The Second Fletcher Flora Mystery Megapack

by Fletcher Flora

  “In that case, I’ll save myself the trouble. Which brings us, of course, directly to the point. What do you intend to do about it?”

  “That depends. I’m not what you might call a blue-nose. If a man chooses to have two wives at the same time, I say, let him have them.”

  “Very wise of you, Mr. Vane. You are, I see, a liberal man. And why not? Bigamy is, per se, quite harmless. It has been respectable enough in the past in certain places and is still so today. It is a felony only where the laws of the land condemn it, and it is a sin only where the mores of society make it so. I pride myself, if I may say so, on being a kind of universal man. I select my ethical standards from all societies in all places at any given time.”

  “That sounds good enough, but it’s liable to land you in a mess of trouble.”

  “True, true. One must have the courage of his convictions.”

  “If you ask me, two wives take more courage than sense. One is bad enough.”

  “Mr. Vane, you disappoint me. Marriage is, indeed, a blessed institution. It is made less than blessed only by the idiotic restrictions placed upon it. It is confused, I mean, with monogamy, which is quite another thing. It is extremely rare that a man can be fulfilled by one woman, or vice versa. Take me, for example. I rather imagine, Mr. Vane, that you think me, all things considered, a complex man. On the contrary, I am a very simple man. I have, on the one hand, very strong physical appetites that can be satisfied only by a rich and beautiful woman of a passionate nature. On the other, I have a deep and normal yearning for the stigmata of middle-class stability—a modest and comfortable home, a devoted and orderly wife who is primarily a house-keeper, a respected and undistinguished trade to engage my attention. It is surely clear that one wife could hardly satisfy my needs. And I am not, whatever you may think superficially, a libertine. I choose not to engage in philandering. Therefore, I solve my problem simply and sensibly. I take two wives, and I am fulfilled. I am, Mr. Vane, a happy man.”

  “Well, as the saying goes,” said Gaspar pointedly, “every good thing must come to an end.”

  “Must it?” Rudolph smiled and sipped his headless beer. “That sentiment seems to be in conflict with this interview. I understood that we were meeting to arrange conditions under which my particular good thing, as you put it, can continue.”

  “As I said, I’m no bluenose. I’m prepared to be reasonable.”

  “Mr. Vane, I’ve been completely candid with you. Surely you owe me the same consideration. If you wish to blackmail me, why don’t you say so?”

  “Call it what you like. Whatever you call it. I know a good thing when I see it.”

  “Precisely, Mr. Vane, how do you see it?”

  “I see you in a trap, that’s how.”

  “Quite so. A just observation. I can either pay or go to prison.”

  “Not only that. Your wives would be a little upset by your shenanigans, to say the least. You’d lose them both, and that’s for sure.”

  “There you touch me in my most vulnerable spot. The loss of my wives would be the crudest blow of all. I am, you see, a dedicated and loving husband.”

  “I’d give a pretty penny to know how you’ve been fooling them all this time.”

  “Secrets, Mr. Vane, secrets. As you said a while ago, you may ask, which is not to say I’ll answer.”

  “It’s not important. What’s important is that you stand to lose them.”

  “A disaster, I admit, which I should prefer to avoid at any cost. Which brings us, I believe, to another crucial point. What, Mr. Vane, will be the cost?”

  “Well, I don’t want to be greedy, but at the same time I don’t want to give anything away. Besides, that weekend wife of yours is rich. You said so yourself.”

  “A tactical error, perhaps. Having gone so far, however, I’ll go even farther. Angela is not only rich; she is exceedingly generous and quite incurious as to how I spend her money.”

  “In that case, how does twenty-five grand sound?”

  “To Rudolph La Roche, like far too much. To Roger Le Rambeau, fair enough.”

  “Roger Le Rambeau’s who I’m talking to.”

  “As Roger Le Rambeau, I’ll consider it.”

  “What’s to consider? You pay or else.”

  “Of course. That’s abundantly clear, I think. However, you must realize that I am dependent upon Angela for such an amount. In any event, I couldn’t pay until I’ve had an opportunity next weekend to make proper arrangements.”

  “You think she may kick up rough about shelling out that much?” Gaspar’s brow furrowed.

  “No, no. I anticipate no difficulty with Angela.”

  “Just the same, you’d better think up a good reason.”

  “You can safely leave that in my hands. As a matter of fact, I’ve established a reputation with Angela for being lucky. She has profited more from certain wagers of mine, wins and losses taken together, than this will cost.”

  “I’ll want cash. No check.”

  “I must say, Mr. Vane, that you’re a strange mixture of professional acumen and amateur naïveté. Whoever heard of paying a blackmailer by check?”

  “I just wanted it understood, that’s all.”

  “I believe I understand the conditions perfectly, Mr. Vane.”

  “In that case all that’s left is to arrange the time and place of our next meeting.”

  “I see no reason to drag this affair out. I’m sure you’re anxious to have it completed, and so am I. Shall we say next Monday evening?”

  “Suits me. Where?”

  “Well, the transfer of funds will, perhaps, require a bit more privacy than we have here. I suggest the back room of my shop. I close at five-thirty, as I’ve told you, and my assistant leaves promptly. A quarter to six should be about right. Drive into the alley and knock at the back door. I’ll let you in.”

  “No tricks.”

  “Please Mr. Vane! What kind of trick could I possibly employ? I’m realist enough to concede that I’ve been found out, and gentleman enough, I hope, to accept the consequences gracefully.”

  Rudolph La Roche smiled faintly, slipped out of the booth, and repeated his odd little bow.

  “Until Monday, then.”

  Turning briskly, his back erect and his head high, he walked to the door and out into the street. Gaspar signaled the waitress and ordered another beer. Somehow, he did not feel as elated as a man should feel when he has hit the jackpot. What color were Rudolph’s eyes, he wondered suddenly. Blue? Green? Whatever the color, they were as cool and pale as a handful of sea water.

  * * * *

  The alley was a littered brick lane between brick walls. Behind Rudolph’s barber shop there was an indentation which provided enough space in which to park a pair of cars. Rudolph’s car was there when Gaspar pulled his old one up alongside, and the time at that moment was exactly a quarter to six. Gaspar crawled out and banged on the rear door of the shop. He was promptly admitted by Rudolph, who must have been waiting just on the other side. The barber was still wearing his starched white tunic, uniform of his trade, and it gave him an antiseptic look that was somehow disconcerting to Gaspar, who always felt slightly soiled even when he was still dripping from the shower.

  “Ah, here you are,” Rudolph said. “Right on time, I see. Come in, come in.”

  Gaspar, entering, found himself in a tiny room which had been devised by the simple expedient of erecting a plywood wall toward the rear of the original, single room. There was a small table with a bundle of laundry on it. On the same table there was a coffee pot on a hot plate, which was on a square of asbestos, and beside the table were two straight chairs. For an instant Gaspar felt trapped and vulnerable, and a wave of panic swept over him. But the panic receded quickly to leave him with no more than a vague feeling of uneasiness.

  “Sit down, Mr. Vane,” Rudolph said, indicating one of the straight chairs. “Shall I make coffee?”

  “Not for me,” said Gaspar.

  “Very w
ell, then.” Seated sidewise to the table in the second chair, Rudolph leaned an elbow upon it and stared at Gaspar. “Shall we come down to business at once?”

  “If you’ve got the money, let’s do.”

  “Oh, I have the money, I assure you. Indeed, I have twice the amount we agreed on.”

  “Fifty grand?”

  “Quite so.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Never mind that. It’s available.”

  “What’s it for?”

  “It’s for you, Mr. Vane, all for you if you care to earn it.”

  Gaspar’s feeling of uneasiness was suddenly acute. His fat body felt clammy.

  “What do you mean?” he asked. “Earn it how?”

  “By performing a certain service for me. I’m prepared, in brief, to make you a counter-proposition. Would you care to hear it?”

  “It’s no crime to listen.”

  “Let me say in the beginning, Mr. Vane, that you have made me sensitive to my position. I have realized all along, I suppose, that I could not indefinitely continue to live securely in my precarious circumstances, however desirable and delightful they might be. If you have found me out, it is certain that others will do so in good time, and although you are reasonable and willing to settle things amicably, it is certain that others will not be. Therefore, I have decided that it would be wise, so to speak, to settle for half a loaf. It is better, to put it brutally, to lose one wife than two. Do you understand me, Mr. Vane?”

  Rudolph paused for an answer and examined his pared and polished fingernails, smiling at them with wry resignation, sadly and tenderly. As for Gaspar he felt as if an angry heavyweight had slugged him suddenly in the fat belly. In protest, it emitted a startled rumble.

  “I’m not sure,” he said.

  “Perhaps I’d better be more explicit. I have decided with deep regret to sacrifice one of the two.”

  “Which one?”

  “That has been my sad dilemma. Shall it be Angela or Winifred? Believe me, Mr. Vane, I have struggled over the choice with a troubled soul. To begin with, I am approaching that time of life when the passions will cool and simple domestic comforts, such as quiet evenings and home-cooked meals and a tidy house, will assume dominant importance. A point, as you can see, for Winifred. On the other hand, that time, although approaching, has not arrived. Moreover, there is another commanding consideration which must be, I fear, definitive. I have reason to know that I am the principal heir in Angela’s will. You can easily see the enormous complications that would arise if a will involving a large fortune were to be probated at this time. Not only would my bigamy almost certainly be exposed, but I should, inasmuch as Winifred was unfortunately my first and legal wife, lose everything that Angela left me. So, when you come right down to it, I really have no choice at all. Winifred must go.”

  “Go where? Go how?”

  “Oh, come, Mr. Vane. Please don’t be evasive. I’ve taken the liberty of investigating you discreetly, and you are, if I may say so, a ruthless man. I’m suggesting nothing beyond your capabilities.”

  “Let’s put it into words. You want to hire me to kill your second wife?”

  “Chronologically, my first wife. That’s my counterproposition.”

  “You’re asking me to commit murder.”

  “I’m presenting you with the opportunity if you wish to take it. I’m also giving you the chance to earn fifty thousand dollars instead of twenty-five.”

  This, of course, was Gaspar’s great temptation, the overwhelming seduction of the affair as it was developing. Nevertheless, he dragged his heels. The disruption in the orderly sequence of routine blackmail was so abrupt and monstrous that it created in his mind an effect of violence. He was confused. He struggled for clarity and coherence. Yet, for all his confusion, he thought he could see certain possibilities of treachery.

  “Nothing doing,” he said.

  “Is that decisive? Don’t you even feel inclined to discuss it.”

  “What’s to discuss?”

  “Certainly you can see the benefits to yourself.”

  “I can see one thing, all right. I can see that you’re a bigamist, and I’m a blackmailer, to be honest about it. That makes us just about equal. Tit for tat. But if I accepted your proposition, I’d be a murderer. We wouldn’t be equal any longer, and I’d have a lot more to lose than you.”

  “Nonsense. You’re forgetting that I’d be guilty of conspiracy to commit murder, which is handled rather harshly under the law. No, Mr. Vane. We would be compelled to keep each other’s secret, and that’s all there is to it.”

  “That’s not the point. The point is, you’d have me in a tighter bind than I’d have you, and you could refuse to pay me a dime for anything. If you were to do that, I wouldn’t dare do a thing about it.”

  “I am an honorable man, Mr. Vane. My word is my bond.”

  “In that case, hand over the fifty grand in advance.”

  “I said, Mr. Vane, that my word is my bond. I didn’t say that yours is yours. However, I’m prepared to pay you an advance of ten thousand dollars upon your acceptance of my proposition, just to show my good faith, and I assure you that the balance will be paid promptly upon the completion of your duties.”

  Gaspar, oddly enough, believed him. The cool little devil was just weird enough to have a kooky code of honor that would bind him to his word in the terms of his devilment.

  “Wait a minute,” Gaspar said suddenly. “If you’ve got fifty grand to throw around, why can’t I just raise the ante of the game as it is?”

  “You could try, Mr. Vane, but you would fail. I am a reasonable man, and I’m willing to pay a reasonable price for silence or service, but I will not be victimized. I’ll face my ruin first.”

  Again, Gaspar was convinced. The idea, he decided, was not worth pursuing. As to Rudolph’s proposition, the suspicion of trickery was nearly allayed, but the fear of apprehension still remained.

  “Well,” he said heavily, “I’m not saying I’ll do it, mind you, but I don’t see anything against listening a little longer. What makes you think we could get away with it?”

  “There’s nothing in that to deter us. The exercise of reasonable caution should suffice. As you know, I leave home every Friday evening and don’t return until Sunday evening. Winifred is alone all that time. She is, moreover, a creature of habit, and her actions can be accurately predicted. She has told me that she invariably attends a movie Saturday night. She returns home immediately afterward and consoles herself with several strong highballs. It is poor Winifred’s one minor vice, but since it is rigidly controlled and is allowed to function only that one night of the week, it can perhaps be excused. In any event, she goes to bed somewhat under the influence and can be expected to sleep heavily. Anytime after midnight, I should say, would be safe for you to enter. I shall provide you with a backdoor key. A heavy blow on the head, deliberately planted evidence of burglary, and the thing is done. Poor Winifred has clearly surprised a burglar, who has killed her in his alarm. You simply walk out of the house and away, and in the meanwhile I am in another city, which can easily be established. Upon my return, we complete the terms of our agreement.”

  “It sounds easy enough. Too easy by half, I’d say.”

  “It’s a mistake to confuse simplicity with incompetence. Do you accept my proposition or not?”

  “I’ll have to think about it.”

  “As you wish.” Rudolph stood up briskly, with an air of cheerfulness, and began to unbutton his tunic. “Meanwhile, I must ask you to excuse me. I’m late already, and Winifred is having chicken and dumplings for dinner. I’m very fond of chicken and dumplings.” Gaspar was dimly aware of being ushered deftly into the alley. He was slightly dazed, in a sluggish kind of way, by the turn of events. But he realized, at any rate, that the game was radically changed, and that all the money, in spite of his high hand, was still in the pot.

  To express it in extravagant terms, Gaspar wrestled three days with the
devil. Although he had been directly responsible for one suicide, a neurotic woman without the stability to weather a minor scandal, he had never killed anyone with his own hands, and now he was filled with dread at the thought of doing so. Not that he was afflicted with compassion or serious moral qualms. He was merely fearful of being caught, and of the consequences thereof. Still, the bait, fifty thousand lovely tax-free dollars, was a mighty temptation. Moreover, the project as Rudolph La Roche had presented it was so wonderfully simple. It was merely a matter of letting himself into a house, sapping a woman in an alcoholic sleep, faking a bit of evidence, and walking away. It seemed to him, in his more optimistic moments, that anyone could do it successfully.

  There was another consideration. Gaspar looked upon himself as a rather exceptional fellow who had been haunted all his life by minor misfortunes, and in his gross body he nursed the pride of his delusion. He had always felt, when Shakespeare’s famous tide rolled in, that he, Gaspar Vane, would take it at the flood and ride it to fortune. Well, here was the tide, and here was he. What was he going to do about it? On Thursday afternoon, he made his decision suddenly.

  Sitting at the desk in his shabby little office, he looked at his watch and saw that it was twenty minutes to six. Rudolph’s shop was closed, the second barber probably gone, but there was a good chance that Rudolph himself, engaged with the petty details of closing, was still there. Giving himself no time for further vacillation, Gaspar seized his phone and dialed. Two rings later, Rudolph’s suave voice answered.

  “Rudolph La Roche speaking.”

  “Gaspar Vane. Can you talk?”

  “All alone here. Tomorrow is Friday, you know. I was wondering if you’d call.”

  “You got the ten grand?”

  “Certainly.”

  “You got the other forty?”

  “As I told you. In escrow, so to speak.”

  “When can you pay off?”

  “Tomorrow. I’ll have to go to the bank.”

  “Won’t it look suspicious if you draw out all that money at once?”

  “Hardly. Rudolph La Roche is not Roger Le Rambeau. His bank account never exceeds a few hundred dollars. The money, Mr. Vane, is in a safety deposit box.”