself.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, she kept complaining about how the burglar—or whoever—dumped all those rare books out of the safe, then you bled all over them; said they’d be practically worthless. Thousands of dollars’ worth of autographed first editions down the drain.”

Conan laughed. “That’s my Miss Dobie.”

“Well, you know how people get in a situation like that. She was really worried about you.”

“I know. Anyway, what next?”

“I went on into the shop and called Carl. This was about eight-thirty. I didn’t have a chance to call before with so many people around.”

“What did he have to say?”

Duncan took his notebook from his breast pocket. “Nothing happened at his end until seven-thirty. Then Mrs. Leen left her house, on foot, and walked up to the corner by the grocery store—you know, just north of the bookshop.”

Conan focused intently on him, unaware of the pounding ache in his head engendered by the quickening of his heartbeat.

“Did Berg follow her?”

“Sure. But he couldn’t get too close; too much open space. She stopped at the corner and took out a flashlight and looked around the foundation of the store. Then Carl says he’s sure she took something out from between the chinks, but she had her back to him, and he couldn’t see what it was.”

Conan almost laughed aloud; the sudden relief was overwhelming. For a moment, he was lightheaded with it.

Berg
hadn’t
been wasting his time watching Edwina Leen. That nocturnal stroll stilled any doubts about her involvement with the book.

“Beautiful. At least, I caught the right mouse with my trap.”

“Some mouse,” Duncan commented sourly. “Anyway, she didn’t move for a couple of minutes. Carl figured she was checking whatever she picked up. Then she turned around like she was heading home, but after a few steps she stopped and turned around again, and took off north up the highway.”

“That’s strange. She had what she wanted.”

“The book? Yeah, I guess so.”

“Where was she—?” Then he nodded. “North. The filling station. There’s a phone booth there.”

“Right. She made a call, talked for three or four minutes, then went straight home. She hasn’t set foot out of the place since.”

Conan was silent for a while, thinking over the report. “Who the hell was she calling, Charlie? It wasn’t the hired man. She wouldn’t go out to a phone booth every time she had to contact him; she’d have a more efficient means of communication set up.” He paused, then gave a quick sigh. “When you went up to the shop, did you see a car parked in front of the grocery store?”

“No. Why?”

“The Major’s car was there when I arrived. But, of course, it would be gone by the time you got there. That’s probably how the body was removed. His killer had already taken his car keys when I found the body. Anyway, go on.”

Duncan took a deep breath, frowning down at the floor.

“Well, I’ll have to admit I goofed here, Chief. I decided to take a look around the shop, and it finally came through to me that the place had been searched—
after
I went to the hospital with you.”

“Afterwards? But she had the book. Why would—” Then he closed his eyes with a tight smile of satisfaction.

Something had gone wrong for Mrs. Edwina Leen. He had no way of knowing what it was, but somehow—even though she had the book—she still wasn’t satisfied.

“What do you mean about goofing, Charlie? That’s the best news I’ve had all night. We’re still in business; she didn’t find what she was looking for. And now we can be sure she’s involved.” He hesitated. “You know, I’ll give you odds that deafness routine is an act. It has to be.”

“Deafness? I’ve never met the lady, you know.”

“From all outward appearances, deaf as a post.” He shook his head in amazement. “She’s a pro, Charlie. But something must have been missing from that book. The shop was searched after she picked it up. That might even explain the phone call. She was calling in someone to make the search. The third man.”

“What do you mean—the third man?”

“I…just a figure of speech. The important thing is she didn’t find what she wanted in that book.”

Duncan nodded glumly. “Yeah, I figured it that way, too, but the trouble is, I didn’t realize the place had been searched until after I called Carl. Then I checked for bugs. The GI bugs the Major had installed have been replaced. I know, because I took a close look at the ones on your home phones. These are brand X. That’s what I mean about goofing. She has every word of my call to Carl.”

“Oh.” Conan considered this piece of news. “Well, all she could find out was that she was being watched, and perhaps your names.”

“First names only. Conan, I’m sorry. The place was in such a hell of a mess already, it took me awhile to catch on.”

“It’s all right. It might even prove useful; the fact that my phones were already bugged should confuse her, for one thing, and the extra pressure might serve to force her hand. Did you find anything else?”

“Yes. I began to smarten up a little, so I went over to your house and checked. Same story.”

“Did you remove the bugs?”

“No, not yet.”

“You’d better get rid of them. Damn, I hate to lose the Major’s bugs. That was my only means of reaching his employers. What else?”

“Nothing. I relieved Carl for a while. I checked with the hospital a couple of times, and finally the Doc said you were beginning to come around, so I came on down here. I figured you might have a few questions.”

“A few.” He closed his eyes; the constant pain was beginning to tell on him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his eyes—or his thoughts—in focus. “It’s been a busy night all around.”

Duncan came to his feet. “Chief, you look like hell. I’d better take off and let you—”

“No. Wait, Charlie.” Conan took a deep breath. “Let me think a minute. There’s something I want you to—” He stopped at a knock on the door. “Yes?”

Dr. Heideger came in, followed by a starchy nurse. “Sorry, gentlemen, but I’ll have to interrupt this.”

Conan frowned. “Nicky, I still—”

“Tell me about it later.”

She came around to his left side, and Charlie moved to the other side of the bed, while she removed the intravenous needle and unstrapped his arm.

“You can take this with you,” she said to the nurse, indicating the transfusion equipment. “And prepare a diamorphine injection for me. I’ll administer it.” She reached into the pocket of her skirt, pulled out a prescription pad, and made a few cryptic notations, then handed the sheet to the nurse.

The nurse glanced at the form as she took it. “Anything else, Doctor?”

“No, not now. Thank you, Jean.”

Conan flexed his arm, watching silently as the nurse wheeled the plasma rack out of the room and closed the door behind her. Then he looked up at Nicky, who was studying him with a slight frown. She took his hand in hers for a moment, but it wasn’t a gesture of affection, he knew; only one of her many unobtrusive diagnostic measures.

“How do you feel, Conan?”

“Fine.”

“Sure.” She looked cross the bed at Duncan, but before she could say anything more he raised a hand to quiet her.

“Okay, Doc, I know I shouldn’t have stayed so long.”

“Wait, Charlie,” Conan injected.

“It’s not you I’m worried about, Mr. Duncan. Harvey Rose just arrived, and unfortunately the nurse at the desk told him you’d been in to see Conan, so he’s champing at the bit out there.”

Conan’s jaw went tight. “He’s taking his job damned seriously all of a sudden.”

“I’ll be happy to get rid of him for you.”

He looked up at Nicky, and seeing her sly smile, knew she’d
enjoy
getting rid of Rose, and his first impulse was to let her have her way. An encounter with Rose seemed to be asking too much of his waning physical resources. Then he hesitated.

“No,” he said finally, “I’ll talk to him. But I’d appreciate it if both of you stayed here. Particularly you, Charlie. I still have something to talk to you about before you leave.”

Nicky raised an eyebrow, then acquiesced with a sigh. “All right, I’ll call Rose in. But I’m giving notice now, Conan. I’m clearing everybody out of here in fifteen minutes, and giving you something to shut you up for a while.”

CHAPTER 16

Harvey Rose followed Nicky into the room, darting quick, suspicious glances at both Duncan and the doctor. He went to the end of the bed and leaned against the railing, while Nicky silently took up a position at Conan’s left.

Rose’s pale, restless eyes shifted incessantly. His face seemed even redder than usual, and his cheek was blotched with a swollen bruise.

Conan watched him through half-closed eyes, wondering how sober he was; more so than usual for this time of night, no doubt. Conan deliberately neglected to introduce him to Charlie.

Rose cleared his throat nervously.

“Well, uh, Mr. Flagg, I’m glad to see you’re…uh, feeling better.”

Conan smiled with more than a hint of irony at that expression of concern. Strange—he’d never noticed before, but Rose wore his .38 on his left side.

“I appreciate your taking time to come by, Mr. Rose. I know this is after your normal working hours.”

The policeman seemed unaware of the faint overtones of sarcasm in that statement. He only smiled and shrugged.

“Well, in this business you have to expect a little overtime. Criminals don’t work eight-to-five shifts, you know.”

No, Conan thought bitterly, but the honorable Chief Rose did. At least, he usually did.

Conan made no response, giving Rose what he hoped was a sufficiently appreciative smile, watching him as he reached into his breast pocket for a notebook and pen.

“Well, Mr. Flagg, if you…uh, feel up to it, maybe you could tell me what happened tonight.”

He started to reply, then hesitated, staring at Rose as he made a quick notation at the top of the page, his arm twisted with the overhanded writing position typical of the left-handed. And the knuckles of his left hand were skinned and bruised.

Rose looked up at him sharply. “Mr. Flagg?”

Only Charlie Duncan was aware of the slight change in Conan’s attitude; he recognized a faint light hidden behind the opaque black eyes.

Finally, Conan said, “Well, I’m afraid you’ve put yourself out for no purpose.”

“How’s that?”

“Mr. Rose, I can’t tell you what happened.”

Duncan threw him a quick, speculative glance, but neither he nor Nicky showed any overt reaction to this statement.

“What d’you mean, you can’t tell me?”

“I can’t tell you because I haven’t the slightest idea what happened myself. It’s a complete blank.”

Rose eyed him suspiciously. “But you must remember something.”

Conan shook his head. “I wish I could. I don’t like the idea of getting shot at. I’ve been trying to remember, but except for this shoulder—and a hell of a headache—it might as well have happened to someone else.”

“But before you got shot—can’t you remember anything about that?” Rose’s tone was sharp and insistent.

“No. I remember I was going to the shop to pick up a couple of books I’d saved for Charlie.” He glanced briefly at Duncan.”

“Then you
do
remember going to the shop?”

“No…not really.” He frowned as if concentrating on calling up the memory. “I remember leaving the house, but that’s all. I don’t even remember arriving at the shop.”

“Are you sure, Flagg? Come on—just try to think back. You must remember more than that.”

“No, I’m sorry,”

“But that was before you got shot. You must remember what happened before that!”

“I told you,” Conan said wearily, “it’s a complete blank.”

Rose’s face was flushed, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“What d’you mean, a
blank
? Listen, Flagg, if you—”

“Mr. Rose—” It was Nicky, her tone sharp and cool. “Conan suffered a severe blow to the head. Surely, you’re aware that partial amnesia, particularly affecting the time span near the injury, is quite common in such cases.”

Rose turned on her, and there was an almost tangible clash as their eyes met—and held. Finally, it was Rose who backed down. He looked away, then concentrated on the problem of returning his notebook and pen to his pocket.

“Well, sure I realize head injuries can cause…uh, problems like that.”

Conan was silent, watching this encounter with a certain relish, as Nicky went on coldly.

“My concern is for my patient, Mr. Rose, and I consented to let you see him tonight only because you insisted. But I will not tolerate your badgering him. I think it must be obvious, even to you, that he can’t answer your questions, so I’ll ask you to leave now.”