Manslaughter (Stanley Hastings Mystery, #15)

by Parnell Hall

  “And neither is Mr. Grackle.

  “You’re young, you got your whole life in front of you, you got a chance to start over. You can go back to college. I suggest one on the West Coast. Or, at least not in New York.

  “Now, I know you’d like to go all noble and save your father, but the fact is, you can’t do it.

  “On the other hand, there is enough evidence to convict you of vehicular homicide, maybe even murder, if the true facts came out. Given time, the police may be able to put it together from Grackle’s files. I did, and I’m not the smartest private eye on the block.”

  That was a bit of a fudge. Actually, Alice had put it together, from Grackle’s files and her search of the Internet. She’d found evidence of a Mr. Fletcher Headly living at an address in Glen Cove, Long Island, up until two years ago.

  I felt guilty taking credit for it.

  I felt more guilty the reason I was taking credit for it was so I wouldn’t have to say “My wife.”

  Because MacAullif was right. I wanted to be the hero. And not because I had the hots for the girl. I just wanted to be Mike Hammer. Just for once.

  Jenny was devastated. “But I didn’t ... I didn’t ...”

  “Kill Headly?”

  “No, I did. But it wasn’t like that. He assaulted me. Grabbed me through the window. Tried to pull me out of the car. I gunned the motor. The car hit a tree.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. You’ve told so many stories. No one’s apt to believe you now.”

  “You mean ... you mean they may prosecute me?”

  I shook my head. “Not as things stand. Headly wasn’t run over by a car two years ago. Your father killed Headly in a barroom brawl in 1990. You got the court papers to prove it. You can be pissed off at me as you like, but it’s something he wanted to do for you. He felt very strongly.”

  “You spoke to him about it?”

  “Of course.”

  “You suggested he do it?”

  “Gonna hit me again if I say yes?”

  “Why did you do that?”

  I sighed. “Because it works. Because it fulfills some childhood fantasy of saving a damsel in distress. Though you’re not a damsel in distress, you’re probably a cold-blooded killer. I don’t condone it, but I can’t fault you on it. I’m rather conflicted myself.

  “Anyhow, that’s the way this one plays out. Everything’s not neat and tidy like in a book. The Grackle murder doesn’t get solved. The Headly murder gets solved wrong. And that, believe it or not, is the best I can do.”

  I reached in my jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope.

  “What’s that?” Jenny asked.

  I handed it over. “The blackmail photos. Of you. And of your mother. I suggest you burn them.”

  Jenny clutched the envelope. She blinked at me in amazement through eyes caked with tears. “You did all this for me?”

  “To a certain extent.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Wow. And I was so angry. Listen, if there’s ever anything I can do for you.”

  “Well, you could take your clothes off and let me shoot you in the stomach.”

  She drew back, shocked, repulsed. “What?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “A Mickey Spillane reference. Totally insensitive under the circumstances.”

  She frowned. “Mickey Spillane?”

  I sighed. Ah, the difference in our ages.

  The white knight, private eye, and romantic leading man got up, walked around the desk, and opened the office door to let the fair maiden, femme fatale, and possible murderess he had just saved from the dragon, police, and prosecuting attorney out.

  53.

  “YOU HAVE NO PILLS on your desk.”

  MacAullif beamed. “You are correct, sir. I don’t need any. At least not now. Things have worked out remarkably well. The Headly case is closed. The Grackle case, while not closed, is solved, and the perpetrator, god bless him, has nothing to do with me.”

  “Some days you get lucky.”

  “Hey, they can’t all be losers. So, you just come by to celebrate?”

  “I thought you might like to wrap up the case.”

  “What’s to wrap up? It’s wrapped.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know what really happened?”

  “Will it upset me?”

  “It shouldn’t.”

  “Then, sure. What details would you care to add?”

  “Balfour didn’t kill Headly.”

  MacAullif stared at me. I probably could have played handball on his face and he wouldn’t have blinked. Without looking, he jerked his drawer open, pulled out his pill bottles, and began arranging them on his desk. When he was done, he said in a voice so low it was almost inaudible, “Care to run that by me again?”

  I laid it out for MacAullif the way I’d laid it out for Jenny. While I talked, MacAullif’s face grew darker and darker. When I was finished he exploded, “You son of a bitch! How can you do this to me? The case was closed. Closed!”

  “It is closed, MacAullif. Everything I just told you was off the record. Consider it hypothetical.”

  MacAullif hurled a bottle of pills at me. It popped open. Green-and-white capsules rolled around on the office floor. So much for safety caps.

  I got down on my hands and knees and started picking up the pills. “Anyone pee on this floor recently?”

  “Shut up,” MacAullif said. He crawled by me, reached under the desk. His head was practically in my lap.

  I prayed no one would open the office door.

  We finished picking up the pills. MacAullif heaved himself into his desk chair, breathing hard. He pointed a finger at me. “You say the ‘H’ word again, I’ll take out my service revolver and shoot you. Just tell me what’s going to happen when this whole fucking mess gets straightened out.”

  “It isn’t, MacAullif. The case is over. Balfour pled guilty to manslaughter. It’s what he wants to do.”

  “But he didn’t commit it.”

  “Let’s not get hung up on technicalities. The point is, the case is closed, no one’s gonna reopen it, and no one’s gonna bother you.”

  “But—”

  “You’re the only one arguing, MacAullif. Do you hear Balfour arguing? Do you hear Balfour’s attorney arguing? Do you hear the ADA arguing? No. Everybody’s happy, everybody’s gonna leave it alone.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I know so. No one’s gonna touch it any more than they’re gonna touch the Grackle case.”

  “That’s what I thought a half an hour ago. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “Believe it, MacAullif. No one will touch it. The facts aren’t there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know what they are. I know exactly what happened. If you’d like me to tell you without using the ‘H’ word, I will. Just don’t jump over the desk and try to kill me.”

  “You know how Mott killed Grackle?”

  “No.”

  MacAullif snorted in disgust. “Then what do you know?”

  I held up a finger. “No jumping.”

  “Hey, schmuck.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know. Mott, tired of payin’ Grackle off, made a play to get the evidence back. On his way out of the building one day, he traced the doorbell wires and found a place they could be cut that wouldn’t readily be seen. He also scouted out a fire escape in the back hall. It was possible from that fire escape to reach a window that Grackle was in the habit of leaving open.

  “So, Mott laid his plans. One night when he came to pay off Grackle, on his way out he detoured down the basement and clipped the buzzer wire. Sure enough, when he wandered by the next day, the downstairs door was unlocked. He waited till Grackle went out to dinner and let himself in the outer door. He went up to Grackle’s floor, climbed out on the fire escape, and swung over to Grackle’s open window. He climbed in and proceeded to ransack Grackle’s files.”

  “So,” MacAullif said,
“Grackle came back from dinner, caught him going through the files, and he killed him. Earlier that night. Before the people at Midnight Lace gave him his alibi.”

  “Nice theory, but wrong. When Mott couldn’t find what he was looking for, he got the hell out of there. When Grackle returned from dinner he had no idea the apartment had been searched.”

  MacAullif blinked. “How can that be?”

  “Perfectly easy, MacAullif. You saw the medical report. Grackle wasn’t killed that early.”

  “Those things aren’t ironclad.”

  “I don’t want to argue. It’s just my theory, and you don’t have to buy it. But say Grackle was alive when he left.”

  “And someone else came by and killed him? After he’d coincidently cut the doorbell wire? You expect me to buy that?”

  “Not at all, MacAullif. The wire is cut. Which means anyone could get in the building. If you were planning a murder, that would be the time to do it. When someone else will be suspect.”

  “And how does the killer know the wire’s cut?”

  “Grackle called them. He had to. He called everyone who was coming to see him.”

  “You mean...?”

  I nodded. “Look what happens next. Mommy comes by to pay him off. Jenny comes by to pay him off. And Daddy comes by to pay him off.

  “My theory was Jenny found him dead, but she said he was alive, because she thought if she said he was dead it would be the same as fingering her mother. Of course, once Mott entered the picture it was a different ball game. She could say she found him dead, and it was all right.

  “Which is the situation. According to Jenny, she walked in and found Grackle dead. She’s not afraid to say it anymore. No one knows her mother was there. When I asked her just now, she told me quite definitely Grackle was dead.”

  MacAullif’s eyes were wide. “You mean her mother did it? That’s what it means if Mott’s innocent. You expect me to sit on that?”

  “You’re not going to go running to the ADA with some half-assed theory.”

  “Half-assed theory? You just told me it’s true.”

  “Well, you won’t let me use the ‘H’ word, MacAullif. But, believe me, just because I tell you something doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  “God knows that’s for sure. But from what you say, Mommy must have done it.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Did Mommy do it?”

  “Do you wanna know for sure?” As MacAullif started to rage at me, I said, “Sorry. In my opinion, and here again it’s just my opinion, Mommy didn’t.”

  “Then who did?”

  “It’s actually pretty easy with Jenny changing her story. Insisting he was dead.”

  “You mean she did it after all? She’s a habitual killer? You’re helpin’ to cover up two murders just because she’s got nice tits?”

  “She does, MacAullif, but that’s beside the point. I’m afraid you’re missing the boat. If Jenny says Grackle was dead when she got there, it’s not to protect herself. The Balfours all cover up for each other. It’s one thing you gotta admire about ’em. They got a real sense of Family. If Mama’s out of it, Jenny’s protecting dear old Dad.”

  “You mean...?”

  “I mean Jenny Balfour goes up there, finds Grackle alive. Gives him the money and gets the hell out. Which she ought to be able to prove by the cop she talked out of a ticket. A girl would have to be a pretty cool customer to stab a guy to death, then go downstairs and flirt with a cop.”

  “For Christ’s sake.”

  “Balfour shows up later, finds Grackle very much alive. Balfour’s not in a very good mood. His wife’s bein’ blackmailed. His daughter’s bein’ blackmailed. He’s been set up to meet someone in a bar, and the meeting didn’t come off. He’s tired of being jerked around. He tells Grackle so in no uncertain terms. They argue. But Grackle is no pushover. He attacks Balfour. Balfour runs into the kitchen, grabs a carving knife. Backs Grackle into the living room. Holds him at knifepoint, tells him to cease and desist.”

  “So?”

  “Not Grackle’s style. Grackle bats the knife hand away, attacks Balfour. Balfour stabs him in self-defense.”

  “Self-defense?” MacAullif said incredulously. “You’re arguing self-defense?”

  “No, and an attorney wouldn’t either. It’s hard to make a case for self-defense when you kill a man in his own home. According to Richard, it’s very unlikely a jury would acquit on those grounds.”

  “You told Rosenberg?”

  “Not everything, but, after all, he is claiming the widow’s money. On the other hand, the facts bein’ as they are, a jury isn’t gonna wanna come back with a verdict of murder.”

  “You mean it’d be a hung jury?”

  “Not at all. Most likely they’d bring in a compromise verdict. Find him guilty of a lesser charge.”

  MacAullif’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me.”

  I nodded.

  “Manslaughter.”

  Books by Parnell Hall

  Stanley Hastings private eye mysteries

  Detective

  Murder

  Favor

  Strangler

  Client

  Juror

  Shot

  Actor

  Blackmail

  Movie

  Trial

  Scam

  Suspense

  Cozy

  Manslaughter

  Hitman

  Caper

  Stakeout

  Puzzle Lady crossword puzzle mysteries

  A Clue For The Puzzle Lady

  Last Puzzle & Testament

  Puzzled To Death

  A Puzzle In A Pear Tree

  With This Puzzle I Thee Kill

  And A Puzzle To Die On

  Stalking The Puzzle Lady

  You Have The Right To Remain Puzzled

  The Sudoku Puzzle Murders

  Dead Man’s Puzzle

  The Puzzle Lady vs. The Sudoku Lady

  The KenKen Killings

  $10,000 in Small, Unmarked Puzzles

  Steve Winslow courtroom dramas

  The Baxter Trust

  Then Anonymous Client

  The Underground Man

  The Naked Typist

  The Wrong Gun

  The Innocent Woman