Vicious Murder at Amusement Park: Colored Magician Arrested

“It’s everywhere.” Magruder pointed at a stack at his elbow. “O’Connell brought these in. Cabell met with all the reporters, he—”

“I was there,” said Francis.

He found the Riverview captain slouched in his office chair, puffing ruminatively at a cigar. As he entered, Hickey sat up heavily and stubbed out the cigar in a marble ashtray.

“Francis. Where’ve you been?”

“Robey Street, like you asked me.”

“I know that didn’t take three whole hours.”

“I did some catching up with a man I knew there.”

Hickey regarded him through bloodshot eyes. The creases in his jacket suggested he’d tried to get some shut-eye here in the office. “Anything new?”

“Not a thing.”

Hickey poured a scant inch of water into a glass, opened a packet of analgesic powder and tipped it in, gulped down the murky liquid without bothering to stir it first.

“Christ, this is all we need.” He reached for another cigar. “You still don’t think Smithson did it?”

“He says he’s been here since opening day. I can vouch for that, and so can a thousand other people.”

“Can he account for every single day?”

Francis dragged over a chair and sat. “I know I saw him around here last month—I saw his show twice. It’s a good show,” he added.

“I don’t give a tinker’s damn how good his show is.”

Francis’s jaw tightened. “Goddamn it, Bill. You know he’s innocent, and so does anyone else who knows Clyde Smithson. That boy who saw the man going into the ride with the girl says he was a white man. If you don’t release Clyde, there’s going to be trouble. Remember those kids last summer? You want that on your hands?”

Hickey’s face darkened. “You sure there was nothing new at Robey Street?”

“Not a word other than what the Maffucci boy told us right here in this room.”

“That kid—he could have told us anything. For all we know, he could’ve done it.”

“Now you’re just being obtuse.” Francis shook his head. “He’s a scrawny kid, you saw him. This was some kind of crazed sex fiend. That girl was—”

“I know what she was,” Hickey broke in angrily. “I have three daughters. It’s unspeakable. And all we have is a description of a man who looks like every other man. You think we’re going to question every dude in Riverview wearing a boater and an ice-cream suit? People are going to read the papers and scream about closing the park. Baumgarten’s going to have a heart attack.”

“Elsie Paroubek’s case didn’t affect business here.”