She knew - why hadn't she said so? She was letting me stay all night, not wanting me around but risking her reputation and more, because I had propound the wrong - girl - in - the - dark theory. She knew it would not hold water; why had she not said so?

"Eddie, have you gone crazy?" Her voice was frightened.

"No - gone sane. I'll tell you how you did it, n beautiful darling. You both were there - you admitted that. Estelle got in her pose, and asked you to pun the buzzer. You did - but first you grabbed the knife and slid it in her ribs. You wiped the handle, look around, punched the buzzer, and slammed. About ten seconds later you were slipping your arm in mine. Me - your alibi!"

"It had to be you," I went on, "for no one else would have had the guts to commit murder with nothing b glass between him and an audience. The stage w lighted - from the outside. You knew that, but it didn’t worry you. You were used to parading around nak4 in front of that glass, certain you could not be se while the house lights were on! No one else would ha dared!"

She looked at me as if she could not believe her ea and her chin began to quiver. Then she squatted do on the floor and burst into tears. Real tears - they dripped. It was my cue to go soft, but I did not. I don’t like killing.

I stood over her. "Why did you kill her? Why did you kill her?"

"Get out of here."

"Not likely. I'm going to see you fry, my big - busted angel." I headed for the telephone, keeping my eyes on her. I did not dare turn my back, even naked as she was.

She made a break, but it was not for me; it was for the door. How far she thought she could get in the buff I don't know.

I tripped her and fell on her. She was a big armful and ready to bite and claw, but I got a hammer lock on one arm and twisted it. "Be good," I warned her, "or I'll break it."

She lay still and I began to be aware that she was not only an armful but a very female armful. I ignored it. "Let me go, Eddie," she said in a tense whisper, "or I'll scream rape and get the cops in."

"Go right ahead, gorgeous," I told her. "The cops are just what I want, and quick."

"Eddie, Eddie, listen to reason - I didn't kill her, but I know who did."

"Huh? Who?"

"I know.. . I do know - but he couldn't have. That's why I haven't said anything."

"Tell me."

She didn't answer at once; I twisted her arm. "Tell me!

"Oh! It was Jack."

"Jack? Nonsense - I was watching him."

"I know. But he did it, just the same. I don't know how - but he did it."

I held her down, thinking. She watched my face. "Ed?"

"Huh?"

"If I punched the buzzer, wouldn't my fingerprint be on it?"

"Should be."

"Why don't you find out?"

It stonkered me. I thought I was right but she seemed quite willing to make the test. "Get up," I said "On your knees and then on your feet. But don't try get your arm free and don't try any tricks, or, so he me, I'll kick you in the belly."

She was docile enough and I moved us over to the phone, dialed it with one hand and managed to get Spade Jones through the police exchange. "Spade, This is Eddie - Eddie Hill. Was there a fingerprint the buzzer button?"

"Now I wondered when you would be getting around to thinking of that. There was."

"Whose?"

"The corpse's."

"Estelle's?"

"The same. And Estelle's on the egg timer. None the knife - wiped clean. Lots from both girls around the room, and a few odd ones - old, probably."

"Uh... yes . .. . well, thanks."

"Not at all. Call me if you get any bright ideas, son I hung up the phone and turned to Hazel. I guess I had let go her arm when Spade told me the print w not hers, but I don't remember doing so. She w standing there, rubbing her arm and looking at me a very odd way. "Well," I said, "you can twist my an or kick me anywhere you like. I was wrong. I'm son I'll try to prove it to you."

She started to speak and then started to leak tea again. It finished up with her accepting my apology the nicest way possible, smearing me with lipstick and tears. I loved it and I felt like a heel.

Presently I wiped her face with my handkerchief and said, "You put on a robe or something and sit on the bed and I'll sit on the couch. I can think better with that lovely chassis of yours covered up." She trotted obediently and I sat down. "Jack killed her, but you admit you don't know how he could have done it. Then why do you think he did?" "The music."

“Hun?”

"The music he played for the show was Valse Triste. That's Estelle's music, for Estelle's act. My act, the regular twelve o'clock act, calls for Bolero. He must have known that Estelle was up there; he used the right music."

"Then you figure he must have been lying when he claimed Estelle never arranged with him to swap the shows. But it's a slim reason to hang a man - he might have gotten that record by accident."

"Could, but not likely. The records were kept in order and were the same ones for the same shows every night. Nobody touched them but him. He would fire a man for touching anything around the control box. However," she went on, "I knew it had to be him before I noticed the music. Only it couldn't be."

"Only it couldn't be. Go ahead."

"He hated her."

"Why?"

"She teased him."

"'She teased him.' Suppose she did. Lots of people get teased. She teased lots of people. She teased you. She teased me. So what?"

"It's not the same thing," she insisted. "Jack was afraid of the dark."

It was a nasty story. The hunk was afraid of total darkness, really afraid, the way some kids are. Hazel told me he would not go back of the building to get his parked car at night without a flashlight. But that would not have given away his weakness, nor the fact that he was ashamed of it - lots of people use flashlights freely, just to be sure of their footing. But he had fallen for Estelle and apparently made a lot of progress - had actually gotten into bed with her. It never came to anything because she had snapped out the lights. Estelle had told Hazel about it, gloating over the fact that she had found out about what she term his cowardice "soon enough."

"She needled him after that," Hazel went

"Nothing that anyone could tumble to, if they did know. But he knew. He was afraid of her, afraid to fuck her for fear she would tell. He hated her - at the same time he wanted her and was jealous of her. There was one time in the dressing room. I was there - " He had come in while they were dressing, or undressing, a had picked a fight with Estelle over one of the customers. She told him to get out. When he did not do she snapped out the light. "He went out of there like a jack rabbit, falling over his feet." She stopped. "How about it, Eddie? Motive enough?"

"Motive enough," I agreed. "You've got me thinking he did it. Only he couldn't."

"'Only he couldn't.' That's the trouble."

I told her to get into bed and try to get some sleep that I planned to sit right where I was till the piece fitted. I was rewarded with another sight of the cc tours as she chucked the robe, then I helped myself a good - night kiss. I don't think she slept; at least s did not snore.

I started pounding my brain. The fact that the stage was not dark when it seemed dark changed the picture and eliminated, I thought, everyone not familiar with the mechanics of the Mirror. It left only Haz Jack, the other barman, the two waiters - and Estelle herself. It was physically possible for an Unknown Stranger to have slipped upstairs, slid the shim in and have ducked downstairs, but psychologically - no. The other barman and the two waiters Spade h eliminated - all of them had been fully alibied by one or more customers. I had alibied Jack. Estelle - but wasn't suicide. And Hazel.