moment too soon. I wished, not for the first time in my life, that there were a way to stop the celestial tape recorder of existence, rewind it a bit, and lay down a substitute track for the most recent past.
But you can't do that, as Omar Khayyam explained long before tape recorders. The moving finger writes and all, and dear little Jillian had just gone and given us the moving finger, all right.
"This dental scalpel," said Todras, showing it to us yet again. "This particular one wasn't found in the chest of Crystal Sheldrake, as a matter of fact. Rules of evidence and everything, we don't ever carry murder weapons around with us. The actual scalpel that snuffed the lady, it's in the lab right now with a tag on it while the men in the white smocks check blood types and do all the things they do."
Jillian didn't say anything.
"The scalpel my partner's showing you," Nyswander put in, "was picked up on the way here when we stopped at Celniker Dental and Optical Supply. It's an exact twin of the murder weapon and useful for us to carry around in the course of our investigation. That's why my partner can keep it in his pocket and take it out when the spirit moves him. It's not evidence so there's no way he can be tampering with it."
Todras, grinning furiously, made the scalpel disappear again. "Just for curiosity," he said, "maybe you'd like to tell us how you spent the evening, Miss Paar."
"How I-"
"What did you do last night? Unless you can't remember."
"Last night," Jillian said. She blinked, gnawed her lip, looked beseechingly at me. "I had dinner," she said.
"Alone?"
"With me," I put in. "You're writing this down? Why? Jillian's not a suspect, is she? I thought you had an open-and-shut case against Dr. Sheldrake."
"We do," said Todras.
"It's just routine," Nyswander added. His weasel face looked craftier than ever. "So you had dinner together?"
"Right. Honey, what was the name of that restaurant?"
"Belevedere's. But-"
"Belvedere's. Right. We must have been there until nine o'clock or thereabouts."
"And then I suppose you spent a quiet evening at home?"
"Jillian did," I said. "I headed on over to the Garden myself and watched the fights. They already started by the time I got there but I saw three or four prelim bouts and the main event. Jillian doesn't care for boxing."
"I don't like violence," Jillian said.
Todras seemed to approach me without actually moving. "I suppose," he said, "you can prove you were at the fights."
"Prove it? Why do I have to prove it?"
"Oh, just routine, Mr. Rhodenbarr. I suppose you went with a friend."
"No, I went alone."
"That a fact? But you most likely ran into somebody you knew."
I thought about it. "Well, the usual ringside crowd was there. The pimps and the dope dealers and the sports crowd. But I'm just a fan, I don't actually know any of those people except to recognize them when I see them."
"Uh-huh."
"The fellow who sat next to me, we were talking about the fighters and all, but I don't know his name and I don't even know if I'd recognize him again."
"Uh-huh."
"Anyway, why would I have to prove where I was?"
"Just routine," Nyswander said. "Then you can't-"
"Oh," I said brightly. "Hell. I wonder if I have my ticket stub. I don't remember throwing it out." I looked at Jillian. "Was I wearing this jacket last night? You know, I think I was. I probably dropped the stub in the garbage, or when I was cleaning out my pockets before I went to bed. Maybe it's in a wastebasket at my apartment. I don't suppose-oh, here's something."
And, amazingly enough, I showed Nyswander an orange stub from last night's fight card at Madison Square Garden. He eyed it sullenly before passing it to Todras who didn't seem any happier to see it, his smile notwithstanding.
The ticket stub cooled things. They didn't suspect us of anything, they knew they already had the murderer in a cell, but Jillian had irritated them and they were getting a little of their own back. They returned to a
But you can't do that, as Omar Khayyam explained long before tape recorders. The moving finger writes and all, and dear little Jillian had just gone and given us the moving finger, all right.
"This dental scalpel," said Todras, showing it to us yet again. "This particular one wasn't found in the chest of Crystal Sheldrake, as a matter of fact. Rules of evidence and everything, we don't ever carry murder weapons around with us. The actual scalpel that snuffed the lady, it's in the lab right now with a tag on it while the men in the white smocks check blood types and do all the things they do."
Jillian didn't say anything.
"The scalpel my partner's showing you," Nyswander put in, "was picked up on the way here when we stopped at Celniker Dental and Optical Supply. It's an exact twin of the murder weapon and useful for us to carry around in the course of our investigation. That's why my partner can keep it in his pocket and take it out when the spirit moves him. It's not evidence so there's no way he can be tampering with it."
Todras, grinning furiously, made the scalpel disappear again. "Just for curiosity," he said, "maybe you'd like to tell us how you spent the evening, Miss Paar."
"How I-"
"What did you do last night? Unless you can't remember."
"Last night," Jillian said. She blinked, gnawed her lip, looked beseechingly at me. "I had dinner," she said.
"Alone?"
"With me," I put in. "You're writing this down? Why? Jillian's not a suspect, is she? I thought you had an open-and-shut case against Dr. Sheldrake."
"We do," said Todras.
"It's just routine," Nyswander added. His weasel face looked craftier than ever. "So you had dinner together?"
"Right. Honey, what was the name of that restaurant?"
"Belevedere's. But-"
"Belvedere's. Right. We must have been there until nine o'clock or thereabouts."
"And then I suppose you spent a quiet evening at home?"
"Jillian did," I said. "I headed on over to the Garden myself and watched the fights. They already started by the time I got there but I saw three or four prelim bouts and the main event. Jillian doesn't care for boxing."
"I don't like violence," Jillian said.
Todras seemed to approach me without actually moving. "I suppose," he said, "you can prove you were at the fights."
"Prove it? Why do I have to prove it?"
"Oh, just routine, Mr. Rhodenbarr. I suppose you went with a friend."
"No, I went alone."
"That a fact? But you most likely ran into somebody you knew."
I thought about it. "Well, the usual ringside crowd was there. The pimps and the dope dealers and the sports crowd. But I'm just a fan, I don't actually know any of those people except to recognize them when I see them."
"Uh-huh."
"The fellow who sat next to me, we were talking about the fighters and all, but I don't know his name and I don't even know if I'd recognize him again."
"Uh-huh."
"Anyway, why would I have to prove where I was?"
"Just routine," Nyswander said. "Then you can't-"
"Oh," I said brightly. "Hell. I wonder if I have my ticket stub. I don't remember throwing it out." I looked at Jillian. "Was I wearing this jacket last night? You know, I think I was. I probably dropped the stub in the garbage, or when I was cleaning out my pockets before I went to bed. Maybe it's in a wastebasket at my apartment. I don't suppose-oh, here's something."
And, amazingly enough, I showed Nyswander an orange stub from last night's fight card at Madison Square Garden. He eyed it sullenly before passing it to Todras who didn't seem any happier to see it, his smile notwithstanding.
The ticket stub cooled things. They didn't suspect us of anything, they knew they already had the murderer in a cell, but Jillian had irritated them and they were getting a little of their own back. They returned to a
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