bad memories

by douglas sandler

  She looked up at Miller, but she made no move to put away the book. Her green eyes, her blonde face gave no sign of recognition. She was still wounded by his curt goodbye, when he’d gone to New York. She was troubled, he knew because of Julie.

  He went to her, she took her glasses off and her eyes were larger with them off. Angelia Parker said, “My, you got back in hurry and what a pretty wife you have.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Miller said to Sally.

  She went with him into the reception hall. “It’s a wonder you stay here.” He said. “All of you, I’d think would want to get away, two men had died here in this house of death.”

  He found a room across the hall, it was a writing room. “Everyone was wondering where you went.” Sally Daniels voice was calm, “they thought you’d left for good, we all felt like leaving when Mendez told us that because of Alvin Rodgers there would be no reading of the will till tomorrow. Mendez given him this one final chance, we’ve been stuck here too long.”

  Miller nodded slowly, “and now you want to know where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing in New York. Why I’ve come back, frankly I don’t know why I went.”

  “Do you expect me to believe that?”

  “No, I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect anyone to, that isn’t what I’m after.

  “John, what is it you know that you’re not telling? If you’re trying to solve your friends murder, or the others you’re doing nothing more than making everyone afraid of you.”

  “Do I know something? Do you think I might know something so dangerous to someone that he might want to kill me to keep me from telling?”

  “I don’t know is that what you want?”

  “I don’t know, Sally I’m too tired to think, but I do know that I’ve got to take you out of this house, Sally I’m going to take you and your father to a hotel.” At the moment the door opened, Joseph Daniels came through swinging on his crutches, it seemed almost providential.

  “I was just telling your daughter, Captain Daniels.” Miller explained, “That I don’t like you staying here, I think you ought to get a place in town.”

  “A good idea, mate!” His breath was short puffing, “I was just telling Sally that while you were away, but she said she wanted to wait for you to get back.”

  The man’s statement told Miller more about Sally than anything she had said or expressed in her face. She trusted, relied upon him, her own actions depended upon his. But for there was much that had to be done. “I’ll see you later.” He said.

  A single window was aglow at Benny Godley’s home. The young woman he had glimpsed before answered his ring immediately.

  “I’d like to see Mr. Godley.” Miller said.

  “Surely, won’t you come in?” She closed the door after him, went off to another room, “Benny, someone is here to see you.”

  After a moment the attorney appeared the expectant look died on his high boned face when he saw Miller, “Oh, you’re back.”

  “You knew I was away?”

  “I was over at Allen’s, they told me you’d gone to New York, the police didn’t like it, and they were around asking questions about Mendez. Coroner Watson is going to impanel a jury for an inquest.”

  If the police didn’t like it, Miller wondered why they had allowed him to leave. Why they allowed Jimmy Marks to leave? Miller followed the lawyer into a study of bleached wood and red leather and law books. “I have some questions to ask myself, “he said, declining an offered cigarette, “I’m interested in the real reason behind all this postponement in reading the will.”

  Godley sat on the arm of an overstuffed chair, puffing smoke into the air. “I shall continue carrying out the wishes of my client, Paul Allen.” He said. “Acting as I think he would want me to act. Alvin Rodgers was Mr. Allen’s closest friend, and I want to extend him every courtesy.”

  “Is it only courtesy, Godley? Is that all that motivates you? Or has Rodgers a stronger hold?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  Miller spoke his thoughts slowly, “Paul Allen’s assets aren’t only in dollars in the bank, securities in his vault and property here and in South America. Paul Allen had considerable life insurance, a lot of which I have reason to believe he took out recently, within the last six months.”

  Godley smiled uneasily, “do you know that? Or are you only throwing out wild guesses?”

  “I’ve gone through Albert Smith’s files. Dr. Smith was the local medical examiner for a New York insurance agency. Four months ago, he gave Allen a complete physical check up as a preliminary to a Hundred Thousand Dollar policy. You were Allen’s lawyer, you must have known about that.”

  “Yes, I did know about that.”

  Miller continued, “and having presumably having been his lawyer you must have drawn up his will, and so you know the nature of its requests, are you named in Allen’s will?”

  “I don’t see that you have any right to be asking me that. The will is a private matter, I think you’ll agree if you stop and think for a minute that it would be highly unethical for me to divulge its provisions until its seal is broken.”

  Ethics lawyers mentioned ethics when it was to their advantage. “All right, then I’ll assume you are in the will, I’m going to make a couple of other assumptions too, one is that the Allen estate isn’t worth peanuts and that Allen named all these people in his will because he wanted to get them here with high hopes and then show his contempt by giving them insultingly small sums.”

  He watched Godley, waiting for a reaction when there was none, he went on “I don’t know, maybe Allen figured it he got his heirs all together they’d cut each other’s throats, fighting over what they thought they were going to get. Mendez death makes it look that way, that would be sweet revenge, wouldn’t it?”

  Godley was waiting to hear more. “My second assumption is that the only real value Allen left was that last insurance policy, and that the biggest chunk of that you hope to get as your fee for settling the estate.”

  Godley kept tapping the end of his cigarette, “you have it all figured out, haven’t you?” He said. “So where is it taking you?”

  “This is where it’s taking me Godley, and it’s the only answer to why you and coroner Watson have killed every attempt at investigating Allen’s death. Do you want to hear the set up as I see it?”

  “Why the hell not?” Godley was cold with anger.

  “You’ve said a lot about keeping scandal away from Mr. Allen and that you don’t want to touch his good name. Well seeing that you have a wife and kids Godley, I’m willing to let it go at that and I won’t insist that it’s the insurance money involved that motivated you. I really believe you and coroner Watson were just mistaken enough when you found Paul Allen lying shot to death in his library, to think he’d killed himself. I don’t doubt that whoever murdered him did plant a gun in his hand.

  “You and Watson are friendly Godley? It wouldn’t be hard for you to convince him no good would be served in revealing your client; Paul Allen had resorted to sordid suicide because he’d failed to realize any money down in South America. Sheets of raw, cured rubber don’t come out over night from plantations that have run wild for twenty years. I’ll grant that your sole motive, Godley was to be preventing scandal from touching Paul Allen’s last memory.

  “Unfortunately, there may be someone besides myself who understands what has been going on, and unfortunately, too. This other person may see a little evil in your motives, Godley. As I recall in every life insurance policy there is a clause voiding the policy if the insured should die by his own hand within a year after its issue. Is there an attempt being made to shake you down, Godley? Is that what’s keeping you from settling this whole matter of the will?”

  The blood disappeared from Mendez’s face, he mashed out his cigarette. “Will?” Miller prompted.

  “I have no comment, Miller none.”

  Miller considered shrugged, “that’s okay with me.” He said, and pic
ked up his hat. Miller walked up the dark street in the business block on Highway 10 he found the town’s hotel. A small two story structure and engaged rooms for Captain Joseph Daniels name to the register, he telephoned the house, Joseph Daniels himself answered.

  “I’ve just made arrangements for you to stay at the hotel, “Miller said. “Will you tell Sally? And get your things ready, I’ll have a cab there shortly. On the street again, he looked for a taxi there was a garage sign in the next block. Miller started for it as he did he sensed that a man had stepped from an empty store front behind him. He looked ahead in the next block on the other side of the highway was another man, this second man loitered near a pole his attitude watchful.

  For a moment fear froze Miller in his tracks, and then suddenly he speeded his walk, heading away from the highway and toward the river. The men speeded theirs making no attempt now to conceal the fact that they were following him. But Miller did not run he knew that if he did terror would possess him completely. Miller turned to his right on the first cross street. A house ahead stood for back on a hedge bordered corner lot. Miller’s heart raced, he ducked behind the hedge and crouched in the leafing darkness, watching the street calculating the time it would take his pursuers to come up to that point.

  This then was what he had been waiting for, to draw the murders into visible action! And something told him that these two were indeed the murders.

  Soon footsteps were plain along the walk, the footsteps were Albert’s killer, Allen’s killer probably Mendez killer. Then suddenly the footsteps stopped, shrubbery crackled on the highway a car squealed to a stop. A single yellow light gleamed from the third floor window of the house; Miller could see and hear nothing more. Making a sudden impulsive decision he stood up, he stepped out onto the walk, was he being brave or insane? Shrubbery moved Miller turned down the block on the other side of the street; a man was bent in a quick crouching run.

  Shrubbery cracked again, closer this time, much closer; they had stalked Albert craftily and Mendez, and now…

  A figure rose up from the side hedge, flame spurted gunfire through the sound was no louder than a cap cracking. Miller pitched forward, hit the sidewalk, he scrambled up, bent low and plunged along the breast high hedge, the gunman came along the intersecting line of hedge, Miller crashed into him.

  The gunman grabbed Miller’s coat to save himself from falling, he flailed in a blow the man must have dropped his gun lost it, my gun Miller thought I haven’t used my gun! I should. He clutched better his failing hold on the man. He was too big, too bulky Miller struck with his right fist in desperation. The man locked arms about Miller’s collar and wrestled him to the ground, the second man moved in, Miller saw that he limped.

  A thought twisted in Millers brain, that can’t let me, get away alive after this, because now I know who they are, Rodgers and Younger!

  Chapter Fifteen

  The bulky man thrust his knee into Miller. Miller struggled to knock off the man’s jammed on hat, so his face would be revealed; but he couldn’t force off the crushing weight of the man’s big body. Then the man moved, Miller’s thoughts were like flashing darts, he’s moving. He’s reaching to recover the gun that fell from his grip; it’s there on the ground.

  Miller kicked out, his heels caught the big man and knocked him free. Miller staggered up, the second man again blocked his advantage; Miller straight armed him away. The downed man caught at miller’s legs, Miller kicked him in the face and then lunged forward, across the empty lot into the blackness that lay ahead. He heard them following, he crashed into a hedge and fell, he beat, clawed his way through.

  A dog growled in a backyard kennel. Miller saw a concrete block garage and a passageway alongside it into an alley behind; he made it to the alley and ran down it.

  He’d survived gunfire, he’d done that. Boxes were piled along a buildings rear walls. Slatted crates excelsior in paper sausages. Rough wood, pine, nails. He half-climbed, half fell into the larger crate and pulled the top boards down over him, the packing paper rumpling and rattling he lay there cramped, finding his breath.

  Footsteps beat along the alleyway, the footsteps stopped near the crate, voices murmured in consultation. The footsteps the footsteps moved again, closer they were right at the crate, they moved on past it, faded. The seconds were long, he couldn’t stay here. He must send for Sally and he must get Younger and Rodgers, get them under circumstances where he’d have a chance against them. He pushed up at the slatted boards, climbed out, and made a dash for Highway 10. A car was streaking down the road, its lights dim copper moons, and it was the cab.

  Moe braked up short, he’d seen Miller. Miller leaned across the cab’s door as Moe unwound the window. “I’ve been looking for you, Moe; I’ve got a job for you.”

  “Okay,” Moe’s mouth grinned underneath his drooping nose. “Why not? Get in and I’ll take you.”

  “No, I’m not going.” the cab’s engine vibrated the car under Miller’s hands. “Do you know that big place, that house down by the river on the other side of the railroad tracks?”

  “The Allen place? Sure!” Moe nodded eagerly.

  “Well, I’d like you to go down there right away. A girl will be expecting you, Sally Daniels. She’ll have her luggage. I want you to bring her and her father, he’s an old crippled man with one leg, to the hotel just down the street, you know the place?”

  “Say, where do you think this is? New York?”

  Moe shoved his bent brim cap further back off his forehead, “how many hotels you think we got?”

  “And will you do something else? Tell the girl I’ve gone to see Doctor younger. Can you remember the name? That’s the fellow I asked you about. You showed me where he lived near the railroad station. Younger, Doctor Younger you tell her that and that as soon as I can I’ll see her at the hotel.”

  “You going to the place, to Younger now? Jump in, I’ll take you there.”

  Miller took the back door handle, as Moe opened the door for him to get inside. Than Miller stopped, “No, I’ve got to do something else first.” He took out his wallet, and handed a five dollar bill to the cabbie.

  “You go get her and her father at Allen’s place.”

  Miller watched the cab back onto the highway and then drive away. He looked down the highway to the South. The state police barracks was two blocks, two blocks of darkness.

  Miller turned north, instead to the hotel. He nodded at the women behind the desk and got into the phone booth behind the door. He dialed the operator, “I want to be connected with the state police barracks here in Millersburg.”

  For a moment, Miller did not recognize the voice that answered then gruffness tagged it unmistakably. “Sergeant Edward?” Miller said. “I need your help right away. This is John Miller; yes I’ve just found the men who killed Jose Mendez and Paul Allen and maybe doctor Smith. I want them arrested, you heard me Sergeant.”

  The Sergeant barked, “We’ve had enough trouble with you before. Where were you this afternoon? What’s the idea of running off to New York when I said everybody was to stick around for questioning on the Mendez murder?”

  Edwards was not stupid, his brain was cunning, deliberately. Edwards could plan blocking him at every move, reveling in the game.

  “Jimmy Marks left.” Miller said politely.

  “That’s all right, we told that boy he could go, he’s clear and if we need him we can get him, but you.” Edwards’s voice was a snarling growl. “District attorney Godley’s just been talking to me about you. You was over to his house, making threats well, let me tell you.” He could get nothing from Edwards. “All right never mind.”

  Miller walked back to the lobby’s door. He did not look at the women behind the desk; heading toward the low stucco apartment building located near the railroad. Miller wondered if gunfire might come again. It might strike at him at any time, he knew from the dark, but he made it safely to the Riverview apartments.

  He acted with practiced speed.
He pressed the superintendent’s bell and waited. The door catch rattled, Miller pushed the door open and strode down the hall, upstairs and to the end of the hall. He climbed the iron ladder to the roof, thrusting away the hatch cover which he had unhooked previously; he found the fire escape and went down it. The shade was half drawn on the lighted window of Alvin Rodgers and Thomas Younger’s apartment. Miller crouched, the breath rushed from him. Alvin Rodgers was lying quietly in bed, as he had the last time Miller had been there, wearing dark glasses, his plaster cast leg supported by ropes and pullies. Younger was bent over his patient in the act of taking a fever thermometer from him. The big, shaggy haired doctor turned at the window.

  He came slowly forward and raised the blinds. He peered out at Miller, then turned the window lock open and raised the sash, “Say, don’t you ever go anyplace Miller, without coming in at a window?” Miller put a leg through the opening and slid inside. Rodgers had rolled his head on the pillow watching. The fringe of hair on his bald head was white, even against the white of the pillow.

  “How long have you been here?” Miller demanded as Younger eyed him.

  “How long have you been here? You haven’t been here in this room right along.”

  Younger turned to Rodgers, “you know what he means?” Rodgers cleared his throat, “what’s the matter son?” He asked Miller “is anything wrong?”

  “No,” Said Miller, “not much, not much at all. Except for your assaulting me, you had your hat brim pulled down and your coat collar up, but I recognized you.”

  Younger’s dark brows drew together. He touched Miller’s coat sleeve and circled him as if to get a better look at him, shadows deepened into little black splotches at the inside of Younger’s eyes. Miller shoved the erstwhile doctor’s hand free. “Lay off me Younger!” He wanted to strike out with violence. “You’ve been very clever up until now; you’ve operated smoothly, with Rodgers here pretending to be laid up with a broken leg.”