I breezed into the apartment. As Durkin had said, the party was right there, the first room you entered, a big reception hall. There was a mob there, mostly flatfeet and dicks standing around looking bored. Inspector Cramer was by the table listening to one of the latter. I walked over to him and said his name.
He looked around, and seemed surprised. “Well, in the name of—”
“Now listen, inspector. Just a second. Forget it. I’m not going to steal the prisoner or the evidence or anything else. You know damn well I’ve got a right to curiosity and that’s all I expect to satisfy. Have a heart. My God, we’ve all got mothers.”
“What have you got in that bag?”
“Shirts and socks. I used it to bring me up. I’d just as soon have one of your men take it down to my car for me.”
He grunted. “Leave it here on the table, and if you get in the way—”
“I won’t. Much obliged.”
Being careful not to bump anyone, I got back against the wall. I took a look. It was a room 17 × 20, on a guess, nearly square. One end was mostly windows, curtained. At the other end was the entrance door. One long wall, the one I was standing against, had pictures and a couple of stands with vases of flowers. In the other wall, nearly to the corner, was a double door, closed, leading of course to the apartment proper. The rest of that wall, about ten feet of it, had curtains to match those at the end, but there couldn’t have been windows. I figured it was closets for wraps. The light was from the ceiling, indirect, with switches at the double door and the entrance door. There was one large rug, and a good-sized table in the middle. Near where I stood was a stand with a telephone and a chair.
There were only four chairs altogether. In one of them, at the end of the table, Paul Chapin was sitting. I couldn’t see his face, he was turned wrong. At the other end of the table Doc Burton was on the floor. He just looked dead and fairly comfortable; either he had landed straight when he fell or someone had stretched him out, and his arms were neatly along his sides. His head was at a funny angle, but they always are until they’re propped up. Looking at him, I thought to myself that Wolfe had had him down for seven thousand bucks, and now he’d never have that to worry about again along with a lot of other things. From where I was I couldn’t see much blood.
A few details had happened since I arrived. There had been phone calls. One of the dicks had gone out and come back in a couple of minutes with an Assistant Medical Examiner; apparently there had been difficulty downstairs. I hoped he wouldn’t take my bag by mistake when he went. They buzzed around. Inspector Cramer had left the room by the double door, to see the women I supposed. A young woman came in from outside and made a scene, but all in all she did pretty well with it, since it appeared that it was her father that had been croaked. She had been out somewhere, and she took it hard. I’ve often observed that the only thing that makes it a real hardship to have dealings with stiffs is the people that are still living. This girl was the kind that makes your throat clog up because you see how she’s straining to fight it back in and you know she’s licked. I was glad when a dick took her away, in to her mother.