Free Things Beyond Midnight by William F Nolan Page A

I’m the boy that has to listen. Mr. Ears. Well, Norm kid, somebody’s got to listen. Part of the daily grind. So, listen.
    Lieutenant Norman Bendix shook out a cigarette, lit it, and watched the office door open.
    “Here he is, Lieutenant.”
    Bendix leaned forward across the desk, folding his hands. The cigarette jerked with his words. “Come in, Mr. Pruyn.”
    A small man stood uneasily before the desk, bald, smiling nervously, twisting a gray felt hat in his hands.
    In his early thirties, guessed Bendix. Probably a recluse. Lives alone in a small apartment. No hobbies. Broods a lot. They don’t have to say a word. I can spot one a mile away.
    “Are you the gentleman I’m to see about my murder?” asked the small man. His voice was high and uncertain. He blinked rapidly behind thick-rimmed glasses.
    “That’s right, Mr. Pruyn. Bendix is my name. Lieutenant Bendix. Won’t you sit down?”
    Bendix indicated a chair near the desk.
    “Pruyn. Like in sign,” said the bald little man. “Everyone mispronounces it, you know. An easy name to get wrong, I suppose. But, it’s Pruyn. Emery T. Pruyn.” He sat down.
    “Well, Mr. Pruyn.” Bendix was careful to get the name right. “Want to go ahead?”
    “Uh—I do hope you are the correct gentleman. I should hate to repeat it all to someone else. I abhor repetition, you know.” He blinked at Bendix.
    “Believe me, I’m your man. Please go ahead with your story.”
    Sure, Bendix thought, rave away, Mr. Pruyn. This office lacks one damned important item: a leather couch. He offered the small man a cigarette.
    “Oh, no. No, thank you, Lieutenant. I don’t smoke.”
    Or murder , either, Bendix added in his mind. All you do, Blinky, is read the papers.
    “Is it true, Lieutenant, that the police have absolutely no clues to work on?”
    “That’s what it said in the papers. They get the facts, Mr. Pruyn.”
    “Yes. Well—I was naturally curious as to the job I had done.” He paused to adjust his glasses. “May I assure you, from the outset, that I am indeed the guilty party. The crime of murder is on my hands.” Bendix nodded. Okay, Blinky, I’m impressed.
    “I—uh—suppose you’ll want to take my story down on tape or however you—”
    Bendix smiled. “Officer Barnhart will take down what you say. Learned shorthand in junior high, didn’t you, Pete?”
    Barnhart grinned from the back of the room.
    Emery Pruyn glanced nervously over his shoulder at the uniformed policeman seated near the door. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize that the officer had remained. I thought that he—left.”
    “He’s very quiet,” said Bendix, exhaling a cloud of pale blue cigarette smoke. “Please go on with your story, Mr. Pruyn.”
    “Of course. Yes. Well—I know I don’t look like a murderer, Lieutenant Bendix, but then—” he chuckled softly, “—we seldom look like what we really are. Murderers, after all, can look like anybody.” Bendix fought back a yawn. Why do these jokers pick late afternoon to unload? God, he was hungry. If I let this character ramble on, I’ll be here all night. Helen will blow her stack if I’m late for dinner again. Better pep things up. Ask him some leading questions.
    “Just how did you get into the Sloane apartment?”
    “Disguise,” said Pruyn with a shy smile. He sat forward in the leather chair. “I posed as a television man.”
    “You mean a television repair man?”
    “Oh, no. Then I should never have gained entry since I had no way of knowing whether or not Mrs. Sloane needed a repair man. No, I took the role of a television representative. I told Mrs. Sloane that her name had been chosen at random, along with four others in that vicinity, for a free enhancer.”
    “Enhancer?”
    “To enhance the color range in her television set. I just made it up, out of my imagination.”
    “I see. She let you in?”
    “Oh, yes. She was utterly convinced, grateful that her name had been chosen, all excited and talking