Read Curtain for a Jester for Free Online

prowl car. They came simultaneously with the Norths, who had had to dress—who had hesitated to come at all, being people who gave wide berth to street accidents, hurrying past them, with Pam always a little white. But if it is callous to stare in curiosity it is also callous to say, in effect, “Oh, Mr. Jones just went by” as Mr. Jones falls past your bedroom window. “Particularly,” Pam North pointed out, “if he’s just been your host.”
    Why she was so certain the man who had fallen was—or now, more accurately, had been—Byron Wilmot, Pam could not explain to Jerry as, after waiting a moment for the elevator, they ran down the stairs. “I know there wasn’t time to tell,” Pam said. “But—who else would it have been?”
    One of the policemen looked at what was on the sidewalk. The other said, “All right, now. Stand back,” and then, “Anybody here named North?”
    There was, Jerry admitted.
    â€œYou made the squeal? That is, you telephoned?”
    â€œYes,” Jerry said.
    â€œYeah,” the policeman said. “You telephoned. Said a man had fallen.”
    â€œSomebody,” Jerry said. “My wife thought it was a man.”
    â€œOh,” the policeman said. “She did, huh? You his wife?”
    â€œYes,” Pam said.
    â€œO.K.,” the policeman said. “So you’d better have a look. Let these people through there.”
    But Pam shrank back, shaking her head. Jerry, feeling a little sick, went through the circle. He looked at what was on the sidewalk. He said, “My God!”
    The dummy was fragments, strewn widely. There was nothing left of the face over which someone had taken such pains. If the red wig had not been among the shards, if one arm had not escaped disintegration, it would have been difficult to tell what had been shattered on the sidewalk.
    â€œQuite a joke, mister,” the articulate policeman said. “Very funny joke. Ever think it might have hit somebody? Ever hear there’s a law against throwing things out windows?”
    It wasn’t, Jerry explained, their joke. They had reported only what had happened, or what they thought had happened.
    â€œLook, Ben,” the cop who had been staring at the remains said, “whata we do with it?”
    Ben pondered this.
    â€œOf course,” he said, “the ambulance boys’ll be along.” He did not say this with confidence. He offered it with doubt.
    â€œTrouble is,” the other policeman said. “It’s not a body, is it? But on the other hand, it’s something like a body.” He looked at it. “Was,” he said.
    â€œI tell you,” Ben said. “It’s litter.” He looked around the circle, which was by way of becoming a crowd. “ You! ” he said. “You the janitor?”
    â€œSuperintendent,” the woman in the robe said. “Tell him, Lennie. Don’t let him push you around.”
    Lennie was a small man.
    â€œThat’s right,” he said. “Superintendent.” He paused. “Officer,” he added.
    â€œYou know what this is, don’t you?” Ben demanded, in the voice of a policeman. “What you got here’s a violation. Ordinance—what’s the ordinance, Charlie?”
    â€œLittering the sidewalk, multiple dwelling,” the other patrolman said. “Number—I don’t know the number offhand. Also, throwing things out of windows to the public danger. Also—”
    The ambulance came then, its lights red. It stopped and panted and an interne came out on one side and the driver on the other.
    â€œWe live in the basement,” Lennie said, and his voice quavered. “This came down from up.”
    â€œWhat the?” the interne said, looking at the remains of the dummy. He waved his hand at it. “What the?”
    â€œThat gentleman,” Ben said, and looked at Jerry North with