Double or Quits

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  “I’m glad you see what I’m driving at.”

  “That would get us the forty thousand dollars additional from the insurance company?”

  “That’s right.” She thought that over for a while. “Couldn’t we get the insurance company to compromise by making that theory sound logical, but without going so far as to actually produce proof?”

  “They won’t compromise. They can’t. They either have the liability or they don’t. If they have it, they should pay. If they don’t, they shouldn’t. They’ll make us fight it out. As far as they’re concerned, it’s double or quits.”

  “Why would Hilton’s calls on patients have anything to do with what happened there in the garage?”

  “The person who got the gems out of the glove compartment must have known they were in there.”

  “I see. You mean Hilton got the gems, and then the person from whom he’d received them followed him home to the garage?”

  “That might have happened.” She said, “I can tell you exactly the two calls Hilton made, and they won’t help you a bit.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  She opened a drawer in a small bedside table, took out a leather-backed notebook. She said, “Hilton had a poor memory. He never trusted anything to his memory. He liked to do things according to system. For instance, whenever he made a call, he’d mark down the call in this notebook. The next morning his office secretary would ask for the page showing what calls he’d made. He’d take the page out of a notebook, and give it to her. In that way, he never missed a charge.”

  “And he marked down the calls he made the night of his death?”

  “Yes. There were two. I can vouch absolutely for both patients. Both were women I know well. They are both wealthy. One is married, one a widow. They’re living too hard, too many parties, too much society—at least, that’s what Hilton always said. But these persons are absolutely and positively above suspicion. They’re wealthy women with very real complaints. Hilton told me they both had hypertension, whatever that is.” I took the notebook and looked it over. The pages contained notes which indicated a man who didn’t trust to his memory, and who was neat and efficient in his methods. He had copied out the time of high and low tide. There were tides for every Wednesday for the next six months. He had a dated page for a list of calls he’d made. There were a few telephone numbers and addresses, mostly of other doctors, evidently names he might want to call in a hurry for consultation or to assist in operations. Near the back of the book was a page with a string of figures.

  “What are these?”

  “We get the combination of the safe from those.” I looked at the figures and said, “Have much difficulty?”

  “Some.” I thought of Devarest’s type of mind, of the methodical entries in the notebook. I said, “I don’t think I’d have much trouble.” She was watching me with interest.

  “Why not?”

  “He was systematic. He trusted very little to memory. He’d be just the type to write the numbers down backward. For instance, here’s eighty-four as the last number. I would say that that meant the first number to use on the combination was forty-eight.” I didn’t need to ask her if I was right. I could tell it from the expression on her face.

  “Donald, you’re marvellous!” There was surprise in her voice, but there was something in her eyes, something more than surprise. It took me a minute to place it. It was fear.

  Chapter X

  THE sign on the door read, “Forrest Timkan, Attorney and Counsellor-at-Law—Entrance.” I pushed open the door and walked in. Mrs. Croy was already there, waiting in the outer office. A secretary with fine red lips and lots of mascara looked up from a typewriter to ask me what I wanted. Mrs. Croy got up hastily, and said, “This is Mr. Lam. He’s with me. Mr. Timkan is expecting us—both of us.” The secretary twisted the red smear into a smile, and said, “Yes, Mrs. Croy.” She walked through the door marked “Private.” I went over and sat down beside Mrs. Croy.

  She frowned at the door through which the secretary had vanished. After a moment she said, half to herself, “I don’t know why Timkan gets such terrible secretaries.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked. “Can’t she type?”

  “I don’t mean that. She’s—oh, obvious.” I said, “Want a cigarette?” and extended my cigarette case. She started to take one, changed her mind, and said, “No, thanks. Not now. I’ve made arrangements for Mr. Harmley to meet me here, and Mr. Timkan has arranged for Walter and his lawyer to come here for a conference. I told Mr. Harmley that if he’d pick me up at ten o’clock I’d be all finished. When he comes, I’ll explain that Mr. Timkan was busy and had to keep us waiting.”

  “How about when Walter comes in with his lawyer? Won’t the relationship be slightly strained?” She said, “Perhaps. It’s been months since I’ve seen Walter. I wonder ”

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “If he’s put on weight.” I lit my cigarette and settled back in a chair. “Is he inclined to put it on?”

  “He has a tendency to want rich foods. I taught him some self-control in his diet and he took off twenty pounds.” The door of Timkan’s private office opened. Mrs. Croy said, “Here he is now. Good morning, Forrest. Mr. Timkan, this is Mr. Lam.” He shook hands with her, then with me. He was a short, nervous chap with quick, jerky motions. He had pale blue eyes and very fine, straw-coloured hair that looked like imitation silk after it’s been to the laundry a couple of times. He was about thirty-five, had a bulging forehead, and wore glasses. He said, “Good morning, Mr. Lam. I understand your status, of course. I’ll keep up the pretext, however, that you and Mrs. Croy are very much interested in each other.” He blinked at me, hesitated just long enough to make the pause emphasize his remark, then said, “Very much interested. I think it will be wise to seem particularly interested after Mr. Croy comes to the office.” I said, “Won’t it be particularly irritating to him if he thinks his wife brought me to the legal rendezvous?” Timkan nodded vigorously. “I hope so.”

  “You mean you want to irritate him?”

  “It will give him something to think about. If possible, act the part of a fortune hunter—you know what I mean. You’re so interested in Nadine’s worldly possessions that you’ve attended a conference at her lawyer’s office to safeguard her cash.” Nadine pouted at him and said, “Am I, then, so physically unattractive that a person who was interested in me would be labelled a fortune hunter?” His smile held understanding and affection. “That is exactly why I wanted Mr. Lam to act as though his interest is primarily in your money. You understand, don’t you, Lam?”

  “I understand what you want.”

  “And you’ll do the best you can?”

  “I don’t know exactly how a fortune hunter works.”

  “Well, just pretend that you have Mrs. Croy completely hypnotized. She’s willing to marry you almost at once, and remember you’re thinking of her money. And now I’ll get back to my lair. Rose will flash me a signal on the buzzer when it’s time for me to open the door. That will be almost at the exact moment Mr. Croy and his lawyer arrive.” He bobbed back and closed the door. We were left alone in the reception-room.

  Mrs. Croy settled herself in her chair, sitting so she was facing the door. She went to some pains to arrange her skirt just to suit her; then she smiled at me.

  “I’m sorry, Donald. I know you must feel I’m imposing upon you, but, after all, it’s really important—I mean, very important.”

  “So Harmley won’t suspect that I’m a detective?”

  “Well, yes—and—well, it seems like the best ” The door opened. Harmley entered the office, stood for a moment looking around as though having some difficulty getting his eyes to focus; then he saw Mrs. Croy. He smiled and said, “Good-morning…. Oh, you’ve finished your conference. I hope I’m not late. You ”

  “No,” she said. “Mr. Timkan is the one that’s late. I haven’t even got in to see him yet. He’s been busy every minute.
” Harmley’s eyebrows raised. “Well, I’m glad I’m not late. Good-morning, Lam…. I may as well wait here, I suppose.” He settled down in a chair on the other side of Mrs. Croy.

  The door of Timkan’s private office opened, and the secretary came bustling out, carrying a handful of legal papers which she placed in various piles on her desk. She said “Good-morning” to Harmley and asked his name.

  Mrs. Croy said, “He’s with me.” She smiled. “Mr. Timkan wanted me to tell you how sorry he was. He’ll see you in a few minutes.” She settled herself in her stenographic chair, whipped paper and carbon out of her desk, fed the paper into the machine with a great show of frenzied haste, then opened a drawer in her desk, took out a mirror and lipstick, and began touching up her mouth.

  The entrance door opened, and two men came in. I took one swift look, then turned to watch Harmley and Mrs. Croy.

  Mrs. Croy tilted her chin, lowered her eyes demurely. Harmley glanced up, then casually looked over toward Mrs. Croy and said, “He must be pretty busy.” She didn’t answer him. She raised her eyes and said, with synthetic sweetness, “Good-morning, Walter.” The men were closer now. Harmley surveyed them as they swung toward us. There was just the faint interest of a well-bred curiosity in his glance, no more.

  Mrs. Croy said, “Donald, this is Walter Croy.” I got up and met a pair of hostile grey eyes, glanced down, and saw that Harmley was looking, not at Walter, but at me. There was a quizzical expression on his face.

  Walter Croy had evidently put the twenty pounds back on. He said, “Good-morning, Mr. Lam. How you been, Nadine? This is my lawyer, Mr. Pinchley.” Pinchley was tall, broad-shouldered, rather good-looking in a heavy-featured sort of way, but didn’t seem particularly quick on the trigger. Mrs. Croy introduced Harmley, and then the door of Timkan’s office opened, and he was standing, bowing, greeting everyone, and apologizing all at once. The explanations were reasonable. The apologies were profuse; but the effect of the whole thing was that he was talking too fast and too much.

  Nadine Croy said, “Now, Donald, you be a dear and wait here. And you won’t mind waiting just a few moments, will you, Mr. Harmley? You and Donald can talk with each other.” She turned to her former husband. “Walter, you’re looking fine, marvellously well ! ” He smiled down at her. His face had the same expression it would have worn if he’d been regarding a talkative, interesting, but dangerously mischievous child. “I’m afraid I’ve put on a little weight,” he said.

  “Oh, have you, Walter? Why, I just thought that you looked so well. I see now you’re a little heavier, but ” Timkan said, “Won’t you come in, please?” They filed on into Timkan’s private office, and left Harmley and me sitting there together.

  When the door closed, Harmley leaned toward me so his low-voiced conversation would be inaudible to Timkan’s secretary and said, “What does her husband do?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked at me again with that peculiarly puzzled expression.

  I said, “She rarely talks about her husband. Was there some particular reason why you were interested?”

  “Yes. I’ve told you that I had the impression I’d met Mrs. Croy somewhere before. I have the same feeling about her husband.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. I didn’t realize it at first. It was as he went through that door into Mr. Timkan’s private office that it flashed on my mind there was something familiar about the man’s walk, the way he carried his shoulders. I have a wretched memory for people and associations. That is, I can remember vaguely having seen them, but I can’t recall the circumstances.”

  “Many people are like that.”

  “Are you that way?”

  “No.”

  “I wish I weren’t. I’d give almost anything to be able to recall people and names and associations.”

  “Perhaps you met them somewhere while they were living together.”

  “I must have. There’s a vague feeling of uneasiness in the back of my mind as though my memory were trying to warn me about some past experience which was unpleasant.” He glanced at me and then added hastily, “Not, you understand, so far as Mrs. Croy is concerned. I’ve simply felt that I’ve met her somewhere before, but as the impression that I’ve known her husband returns to me, there’s the feeling that—well, that I’d just escaped being trimmed in some business deal.”

  “You can’t remember what it was?”

  “No. That’s just the point.”

  “You can’t think of anything that would give you a clue?”

  “No. And I haven’t been able to recall anything significant in my last conversation with Dr. Devarest.” We sat silent for a while. I could hear the hum of voices from Timkan’s private office; then, after four or five minutes, Mrs. Croy came through the door. She swept in, clothed in an invisible aura of self-satisfied triumph.

  She smiled at Harmley, walked around him to lean over close to my ear. “You’ll forgive me, Mr. Harmley, if I whisper. It’s a minor matter, and yet it may be very—very important.”

  “Certainly. I’ll leave, if you wish to have a conference in private, and ”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted you to understand.” She placed an intimate hand on my shoulder, leaned forward so her lips were within an inch of my ear, and whispered, “Oh, Donald, it’s working so wonderfully well! I’m so elated. He’s furious about you. You be sure to wait right here. Don’t go away, no matter what happens. Do you know, Donald, I really believe we’re going to put it across. We’ve got him completely fooled this time. And he’s not an easy man to fool.” I said, “That’s fine.” She whispered even less audibly, with her lips almost brushing my ear, “He’s made a proposition. I told him I’d have to think it over, and then came out to see you. That’s the thing that’s irritating him more than anything else, the fact that you’re sitting out here and really having the final say in our conference.” I said, “Yes. I can readily understand.” She laughed, raised her right hand from my shoulder to pat my cheek. “You boys wait right here. It won’t be long now.” Harmley said dubiously, “My experience has been that conferences of this kind, where two lawyers and two clients are together, usually take a long time.” She said, “Oh, I’m quite sure this will be over in a few minutes.” Then she hesitated. “Really, however, I’ve imposed on you frightfully.”

  “Not at all.”

  “I had someone I wanted you to meet, a friend of Dr. Devarest. He’s terribly interested in you.” Harmley said, “I should like very much to meet him.”

  “I don’t like to ask you to wait. It’s unfortunate that Mr. Timkan was so busy he couldn’t keep his appointment with me.” Harmley pinched his eyebrows together thoughtfully, looked at his wrist-watch, suddenly got up and said, “Really, my dear, I’m afraid this is going to take much longer than you anticipate. I have an appointment in half an hour that I simply must keep. Even if you finish this conference within the next few minutes, and I were to meet some friend of Dr. Devarest—well, you know how it would be. I’d hate to shake hands and then dash off.”

  “Yes, that would be unfortunate.”

  “Suppose we postpone it until tomorrow or next day?”

  “Well—yes, I guess that’s best.”

  “I think so.” Impulsively she gave him her hand, came to stand close to him, looking up at his face. “You’ve been perfectly splendid, Mr. Harmley. I can understand just how my uncle felt about you, and when I think of how I’ve inconvenienced you, I feel terribly ashamed. It really wasn’t my fault, but—well, you can see the way things happened.”

  “Certainly. It was something you couldn’t have controlled in the least. I appreciate that perfectly.”

  “Thank you so much then, and good-bye.”

  “Good-bye. I’ll see you later on.” He left the office, and Nadine Croy came over to me again. She leaned over, breathed in my ear. “You’re doing splendidly, Donald. Did he show any sign of recognition?”

  “No. But afterwards the situation was
slightly different. I have something to tell you when you’re at liberty.” She gave the upper part of my arm a gentle squeeze, and favoured me with a smile of what seemed studied invitation before vanishing through the door to the inner office once more.

  The secretary was looking at me thoughtfully.

  I sat for another ten minutes, then abruptly the door opened, and Walter Croy and his lawyer came out. Timkan followed them as far as the outer office. “You understand how it is,” he said. “No hard feelings, but ”

  “We’ll let you know tomorrow,” Croy’s lawyer said, and marched his client through the door. Croy flashed me one sidelong glance, then the door closed, and Timkan was beckoning me to his private office.

  I went in. Timkan asked anxiously, “Did he give any sign of recognition?”

  “Not at the time. But he told me that, as he watched Croy enter your office, he thought he’d seen him before—says he can’t place him—says there’s a feeling in the back of his mind that the association was disagreeable, thinks he might almost have been trimmed in a business deal. Does that mean anything to you?” Timkan looked at Mrs. Croy, frowned, walked over to the window, stood looking down at the traffic, then turned back to me and said, “It all fits in. If we could find some way of jogging his memory he could probably give the key clue. But I don’t see how he could have given Dr. Devarest information that was a stranglehold on Walter Croy, and yet not have known what the information was, or be able to recall it now.” I said, “I didn’t think Croy showed any sign of recognizing him.”

  “No,” Nadine Croy said, “I’m quite certain he didn’t.”

  “I take it, however, that Walter Croy wasn’t as hard to handle as you anticipated.” Timkan said, “That’s right.” I said, “Has it ever occurred to you Walter may be a better actor than we give him credit for?”

  “What do you mean?” Timkan asked.

  I said, “Suppose he recognized Harmley as soon as he saw him, but realized Harmley didn’t recognize him. He knew that Harmley would place him sooner or later, so decided to make hay while the sun was shining, get the best settlement he could, and get out from under.” Timkan thought that over. “There’s something to that—only he wasn’t quite that tractable.”