Kells said: “Give me the pictures.”
Beery was staring open-mouthed at Kells. “Gerry, you can’t do this,” he said. “I told Tommy we had the girl—”
“She escaped.”
Granquist put on her coat. She looked at Kells and her eyes were soft, wet. She went to him and took a heavy manila envelope out of her pocket, handed it to him. She stood a moment looking up at him and then she turned and went to the door, put her hand on the knob and turned it, then took her hand away from the knob and held it up to her face. She stood like that a little while and then she said. “All right,” very low.
She said, “All right,” again, very low and distinctly, and turned from the door and went back to the big chair and sat down.
Kells said: “Okay, Shep.”
About ten minutes later Beery got up and let Captain Hayes of the Hollywood Division in. There were two plain-clothes men and an assistant coroner with him.
The assistant coroner examined Bellmann’s body, looked up in a little while: “Instantaneous — two wounds, probably thirty-two caliber — one touched the heart.” He stood up. “Dead about twenty minutes.”
Hayes picked up the gun from where Kells had replaced it under the table, examined it, wrapped it carefully.
Kells smiled at him. “Old school — along with silencers and dictaphones. Nowadays they wear gloves.” Hayes said: “What’s your name?”