Streets of Death - Dell Shannon

by Dell Shannon

  "Of all the damned queer things!" said Galeano. "If that silly old bastard hadn’t spent all Marta’s hard-earned nest egg on whiskey-- Yes, and didn’t she and Mrs. Del Sardo tell us he’d never been so bad before, we might have wondered where he suddenly got the money--we’d have heard all about it as soon as it happened. If Marta hadn’t grabbed up that note with her 1etter--"

  "So simple when you know," said Mendoza. "Coming right back to human nature, Nick. And that girl--mmh--Alison said, prickly." He looked at Galeano with veiled interest.

  "What the hell do you mean, prickly? With all she’s had to put up with--"

  When the autopsy report came in, Mendoza was sufficiently fascinated to carry it over to the other office to share it with somebody. Only Hackett was there. "Fate," said Mendoza. "By God, this is a funny one, Art-- Fleming.

  He drowned, just the way he said he wanted to. The drop didn’t kill him. He must have landed in a spot where the rain had collected in a pond, and the fall knocked him out and he drowned. Alla va. Of all the queer things, that is one for the books."

  "Very funny," said Hackett inattentively.

  "I must call Carey--he’ll be interested. Little lesson for all of us, tal vez, about the automatic cynicism."

  "Yes," said Hackett. "There’s this new thing, Luis--you haven’t heard about it yet--and it’s damned funny too. This Hilda Gilbert. Divorcée, thirty-six, good job as a legal secretary, and alimony coming in. Found dead in bed this morning, strangled with a wire coat hanger. And she had quite a collection of good jewelry, a fur coat, new color TV, and it’s all there--no sign of burglary or forced entry. I got S.I.D. on it, but it looks like an offbeat one--"

  Isabel Hopper and her latest heart interest came back from Las Vegas, and Grace and Conway picked them up for questioning. And Galeano finally got up nerve to call Marta and ask her to go to dinner with him on Sunday.

  "It is not very proper, so soon after my husband--If it was a quiet small place, perhaps--"

  "We’ll find one. And I’ll buy you some brandy, you seem to be a different girl with a drink or two."

  "Now you are joking." But she laughed. "Very well, I will be ready at seven o’clock."

  * * *

  "Fate," said Alison absently. "Yes, it does make you wonder. That was one of the queerest you’ve had in quite a whi1e." She was feeling fine, she said, and looked her usual self, red hair neat, in her favorite topaz robe. The cats were dispersed around her on the sectional, Cedric sound asleep at her feet. She was looking at the brochure from the real-estate company. "Luis, I’ve found a place I like. It sounds perfectly fascinating, let’s go look at it on Sunday--por favor, mi amador?"

  Mendoza opened his eyes and groaned. "I might have known."

  "It’s not new, but I think it’d be lots of fun to do up an old place. It’s got six bedrooms and three fireplaces--I’ve decided it was a mistake not to have a fireplace here, there’s something about an open hearth--and a wine cellar, and it’s on four acres--such lovely room for Cedric--"

  "How much and where?"

  "Well, it’s a hundred and sixty thousand, but when you think of the space--Hidden Hills," said Alison. "Well, really, Luis, you needn’t yell at me, with the freeway it wouldn’t be more than forty minutes--"

  "Sin mujeres y sin vientos, tendramos menos tormentos," said Mendoza. "Females!" He leaned back in the armchair and thought about that divorcée. Hilda Gilbert. That could turn out to be an offbeat one indeed ....