"Like I said, dames have screwy ways of dealing with divorce."
Eddie was unimpressed with the police work in this town, and even though George was a friend, he seemed rather incompetent. But things were realistic in this dream, not real. Police bungling might simply be an avenue for Eddie and June to find clues to solve the case. Eddie went with it.
"Elizabeth left few clues."
June spoke nearby in a whisper. "Did she leave a suicide note?"
"George, was there a suicide note?"
"No. But that's not unheard of. Some people want to keep their hell a private hell. And besides, dames are screwy when—"
"I know," Eddie said. "Thanks, George. I owe you a beer."
"You owe me two," his friend said. "And, Eddie, let me know what you find out. I have to admit, you've got me going again on this case. Damn you."
Eddie laughed and said, “So long.”
It took him a moment to process all the info, but June was waiting, sitting at the edge of her chair. He popped a PEZ while he thought.
"Well?"
"Shorty Deets—the guy who hit the CFO—has a record. There might be something we can glean from him. I thought we'd look at the car first, though. You had the right idea about that."
She looked pleased with herself for a moment. "Thanks."
He waved it off. "Also, he says Arthur Grayson had a solid alibi for the time of his mother's death."
"Hmm. Well, with the right-handed thing, we sort of wrote him off anyway."
"Yeah. I think maybe Grayson is our cotter pin. He's holding the works together."
"I agree. But we have no proof."
"I did notice something while we were at Grayson's yesterday."
"Oh?"
"Mendez is left-handed."
"He is? How could I not have seen that? Are you sure?"
"Positive. When he was about to sock you one, he raised his left hand. Most people would use their dominant hand to hit someone for the first blow."
"Yes, I guess so. That makes sense. I guess I was so mad I didn't notice."
She'd been mad all right. "Yeah." Eddie got up, went out to get a phone book from Fran, and came back with it a minute later. "We need to locate Shorty Deets' place and see if we can pinpoint a garage around there. His car was damaged in the accident and there's a chance we can find it and give it a once over."
"Good thinking."
"Thanks."
June waved it off with a smile.
It took a few phone calls, but Eddie located the garage. Futuramics were deluxe cars and there weren't too many in Deets' neighborhood. The garage mechanic tied it definitively to Deets. The car was still there.
Chapter 7
The car was a racy number, big, solid, but with a fancy red and white paint job and a black convertible top. The mechanic was clearly impressed with it and described its various features lovingly.
He was a tall, gangly fellow with pale blond hair, slicked back with generous amounts of pomade. His coveralls were greasy, but otherwise in good condition, and he wore a red bandana around his neck. "Got power windows and power steering. There's buttons on the radio and an engine that makes other cars jealous. Vroom, vroom, vroom!"
June smiled at him, hoping to get in his good graces. "Can we see the inside? I'd like to see those buttons on the radio. What do they do?"
"Very fancy," he told them, walking to the door of the car. It sat on a pneumatic jack, with its front right wheel off. The white-side-walled tire sat nearby in the cluttered shop. "The buttons record the stations you like best—you pull a button out when it’s on a station you like, and when you push 'em inward that's the station that plays. Wish I had it in my car."
"Yeah, me, too," Eddie said.
The mechanic opened the door. "Get in, little lady. I'm sure Shorty won't mind havin' someone as pretty as you warming up the leather."
June giggled decorously, and got in. While Eddie distracted the mechanic, June felt around and opened the glove box. There were a road map and a flash light there, but nothing else. She ran her hands into the crease between the seat back and seat, but it was empty. Quietly, she got into the back seat and felt around on the floor. Under the passenger seat, near the back, was an item, some sort of jewelry. June pocketed it and got out of the car, crawling over the folded front seat clumsily. The design of these cars from 1950 was less than convenient, though June had to admit that the roominess was luxurious.
Eddie looked over at her as she approached him and the mechanic. She gave him a little smile and a nod.
The mechanic turned as she came up. "What did you think?"
"Gorgeous! Everything I could have hoped."
"I know what you mean. I got to get back to work. I figure the parts will come in for this jobby soon. Shorty is getting impatient."
"I could understand why," Eddie said.
"Thanks for showing us the car," June gushed. "I was thinking about getting one and Shorty's the only one I know who has one. Sorry about that dent. What a shame."
"Yeah," said the mechanic. "And the alignment is ruined. Not so good for the other guy, though."
Eddie nodded. "Tragic."
"Well, take care, folks. And, little lady, if you get yourself a Futuramic, don't forget Nick's Garage. We'll take on little oil changes and stuff for you any day."
She and Eddie were walking away as she threw her thank you and goodbye over her shoulder.
They got into Eddie's car and he raised his eyebrows at her.
June grinned and pulled the jewelry out of her pocket, presenting it with a flourish.
He smiled broadly and took her face in his hands to kiss her forehead. "Good work! This is a cufflink," Eddie posited as he examined the thing. "Looks expensive. Gold. I think these are diamonds."
"I don't know. I've never seen one before."
"You haven't?"
Oops. "I mean I've never seen a diamond cufflink this up-close before."
"Ah. Well, I think Shorty was into some money, but I don't know how much. He still lives in a rundown apartment here in Panorama City," he pointed out. They'd driven by the place on their way to the garage.
"Yes. I think he's spending his money on his car."
Eddie agreed while he looked a little closer at the jewelry. "Wait. There are initials on the back of this link: HG."
They both looked at each other and said, "Grayson."
"Let's get some lunch and then head over to see Turner Quick," Eddie suggested.
They went into the Fairfax district, somewhere near what Eddie called West Hollywood, and pulled up to a restaurant named Canters where June had the most amazing dish called "matzo ball soup." Delis were her new favorite place.
* * * * *
Turner Quick lived in West Hollywood in a roomy house with palm trees on the wide lawn. Bougainvillea bushes butted up against the siding-clad walls, adding a riot of bright color. They parked on the street and walked up the stepping stones to the front door.
It was answered by a handsome man in his mid-forties. He was dressed in a dapper pinstriped navy suit, and his black shoes had a gleaming shine. He was the kind of man June found attractive, in an older kind of way.
"Miss Tarryton?"
June offered her gloved hand. "Yes. Are you Mr. Quick?"
"Yes. Please come in."
The interior was cool, but big windows added lots of light from the back yard, where a pool glistened in the sun.
"Mr. Quick, this is my colleague, Mr. Strong. He's a private investigator, helping me on this case."
"Ah. Nice to meet you, Mr. Strong. You wouldn't be Eddie Strong, would you?"
"My reputation precedes me," Eddie said wryly.
Quick chuckled. "No worries, Mr. Strong. I'm not put off. Please come in and sit down. Can I get you a drink?"
They both demurred but took seats in the sunken living room. After a few moments of pleasantries about the weather, June approached the reason for their visit. "Mr. Quick, I understand you have
some concerns about your sister's death?"
He frowned, but June had the impression that it wasn't directed at her or Eddie. "Very bad business."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, Miss Tarryton. I'll miss her dearly; however, I don't believe for one minute that she took her own life."
"Why do you feel that way, Mr. Quick?"
"She was a strong woman and vigorous. Full of life. Elizabeth wasn't the type to resort to the easy way out when another solution was at hand."
"But she was distraught over her separation from Mr. Grayson, wasn't she?" Eddie put in.
"No. She was far from distraught. She was delighted, enthusiastic. You might even go so far as to say over-the-moon happy."
"The police thought differently," June pointed out.
"Yes. Incompetent buffoons. They wouldn't listen to me. I'm hoping you will."
June was listening all right, and what she was hearing set off alarm bells. "Please tell us what's on your mind."
"Elizabeth's marriage to Grayson was a sham. He saw a way to cover up his infidelity and make a pretty penny in the bargain."
Eddie spoke up, his attention fully engaged. "Infidelity?"
"Yes. I hesitate to say it, but I think the truth needs to come out. He's been having an affair with that ruffian, Manny Mendez."
The corroboration was telling; the gardener had been right. "You say he's a ruffian?" June thought so, too, but why did Quick?
"Yes. He threatened Elizabeth numerous times. She told me herself. I pledged to keep it a secret, since she intended to leave Grayson over it anyway, but I think it has some bearing on the matter, don't you?"
"Yes," June agreed.
"So," Eddie interjected, "If you don't think it was suicide, you think it was foul play?"
Quick nodded. "I do. I think Grayson is behind it, and maybe that Manny Mendez as well. I can't be sure. Will you be able to find out?"
"Do you have any evidence to this effect?" June asked.
"No. I wish I did. I only have suspicions and some insight into what Elizabeth was going through. And, of course, there are the money matters."
This was a new clue. June spoke up. "Money matters?"
"Yes, of course. Grayson is nearly broke. His inheritance has been squandered on aggrandizing public works projects. He's determined to make a big mark on this city and he'll do nearly anything he can to get his name plastered on buildings and monuments. To that effect, he's spent nearly everything. The Grayson estate has been maintained largely from Elizabeth's share of our inheritance. She was careful with her money."
"That's interesting," June said. "Elizabeth told you this?"
"Yes, she did, but I frankly thought it was common knowledge among our social circle."
June hadn't known, of course, and an insurance investigator couldn't have been expected to move in the upper echelons of society.
Eddie nodded at Quick with understanding, without giving any clue as to what he was thinking. "I see. Well, we have some suspicions, too, and you've been helpful. Thanks."
Quick looked pained. "I want to help."
Eddie stood, and June saw that they'd gotten everything they were going to get. "We'll keep you informed, Mr. Quick. Thank you for offering your help."
Quick stood and locked eyes with June. "I don't want Grayson to collect that insurance money. He doesn't deserve it. He's not grieving for Elizabeth. Someone has to defend her memory, and I guess that's me."
June patted his hand as she shook it. "We'll keep looking into it."
Nodding, Quick gave her a sad smile and showed her and Eddie to the door. The man stood in the doorway until the engine roared to life.
"So," June started as she and Eddie made their way to the highway, "Grayson needs the money."
"Sounds like it. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd do the killing, however. He'd be the brains behind the operation."
"I agree. We need to talk to the Grayson Industries CFO and see if we can corroborate those money matters."
Eddie let go of the steering wheel long enough to pop a PEZ. "Let's get back to the office and make some phone calls."
* * * * *
Although it was getting late in the day, Eddie found out who the Grayson Industries' current CFO was and made an appointment through the man's secretary. They'd be having dinner with the man at someplace called Chasen's on Beverly Boulevard that night. June heard Eddie mumble something about getting to every eatery in Los Angeles before the case was through.
A valet took Eddie's car, and June watched as elegant people entered the establishment. She wondered if she was dressed appropriately, and if her gloves were clean enough. White gloves didn't hold up to everyday dirt very well. It made June realize exactly how dirty her hands got through the day. Yuck. She was examining her gloved fingers when Eddie placed a hand on June's back and they went inside. It was darkish inside, with gleaming dark wood paneling and black leather seating. A maître d' greeted them and when they mentioned the CFO's name, they got immediate entry into the main dining room.
Nicolas Sammers sat at a large booth, drinking something amber colored, almost the same shade as Eddie's incredible eyes. The glass was short, but a few ice cubes diluted the beverage. He gave them a stiff smile as they were shown to the table.
"Mr. Sammers." Eddie offered his hand across the table when the other man didn't stand for a formal introduction. Once they'd established their identities and professions, June and Eddie slid into the booth mostly across the table from Sammers.
Sammers was an older man, balding, who wore an expensive brown suit with a yellow striped silk tie. He didn't seem inclined to look June in the eye and he avoided Eddie's direct stare as well. He kept his eyes on his glass or focused on the distance.
They talked about the weather, with Eddie leading the conversation, until the crisply efficient waiter took their orders. "Mr. Sammers," June said. "We'd hoped you might be able to shed some light on your predecessor and his role at Grayson Industries." It was a gambit. June and Eddie hoped to get him to talk about Arminster and subtly segue into the company's finances.
"That's old news," Sammers said quietly. His voice was relaxed, suave.
"Perhaps," June agreed. "But there are loose ends."
"I don't see what Premier Insurance has to do with it."
June responded. "Mr. Grayson has a certain insurance matter."
"I'm not party to the various insurance issues."
"It's important to resolve things quickly so that everyone can move on."
"Of course." Sammers fiddled with the swizzle stick on the napkin under his drink. After a moment, he lifted the glass and finished off the contents with a gulp. Eddie signaled the waiter for another for Sammers and also for himself.
June was rather impressed with Eddie's ability to drink and not show it. Maybe, if you could stand the taste, there was no danger of drunkenness in a RAVE. That would be interesting to discover. When Eddie looked over at her, June nodded that she'd like another cocktail, too. She was having a Manhattan again. It was strong, but she was getting used to it. And those bright red cherries were pretty good.
"So," June said, trying to open the conversation to something useful. "Did you know Bill Arminster?"
"Only in passing. We had membership to the same country club."
"Was he an open fellow?"
Sammers shrugged. "He seemed jovial enough. I wouldn't say he was a blabbermouth, if that's what you mean."
June smiled. "Did he drink much?"
"Not particularly."
"Did you ever see him drunk?" Eddie asked.
"No. He wasn't that kind of fellow. He was friendly, but cautious."
"You sound like you knew him better than 'in passing'," June pointed out.
Eddie gave her a warning look, but took over the conversation. "Was he a family man?"
If Sammers was affronted by June's observation, he didn't show it. "Definitely. His wife and children accompanied him to the
club regularly."
June found the information useful. If he was supposedly seen weaving drunkenly up a downtown street, it seemed out of character. She let Eddie continue the questioning.
"Tell us about your job, Mr. Sammers. It must be an important position."
The food was served and Sammers clammed up while he ate his chateaubriand and mashed potatoes.
June was rather occupied with the food as well, especially her own mashed potatoes. But Eddie managed to eat and talk at the same time. He commented on the food, the company around the big dining room, including noting some celebrities. It was impressive to see how well he knew the time period and popular entertainers of the day.
Stuffed, June leaned back, deeper into the booth, and let her tummy settle for a few minutes while the men made polite conversation. But Eddie eventually came back to the discussion they wanted to pursue.
"You must work long hours, Mr. Sammers," Eddie said. "I only know that chief financial officers are in charge of funds. Are you also an accountant?"
Sammers nodded. "Yes. I handle all the financial affairs of Mr. Grayson and Grayson Industries."
"Goodness," June said. "That's a big responsibility."
After a moment of preening, Sammers' gaze shuttered again. "I take it seriously," he said.
"Were there any irregularities found after Mr. Arminster was lost?"
"I can't say."
Eddie persisted. "You can't say or you won't say?"
Sammers waved at the waiter and indicated that he wanted his drink refilled. He'd had two with dinner and two before. This was his fifth cocktail. It was beginning to show in the slight glassiness of his eyes and the lax dip of the corners of his mouth. He did not answer Eddie's question.
June stepped in, hoping to charm the man into talking. "You know, Mr. Sammers—Nicolas—anything you say to us is in strict confidence."
"I don't want to get in trouble."
"Please, Nicolas," June said, her voice dipping into sexy registers. "I need to know. I can have this policy paid off sooner if I'm informed."
"Grayson could sure use those funds," he muttered.
"Of course. Who wouldn't want a quarter of a million dollars?" she asked facetiously. "Were there irregularities, Nicolas?"
Eddie, My Love Page 10