Free Dark Blonde by David H. Fears Page B

Elmore’s three-wheeler still blocked the walk but the mad questioner was nowhere in sight, a good thing because I didn’t have any more answers to unanswerable questions. Mostly I had questions: Who slugged me? If I’d interrupted his little treasure hunt, what was left to tear apart? What was the object of the ransack? Was it still inside the bungalow? Had the slugger returned?
    Inside the house looked the same. A housekeeper’s nightmare.
    “Show me where you were sapped. We can see what was left undone from there. I assume when you entered the house you heard nothing?”
    “Quiet as a closed library.”
    A rustling sound came from the back bedroom. Rick drew his .32 automatic just as a sparrow flitted out of the bedroom and dive-bombed us, perching on the living room curtain rod and letting us know he didn’t appreciate sharing the place with private investigators.
    “A little bird told me,” Rick said, holstering his .32.
    “That punched out door pane makes the place one giant birdhouse party for his friends.”
    Rick spotted something over by the fireplace and took a thick maroon book off the top of the pile. Greek Tragedies. The inside of the book had been cut out, creating a hiding place large enough for a revolver. Rick sniffed the opening, raised his eyebrows and said: “Mary Jane. This is where she kept her stash. I gather this text wasn’t extra credit.”
    Rick passed the book to me and moved a few more books around. I stuck my nose in to verify the odor: “Even a hop-head wouldn’t go to all this trouble for a few ounces of weed. Whatever our hit and run thug was looking for, this wasn’t it.”
    “Or he would have stopped with this room.”
    “Maybe I’m learning from you?”
    We moved into the kitchen and I showed Rick where the sap had made acquaintance with my skull. There was space enough for a woman or a thin guy to stand between the refrigerator and the back door. It was a deep recess allowing someone to hide in shadows. I felt stupid.
    “So this is where he got you. Could have been a woman or a rail-thin man. Stand where you got hit and I’ll squeeze in.”
    I stood with my left side to the refrigerator and leaned over reaching for the door. There had been some pans and trays in the floor and I’d leaned for the doorknob.
    “Judging from your position, the lump on your head, the sap would have come down in an arc, like this.”
    “Not sidearm? And no woman could have hit me that hard.”
    Rick showed me the motion a few times. “Not sidearm. Unless he stepped fully out into the kitchen he couldn’t have done it. Overhand and down, right handed, and a man about my height, no more than six feet. You probably fell slightly forward in the direction of your lean against that wall. The blow would have pushed you maybe a foot or more. Did your head strike the wall?”
    “I was too busy looking at constellations. Now that you mention it there is a bit of tenderness on my crown. With the gorilla inside my lump it wasn’t something I registered.”
    “So let’s assume that the intruder worked his way from the living room through the backrooms, bathroom and into the kitchen when he heard you on the walk. Footsteps there echo off the adjoining apartments. Or possibly he heard you at the door using your key. He would have had enough time to crouch in there. Leaving through the back door meant a good chance he’d be heard, plus whatever he wanted was significant enough to wait to see if you’d leave. When you came into the kitchen, he slugged you and probably went back out through the front. Judging from the looks of things, I’d say he’d looked everywhere.”
    “Why not just use the back door?”
    “If you hadn’t noticed it’s locked and the old type skeleton key’s on a hook over the sink, plus the pans are still strewn in front of the door.” Rick retrieved the key and unlocked the door. The house was set so deep on the lot there was no back yard, just a breezeway that led to