Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven A Good Spoon

We had another drink. She put down the glass, licked her lips, and said, "If you like to stir up trouble and make trouble, then I can give you a very good spoon. Do you know Noonan's brother Tim, two years ago in Mok Lake The one who committed suicide?" "never heard of that." "Even if someone mentioned it, what you heard is not the truth. He didn't commit suicide, Max killed him." "so what?" "God, wake up! I'm telling the truth. Noonan is to Tim like a father is to a son. Show him the evidence and he'll absolutely bite Max hard. That's exactly what you want , isn't it?"

"Do we have evidence?" "Two men came before Tim died, and he told them Max did it. Those two are still living in the city, though one won't live long. How?" She looked like she was telling the truth.Although when it comes to women, especially blue-eyed women, it doesn't usually mean anything. "Tell me the whole thing," I said. "I like details and facts." "You'll hear. Been to Mocker Lake? Well, it's our summer resort here, thirty miles north of Canyon Road, a place that doesn't give a shit, but it's cool in the summer, so it's a good place to be. I was there last summer last weekend in August with a guy named Holly. He's back in the UK and he's got nothing to do with it anyway so you're definitely not interested. He's kind of a weird old lady - like Put the white stockings on backwards so the thread doesn't hurt his feet. I also got a letter from him last week saying he's here, but that's not the point.

"We were there, and Max was there with the girl he was hanging out with—Myrtle Jannison. She was a very fashionable girl, slender and blonde. I always liked her, except for the fact that she was too noisy after a few drinks. Tim loved her, but she only had eyes for Max that summer. "Tim wouldn't let it go. He's a tall, handsome Irishman, but he's stupid and bad, and he's all about his big brother who's the police chief. He'll follow Myrtle wherever he goes. She She didn't want to tell Max about it, because she didn't want Max to have a problem with Tim's chief brother.

"So, of course Tim was at Mok Lake that Saturday. Myrtle was with Max and I was with Holly. But I still saw Myrtle and when I was talking to her she told me Tim Leaving her a note asking her to meet that evening in one of the little kiosks in the hotel square, which would take her only a few minutes. And saying that if she didn't come, he'd kill himself. I laughed—what a bragging. I advised Myrtle not to go, but she had just had a good drink and was in a good mood, and said she was going to give him a good beating. "We all danced in the hotel that night. Max stayed for a while at first, and then I didn't see him. Myrtle danced with a local lawyer named Rutgers. After a while, she left him and never out a side door. She winked at me as she passed me, so I knew she was going to see Tim. Not long after she went out, I heard gunshots. No one else heard it though. I guess if Mo I'm sure I wouldn't have noticed about Ter and Tim either.

"I told Holly I was going to find Myrtle, and I went out and chased her by myself. It was about five minutes before she went out. As soon as I went out, I saw a gazebo with lights and people around. I Go over there, and—it's thirsty to talk so much." I poured two glasses of straight gin and she went to the kitchen for a soda siphon and some ice.We mixed the two together and drank it, and she returned to the story. "There was Tim Noonan, dead. There was a hole in his temple, and his pistol lay beside him. About a dozen people surrounded him, hotel staff, tourists, one of Noonan's men, and A detective named McSwain. Myrtle pulled me away from the crowd as soon as he saw me and hid in the shade of a tree.

"'Max killed him,' she said, 'what should I do?' "I asked her exactly what was going on. She said she saw a flame and at first thought Tim had committed suicide. She was too far away and too dark to see anything. She ran over and saw him in the Rolling around on the ground, moaning, "He really doesn't have to kill me for her, I'll—" She didn't catch the rest. He kept rolling around, blood kept coming from the bullet hole in his temple come out. "Myrtle was worried that Max did it, but she had to know the truth, so she got down on her knees, tried to hold Tim's head up and asked, 'Tim, who did it?'

"He was dying by then, but managed enough strength to tell her before he died: 'It's Max!' "She kept asking me: 'What should I do?' I asked her if anyone else heard Tim and she said the detective did. As she lifted Tim's head, he Running over. She thought the rest of them were too far away to hear, but the detective did. "I don't want Max to get hurt for killing an idiot like Tim Noonan. Max was nothing to me at the time, but I liked him, but I didn't like Noonan's brother at all. I knew the detective— —McSwain, his wife and I are old friends. He used to be a good guy, honest and decent, until he became a policeman, and he started to hang out with those people. His wife swallowed it, and then couldn't bear it, and left him.

"I knew the detective, so I told Myrtle that something could be arranged. A little money could easily destroy McSwain's memory. Or, if he didn't, Max could make him lose his job. She had There's a note on Tim saying he's going to kill himself, and if that silly detective wants to play along, Tim has a bullet hole in his head, it's his own gun that fired the bullet, and a suicide note will settle everything beautifully. "I left Myrtle in the shade and went to find Max myself. He wasn't around, there weren't many people around, and I could hear the hotel orchestra still playing dance music. I couldn't find Max, so I went back to Mo Terl. She's getting tense with another thought—she doesn't want Max to find out she knows he killed Tim because she's afraid of him.

"You know what I mean? She was afraid that once Max knew that she had something against him, if they broke up one day, he would kill her. I know how she felt, and I later because of the same concerns And keep your mouth shut like she did. We agreed that it would be best if things were dealt with without him knowing. I didn't want to be a part of it either. "Myrtle went back alone to the crowd surrounding Tim, found McSwain, and took him aside to complete the deal. She had some money with her and gave him two hundred dollars, plus a coin for a name. A thousand dollar diamond ring from a guy named Boyle. I thought he'd come back for more, but he didn't. He kept his word, and with the help of a note, he told the story of his suicide.

"Noonan knew there was something wrong with the whole story, but he would never find out. I think he must have suspected that Max was involved, but Max's alibi was impeccable - that was his specialty - and even Noonan Had to dispel his suspicions. But Noonan still couldn't believe that things were what they seemed, and he dealt with McSwain - kicked him out of the police force. "Max and Myrtle broke up shortly after. No fight or anything, just breakup. I don't think she was comfortable around him after that, though as far as I know he never suspected she knew. Now she's sick, I told you, and she won't live long. I don't think she would mind telling the truth if anyone asked her. McSwain is still in the city, just give him a favor and he will Speak up. Those two have Max on the line, and Noonan will take it all! What do you think of starting it like this?"

"Could it be suicide?" I asked. "Tim Noonan had a sudden epiphany at the last second of his life and decided to plant it on Max?" "That low-level liar shot himself? Totally impossible." "Could it have been Myrtle who fired the shot?" "Nonan didn't let this go. But she was just a third of the way down the ramp when the shots rang out. Tim had gunpowder marks on his head and didn't roll down the hill after being shot, so that ruled out Myrtle." "But Max has an alibi?" "Yes, indeed. He always has. He was in the hotel bar, on the other side of the building, was there all the time. There were four people who said that. I remember they kept spreading the word, long before anyone asked. That said. The rest of the bar didn't remember if Max was there, but those four did. They remembered everything Max wanted them to remember." Her eyes widened, then narrowed into two black slits, and she leaned towards me, knocking over the glass with her elbow. "Peek Murray was one of those four. He's having a falling out with Max now, maybe to be honest. He's got a pool room on Broadway." "Isn't that McSwain just called Bob?" I asked. "A bow-legged guy with a boar's jaw?" "Yes, you know him?" "Yes. What is he doing now?" "Amateur liar. How do you think it all adds up?" "Yes, it may be useful." "Then let's talk about the price." I smiled at the greed in her eyes and said, "Not yet, girl. Let's see how it works before we split the money!" She called me a bloody cheapskate and reached for the gin. "I'm quitting, thank you," I told her, looking at my watch. "It's almost five in the morning, and I have a full day to go!" She announced that she was hungry again, which reminded me too.We spend half an hour or more making custard scones, ham and coffee, and even longer to get the food in, smoke a few cigarettes, and refill a few coffees.It was past six when I was ready to leave.
I went back to the hotel, put a tub of cold water and sat in it.It cleared me up quite a bit, and I needed to.At forty, I can barely take gin for sleep, it's just not very comfortable. I got dressed and sat down to draft a statement: I pocketed the statement and went downstairs for another coffee-based breakfast before heading to the municipal hospital. The visiting hours were in the afternoon, but I finally got to meet Myrtle Jan after I waved my Continental Detective Agency ID and made everyone understand that an hour of waiting would have the potential to kill thousands of people or something like that Neeson. She lived alone in a ward on the third floor, and the other four beds were empty.She looked like a young girl of twenty-five and a woman of fifty-five.Her face was a bloated and mottled mask, and her yellow hair was twisted into two thin braids that hung down the sides of the pillow. After the nurse who took me upstairs left, I took out the statement and handed it to the patient, saying, "Miss Jannison, could you please sign this?" She looked up at me with her ugly eyes, surrounded by indescribable black shadows of fat.She looked at me, then at the statement, and finally stretched out a swollen hand from under the blanket to take it. She pretended to spend nearly five minutes reading the ninety-one words on it, then let the statement fall on the bed, and asked, "Where did this come from?" Her voice was small but full of anger . "It was Dinah Bland who sent me." "She broke up with Max?" she asked eagerly. "I don't know." I lied. "I guess she wrote this statement just in case." "And wait for her stupid throat to be slit! Get me a pen." I gave her my fountain pen and put the pad under the statement so she could draw her signature at the end of the statement.As soon as she finished writing, I immediately took it to my hand. As I dried the ink, she said, "If it's what she wants, I don't care. Why should I care what other people are doing? I'm fucked, let them all go to hell!" She sneered, and suddenly lifted the blanket below the knees, allowing me to see the hideously bloated body wrapped in rough white pajamas. "What do you think? Look, I'm screwed." I helped her pull the blanket up and said, "Thank you, Miss Jannison." "It's nothing. I don't care about anything anymore, except..." Her fat jaw trembled, "Going to die in such an ugly way!"

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