The boy looked calmly at me and said nothing. He had himself under control again. That wouldn’t do. I had to be nasty. I said:
“You were cuckoo over the girl. You confessed to me that it was only because she wouldn’t stand for it that you didn’t–”
“Don’t–please don’t,” he gasped. His face was red again.
I made myself sneer at him until his eves went down. Then I said:
“You talked too much, son. You were too damned anxious to make your life an open book for me. That’s a way you amateur criminals have. You’ve always got to overdo the frank and open business.”
He was watching his hands. I let him have the other barrel:
“You know you killed him. You know if you used a bank gun, and if you put it back, If you did you’re nailed now, without an out. The gunsharks will take care of that. If you didn’t, I’m going to nail you anyhow. All right. I don’t have to tell you whether you’ve got a chance or not. You know.
“Noonan is framing Whisper Thaler for the job. He can’t convict him, but the frame-up is tight enough that if Thaler’s killed resisting arrest, the chief will be in the clear. That’s what he means to do–kill Thaler. Thaler stood off the police all night in his King Street joint. He’s still standing them off–unless they’ve got to him. The first copper that gets to him–exit Thaler.
“If you figure you’ve got a chance to beat your rap, and you want to let another man be killed on your account, that’s your business. But if you know you haven’t got a chance–and you haven’t if the gun can be found– for God’s sake give Thaler one by clearing him.”
“I’d like,” Albury’s voice was an old man’s. He looked up from his hands, saw Dritton, said, “I’d like,” again and stopped.
“Where is the gun?” I asked.
“In Harper’s cage,” the boy said.
I scowled at the cashier and asked him:
“Will you get it?”
He went out as if he were glad to go.
“I didn’t mean to kill him,” the youngster said. “I don’t think I meant to.”
I nodded encouragingly, trying to look solemnly sympathetic.
“I don’t think I meant to kill him,” he repeated, “though I took the gun with me. You were right about my being cuckoo over Dinah–then. It was worse some days than others. The day Willsson brought the check in was one of the bad ones. All I could think about was that I had lost her because I had no more money, and he was taking five thousand dollars to her. It was the check. Can you understand that? I had known that she and Thaler were–you know. If I had learned that Willsson and she were too, without seeing the check, I wouldn’t have done anything. I’m sure of it. It was seeing the check–and knowing I’d lost her because my money was gone.
“I watched her house that night and saw him go in. I was afraid of what I might do, because it was one of the bad days, and I had the gun in my pocket. Honestly I didn’t want to do anything. I was afraid. I couldn’t think of anything but the check, and why I had lost her. I knew Willsson’s wife was jealous. Everybody knew that. I thought if I called her up and told her– I don’t know exactly what I thought, but I went to a store around the corner and phoned her. Then I phoned Thaler. I wanted them there. If I could have thought of anyone else who had anything to do with either Dinah or Willsson I’d have called them too.
“Then I went back and watched Dinah’s house again. Mrs. Willsson came, and then Thaler, and both of them stayed there, watching the house. I was glad of that. With them there I wasn’t so afraid of what I might do. After a while Willsson came out and walked down the street. I looked up at Mrs. Willsson’s car and at the doorway where I knew Thaler was. Neither of them did anything, and Willsson was walking away. I knew then why I had wanted them there. I had hoped they would do something–and I wouldn’t have to. But they didn’t, and he was walking away. If one of them had gone over and said something to him, or even followed him, I wouldn’t have done anything.