Free Gentle Murderer by Dorothy Salisbury Davis

I had the hammer you’re looking for.”
    A police stenographer in the back of the room changed pencils.
    “Just answer my question,” Holden said. “Do you have a hammer?”
    “Yeah. I have one. I keep it on the seat beside me. I got mugged once. Want to see it?”
    “I think that would be advisable,” Holden said quietly. He motioned to a uniformed policeman standing at the door.
    The cabbie looked around to see him depart. “You don’t waste no time, do you?”
    “We try not to,” Holden said. “Now I’d like to hear the details of what happened from the moment you picked her up.”
    The cabbie sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. He accepted the cigarette Holden offered him. “She jumped in. Didn’t waste no time,” he started. “Gave the door a good whack shut. I don’t get one out of ten can get that door closed themselves. Some day I’m gonna get a new hack. In the neck I’m gonna get it. Five thousand bucks. Anyway, ‘I’m late,’ she says. ‘Fifth Avenue and Tenth Street. Try and get there in a hurry.’ ‘I don’t aim going in second, lady,’ I says, ‘but we ain’t going to set any records this time of day …’”
    Holden made a note of the address while the cabbie talked. So did Goldsmith, who sat at his desk throughout the questioning, listening although apparently absorbed in work of his own. Now he drew a map from his drawer and opened it.
    “Well, I get all the way down to Twenty-third Street. I’m beginning to make time then and she leans up to me. ‘Driver, you’ll have to take me back.’ ‘Forget something?’ I says. But I take one look at her and I could tell she didn’t forget nothing she wanted to remember. That dame was sick. She looked good when she got in but right then that makeup on her face was like something stuck on, something that was going to fall off any minute. I made a U-turn and stepped on it. I don’t like people getting sick on me. If they’re real sick they can’t think about the fare, and I ain’t got what it takes to ask ’em for it. One time I damn near got a baby. You think that’s funny. Happens in the newspaper maybe, but let me tell you …”
    “We’d better wait for that,” Holden said. “It took you about a half-hour to get to Twenty-third Street and back. Then what?”
    “I pulled up in front of Her apartment—almost in front, that is, I thought the doorman would come and get her. Maybe she don’t want him. Maybe she figured she can’t wait. He was putting somebody in a private car. Anyway, she asks me to help her upstairs. Says she’ll make it worth my while. That suits me. I take the key out of the car, go around and give her an arm. She leaned hard and she wasn’t no lightweight. We goes in through the lobby. A couple of people look round at us. Maybe they think she’s drunk. I don’t know. The guy at the desk looks up. Says ‘good evening’ just like it was one. She don’t say a word. The elevator’s there. The operator says ‘good evening’ the same way. I think maybe she’ll let go of me then. No sir. If I’d tried to get away I’d had to leave her my right arm. Right to the door. She leans on the wall while she gets out the key. I take it from her and open the door. Then she grabs my arm again and says, ‘Help me into the bedroom, please.’ I don’t like that much, but I figure she’s got to sit down before she pays me …”
    “Were there any lights on in the apartment?” Holden interrupted.
    The cabbie thought about it. “Yeah. There was one on down there in the living room. We went through that hall there and she says the bedroom switch is on the wall. I turned it on.”
    “Did you close the door to the apartment before helping her into the bedroom?”
    The cab driver rubbed the back of his neck. “I just don’t remember that. It was closed when I went to go out again—I know that …”
    “All right,” Holden said. “Take that when you get there. You helped her into the bedroom and