“She’ll be all right,” Tab said, noticing the detective’s attention. “She’s a tough enough kid but you can’t blame her for not wanting to see Mr. O’Brien, not like that.”
For the first time Andy looked at the body. He had seen a lot worse. Michael O’Brien was still as impressive in death as he had been in life: sprawled on his back, arms and legs spread wide, mouth agape and eyes open and staring. The length of iron projected from the side of his head and a thin trickle of dark blood ran down the side of his neck to the floor. Andy knelt and touched the bared skin on his forearm; it was very cool. The air-conditioned room would have something to do with that. He stood and looked at the bathroom door.
“Can she hear us in there?” he asked.
“No, sir. It’s soundproofed, the whole apartment is.”
“You said she lives here. What does that mean?”
“She is—was Mr. O’Brien’s girl. She’s got nothing to do with this, no reason to have anything to do with it. He was her cracker and marge—” Realization hit and his shoulders slumped. “Mine too. We both gotta look for a new job now.” He retired into himself, looking with great unhappiness at a suddenly insecure future.
Andy glanced around at the disordered clothing and the splintered dresser. “They could have had a fight before she went out today, she might have done it then.”
“Not Miss Shirl!” Tab’s fists clenched tight. “She’s not the kind of person who could do this sort of thing. When I said tough I meant she could roll with things, you know, get along with the world. She couldn’t of done this. It would have to be before I met her downstairs, I wait for her in the lobby, and she came down today just like she always does. Nice and happy, she couldn’t of acted like that if she had just come from this.” He pointed angrily at the mountainous corpse that lay between them.
He didn’t say so but Andy agreed with the bodyguard. A good-looking bird like this one didn’t have to kill anyone. What she did she did for D’s and if a guy gave her too much trouble she’d just walk out and find someone else with money. Not murder.
“What about you, Tab, did you knock the old boy off?”
“Me?” He was surprised, not angry. “I wasn’t even up in the building until I came back with Miss Shirl and found him.” He straightened up with professional pride. “And I’m a bodyguard. I have a contract to protect him. I don’t break contracts. And when I kill anyone it’s not like that—that’s no way to kill anyone.”
Every minute in the air-conditioned room made Andy feel better. The drying sweat was cool on his body and the headache was almost gone. He smiled. “Off the record—strictly—I agree with you. But don’t quote me until I make a report. It looks like a break and entry, O’Brien walked in on whoever was burglaring the place and caught that thing in the side of his head.” He glanced down at the silenced figure. “Who was he—what did he do for a living? O’Brien’s a common name.”
“He was in business,” Tab said flatly.
“You’re not telling me much, Fielding. Why don’t you run that through again.”
Tab glanced toward the closed door of the bathroom and shrugged. “I don’t know exactly what he did—and I have enough brains not to bother myself about it. He had something to do with the rackets, politics too. I know he had a lot of top-brass people from City Hall coming here—”
Andy snapped his fingers. “O’Brien—he wouldn’t be Big Mike O’Brien?”
“That’s what they called him.”
“Big Mike … well, there’s no loss then. In fact we could lose a few more like him and not miss any of them.”
“I would n’t know about that.” Tab looked straight ahead, his face expressionless.
“Relax. You’re not working for him any more. Your contract has just been canceled.”
“I been paid to the end of the month. I’ll finish my job.”
“It was finished at the same time as the guy on the floor. I think you better look after the girl instead.”
“I’m going to do that.” His face relaxed and he glanced at the detective. “It’s not going to be easy for her.”
“She’ll get by,” Andy said flatly. He took out his notepad and stylo. “I’ll talk to her now, I need a complete report. Stick around the apartment until I see her and the building employees. If their stories back you up there’ll be no reason to keep you.”
When he was alone with the body, Andy took the polythene evidence bag from his pocket and worked it down over the iron without touching it, then pulled the weapon free of the skull by holding on to it through the bag, as low down as possible; it came away easily enough and there was only a slow trickle of blood from the wound. He sealed the bag, then took a pillowcase from the bed and dropped the bag and tire iron into this. There would be no complaints now if he carried the bloody iron in the street—and if he worked it right he could get to keep the pillowcase. He spread a sheet over the body before knocking on the bathroom door.