by Kane, Henry
I whistled, without sound. “Twenty-five thousand clams!”
“He was wise, or he had investigated wisely. He knew how to peg his price. Twenty-five thousand dollars is not a lot of money to me, Mr. Chambers, although I realize I should be ashamed to say that. We made an appointment for another day, I gave him a check, he gave me the tape, and I destroyed it.”
“And you thought that would be the end of it?”
“I hoped it would be. I hoped against hope it would be. But, actually, I did not think it would be.”
“And yet you paid him.”
“I wanted time, Mr. Chambers.”
“Time? Time for what?”
She reached across to a table, lifted the lid of a cigarette box, extracted a cigarette. I hurried over to light it. Then I lit one of my own and settled back in my chair. We blew blue smoke into the blue room.
“Our blackmailer,” she said, “was in a far better position than he thought he was. You see, Gilbert and 1, at long last, had finally decided to separate. Our children, now grown, could no longer be hurt, and would now understand. My son is now twenty-one and studying to be a doctor in Switzerland. My daughter, who is now nineteen, was married last winter to one of her young professors at Zurich. I was going to sell the house — I own this house and the estate — go to Europe, have my divorce there, and remain there permanently. I own property in Paris, and I speak French fluently. Paris would be my home, and I would make my new life there. My one tie here was my mother — she is seventy-nine — ill and dying and wanting to die here in this house in her own room. So, you see, I did not fear Jason Touraine — I was buying time.”
“No, I do not see,” I said.
“Here, copies of that recording sent around by our devilish Jason, could embarrass me among friends, acquaintances, people close to me, perhaps my mother, even my husband and his friends and acquaintances. Once I was gone — to hell with Jason Touraine. In Europe — cut away from my people here — I could laugh it off; if he attempted his tricks there, I would see to it that he went to jail.”
“What about your kids?”
“I could explain to my children. They’re grown now.”
“So? Back to Touraine. What happened?”
“For a while, nothing. I had almost begun to believe that my hoping-against-hope had point. Then last week he called me, told me it was urgent, requested an appointment for Saturday night.”
“At Chez Rio?”
“Yes. I met him there. Blandly, suavely — but now, obviously, stupidly — he told me he had found another tape recording. And, since I had been so kind to him, and so cooperative, I could have this one for ten thousand. Sort of cut-rate price because I had been so very good and had caused no trouble.”
“And was the deal consummated?”
“No. I arranged to meet him Wednesday night — it would have been tonight — at that apartment on Seventy-ninth. I would bring a check and he would turn over the tape.”
“But didn’t you realize that he could make copies and copies and copies? That this sort of blackmail could go on indefinitely?”
“Not indefinitely, Mr. Chambers. It would stop when I could leave here, and that could not be too long, when my mother …” She expunged the cigarette in a blue ash tray. “As we were leaving Chez Rio, Gilbert came in, and that scene happened.”
“Did you tell Mr. Wade why you had seen Touraine?”
“No. Of course not. I merely said I had an innocent date at a night club with a charming young man. He took me home. We had a terrific argument. He accused me of making a fool of him, a public laughingstock. He left early Sunday morning. He hasn’t been home since.” She stood up, sighed. “There you have it, Mr. Chambers. Up to date. And now, as long as fate has decreed that you’re here …”
“Yes.” I stood up too. I scraped out my cigarette. “You said something before about loose ends … and someone in my profession being able to help …”
“Jason Touraine is dead.”
“That’s no loose end. Or is it?”
“He had one or more tapes — and they are loose ends. I was willing to pay him ten thousand dollars for each. I’m willing to pay you ten thousand dollars for each if you can turn them up for me.”
“Those are extortioner’s prices, Mrs. Wade. I’m no extortioner.”
“I was willing to pay him — I’m willing to pay you.”
“Why would you trust me?”
“Despite my seeming bad record, I’m really an excellent person for snap judgment. I’ve only made two major mistakes in all my life. The first when I was very young — Gilbert Wade. The second when I am very old” — she smiled — ”Jason Touraine. You? I believe I can trust you, Mr. Chambers.”
“Why?” I said.
“Because if you were bent upon blackmail, you would have declared yourself long before this. You certainly arrived here with sufficient ammunition. No. I’ve made my mistakes, but I don’t make mistakes often. You’re an honorable man.”
“But you’re offering a hell of a price.”
“I can afford it, Mr. Chambers.”
“Suppose I tell you that I practically have those tapes in my hand.”
“How many are there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you don’t have them in your hand, do you?”
“I’m right up close to them.”
“Fine. Deliver them and you’ll be paid.”
“I may be able to deliver them today.”
“All the better.” She squinted at me. I must have looked indecisive. “Why are you being difficult?” she said.
“Easy money always worries me.”
“I repeat. I was willing to pay him — I’m willing to pay you. You’ll be earning what you call your easy money, and you’ll be earning my deep gratitude.”
I shrugged. I smiled. “Easy money may worry me, but it doesn’t defeat me. You’ve bought yourself a deal, Mrs. Wade, and right now, honestly, once I’m in the deal, I hope there are more tapes than you think there are. One condition, though.”
“I have a condition first,” she said.
“Yes?”
“We have a deal but it is a deal just between us. You are not to talk about this to anyone.”
“Including your husband?”
“Including my husband. Now what’s your condition?”
“I want to know where you were Monday night.”
The frown came back over the fawn-brown eyes but beneath it she was smiling. “Don’t tell me you think I killed him?”
“I don’t know who killed him. What about Monday night?”
“I was here at home.”
“Your husband wasn’t at home to verify that.”
“Oh, I can verify it, Mr. Chambers. Beyond any vestige of doubt. Please come with me.”
She led me to a small elevator in the rear of the house. We went up two flights and then I followed along a corridor at the end of which she opened a door. I looked in upon a large pink-tinted bedroom tainted with the smell of death. There is a smell of sickness and there is a smell of death. The room was bright and clean with a small breeze from the many windows but it smelled of sickness and it smelled of death.
An old woman was very small upon the pillows of a great bed. She was breathing but there was not much breath left. A doctor — obviously a doctor — strong, young, black-haired, silent, was seated at the bedside holding the old lady’s thin hand, counting pulse while looking at his wrist watch. Standing near was a tall gray-haired nurse with grim steel spectacles.
The doctor looked up, saw us, gently placed the thin hand on the sheet, rose, and came to us. Mrs. Wade motioned to the nurse and the nurse joined us in the corridor. There, quickly, Mrs. Wade introduced us. “Dr. Harper, Mr. Chambers. Dr. Harper is a neighbor and our family physician. Miss Delaney, Mr. Chambers. Miss Delaney has been living in with us.”
We mumbled acknowledgment.
“Miss Delaney,” said Mrs. Wade. “Will you please tell Mr
. Chambers what happened Monday night? It’s quite important.”
Miss Delaney stared at me disapprovingly through her steel-rimmed glasses. Then she looked at the doctor, who, although he was frowning, nodded. “On Monday,” said Miss Delaney, “at about eleven in the evening, Mrs. Vandecour took a bad turn. I … I thought it was all over. We called Dr. Harper and he came.”
“There was very little I could do,” said the doctor.
“We stayed with her — Dr. Harper, Mrs. Wade, and I — until six o’clock in the morning, and then, miraculously, she was over it, she was better, and then — ”
“Thank you very much,” said Mrs. Wade.
She touched my arm.
Softly the doctor said, “Please don’t stay away too long.”
“I won’t,” said Mrs. Wade.
Downstairs, at the big white door, she said, “I’m depending upon you to gather up my loose ends, Mr. Chambers.”
“I think I’m right close on top of them, Mrs. Wade. Now I don’t want to hold you up with any further talk. I know you’re anxious to get back upstairs.”
“Yes, I am. Goodbye, Mr. Chambers.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Wade.”
We shook hands.
I drove back into town with the refrain of an old folksong beating time in my head — the rich are rich and the poor get babies, the rich are rich but the poor are happy….
Chapter Eighteen
I PARKED at an outdoor parking lot (at a buck an hour) and called the office. No messages. I called Mosely Safe and Vault. No word yet from Mr. Frankel but we’re expecting to hear at any minute. I said thank you, this is Mr. Chambers again, please remember my message for Mr. Frankel and hung up. I looked at my watch. It was twelve-thirty. I flagged down a cab and went to Gil Wade Formals on Seventh Avenue.
The beige-haired girl with the bazooms like hillocks recognized me as the V.I.P. who had busted the bastion without conflict. She smiled broadly, wriggled coyly, did a bounce or two in a private frenzy of her own, said, “He’s out to lunch but I know where if it’s important and with you I imagine it’s important, Mr. Uh. It’s important?”
“Yup,” I yupped.
“He’s over at Longchamps. Thirty-fourth and Fifth.”
“Thank you.”
“You are very welcome indeed, Mr. Uh …”
“Chambers.”
“Very indeed, Mr. Chambers.”
He was having lunch at a window table with — Harvey Everest McCormick.
I joined and I said, “I didn’t know you two were acquainted.”
McCormick said, “Hello, Peter.”
“Christ, small world,” said Wade. “Yeah, we’re acquainted. Sometimes I wish we weren’t. He makes me realize what a lousy golfer I am. That is, when I play with him.”
“We’re members of the same club,” said McCormick. “We take lunch together on occasion. Thank you very much for last night, Peter. I got an excellent report.”
“Don’t tell me this guy is working for you too,” said Wade.
“Too?” McCormick pursed his mouth and made a prim face.
“Well …” Wade munched lunch, swallowed, switched the subject. “Boy, a guy like this Chambers must pick up the wildest bits of gossip. How’s about it, Pete?”
“Some day I’ll write a book,” I said.
“Talk to me about publishing it,” said McCormick. He looked up at a wall clock, laid his napkin on the table. “Got to run, gentlemen. Got work.”
“Don’t worry about the check,” said Wade.
“My turn next time,” said McCormick. He stood up. “See you at the club Saturday, Gil. Goodbye, Peter. If you want to talk to me, I’ll be at the office or I’ll be at home.”
As McCormick strode off, Wade’s slate-blue eyes narrowed inquiringly. “What the hell kind of business do you have with him?”
“It’ll be in my book,” I said.
The waiter came.
“How about a spot of lunch?” asked Wade.
I ordered a sandwich and coffee.
“A hell of a nice guy, that Harvey,” said Wade. “And one hell of a golfer. Wow. I’m really curious about your business with him.”
“I’m sure he’s just as curious about my business with you.”
“Check.” He sipped coffee. “How goes my business?”
“Gil,” I said, “when you talked to me yesterday, you left something out.”
“Like what?”
“Like the woman at Chez Rio with Touraine was your wife.”
For a moment his expression was ugly. Anger put a mottled flush on the handsome face. He parried for control, pushing away the coffee cup, leaning back, taking a thin panatella from his pocket, lighting up.
The waiter brought my sandwich and coffee.
I said nothing. I started eating my lunch.
Finally he said, quite mildly, “What difference would it make who the woman was?”
“It could make a good deal of difference.”
“Now look, baby, I didn’t pay you a thousand bucks to pry into my private life.”
“You paid me for a form of protection. For scouting in advance. For letting you know if and when the thing seeped down to cops.”
“That’s right. That’s what I paid you for. Not for prying into my private affairs.”
“Sorry, Gil, but the scouting brought in what you call your private affairs, and if and when this does seep down to the police, the fact that the woman involved was your wife could put a completely different aspect on the matter.”
“Why, for chrissake?”
“You yourself told me that Touraine had moved in on a woman of yours, that you had warned him to stay away. A woman — is one thing. A wife — is another. If it gets to the cops, it could have a much more serious complexion. A man might threaten because of woman trouble — but a man might kill because of wife trouble. Where were you Monday night, Gil?”
“Oh, now, come off it.”
“You told me you spent Monday night in town. I know now that you also spent Sunday night in town. As a matter of fact, since early Sunday, you haven’t been home at all.”
“Now look! That’s just about enough of that!”
“Part of my job, Gil. And none of my business. But Monday night — on your very own behalf — could be part of my business. It’s a question which, sooner or later, the cops might bring to you. You may as well try out the answer on me. I’m your advance man, remember?”
He shook his head but the shake was now a shake of grinding grudging admiration rather than a shake of anger. He puffed on the panatella. He smiled, somehow, ruefully. “I spent the night,” he said, “with an old sweetheart.”
“Old sweethearts make lousy alibis.”
Now the shake was anger. “Look, if I want epigrams, I don’t need you, I can read Oscar Wilde.” He glanced at his wrist watch. “I’ve got to get back to the office. You sit. Eat your lunch. Enjoy.” He called the waiter and paid. He stood up and he touched a hand to my shoulder. “You’re an awfully irritating bastard but I must admit you’re thorough. Do you think the police have an idea of any of this?”
“I don’t think so. But I can’t say for sure.”
“You’ll let me know — if you can say?”
“I promised I would.”
“Thanks. You’ve provided me with a miserable afternoon.”
“You paid me for a job of work, Gil.”
“I’m not complaining,” he said and went away.
I finished my lunch, then called the office.
There was a message. Saul Frankel had called. He was at Mosely Safe and Vault. I called Mosely Safe and Vault and was connected with Saul Frankel. “I have a safe that needs opening,” I said. “It’s at my apartment. After you open it, I want to give it to you for a present, so bring yourself and bring men to take it away.”
“When?” said Saul Frankel.
“How about like now?”
“Like now is fine.”
“You talked me into it,
” I said.
One hour later Saul Frankel was gone, the safe was gone, and I was able to enjoy the unaccustomed pleasure of unobstructed ingress into my bathroom. I enjoyed my unaccustomed unobstructed ingress, and then I came out to the explosive contents of the safe. Upon my sofa, quiescent and demure — as coiled rattlesnakes are quiescent and demure — lay, from left to right: a shiny, fancy, black leather attaché case; a small key; a round metal tin containing motion picture film; a motion picture projector; two flat transparent plastic cases each containing a spool of tape and each identified by a strip of adhesive upon which was ink-initialed the letter H; and three flat transparent plastic cases each containing a spool of tape and each of these identified by a strip of adhesive upon which was ink-initialed the letter M.
“For this kind of crap a guy needs a Mosely safe?” had said Saul Frankel.
“Each to his own,” I had replied.
I now examined Jason Touraine’s valuables. I started with the motion picture film and the motion picture projector. I laid the holes upon the sprockets, pointed the projector at a large white wall, removed three pictures from the large white wall, drew my shades, and clicked the starter for the feature film.
I got Edwina Strange, nude and slender, co-starring with a nude brunette, more buxom, aided and abetted by three feature players — and man, they were playing — all gray-haired men, all nude. There were close shots, long shots, individual shots, group shots, high angle shots, low angle shots. There were three full action-packed reels, but action-packed. I admit I sat through the entire show, transfixed. I was still transfixed when my white wall had nothing on it but a white light and the tail of the negative was noisily flapping within the projector. I finally roused myself, attached the film, put it into reverse, and rewound it. Edwina Strange had risen and fallen in my estimation. Risen and fallen sounds like a paradox, but if you think about it — there you have it. The brunette? Let us not go into the brunette at this point….