Part 4 (2/2)
Two cops brought in Manewiscz, a short, nervous man with a big nose and frightened brown eyes.
”What's the trouble, Manny?” I asked.
”Nothing, Inspector; I'm telling you, I didn't do nothing. I'm walking along Fifth Avenoo when all of a sudden these cops pull up in a squad-car and some fat jerk in the back seat is hollering that I am the guy he seen get out of a smashup on 99th Street, which is a good three blocks from where I am walking. Besides which, I have not driven a car for over a year now, and I have been in all ways a law-abiding citizen and a credit to the family and the community.”
”Do you know the fat guy?” I asked. ”The guy who fingered you for the boys?”
”I never had the pleasure of seeing him before,” said Manny the Moog, ”but, on the other hand, I do not expect to forget his fat face between now and the next time we meet.”
At that point, Dr. Brownlee came through the door.
”h.e.l.lo, Inspector,” he said with a quick smile. He saw Manewiscz then, and his eyebrows went up. ”What are you doing here, Manny?”
”I am here, Doc, because the two gentlemen in uniform whom you see standing on both sides of me extend a polite invitation to accompany them here, although I am not in the least guilty of the thing they say I do which causes them to issue this invitation.”
I explained what had happened and Brownlee shook his head slowly without saying anything for a moment. Then he said, ”Come on in my office, Manny; I want to talk to you for a few minutes. O.K., Inspector?” He glanced at me.
”Sure.” I waved him and Manny away. ”You boys stay here,” I told the patrolmen, ”Manny will be all right.” As soon as the door closed behind Dr. Brownlee and Manewiscz I said: ”You two brought the witness in, too, didn't you?”
”Yes, sir,” said one. The other nodded.
”You'd better do a little more careful checking on him. He may be simply mistaken, or he may have been the actual driver. See if he's been in any trouble before.”
”The sergeant's already doing that, sir,” said the one who had spoken before. ”Meanwhile, maybe we better go out and have a little talk with the guy.”
”Take it easy, he may be a perfectly respectable citizen.”
”Yes, sir,” he said. ”We'll just ask him a few questions.”
They left, and I noticed that the Duke was looking rather puzzled, but he didn't ask any questions, so I couldn't answer any.
The intercom lit up, and I flipped the switch. ”Yes?”
”I just checked up on the witness,” said the sergeant. ”No record. His identification checks out O.K. Thomas H. Wilson, an executive at the City-Chemical Bank; lives on Central Park West. The lab says that the driver of the car wore gloves.”
”Thank Wilson for his information, let him go, and tell him we'll call him if we need him. Lay it on thick about what a good citizen he is.
Make him happy.”
”Right.”
I switched off and started to say something to my guest, but the intercom lit up again. ”Yeah?”
”Got a call-in from Officer McCaffery, the beat man on Broadway between 108th and 112th. He's got a lead on the guy you're looking for.”
”Tell him we'll be right over. Where is he?”
The sergeant told me, and I cut off.
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