The Bitch by Gil Brewer

burglar alarm during the robbery—an almost
impossible
feat. You know that. Yes? Six,” he started bending the fingers on his other hand, his head cocked a little to one side, watching Sam and Sam taking it, while I sat there with the knowledge that I was guilty and my brother was shielding me again. “Somebody turned that alarm off during the robbery and on again afterward. It was on when our men arrived. Seven, the front gate was unlocked. Unlocked! Do you hear me, Morgan?”
    “I hear you.”
    Schroeder cleared his throat and went on speaking just as softly as before, but faster now. “Eight, a couple of our cruisers chased some bastard all over the place out there and never really got a look at the car! That’s our fault. But whoever it was had that money—I’m certain of that.” He started to continue counting, then struck his hand and knocked it out of the way. “What’s the use of enumerating. You
know
what happened. Who was Hornell?”
    “Don’t you know?”
    “We’re running a check right now.”
    “He’s a small—he
was
a small-time private, over on 2nd, near the Orange Blossom hotel. He’s worked for us a lot, Lieutenant. He was completely dependable, maybe even too dependable. I’m sure he did everything he could. It’s too early to know what happened.”
    “It stinks!” Schroeder said softly, pushing his face very close to Sam’s. “It stinks—it smells. It stinks like the worst stink you ever smelled!”
    Sam watched him. He had to take all this. He wasn’t the kind of man to take any of it. At the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. And it was then that I understood. I realized what Sam was doing. He was trying to save the agency.
    This only made it all the worse for me. I wanted to help him and I couldn’t. Even if I did, I wouldn’t be helping him. He wanted the money, and if I spilled now, he wouldn’t get it—and the agency would be ended right there. It was ended anyway.
    “You’re through, Morgan,” Schroeder said. He turned to me. “You’re through, the both of you. Do you understand that?”
    “I wish you’d try and calm down,” Sam said.
    Schroeder looked at him slowly.
    “We’re not getting any place like this. We’ve got to figure it out.”
    “Yes.”
    “What exactly did Hornell say when he called in the alarm?”
    Schroeder scratched his head, rubbed his hands together.
    “He gave the address. He said the place was being robbed, and then he yelled something and we heard a shot over the phone. That was that. We already had two cruisers headed there. We had radio contact with them when they were only four blocks from the place.”
    “He didn’t say anything else?”
    “Nothing. He wanted to. But he didn’t.” Schroeder moved across the room and stood by the window and looked out at the night, rocking on his heels. “What gets me,” he said, “is how in hell did he get the call in in the first place? It was after the robbery was done.”
    Sam said nothing. He looked over at me and shook his head slightly. I avoided his eyes. I couldn’t look at his eyes now. It was a rotten feeling.
    “I want a complete report,” Schroeder said. “I want it typed, and I want four copies. I want everything you know concerning this thing, written out. Got that? Everything. All about Hornell. When you met him. How long he’s worked for you. Why you would hire another private investigator when there are two of you here as it is. I want to know everything you think about this thing. I’ll talk to Halquist myself.”
    Sam did not speak.
    “Now,” Schroeder said, turning slowly until his gaze met mine. “I want to know what you think about this. You haven’t said a word since I’ve been here.”
    I glanced over at Sam.
    “Well?” Schroeder said. “Are you the same as your brother?”
    “I guess I am,” I said.
    “Where were you when all this happened?”
    “Home.”
    “I see. How did you hear about it?”
    “Sam told me.”
    “What did