The Smart Guys Marching Society, page
three
"Are you trying to say something, Uncle Isaac?"
I asked.
He shrugged. "Just a question I have. I was wondering
why Carla attacked Sergeant D'Amato."
"She freaked out when she saw Tommy had been stabbed,"
Mark answered. "She recognized the knife and wanted to kill him."
"So I assume her fingerprints are on the knife."
"Of course. From when she pulled it from Tommy's
body to attack D'Amato."
"I'm afraid that's where we disagree," Isaac said,
stroking his sideburn. "I think she grabbed the knife and attacked D'Amato
in front of all of you to disguise the fact that her prints were already
on the knife--from having stabbed Tommy."
"What?!"
"But how? When?"
"When Tommy conveniently fell out of the closet,
into her arms."
"But D'Amato's knife killed Tommy."
"I know. She was holding it in her hand at the
time."
We were all talking at once. Isaac waved us down.
"Look, what do I know? I wasn't even there. Mark was."
"That's right," he said. "And she couldn't have
planned it. I saw Tommy's body fall out of the closet--"
"Did I say she planned it? Look..." Isaac ticked
his thoughts off on stubby fingers. "Here's a tough girl, angry at Tommy
for cheating on her. D'Amato sweats her till she tells him where Tommy
is. She's probably feeling very mixed emotions--hurt, rage, a desire for
revenge, guilt...But she's a realist, too. What does she think Tommy's
going to do when he finds out she led D'Amato to the hideout?"
"So now you're saying the murder was planned?"
"No," he replied calmly. "I'm saying that the opportunity
presented itself. I'm suggesting that when Tommy fell out of his hiding
place, into her arms, in that darkened room, it would only take a moment's
thought for her to conceive of stabbing him...right there and then..."
"I get it," Bill said excitedly. "Then screaming
as his body hits the floor, as though in shock--"
Isaac shrugged. "Maybe in real shock...in horror...at
what she'd done...Who knows? But she kept her wits enough to know her fingerprints
would be on the murder weapon."
"So she pulled the knife from his chest and attacked
D'Amato...thus creating the impression it was at that moment she
first touched the knife.
"Like George in the locker room, only in reverse,"
said Isaac. "Pulling out the knife disguised the fact that she'd been the
one who put it in." Isaac folded his hands on his ample stomach.
"But how did she get the knife in the first place?"
Mark asked.
"You said yourself, she ran from D'Amato's car
and joined the rest of you, clambering up the stairwell. In al that confusion,
a girl with Carla's street background and criminal record could certainly
lift the knife from D'Amato's belt." He closed his eyes reflectively. "After
all, she needed some kind of weapon--some way to defend herself in case
things got nasty up there. Remember, she was playing a very dangerous game...both
sides against the middle." He smiled. "Moreover, she is a thief. Thieves
do
take things.
Bill scratched his chin. "You might be onto something,
Isaac. But there is still one thing I don't understand. How come Tommy
fell out of his hidden closet?--He did fall, right, Mark?
"Hell, yeah...kinda crumpled, pushing the
door open as he fell. But if Isaac is right, he hadn't even been stabbed
yet..."
"So what happened to him?" Fred asked.
Isaac looked at Mark. "You said Tommy'd had the
closet built for just such an emergency--small, flush with the wall, airtight
seal...Tommy's man said he'd seen him get in the closet at the first sign
of trouble...and that the door never opened till Tommy fell out. That's
about ten minutes, right, Mark?"
"More like fifteen."
"Well, fifteen minutes in a small, airtight compartment...I
think Tommy merely passed out from lack of air, fell forward--"
"Pushing the door open as he fell," I said excitedly.
"Right into Carla's arms..."
There was a long pause. Finally, Mark turned from
Isaac to the rest of us. "Well that makes as much sense as anything else."
"Pardon me," Isaac said. "But it makes more
sense than anything else."
Fred chuckled drily. "I think he's got us there."
Mark was on his feet, heading for the wall phone.
"I'm gonna run all this past Vince...If he presses Carla hard enough, she
might come off clean."
"Especially if that nut case D'Amato wises up and
pleads innocent," Bill said. "Him and his magic knife..."
I shook my head. "I still think it'll bother him
that somebody else got Tommy Slick after all..."
"Who cares?" Fred was smiling at Isaac. "The important
thing was you! That was really something, Isaac."
The old man gave a quick nod. "My friends'll tell
you, modesty's not my strong suit. But it's nice to know I can still rub
two thoughts together."
"Are you kidding?" Bill raised his drink. "I say
a toast is in order...I think we've found a new member of the Smart Guys
Marching Society."
"That's a great idea," I said.
"Works for me," Fred chimed in. He tossed a beer
to Mark, standing at the wall phone. "Raise one with us, Mark. We're initiating
Isaac into the Smart Guys."
Mark toasted him. "Sorry about that, Isaac." Then,
turning to the phone, he said, "Vince?...you got a minute? You're not gonna
believe
this, but..."
First published in Ellery Queen's
Mystery Magazine, September, 1996.
dennis@dennispalumbo.com
