Free The Black Hearts Murder by Ellery Queen

close to a race explosion, this might be the detonator. Your man Horton is the local leader of his political party. He must have some influence with the D.A. I thought he might use it to get Rawlings’s bail reduced to some reasonable sum.”
    Cordes looked unhappy. “The D.A. doesn’t fix bail, Mr. McCall.”
    â€œI know,” McCall said. “But according to my information he recommended the figure that was set. Also, in the opinion of somebody who knows the judge and the D.A. both, Edmundson probably would reduce bail to whatever figure Volper suggested. The D.A. ought to be persuaded to change his mind, Mr. Cordes.”
    Cordes pursed his precise lips. “A phone call direct to the judge would do it, without Horton’s having to use Volper as a middleman. As I mentioned before, Gerry Horton is a strong leader. He pretty well runs the local party.”
    â€œYou think he’d do it?”
    Cordes pulled in his head like an alarmed turtle. “I meant he could make Edmundson change his mind if he wanted to. But I don’t think he’d want to. Gerry doesn’t believe in coddling these black militants.”
    â€œCoddling?” McCall said. “The man is charged with an offense that could get him eighteen months. A white man charged with the same crime would likely be released on his own recognizance. It isn’t coddling to offer blacks the same treatment as whites.”
    â€œIt is when they have a history of jumping bail,” the little man said.
    McCall stared at him. “One Black Heart jumping bail constitutes a history? Do you belong to any organization, Cordes? The Elks, for instance?”
    â€œI’m a Rotarian.”
    â€œIf some fellow-member of Rotary were arrested for a crime and jumped his bail, should that bar you from bail if you later got into trouble with the law?”
    Cordes sniffed. “The Black Hearts can hardly be equated with Rotary, Mr. McCall. Anyway, you’re arguing with the wrong person. You asked me what I thought Gerry Horton’s reaction would be, and I told you. Nothing you say to me is going to change Gerry’s attitude.”
    â€œI suppose not. But off the record, Cordes, and strictly because I’m nosy, how does your attitude compare with his?”
    The little man thought this over very carefully. “As I said before, Mr. McCall, I’m a follower. I believe Horton has a big political future, and I mean to devote my energies to furthering it in whatever way I can. I suppose Gerry doesn’t need me so much as I need him. I believe in him—I guess you could call it an old-fashioned case of hero worship. Anyway, our relationship precludes me from holding divergent political opinions. So your question really isn’t pertinent.”
    â€œJust a Banbury Boswell?” McCall smiled. “No opinions of your own?”
    â€œNone,” Cordes replied, “that I would ever express. To you or anyone else, just so long as Gerald Horton has a use for me.”
    McCall got to his feet. “Loyalty right or wrong is rare these days, Mr. Cordes,” he said. “I hope Horton realizes what a jewel he has.”
    â€œThank you, Mr. McCall,” the little man said earnestly.
    Back in his hotel suite, McCall dialed Horton’s home number again. There was still no answer. After dressing for his dinner date he tried once more, with no success. Cordes’s guess as to when Horton would get home was probably correct. There was no point in trying again until eight or nine o’clock.
    The 3200 block of Ralston Avenue was an area of modern medium-range apartment houses and small homes. Number 3217 was a two-story brick. No elevator, and the aggregate of mailboxes in the lobby added up to ten units to a floor.
    McCall climbed a flight of concrete stairs and sought out 2C. He pressed the bell. The door opened immediately.
    Laurel Tate was wearing a sleeveless moderate-mini suitable for