The newsboy was relaxed and he was calm. He smiled at Elrick, and then he looked up at Reeve.
“So like I was telling you, I always hated Renzelli,” Herbie said. “I always remembered how he used to bully me, when we were kids. But more than just hating him as an individual, I despised the things he represented. Two years ago I planned to murder him. But just about that time he left town. I don’t know why. It couldn’t have been because he was afraid of me. I never told a soul what I intended to do. Anyway, after Renzelli left, I promised myself that if he ever came back, I would kill him because he and creatures of his type are leeches, sucking the blood of society. An artist like myself is forced to sell newspapers on a corner, while the Renzellis live like princes!”
“All right,” Reeve cut in. “So Renzelli came back to town. Then what?”
Herbie shrugged. “I had a gun. I’d been saving it for the happy moment. Last night I used it.”
“And today,” Reeve said, “you were on the corner as usual, chewing the rag with your old pal Elrick. ‘Is that right?”
“That’s right,” Herbie said, and he smiled contentedly.
One of the dicks said: “Bughouse.” Reeve nodded.
Elrick told himself that if he stayed in this room a minute longer he’d go crazy, too. He opened the door and walked out. He walked through the quiet outer office and he stopped before Gladys.
“You’ll be seeing Vince in a day or so,” he said. “He probably reads the papers. A certain headline will bring him back to town. And since he’s been true blue all this time, trying to help you snap out of it, he’ll come back to you again. And when he does, give him a big hello. Vince ain’t an angel, but he’s better stuff than Renzelli was. And maybe when he sees you back on your feet, smiling again, singing again, he’ll stay on the straight line.”
“Are you telling me that Vince didn’t do it?”