I took a few more pictures of them, then bought some candy and dawdled, keeping my eye on them. The waitress brought them sodas, and Louise sipped hers, then put it down and looked seriously at the man. She spoke for a minute, and the man suddenly slapped his hands down on the table. People nearby glanced at him warily, then went back to their meals. Louise said something else, and they appeared to argue for a minute, their faces tight. Then she got up and walked out of the restaurant.
I turned the other way until I saw her out on the sidewalk, then hurried into the restaurant. The man was still at the table, his face pinched in anger. I slid into the seat across from him.
“Hey, what do you –” he began.
“We need to talk,” I interrupted.
“What?” He cleared his throat. “Who’re you?”
I introduced myself and showed him my license. It had the intended affect. He gulped and turned white as chalk.
“You’re having an affair,” I said.
“I’m not married,” he replied in a low voice.
“But Louise is.”
He sucked in a breath, then said, “Well, I’m not doing anything with her anymore. She dumped me.” He was trying to play it cool, but pain was etched on his face.
“Why?”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know. We were having fun, and she had all these ideas about running away together. That’s all she’d talk about. And then she suddenly hits me with this.”
I studied him. “You were in love with her?”
“I thought I was.” He lifted his glass, but then stopped and put it down with a bang. “Maybe it’s for the best.” He let out a bitter laugh. “You’ve seen her. She’s a doll, and has expensive tastes. But she wanted more dough than I have, and she pushed me to get more.”
“How?”
He hesitated. “It doesn’t matter. She’s gone.”
I let it go, because I was pretty sure I knew what he meant. I stood up. “What’s your name, bub?”
“Peter Lake,” he said dully.
“Where do you work?”
“Allied Insurance.”
It was the answer I expected.
“Peter,” I said as I straightened my hat, “you’re better off without her.”
Then I walked out of the restaurant.
***
I drove back to Washington Street and parked near Louise’s house. The sun was shining as I walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. A moment later, Louise answered. Jazz music played softly in the background.
“Yes?” she asked.
She had a low, sexy voice to go along with her shapely figure, and up close, her eyes were dark and smoldering. She’d changed into one of her new dresses that showed a lot of cleavage. I could see why men fell for her.
“We need to talk, Louise,” I said.
“How do you know my name?”
“I know a lot about you.” I pushed past her and into the foyer.
“Hey, fella, what do you think you’re doing?”
I glanced around. A living room to the left was filled with expensive furniture. “You’re having an affair with Peter Lake.”
She was good. Her face didn’t show a thing. “Who?” But her voice shook ever so slightly.
“And you dumped him because you found someone else who was ready and willing to do whatever you said. You know that Wilbur at your husband’s office can be careless with bank deposit envelopes. You just needed to seduce some young chump who’d be foolish enough to steal the money for you.”
Fear now flickered in her eyes, but she crossed her arms, trying to keep a cool demeanor.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not having an affair.”
“Don’t play dumb. I have pictures of you and Peter at Baur’s, and pictures of you with Angelo Manco.”
I was bluffing about the pictures of her and Angelo, but it didn’t matter.
She ran her tongue over her lip as she sized me up carefully. “It’s not what you think.”
“When are you seeing Angelo?” I snapped.
“Why should I tell you?”
“I’ll find out, one way or another.” I pointed at her. “I found you.”
She glanced away and took a few deep breaths. Then she looked at me again. “My husband has a board meeting tonight, so I’m meeting Angelo at the Shirley-Savoy restaurant at six,” she finally blurted out. “He said he has something important to tell me.” A hint of excitement and anticipation laced her voice.
“Let me save you the trouble. Angelo doesn’t have the money.”
A hand flew to her neck. “What happ –” Then she composed herself. “What money?”
She wasn’t fooling me.
I narrowed my eyes. “You played Angelo and Peter both, didn’t you? You made each of them think you loved him, then planted the idea of stealing the money and running away with you. What’d you tell them? That life would be grand, that it’d be one big party? Then you just waited for one of them to be stupid enough to believe you. And it looks like Angelo beat Peter to the punch, and swiped the dough.” I glared at her. “What were you planning to do next? Go with Angelo to some town far away, then take the money and run?”
She glanced away, and I knew I was right.
“What happened to the money?” she asked.
“It’ll be returned to the office. And you’re going to dump Angelo and never see him again.”
“Listen, fella.” She mustered up some courage. “If you think you can come in here and order me around –”
I took two quick steps toward her, and she backed up. I had her against the wall, and I leaned down and put my face close to hers. I could smell mint on her breath.
“You’re going to tell Angelo to take a hike, and you’re not going to see him again. Otherwise, I give the pictures to your husband.”
“That’s no proof.”
“It’ll be enough. And I’ll tell him you put some dumb sap up to stealing the money from his office. I’m sure he’d be interested to hear that.”
She breathed in short gasps as she put a hand gingerly on my chest and pushed me back.
“Okay, hon, you got your way. I’ll talk to Angelo tonight and tell him it’s over.”
I continued to glare at her, then finally went to the door. She stared at me as I let myself out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I left Louise’s house, grabbed lunch at a Rockybilt burger joint, and then went to my office. I checked for messages with Ida, then went to my office and called the Mancos. Vera answered, and said that Angelo had again gone out early, and that he’d left a note saying he had to go out of town for a few days. If my guess was correct, Angelo was planning to leave town and not come back. But I’d change that.
I spent the afternoon at my office, and at four, I returned to Washington Street. I waited down the block until 5:30, when Louise’s Cadillac backed out of the driveway and drove past me. I didn’t bother trying to hide. I wanted her to know I was on her tail.
She drove north to Colfax Avenue, then west into downtown. Less than ten minutes later, she parked on Broadway near the Shirley-Savoy Hotel, which had originally been two hotels back-to-back, but which was now combined into one place that took up an entire block. As she got out, she glanced up and down the street, then hesitated when she saw my black Plymouth. She frowned and walked up to the hotel entrance, where a colored doorman in a dark uniform, brimmed hat, and white gloves opened the door for her.
I followed and watched from a chair in the lobby as Louise was seated at a small table in the corner. Promptly at six, Angelo Manco walked in. He wore a gray suit that wasn’t nearly as expensive as Louise’s dress, and he looked worried, his lips a thin line.
Yeah, I’d be worried, too if I didn’t have the dough Louise is expecting, I thought. I patted my coat pocket and the envelope I’d taken from Angelo’s car.
Angelo hurried into the restaurant and joined Louise. A waitress stopped by, and after
she left, Louise and Angelo talked for a few minutes. As the waitress returned with drinks, Louise got up and left. She passed by me and gave me the slightest of nods.
When she was gone, I got up and headed into the restaurant. Angelo looked anxious as he nursed his drink. I walked up to the table, and just as I’d done with Peter Lake, I sat down unannounced. Angelo was too dejected to even react.
A waitress came over, but I waved her off.
“Who’re you?” he finally asked.
I didn’t answer, but instead pushed Louise’s untouched glass to the side, then pulled the envelope from my coat pocket and set it on the table. Angelo’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped.
“Where’d you get that?” he hissed. He set his glass down, but he didn’t have the nerve to touch the envelope.
I jerked my thumb toward the entrance to the restaurant. “Louise dumped you?”
He was still stunned. “You know about her?”
“She’s using you.”
“No, that’s not true.”
I nodded. “I have pictures of her with another guy, too.”
He gazed at his hands and sighed. He finally swallowed hard, then said, “Yeah, she dumped me. I didn’t even have a chance to tell her I didn’t have the money.” He looked up at me. “How’d you get it?”
“You should be glad your parents worry about you.”
“They had you check up on me?”
I nodded. “They thought you might be doing something with Leroy again.”
“No. He called and we talked, and he let me use his apartment. But I’m not doing anything with him. I don’t want to go to jail.”
I snorted. “You may be a little older than when you got into trouble before, but you’re not any wiser, messing with this woman and stealing for her.”
“We loved each other.”
“Tell me Jerry Manco’s son isn’t that dumb.”
He turned red.
“Wake up!” I said. “She wanted some sap to get money for her, and she was going to dump you the first chance she got. And you fell for it.” The red on his face deepened. “But here’s how it’s going to go now,” I continued. I pushed the envelope across the table. “Is all the money there?”
He shook his head. “I spent some of it.”
“Fine. You’ll replace that, and you’ll figure out a way to return all of it to the office without getting caught. Then you quit. You can go work for your father while you go to college. Your father says you’re good with numbers. Get an education, and make something of yourself.”
He took a long time to think about it, and then he nodded. “Are you going to tell my father what I did?”
“Not if you do what I say. You’re getting a second chance, so don’t blow it. You got it?”
“I’ve got it.”
I stood up. “Finish your drink and go home.”
“Thanks.”
I was pretty sure he’d do as I’d told him. But if he didn’t, I’d know, and I’d do something about it. People deserved second chances. I’d had them, and they’d made me a better man.
I walked out of the restaurant and went home, grateful for the wife who loved me, and the son who was one of my second chances.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Two days later, I stopped at Jerry’s for a drink, and the second I sat down, Jerry Manco hurried over. He poured a shot of whiskey and set it down in front of me.
“On the house.” He was beaming.
“Thanks.” I raised the glass to him, then downed the shot.
“I don’t know what you did,” he said, “but things are different. Angelo quit his job, and said he wanted to work for me while he goes to college. He wants to be an engineer. Vera and I are so happy.”
“That’s great.”
He grew serious. “He was up to something, though, and you helped him. Am I right?”
“That’s between Angelo and me,” I said.
He held up his hands. “Okay, I got it. As long as he’s making a new start, I won’t argue.” He gestured at my glass. “You want another?”
I shook my head. “I’m going home now.”
“You have a great night.” He was back to smiling as he went to serve drinks to some men who’d just come in.
I watched him for a moment, and then Angelo came out of a door near the end of the bar and began putting bottles into a small refrigerator. He glanced up at me, and nodded.
From the looks of it, he got it, too.
THE END
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AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Dewey Webb first appeared in the Reed Ferguson mystery, Back Story. If you haven’t read it, you can pick up a copy at Amazon.
Turn the page for a samples of the first and second Dewey Webb mysteries, Web of Deceit and Murder In Fashion.
WEB OF DECEIT SAMPLE
Reviews:
A great read and a great start to a new Renée Pawlish mystery series!
Frankly, I didn't believe Renée could turn what had been an interesting character from a prior book into the protagonist of his own series, and I didn't want to be disappointed. Reed Ferguson and his various friends are so well written that they feel like friends. Dewey Webb, a noir character from post WW2, didn't seem to be the sort of hero who would appeal to modern readers. I was wrong! The world of Mr. Webb - lacking the Internet, relying on pay phones, demanding brain power instead of computers - is straight out of a black and white Bogie film. Dames in trouble, shady characters, the carefully researched clothing and scenes, Ms. Pawlish has the era down flat.
I highly recommend this book and this author and I look forward to the next installment of this new detective.
If you like great, well written mysteries without on screen violence or crass language, read this book. You'll love it.
I’d never heard of Gordon Sandalwood until he walked up to my booth at State Bar & Grill and slid into the seat across from me.
“This table’s taken, bub,” I said. I had been enjoying my lunch while I read The Denver Post – four years after the war and there was still trouble in Germany – and I wasn’t in the mood to be disturbed. Reminders of the war tended to leave me with a foul disposition.
“Dewey Webb?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. He knew who I was.
I leaned back and contemplated him. He was neat and tidy, in a gray suit and a white shirt with blue stripes, a blue tie and a gray wool trilby hat. A gray tweed overcoat was draped over one arm. I’m sure people instinctively called him ‘Sir.’ ”
“Okay, you know my name,” I finally said. I wasn’t going to say ‘Sir.’ I hadn’t done that since I was in the army. “How about telling me yours?”
“Gordon Sandalwood.”
He took off his hat and set it and the overcoat on the seat next to him, then reached a thin hand across the table. I waited just long enough so he’d know I was still annoyed that he was interrupting me, then firmly shook the hand.
“Okay.” I pointed a finger at him. “Now I know who you are. What do you want?”
“I need a moment of your time, Mr. Webb,” he said.
I gestured at my hot roast beef sandwich. “Can’t it wait?”
He sighed heavily. “You’re a private i
nvestigator, and I need your help.”
“Why not come to my office?” After the war, I’d been an investigator for a law firm, but a year ago, I’d gone out on my own. I had a place on Sherman Street in an old Victorian house that had been converted to offices. It wasn’t much, but it was private, and it was where I should be conducting business.
He shook his head as he took out a Chesterfield and lit it. He blew smoke off to the side, then said, “I did. Twice. I got as far as your door, but couldn’t bring myself to go in. The second time, I ran into you in the hallway, but I didn’t say anything.”
I gave him a good once-over. “I remember you. It was last week, right?” He’d been dressed in brown that time, from his shoes to his hat. I wondered if he was always perfectly color-coordinated.
He nodded. “Then today, I’d finally screwed up my courage to talk to you, but when I got to your office, you were just leaving. So I followed you here.”
I folded up my paper and pushed it aside. The article about Ted Williams winning the AL MVP would have to wait. “It must be something important if it couldn’t wait any longer.”
“It is.” His face twisted up with a pained expression. “It’s not easy to ask for help.”
“But you’re here, so shoot.”
“It’s my wife.”
I folded my arms, beginning to lose patience with him. “I’m listening.”
He tamped out the barely smoked cigarette in a tin ashtray, then pulled out a leather wallet. He extracted a picture and handed it to me. “Her name is Edith. She’s twenty-nine, two years younger than me.”
I studied the black-and-white photo. Edith was a good-looking dame, with a round face, light hair, big dark eyes, and full lips spread into a light smile.
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