The New Adventures of Foster Fade, The Crime Spectacularist

by Adam Lance Garcia

  “It certainly is,” Fade said, walking between Emma Williams, Long and Heath on his way to the door, followed by Din. “I suggest you take the body to the morgue and do a proper autopsy. Check the base of his neck. I think you’ll find that Williams was killed with a flechette from a needle gun. The thing is so tiny that the hole it made going in closed up immediately after penetrating the neck muscles and going right through the spinal cord with enough force to snap it right at the medulla oblongata and cause instant death.”

  “I suppose you saw the hole with those fancy specs of yours?” Long said sarcastically.

  “Of course I did. That’s why I wear them when examining a dead body. Helps me see puncture wounds that might not be apparent with the naked eye. But the thing that really interests me is the scarring on Williams’ hands.”

  “I’ve already explained that,” Emma said bluntly.

  Fade said nothing to her, merely left the mansion, followed closely by Din, who continued scribbling in her notepad.

  Outside, reclining on Fade’s car was something of a surprise. The girl on the hood calmly smoking a cigarette had the demeanor of a cop herself. Silky, curly lemon yellow hair framed a high cheek boned face.

  “Unless you’re going to polish my entire car with that well-shaped rump, I suggest you get it up off of it,” Fade said, tossing his satchel in the back seat.

  The girl smiled slightly. “You’re Foster Fade.”

  “And you’re Elinor Williams, daughter of the deceased.”

  Elinor’s smoky grey eyes opened wider. “How did you know that?”

  “Not hard to figure out.” Fade leaned easily on the passenger side door, the other hand fisted on his hip as he continued talking. “Saw a picture of you in your father’s library. No picture of your mother but several of you. Along with all the liquor being in there I’d say he spent considerable amount of time in that library but he didn’t do any reading. You came in there a lot because he’s got your pictures in there.”

  Elinor looked at Din. “Is he serious or is he making this up to make himself sound smart?”

  “When you figure it out, let me know. I’m Dinamenta Stevens, by the way. I work with Mr. Fade. I write for The Planet. Care to make a statement?”

  “I’m more interested in what’s going on in there. The detective told me to leave. Do you think there was foul play in my father’s death?”

  “You tell us,” Fade said. “You found him. What did you see?”

  Elinor shrugged, deeply inhaled smoke from her cigarette and allowed it to dribble out of her nostrils as she replied. “I didn’t see anything. I came home from visiting friends upstate for a few days. I came inside, heard nothing but that didn’t surprise me as today most of the staff is off. I figured Daddy was in his library. I went in, found him lying on the floor. I thought he’d fainted at first. I shook him, called his name but he wouldn’t move. I then called the police.”

  “What time did you get home this morning?”

  “Eight, eight-thirty maybe.”

  “Where was your mother?”

  “She’s always up and about early. I don’t know where she was. She came home after I did. A little after nine, I think. Say nine-fifteen.” Elinor looked at Fade. “Was my father murdered?”

  “Why? Did he have enemies?”

  “Mr. Fade, my father was worth seventeen million dollars. You don’t make that kind of money without making people mad. Of course he had enemies. So was he killed?”

  “Ask Coroner Long. I wouldn’t want to prejudice his findings.” Fade motioned for Din to get in the car. Elinor pushed herself off the hood and dropped her cigarette, mashing it under one hand made Italian pump as she watched the Packard roar away.

  “What was that all about?” Din asked.

  “What? I was just asking questions is all. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

  “You were a little more abrasive than usual.”

  “Let me ask you a question, Din. You’re a bright girl, right?”

  “That is the rumor.”

  “You walk into a room. You see me lying on the floor. Who do you call first? Besides The Planet lawyers, I mean.”

  “A hospital and tell them to send an ambulance, I guess.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe you had a seizure or something, how do I know? I’m not a doc—”

  Din cut her own self off in midsentence and looked at Fade with sudden realization of what he was getting at.

  “Most people, upon seeing a family member lying unconscious on the floor would call a doctor or ambulance. And in the case of the Williams family I’m just about certain that they have a family physician who’s on call twenty-four hours a day. But our Miss Williams didn’t think to call a doctor. Her first call was to the police. Why?”

  Din’s scribbling became even more furious. “Why indeed. Soon as we get back to the office I’ll check on the Williams family doctor, find out who he is. Find out what kind of shape the old boy was in. But why were you so curt with Heath and Long?”

  “I was curt with them because I hate sloppiness. Long’s an idiot. The scarring on Williams’ hands is not consistent with the scarring on his fingertips.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “Wait until we get back to my lab and I’ll show you.”

  ***

  Foster Fade’s laboratory always impressed Din although she’d have cut out her own tongue than admit it to him. The long tables were covered with various devices and machines that appeared to be arcane technological artifacts to her untrained eye. Fade had different sections of his laboratory devoted to different scientific disciplines. Over here where she now stood was the chemistry section where Fade practiced organic chemistry, chemical thermodynamics and theoretical chemistry. Next to the chemistry section was the physics and engineering section. Next to that resided the electro-mechanical section. And that wasn’t even half of it. The laboratory took up fully half of the fortieth floor and it made Din’s brain swim as she could never understand how Fade kept all the different parts of his lab straight.

  Now he walked straight to a device that resembled a photographer’s light table but larger in size. Fade turned it on and with a whine, the surface of the table glowed from within with a soft crystal white light. At the same time, a large screen unfolded from inside the table to lock in position.

  Din watched in silence as Fade took out the two pieces of shiny typing paper and held them up for her to look at. Her lower jaw sagged in surprise. “Well cut me down and call me Stumpy!” she gulped. The papers she looked at now showed two very clear, very well defined handprints.

  Fade grinned as he put the two papers on the light table. The pictures were amplified, further refined and defined and appeared on the screen in such remarkably sharp detail that every line could be seen clearly. And now Din could see what Fade meant.

  “His fingertips…they don’t look the same as those other scars.”

  “That’s because acid was used on his fingertips. The palms were scarred with some sort of blade. But the purpose was served. Anybody examining Williams’ hands wouldn’t look very closely once they saw that his hands were so obviously scarred. They would just chalk it up that the hands were the result of years of hard work, just as the missus said.”

  Din cocked her platinum-bobbed head to the side. “The only reason I can think of why somebody would deliberately scar their hands with acid is to disfigure their fingertips.”

  “It’s so rewarding to know that your association with me is not wasted,” Fade said. He finger-combed his colorless hair, his eyes bright with excitement. “Add to that Williams was murdered and what do you get?”

  “Our Mr. Williams had a past. Probably not a very nice one.”

  “Damn, Din…you’re getting downright scary. You put that together without me having to lead you by the hand.”

  “So what do we do now, genius?”

  “Get a line on the Williams family doctor. Talk to him and
find out exactly what kind of health Williams was in. And after that you’re going to go back and talk to little Miss Williams. Maybe some girl talk is needed right now.”

  Din nodded. “How about you? What are you going to be doing?”

  “I’m going down to the morgue and get some background info on Williams. Despite what his daughter said about him having so many enemies, you don’t kill a man just because he makes the best cider on the East Coast.”

  ***

  Foster Fade nodded at Jenkins Gribb, the overfed keeper of The Planet’s morgue. As usual, Gribb was eating. It occurred to Fade that there were few times he came to the morgue that Gribb wasn’t eating. “How’s it going, Jenks?”

  “Not well for me, that’s for sure.” Gribb put down his tuna fish sandwich and wiped his hands on a large napkin before shaking Fade’s hand. “Whatcha need?”

  “Just going to poke around and get some background stuff on Philip Williams.”

  “The cider guy? What happened to him?”

  “Dead. Din’s got the story so don’t mention it around, okay?”

  “Sure, sure. He got himself murdered?”

  “Appears that way.”

  “You’ll catch whoever did it,” Gribb said with total confidence as he returned to his sandwich. Fade walked deeper into the huge room. One of the advantages of working for The Planet was that Fade had access to resources that he did not have to pay for or hire other people to do for him. Such as the newspaper’s morgue. In essence, he had an immense storehouse of information far more comprehensive and detailed than any filing system he could have put together. And he liked that he didn’t have to keep huge file cabinets in his office. Kept it looking neater.

  Fade quickly found the drawer he was looking for. Having spent many hours here, Fade did not need a lot of time to hunt up his information. He opened the drawer, withdrew the inch-thick folder full of newspaper clippings and typewritten sheets of paper and headed for the nearest table to examine the information.

  Somebody already sat at that nearest table. A man of average build with deep-set brown eyes and curly gold hair. He smoked a cigarette and uncrossed his legs as Fade came closer to the table. “How you doin’, Fade? Good to see you again.”

  “Been quite a few years, Reynolds. If we were friends I might actually be inclined to invite you around the corner to Dennehy’s for a couple of drinks.”

  Reynolds chuckled. “Still haven’t learned how to play well with others, eh, Fade?”

  “I never found any others who could keep up with me is why.” Fade sat down at the table across from Reynolds. “You still working for the same people?”

  “Of course. Same people who keep making you an offer to come and work for them.”

  “I don’t play well with others. What brings you here, Reynolds?”

  “You working the Williams murder case?”

  Fade smiled slightly. “I knew you guys were good but this is bordering on actual competence. I suppose you’re going to warn me to stay away from the case.”

  “Quite the contrary. We’re delighted you’re working this case. We know you, know your capabilities. All we ask is that no matter what the resolution of the case is, you inform us first of your findings.”

  Fade thought that over for about 7/100ths of a second. “Williams was one of you.”

  Reynolds nodded. “Years ago. We set him up in the Williams identity when we retired him. The whole cider king business, though…that wasn’t us.” Reynolds chuckled again. “We told the damn fool to keep a low profile and he goes and becomes a millionaire. Go figure.”

  “So Williams worked for you—”

  “Used to. Emphasis on used to. Williams was all the way out. He hasn’t been active for twenty five years.”

  “So why would somebody want one of your operatives who hasn’t been active in all that time dead?”

  “Revenge?”

  Fade shook his head. “Why wait so long? If somebody wanted revenge it certainly wouldn’t have taken this long for them to catch up to him. And if it did take them that long, they certainly wouldn’t be good enough to take him out, no matter how long Williams had been out of the game.” Fade frowned. “It just doesn’t add up. Unless you lot killed him.”

  “You said it yourself: why would we want one of our operatives dead after all that time? Especially when we knew who he was and more importantly, where he was. We could have killed him anytime during those twenty five years.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” Fade grumbled. “This just doesn’t add up.”

  “Which makes it right up your alley. Now you know why we’re happy you’re on the case. You going to play ball with us on this?”

  “You need to tell me what Williams was doing for you when he was active.”

  Reynolds reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew several pieces of paper and passed them across to Fade. “I trust you’ll properly dispose of these.”

  “Sure thing.” Fade stood up.

  “I’ll hear from you?”

  “When I have something to tell you. And Reynolds-”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just because I’ve agreed to help you out on this doesn’t mean I’m working for your people. Let’s be clear on that, okay?”

  Reynolds nodded. “We’re clear on that, Fade.” He stood up, gave Fade a two finger salute. “Stay in touch.”

  “Sure.” Fade watched Reynolds walk away, between rows of file cabinets, make a left and he was gone. There was no telling how Reynolds had gotten in but Fade knew for a fact that nobody had seen him come in and nobody would see him go out. Fade chewed thoughtfully on the wad of gum in his mouth as he reflected that this case had suddenly gotten a lot more interesting.

  ***

  Din brought her Jaguar SS100 to a screeching stop. She’d passed the address she was looking for, so fast had she been going. Which was what usually happened when Din drove. Her mind was habitually on something else that had nothing at all to do with driving. It was Fade’s theory that some subconscious self-preservation instinct took over and enabled Din to get to wherever it was she was going without killing herself or others.

  Din backed up and parked right in front of 151 Phelps Boulevard. The brownstone housed the office and living quarters of Doctor Harold White, personal physician to Philip Williams and his family. As Din climbed out of her low-slung roadster she recalled interviewing Dr. White three or four years ago. There had been some irregularities in the daily operations of several of the city’s largest and most prestigious hospitals. Mayor Ross himself had appointed Dr. White in charge of a special committee to clean things up. Dr. White had done so with a vengeance, sending quite a few hospital administrators to jail. Dr. White had impressed Din with his no-nonsense manner and thirst for justice. And it certainly was no easy job to impress Din.

  She walked up to the wrought iron gate, opened it and navigated the short path to the front door. Din rang the bell and thirty seconds later the door opened. The woman standing on the other side was perhaps three or four inches shorter than Din. Twenty years older but still with a trim figure and the elegant sweep of her hair and the meticulous way she applied her makeup told Din more about the woman than she could have told herself. The woman said in a pleasant enough voice, “Good morning. Can I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Dr. White. I’m Dinamenta Stevens from The Planet. Here are my credentials.” Din opened her wallet to display her photo I.D. “I’d like to talk to Dr. White about Philip Williams.”

  The woman frowned. “What is going on that nobody is saying? The police called about twenty minutes ago. A Detective Heath said he wanted to question Dr. White but wouldn’t say why. I demand—”

  Din stepped inside forcefully, taking the woman by the arm and moving her aside gently but firmly as she kicked the door shut.

  “How dare you! What is going on—”

  “What’s your name, honey?”

  “I’m Allison Frames. I�
��m Dr. White’s secretary and nurse.”

  And I’d bet next month’s rent you’re more than that, Din thought. You don’t put on twenty five dollars a bottle Lerone perfume just to go to work.

  “The police didn’t tell you why they’re coming over?”

  “No! And in fact the detective I spoke to was most rude.”

  “Look, I’ll tell you what it’s about but you have to act surprised when the cops get here. Philip Williams was murdered earlier today.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “Saw his body myself, sister. Only person deader than Mr. Williams is Julius Caesar himself. The police are coming here for the same reason I’m here. To ask about the quality of Mr. Williams’ health.”

  Miss Frames shuddered. “So hard to believe. Mr. Williams was just in here two months ago.”

  “Anything wrong?”

  “No. He comes in every six months or so for a routine check-up. This was one of his regular visits. Dr. White examined him, then they sat around for about an hour having drinks and a cigar, then he left.”

  “Was that usual?”

  “Oh, yes. Dr. White and Mr. Williams have been friends for years. I think the check-ups were just an excuse to get together to socialize. They’re both such extraordinarily busy men.”

  “Can I talk to Dr. White for a few minutes? Before the police get here?”

  Miss Frames eyed Din with open suspicion. “Why are you so anxious that you talk to Dr. White without the police?”

  “You’ve heard of Foster Fade, The Crime Spectacularist?”

  “Who hasn’t?”

  “I work with him. Mr. Fade is investigating his own angle on the Williams murder, independently of the police investigation.”

  Miss Frames nodded, her suspicion gone. “I’ll be happy to assist Mr. Fade in any way I can. Please come this way.”

  Miss Frames led Din down a wonderfully oak paneled hallway. They passed two doors and Miss Frame explained that they led to the reception office and the examination room. The door at the end of the hall opened into Dr. White’s private office. Miss Frames opened the door.