Free Things Beyond Midnight by William F Nolan Page B

fast. You know, like women do.”
    Bendix nodded.
    “Told me to come right in, that her husband would be delighted when he got home and found out what she’d won. Said it would be a wonderful surprise for him.” Mr. Pruyn smiled. “I walked right in carrying my bag and wearing some blue coveralls and a cap I’d bought the day before. Oh—do you want the name and address of the clothing store in order to verify—”
    “That won’t be necessary at the moment,” Bendix: cut in. “Just tell us about the crime first. We’ll have plenty of time to pick up the details later.”
    “Oh, well, fine. I just thought—well, I put down my bag and—”
    “Bag?”
    “Yes. I carry a wrench and things in the bag.”
    “What for?”
    “To use as murder weapons,” smiled Pruyn, blinking. “I like to take them all along each time and select the one that fits.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “Fits the personality. I simply choose the weapon which is, in my opinion, best suited. Each person has a distinctive personality.”
    “Then—” Bendix watched the little man’s eyes behind the heavy lenses. “—you’ve killed before.”
    “Oh, of course , Lieutenant. Five times prior to Mrs. Sloane. Five ladies.”
    “And why have you waited until now to come to the police? Why haven’t you confessed before?”
    “Because I chose not to. Because my goal had not been reached.”
    “Which was?”
    “An even six. In the beginning I determined to kill exactly six women and then give myself up. Which I have done. Every man should have a goal in life. Mine was six murders.”
    “I see. Well—to get back to Mrs. Sloane. What happened after she let you in?”
    “I put down my bag and walked back to her.”
    “Where was she?”
    “In the middle of the room, watching me. Smiling. Very friendly. Asking me questions about how the enhancer worked. Not suspecting a thing. Not until...”
    “Until what, Mr. Pruyn?”
    “Until I wouldn’t answer her. I just stood in front of her, smiling, not saying a word. Just standing there.”
    “What did she do?”
    “Got nervous. Quit smiling. Asked me why I wasn’t working on the set. But, I didn’t say anything. I just watched the fear grow in her eyes.” The little man paused; he was sweating, breathing hard now. “Fear is a really wonderful thing to watch in the eyes of a woman, Lieutenant, a lovely thing to watch.”
    “Go on.”
    “When she reached a certain point I knew she’d scream. So, just before she did, I clapped one hand over her mouth and kicked her.”
    Bendix drew in his breath sharply. “What did you say you did?” he demanded.
    “I said I kicked her—in the stomach—to knock the wind out of her. Then she couldn’t scream.” Pruyn chuckled softly, shaking his bald head. “It was fine. Fine.”
    Bendix stubbed out his cigarette. Maybe, he thought, just maybe... “ Then what?”
    “I walked to the bag and selected the knife. Long blade. Good steel. Then I walked back to Mrs. Sloane and cut her throat. It was very rewarding. A goal well conquered.”
    “Is that all?” Bendix asked, watching Pruyn’s eyes.
    Because if he tells me about twenty-one cuts, then he’s our boy, thought Bendix. The kick in the stomach could be, just could be, something he’d figured out for himself. It’s done in the movies all the time. But, if he tells me about the cuts...
    “Oh, there’s more, Lieutenant. Naturally, I rolled her over and left my trademark.”
    “What kind of trademark?”
    The small man grinned shyly behind the thick glasses. “Like the Sign of the Saint—or the Mark of Zorro,” he said. “My initials. On her back. E.T.P. Emery T. Pruyn.”
    Bendix eased back in his chair, sighed, ran a slow tongue around his lips and shook out a fresh cigarette.
    “Then I removed her ears.” He looked proud. “For my collection. I have six nice pairs now.”
    “Wouldn’t have them with you, I don’t suppose?”
    “Oh, no, Lieutenant. I keep them at home—in an