"I figured that, with the knife staring me in the puss. Who carved him up?"
Cranston shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."
"Only about half the town would have liked to twist a knife into Ally. He
was a shylock, you know. It doesn't make for popularity."
"I see. Why did he call on you?"
"Sheer modesty keeps me from giving you the proper answer." Dane grinned.
"I'm the best private operator in town. I guess that's why."
Cranston said, "He's in the other room if you want to take a look. I want
to look in the closet and see if there's any clue. There is nothing else of any
help here."
For a long, long moment, Dane stood stock still. Cranston wondered if he
could have any idea that hiding in the closet was Roger Stanton... But Dane
finally said. "You look familiar. Do I know you from anywhere?"
"Not that I know of." Cranston smiled so it wouldn't sound vain, "You may
have seen my picture in the papers some time or other."
"Could be," Dane said. He looked all around the kitchen. "No sign of
anyone here."
"None at all," Cranston said.
Finally, still looking all around him, Dane walked toward the doorway that
led into the room where Mingus sat, still in death.
Cranston stood with his back to the closet, making sure that Dane wasn't
going to change his mind and turn around again. There, he was walking through
the doorway.
Waiting till the private detective went into the other room, Cranston
opened the closet door. His body shielded the inside of the room from any
glance. He whispered, "Out the door. Hide out in the Alexis Hotel. Register
under the name of John Barrel."
The man in the closet said. "Money."
Cranston gave him ten dollars. There was no sound from the other room. The
open door of the closet cut off a view of the kitchen. Perhaps with some luck...
"Now..." Cranston said. "Beat it, Roger."
The younger man tiptoed out of the kitchen. It didn't seem possible that
he could make it. Dane's voice roared out of the other room, "Hey, Cranston!
Where's Ally's glass eye?"
Cranston walked into the bedroom as Roger Stanton left the kitchen.
Cranston's body cut off any view that Dane might have had of Roger.
"Glass eye?" Cranston sounded surprised.
"Guess you wouldn't dig that. Say, why were the boys in blue huddled
around this joint when I made my entrance?" Dane asked, coming back into the
kitchen.
"Pickpocket caught. Wallet he stole was that belonging to a youngster
named Roger Stanton."
"Stanton... where've I heard that name? Wanted poster, that's it. He's on
the loose and wanted in New York, isn't he?"
"That's right. He forged a check."
Cranston and Dane looked at each other. Dane said. "Guess we better let
the cops know about this."
Nodding, Cranston said, "I'm rather surprised they haven't been in to see
us already. They were looking over all the houses in the neighborhood. Stanton
ran into this house."
