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"Yes, yes," Rath said impatiently, "in a sane frame of mind, he would. But your friend Elwood is that his first name or last?" "First," Magnessen said tauntingly. "Your friend Elwood is psychotic." "You don't know him. That guy loves me like a brother. Look, what's Elwood really done? Defaulted on some payments or something? I can help out." "You thickheaded imbecile!" Rath shouted.
When he was finished, Magnessen looked more suspicious than ever. "You say he wants to kill me?" "Definitely." "That's a lie! I don't know what your game is, mister, but you'll never make me believe that. Elwood's my best friend. We been best friends since we was kids. We been in service together. Elwood would cut off his arm for me. And I'd do the same for him."
It was a gentle, misty spring day and the air held the smell of rain and blossoming-dogwood. Caswell gripped the revolver in his sweaty right hand and tried to think of a single valid reason why he should not kill a man named Magnessen, who, the other day, had commented on how well Caswell looked. What business was it of Magnessen's how he looked?
Do you know a short, angry-looking, red-haired, red-eyed man?" "Yes," Magnessen said slowly and warily. Haskins let out a sigh of relief. "Would you tell us his name and address?" asked Rath. "I suppose you mean hold it! What's he done?" "Nothing." "Then what you want him for?" "There's no time for explanations," Rath said. "Believe me, it's in his own best interest, too. What is his name?"
He scratched his shoulder and put the headband at a more comfortable angle. Still nothing. His thoughts began to wander. Magnessen! You noisy, overbearing oaf, you disgusting "Good afternoon," a voice murmured in his head. "I am your mechanotherapist." Caswell twitched guiltily. "Hello. I was just you know, just sort of " "Of course," the machine said soothingly. "Don't we all?
Magnessen seemed about to refuse, so Rath pushed past him, followed by Smith, Follansby, Haskins, and a small army of policemen. Magnessen turned to face them, bewildered, defiant and more than a little awed. "Mr. Magnessen," Rath said, in the pleasantest voice he could muster, "I hope you'll forgive the intrusion. Let me assure you, it is in the Public Interest, as well as your own.
He had to form his plans now. There was no time to lose. Magnessen! That inhuman monster who cut down the Caswell goricae! Magnessen! The man who, even now, was secretly planning to infect New York with the abhorrent feem desire! Oh, Magnessen, I wish you a long, long life, filled with the torture I can inflict on you. And to start with....
Magnessen studied Rath's ugly, honest face, trying to make up his mind. Lieutenant Smith said, "Come on, talk, Magnessen, if you know what's good for you. We want the name and we want it quick." It was the wrong approach. Magnessen lighted a cigarette, blew smoke in Smith's direction and inquired, "You got a warrant, buddy?" "You bet I have," Smith said, striding forward.
Caswell admired it for a few more moments, then went into the kitchen and fixed himself a chicken sandwich. He ate slowly, staring fixedly at a point just above and to the left of his kitchen clock. Damn you, Magnessen! Dirty no-good lying shifty-eyed enemy of all that's decent and clean in the world.... Taking the revolver from his pocket, he laid it on the table.
"I'll take it," Caswell said. "Right now. I'll pay cash." "Fine! I'll just telephone Storage and " "This one'll do," Caswell said, pulling out his billfold. "I'm in a hurry to use it. I want to kill my friend Magnessen, you know." The clerk clucked sympathetically. "You wouldn't want to do that ... Plus five percent sales tax. Thank you, sir. Full instructions are inside."
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