The Bind

by Stanley Ellin

  “Pancakes are pancakes. With that kind of a shape, you are going to be a very fleshy woman later on if you don’t watch out.”

  “All right,” Elinor said wearily, “make it a salad.”

  Magnes told the waitress to make it a nice whitefish salad and diet soda for the young lady. When she had gone on her way, he said to Jake: “How did the Ortega woman get that rise out of Thoren exactly? What did she say to him in so many words about Garfein?”

  Jake nodded. “That’s what I was just thinking about. She said, kidding him, ‘I know you’re the murderer,’ so I took for granted he blew up because of the suggestion he had killed Garfein. Now I can see it didn’t have to mean that. He could have blown up simply because of the suggestion that he was a murderer.”

  “And that still convinces you he was?” Magnes said.

  “It’s even money he was. And the blackmailer not only knew about it, but could prove it in court if he had to.”

  “Prove it or not,” Magnes said, “you still can’t afford to give up on the other angles. For all you know, they could be tied in with this one. What I’ve got on my mind especially is how Thoren’s mama and papa got killed in that accident way back when. It wouldn’t be the first time a smart young fellow fixed things up to inherit an estate. Did Maniscalco fill you in on that accident yet?”

  “Not yet. He should be calling tonight about it. And the service record.”

  Elinor said: “What I’d like to know is why you’re both so sure Thoren didn’t hire that hitchhiker to kill Garfein. He didn’t have to kill Garfein with his own hands to feel like a murderer, did he?”

  “Very good,” Magnes said. He tapped his forehead. “It shows at least the wheels are turning in there. The only trouble is, girlie, the kind of murder you’re talking about is not very practical. You can easy pay off a hitchhiker to kill some driver coming along the road. But how do you make sure the driver will stop and pick up that special hitchhiker?”

  Elinor looked at Jake. “He’s right,” he told her. “What was the date of the Garfein killing?” he asked Magnes.

  “February, two years ago.” Magnes pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped through its pages. “February ninth. Which makes it exactly two years and two months ago today. They caught up with the kid February sixteenth.”

  “All right. And since Nera Ortega said the case was still unsolved when she had her blow-up with Thoren, the blowup took place that week. And there’s a good chance Thoren was hit by the blackmailer for the first time a little before that week. That could have been what had him so on edge when Nera made that crack of hers.”

  Magnes said: “But even cutting it so fine on the dates don’t help too much. After all, I just went through the records. You wouldn’t live long enough to check out, one by one, every murder and manslaughter and accidental death Thoren might have been involved in before that February ninth.”

  Jake said: “I wasn’t thinking of doing it that way. I was thinking of how Thoren suddenly quit going to Bayside Spa. If it turns out he stopped going around there, say, January that year, we’ll know we’re right on target. It would mean the blackmailer was probably operating out of the spa. That’s a big step toward identifying him. I’m taking for granted that if it was someone at the spa who fingered Thoren for blackmail, Thoren would pay up all right, but he sure as hell wouldn’t want to go around there and keep the guy company. So he’d give up his workouts there.”

  “All right,” Magnes said, “so suppose the percentage on that pays off, and you do identify the blackmailer. What then?”

  “Then the trick is to find out what he had on Thoren. Once I know who he is and the basis for the blackmail, I can break Mrs. Thoren down without any trouble.”

  “Shver tzu machen a leben,” said Magnes. “Meaning, some people bought Miami Beach real estate when it was still a jungle here, and some people have to work for a living. As soon as we’re done eating I’ll go up to the spa and get myself a health treatment. And how about our little girlie here?” He waved a thumb at Elinor. “You said she was already close to the Thoren family. If she got to talking” to that young fellow there about health treatments and the spa, she might turn up something interesting. Or do you think that’s too risky?”

  Jake said: “No, she can handle it. I’ll drop her off there on the way home. She can thank them for making a sick call as her excuse. Did you get anything on the other stuff I gave you yesterday?”

  “So far, not too much. This Charlie Matthews at the Biscayne National Bank is a vice-president there. Very comfortable financially, and with a good reputation. And he’s been living in the same place on Brickell Road over in Miami as far back as anybody remembers. Oh yes, I showed that picture of Thoren to the fellow used to run that gay bar over on Alton, and he said he didn’t know him. Never saw him around the bar. The other items I was going to start on today, but this Garfein thing held me up.”

  “That’s my fault,” Jake said. “Anyhow, you’re doing fine so far.”

  Magnes said: “Well, it’s not hard when you’re doing a job for somebody who knows what he wants. And you happen to be a very lucky young lady,” he told Elinor solemnly. “Believe me, from the way your boss here operates, I can tell you he is one of the best. What they call around here a real shtarker. You listen to him, you do what he says, and you’ll be learning the business the right way.”

  After lunch, when Elinor had gone off to the ladies’ room, he confided to Jake: “It was a mistake giving you that buildup. I was sorry about it right away. Not that I didn’t mean it.”

  “Then why be sorry about it?”

  “Because she’s already got enough of a crush on you. Like I told you yesterday, a jealous woman is a born troublemaker.”

  Jake laughed. “Magnes, I hate to say it, but when it comes to spotting girlish crushes, you have to work too much from memory. Better stick to insurance frauds.”

  Magnes raised his eyebrows. “You think so? So why was she sitting close enough to you that if it was any closer she’d be on your lap? And why is it that even when you’re only saying it’s nice weather she sits and looks at you with the mouth open and stars in the eyes like it was beautiful poetry? Take an old man’s advice, sonny, and watch how you handle her. Otherwise, that Mrs. Thoren could suddenly drop in on you with a couple of transmitters she found in her phones, and a cop along to explain how it was a felony for you to plant them there. Your little blondie could wreck you in one minute as easy as that. Women. Meh ken meshugeh veren.”

  “Which means?”

  “Which means,” said Magnes, “that the reason why I’m still so youthful and healthy for all my years is because the women I happened to run across like your blondie would always rather make trouble for some other man.”

  20

  As Elinor slid out of the car, Jake said: “Remember, the password is Bayside Spa,” and waited until she disappeared through the Thorens’ door with a parting wave of the hand at him before he drove off.

  Parking the car in his own driveway, he took notice of the sailboat close offshore, with the bare-chested pink bulk of Milt Webb at its tiller. It was moving toward Webb’s dock, and when it nosed into the dock Jake was there to tie it up. Webb scrambled to the dock and immediately untied it. Redoing the knot, he said irritably: “There’s a right way and a wrong way. This happens to be the right way.”

  “Well, bully for you, admiral,” Jake said. He started to walk away, and when he had gone a few steps Webb said: “Ah, come on, Jake. You don’t have to get sore about it, do you?”

  “It looks to me like you’re the one who’s sore, Milt.”

  “Well,” Webb said grudgingly, “maybe I am pissed off a little at the world in general. Seems like nobody around here believes I really knocked off that crook the other night. Including those Keystone cops over on the Beach. Let me tell you, I’ve been taking some rough kidding about it.”

  “That’s a hell of a note.”

  “You can say that
again. But I’m sorry I took it out on you for no reason. I mean that, Jake.”

  “No harm done,” Jake said. “If I’m going to learn my way around sailboats, I have to start somewhere.”

  Webb looked interested. “Are you serious about that? I mean, about going in for sailing?”

  “Sure. But not in anything as big as yours.” Jake pointed at the twelve-footer moored to the Thoren dock. “I’d say something like that would be about my size right now.”

  “The Carlotta? She’s an Alpha. Dinghy style and damn near unsinkable. Pretty too, ain’t she? Walter could really make her do tricks.”

  “You think anybody would mind if we went over there and took a close look? Maybe got the cover off so I could see what she was like inside?”

  “Mind?” Webb jerked his head over his shoulder to indicate the Thoren house. “Joanna would go off like a bomb if we tried anything like that. Won’t sail her, sell her, or lend her. Happened Walter was out in her right before he got killed that day, and now the girl’s made that boat into kind of a memorial to him. That’s what I call sick. I guess it goes with her taste for kosher cooking.”

  “Peculiar kid all right,” Jake said. “Anyhow, when you go sailing here, do you just travel up and down the bay or is there any special landing spot you aim at?”

  Webb laughed. “Man, how much of a landlubber can you be? Tell you what. Come on up to the house for a drink, and I’ll show you some charts of the waters around here. I’ve got a pile of catalogues, too, so you can get an idea of what boat prices are like. And you never saw my gun collection, did you?”

  Jake managed to get away after only an hour of charts, catalogues, and guns, but when he walked into the house he found Elinor already there. “That was quick,” he said. “What happened?”

  Elinor shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just wasn’t wanted around.”

  “I take it Kermit wasn’t on the scene.”

  “Or Joanna. They both went back to college, and she’s got a late class today, so he’s waiting there to drive her back home. The only ones around were Mrs. Thoren and the help. And she wasn’t feeling too sociable.”

  “Did you get to mention Bayside Spa at all?”

  “Yes. I said you used to take workouts in a gym in New York, and that you were wondering if there was any place near here where you could keep doing it. I said we heard Bayside Spa might be a good place, and did she know anything about it.”

  “And?”

  “And she said, well her husband used to go there at one time, but he quit going when the tone of the place changed. That was it.”

  “How did she react when you said Bayside Spa right out loud? Did it seem to hit a nerve?”

  Elinor shook her head. “She couldn’t have cared less. Then when she started looking at her watch every two minutes, I figured it was a polite way of telling me to take off, so I did. And you’ll notice I didn’t step out of line and ask you where you’ve been all along. You can see I’m a quick learner.”

  “From those circles under your eyes, what I can see is you’d better grab a nap now and make up for some of that sleep you lost last night. You’ve got a lot of listening-in to do after supper.”

  “All right.” Elinor turned toward the bedroom, then turned back to face him again. “I guess I’m not really a quick learner. Where have you been until now?”

  “Over at Milt Webb’s, looking at blueprints of sailing boats. Surprising how simple they are.”

  “So is he from what I’ve heard,” Elinor said. Her mood was suddenly much brighter. “Well, if that’s your idea of a good time—”

  She woke from her nap in time to prepare the usual early dinner, and after dinner, went back to the bedroom to activate the transmitter in the Thorens’ downstairs phone. She called Jake into the bedroom a half hour later. When he walked in she immediately put a warning finger to her lips, then pointed at the monitor. The voice coming from it was Charlotte Thoren’s.

  “—and your father would have agreed. You know he couldn’t bear company dropping in without notice. And I wouldn’t like the Dekkers even if they had perfect manners. They are not our kind of people.”

  “Because they’re different and interesting?” It was Joanna, her voice shrill. “Because they’re not like the rest of the walking dead around here?”

  “You will mind your tone, Joanna.”

  “Anyhow, you’re missing the point, Jo.” Kermit, plainly amused. “Don’t you recognize the ‘not our kind of people’ bit? I have a hunch that means they’re Nera’s kind of people. When she walked in there yesterday and got that friendly hello from Elinor—”

  “I don’t believe it. That isn’t true, is it, Mother? You couldn’t be so unfair.”

  “Not unless you believe sound judgment can be unfair, Joanna. And I’m not alone in that judgment. Patty Tucker phoned me this afternoon, thoroughly disgusted with her precious friend.”

  “It seems to me”—Joanna, coldly—“that she’s thoroughly disgusted with Nera every time she has something to tell you about her. It’s positively marvelous how she manages to stay friends with her. Or, for that matter, with us. Come to think of it, how does Patty get away with belonging to both sides when nobody else is allowed to?”

  “You know as well as I do, Joanna, that she has no choice about remaining friends with the Ortegas. After all, when Stewart willed her his share of the business he virtually made her their partner. And she wouldn’t have to be disgusted with Nera if Nera had the decency to keep her affairs to herself.”

  “Now it’s coming out.” Kermit, with satisfaction. Then in a tone of delighted realization: “Jesus, don’t tell me Nera’s already hooked Dekker. Not already. But she must have. That’s why you’re suddenly so soured on him, isn’t it? And taking it out on Elinor, too.”

  “I’m telling you no more or less than what I was told. Patty informed me that from Nera’s manner and from certain remarks dropped at the lunch table, she knew at once what was going on. When she asked Nera if her new neighbor was involved, Nera was so obviously pleased by the question and so evasive about answering it that she might as well have pointed her finger at the man. That woman actually takes an obscene pleasure in advertising her affairs, and I’ve had my fill of it up to here. And I can, and will, do something about it.”

  “Because Nera told Patty a lot of nonsense?” Joanna, with disbelief. “And Patty was bitchy enough to repeat it to you? You wouldn’t.”

  “And couldn’t under any conditions, Mother dear.” Kermit, sardonically. “Hell, I’d like to see Nera get knocked down and run over as much as you, but you don’t have the right to start a purity campaign against her. Anyway, Daystar is hardly the place for purity campaigns. How old do you think Jo and I were when we found out Carol Tobin down the Drive used to run the biggest whorehouse in Miami? Or that Ray Potter was Capone’s messenger boy between here and Chicago back in the good old days?”

  “I’m not interested in whatever lurid stories you heard about Miss Tobin or Mr. Potter, Kermit. In fact—”

  “In fact”—Kermit, sweetly—“you’re just interested in putting down Nera. But you’re not taking into account that you can’t do that without stirring up a juicy old scandal that also involved me.”

  “Don’t be a fool. What I’m saying is that in a few weeks—”

  The ringing of the phone in the study suddenly cut through Charlotte Thoren’s quietly menacing voice. “That’s Maniscalco,” Jake told Elinor on his way to answer it. “Just keep getting all this down on tape.”

  It was Maniscalco. “Jake,” he said heavily, “it’s cold and wet up here. And this rotten smog is enough to choke you. How’s it down there, you lucky bastard?”

  “Full of sunshine so far, Manny, but now it’s clouding up fast. What’s wrong? Did Thoren turn up clean on every count?”

  Maniscalco drew a deep breath and slowly released it into the mouthpiece of his phone. It came across the wire in a mournful, diminishing roar. “I’ll put it like
this,” he said. “Thoren didn’t turn up. Period.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “My friend, it means that until one happy day in September, 1942, there was no Walter Thoren. That was the day when the Miami Herald had a couple of lines about him joining the K.O. Sprague Company down there. Before that, he never even existed. He wasn’t born, he didn’t go to school, he didn’t serve in the army—nothing. Are you beginning to get the idea?”

  Jake said: “I’m not so sure I am. Are you telling me there are absolutely no records on him anywhere? A man like that?”

  “Absolutely none.”

  “Did they check the other military services besides the army?”

  “All of them. They had those computers red-hot working on it. But no dice.”

  “Well, what about that guy you sent to St. Olivet? Did he go through their birth and death records himself, or did he leave it up to some idiotic clerk?”

  “Neither. Because there are no records there dating back before 1940. They had a fire in the town hall that year which destroyed practically all their files. And I know you’re going to ask if it was arson, so I can tell you right now it wasn’t. It was one of those fluke things set off by lightning, and the building was the kind of dried-out old clapboard that goes up like a matchbox.”

  “I see,” Jake said. “And I suppose when your boy asked around town, nobody there had even heard the name Thoren before.”

  “Or the name Lennart, which is what Thoren put down in the policy as his mother’s maiden name. You know, Jake, when you think of all the miseries of growing up, it’s not bad to start right off in life as a thirty-year-old model citizen. The only thing I’m sorry about is that the guy who figured out a way to do it is in to Guaranty for two hundred grand. And right now, according to four of the most expensive lawyers in this goddam business, it looks like his widow has every chance of collecting it.”

  Jake said: “You mean the incontestability clause holds up even under these conditions? But how can it? I know it bars you from contesting a claim just because a false name was used in the application, but this is a whole false identity.”