Read Corpses in the Cellar for Free Online

can’t offer you one,” he told Black, knowing the rules about police officers smoking on duty.
    Black shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”
    Lockwood lit up. It was the first one of the day, and it had that fresh, clean taste that cigarettes only very occasionally
     had. He savored it a moment before speaking. “They tell me you were the first one to spot the fire.”
    “That’s right.”
    “What time?”
    “I don’t know exactly,” the policeman admitted, sheepishly. “I was a little too excited, I guess. First one I’d ever had,
     and it wasn’t till after the firemen got there that I remembered to look at my watch.”
    “But about three-thirty A.M. ?”
    “That’s what I figure. Of course, in a situation like that, time can telescope in or out, and there’s no way you can tell
     which direction it’s going. I’ve found that out over the years.”
    “Was anyone else around when you saw the fire?”
    “No. In fact, I didn’t really see fire. Just smoke, coming out around the doors.”
    “What about the people? Could you hear them?”
    “The people? You mean the ones inside? No. Not a sound. Just smoke. I just saw the smoke.”
    “You have any trouble getting in?”
    Black waved back to a shopowner. “You kidding? You saw the place. As soon as I opened the doors, the flames leapt out at me.”
    Lockwood considered Black quietly. “And no trouble opening the doors?” he asked, after a moment.
    “No. Except the handles were hot. That’s all. But not so hot I couldn’t grab them, at least for the instant or two it took
     to pull them open.”
    “And no bodies on the stairs.”
    “No. Of course not.”
    “Why of course not?” Lockwood was studying Black closely.
    “Why? Hell, you saw the bodies! They were all down in the middle of the cellar.
    “They’d been placed there.”
    Black’s pupils dilated. “What?”
    “The people in that fire died on the stairs. Someone moved them later.”
    Black stared at him. “I’m telling you, they weren’t there,” he said after a while.
    “But there were flames coming out of the doorway?”
    “That’s what I said.”
    “Mmm.” Lockwood studied the sidewalk as they continued on. “Okay, how about this? You didn’t hear any screams, you say, when
     you spotted the fire. Did you hear anything else?”
    “Like what?”
    “Like—anything else,” Lockwood repeated. “Any other sound you might have heard.”
    “No.”
    “Nothing? The street was completely quiet? Even at three-thirty in the morning, that’s unusual for Manhattan.”
    “Well, the usual street noises—you know, a car going by, the sound of a subway train, maybe. Wait a minute—” Black stopped
     in his tracks—“there
was
something else.”
    “What?”
    “Let me think—I can’t tell you yet—it’s just something at the back of my mind—” Black closed his eyes, and seemed to be concentrating.
     “I’ve got it!” he cried, his eyes snapping open. “As I reached the club, I heard the sound of footsteps. Running. Running
     away.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Yes. There was something very distinctive about them.”
    “Distinctive?”
    “Right. They had a peculiar rhythm. As if the one who was running kept going off the beat.”
    “Off the beat,” The Hook repeated. “Can you clarify that?”
    “No, that’s it. Just something funny about the sound. Irregular.”
    “Mmm.” Lockwood looked up and down the street. He sensed he’d gotten all he could out of Black. “Okay,” he said, finally.
     “Anything else that might be helpful?”
    Black shrugged. He seemed to be getting restive. “No. Nothing.”
    Lockwood scrutinized him carefully, then gave a shrug of his own. “Okay,” he said, handing Black his card. “If you think of
     anything, call me.”
    “Yeah, I’ll do that,” Black said, already moving away. “Take care.”
    Halfway up the block, Lockwood turned and looked back. Black was walking slowly past a large-windowed shop, his head