Shakedown for Murder - Ed Lacy

     I followed her into a spotlessly neat living room: a mixture of old-fashioned heavy furniture, a big new TV, and two modern plywood chairs. Everything was neat-as-a-pin-so. She was a real Dutch housewife, as they used to say in my day. She pointed toward a stuffed leather chair and I sat down while she perched on the edge of a plain maple stool. Maybe she wasn't as old as I figured—her legs were pretty good, hardly a vein showing. I fooled with my cap as I said, “I realize the strain you're under, Mrs. Barnes, and I wouldn't be here... if a man's life wasn't at stake.”

     “I understand, it's your job.”

     “Yes, it is, if you believe it's every citizen's job to uphold the law.”

     “I respect the law, I always have. But you might as well know this: I do not—I cannot—believe Edward was murdered.”

     “Then all the more reason to aid a man under arrest for his murder. I'll be blunt, Mrs. Barnes, do you really want to find the murderer of your husband? The rest of End Harbor doesn't seem....”

     “I can't stand the sound of that word—murder!” Her hard voice rose in a wail; brought the picture of an icicle to my mind. I noticed the swinging door that led to the kitchen move slightly—where Mrs. Jenks was at her listening post. “Ed—Doctor Barnes—devoted his life to the health and welfare of people. Who would want to kill a saint? Why, why?”

     “Do you think Jerry killed your husband?”

     “No. I refuse to believe he was killed by... anybody! It was an accident.”

     “Mrs. Barnes, did you act as a secretary for your husband, keep track of his calls?”

     “Naturally, if the phone rang and Edward was out, or busy, I took it.”

     “I understand Jerry phoned the doctor at nine P.M. Did you take the call?”

     “Yes. That is, we both answered. Edward had this stranger in his office, but as I picked up the extension, Edward answered, so I hung up. But I knew it was Jerry.”

     “What stranger?”

     “Why, some elderly man, a Mr. Nelson, drove up to ask if Edward knew about a man he was looking for, an old army friend, a Mr. Hudon... or some name like that.”

     “Why did he think your husband would know him?”

     “I don't know exactly, I didn't pay much attention to it. Mr. Nelson was driving along the Island and his friend was supposed to be living in the Harbor, at least he sent Mr. Nelson a card from here a few years ago. Since Mr. Hudon suffered from gallstones, Mr. Nelson thought Edward might have treated his friend. It's all rather complicated and of no importance.”

     “It may be of great importance. Did you say Mr. Nelson was an elderly man?”

     “Oh, yes. But very tall and well preserved for his age. Edward had never heard of the other man, so Mr. Nelson left.”

     “Does Chief Roberts know about Mr. Nelson?”

     “Yes, I mentioned it to Artie.”

     “Did Nelson say where he was staying in the Harbor?”

     “No.”

     “Are you certain Doctor Barnes had never seen Nelson before? Did he act excited, or upset after Nelson left?”

     “Edward never put eyes on the man before. I gathered that Mr. Nelson was merely passing through the Harbor. Really, Mr. Lund, I don't see the point of all this.”

     “Jerry claims the doctor told him he was on his way to make another call, that he had to see the 'old goat.' That might have been this Nelson.”

     “That's ridiculous, Nelson wasn't a patient.”

     “Have you any idea as to who the 'old goat' might be?”

     “No.” She suddenly batted her ear nervously with a finger. “And Edward had no other calls except Jerry's.”

     “How do you know, Mrs. Barnes?”

     “Sir, are you doubting my word?”

     “No, ma'am, merely checking. I don't have to tell you that if I can prove Doctor Barnes had another stop to make after he left Jerry, it might set Jerry free. Are you positive there wasn't another phone call after Jerry's?”

     “Edward never said a word about it and he always told me where he was going, in case of an emergency. I was sitting here watching TV and after Mr. Nelson took his leave, as the programs were changing, Edward came out of his office and was rather angry. He hated night calls. He said there was nothing wrong with Jerry if he'd watch his diet.”

     “How do you know he wasn't angry over something this Nelson said?”

     “I know. I mean he wasn't really angry. Lands, Mr. Lund, this Mr. Nelson merely dropped in to ask some information. Only reason Edward took him into his office was to check his files for the other man's name. As Edward left, a few minutes later, Mrs. Jenks came over to watch TV. She stayed when I became nervous, that is, when it neared midnight and Edward didn't return.”

     “What did you do, when he didn't return?” It was neat, the way she set up an alibi without my even asking.

     “What could I do? I thought he'd been detained but I was surprised he hadn't phoned me. Around midnight I took a sedative and went to my bed.”

     “And Mrs. Jenks went home?”

     “Of course, where else would she go at that hour?”

     “Let me get this straight; while Nelson was with your husband, Jerry phoned. Then Nelson left, and Doctor Barnes left, cursing Jerry.

     “Indeed not! Edward never uttered a harsh word in his life.

     “Excuse me. Did Nelson and Doctor Barnes leave together?”

     “No, no. Really, Mr. Lund, I find this very tiring, going over and over the same thing. Some minutes after Mr. Nelson left Edward put on his hat and coat, then went back to his office—for his bag, I imagine. A few minutes later he walked through this room, looked at the TV show for a moment, kissed me, said he wouldn't be late.”

     “You were listening to TV—suppose the phone had rung in those few minutes, are you certain you would have heard it? Was the TV on loudly?”

     She poked her ear again, hesitated. “I did have the set on fairly loud. I'm a trifle deaf in one ear.”

     “Then you can't be certain the phone didn't ring again?” I said, feeling excited.

     “Well... no.”

     “You haven't even the smallest idea who the doctor meant by the 'old goat'?”

     “Indeed not. Edward would never refer to a patient like that!”

     I stood up. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Barnes, you've been most helpful. One more thing—was your husband's hearing aid working that night?”

     “Of course. He had several and would have worn another if anything had been wrong.” She got to her feet. “Mr. Lund, you're new to the Harbor, never knew Edward. He was a tender and loving man. I've been sickly all my life, couldn't give him children. Yet he was always considerate of me, never complained, although he dearly wanted a child. Everybody spoke well of him, he was a man in a million, without an enemy in the world. He gave unceasingly of his time and money. Why, he even loaned Mrs. Jenks the money for her son's schooling, for example. I'm telling you this because there's absolutely no reason for a man like that to have been murdered, it's... it's... just impossible!” She worked her ear over for a moment. “I'll do everything in my power to help poor Jerry.”

     “That's most commendable, Mrs. Barnes. Did you tell that to Chief Roberts?”

     “I did. Landsakes, everybody knows Jerry Sparelous is a bit touched, but he barks, doesn't bite. I've never known him to harm a soul.”

     I thanked her again and at the door I asked, “Do you think Jane Endin would have harmed Doctor Barnes?”

     The pale lips formed a tight slit after she said, “Get out!” The words came with bullet force.

     It was raining again and I sat in the car, slowly cleaned out my pipe and lit it. Mrs. Jenks came running out of the house, a shawl half over her big head. When she saw me, she opened the car door, pushed in. “Drive me to the drugstore! I could break your neck, upsetting Priscilla like that!”

     I wanted to remark that I hadn't the slightest doubt but that those arms could break my neck. I drove off without saying a word, then I asked, “Where is the drugstore?”

     “Straight ahead on Main Street. Where did you think it would be? You made her sick.”

     “Sorry. But I have to ask certain questions and....”

     “Why?” she shouted. “Why do you have to ask any questions? This isn't your town!”

     “Unfortunately murder isn't the property of any one town. Do you want to see Jerry sent to jail?”

     “If he killed Ed Barnes he ought to be hung!”

     “The 'if' is why I must ask questions. Like, where were you that night, Mrs. Jenks?”

     “Me?” It was a mild explosion.

     “Like I said, I have to ask certain questions.”

     With a movement amazingly fast for a woman her size, she suddenly put an immense sandaled foot on top of mine, banging it down on the brake, causing the car to screech to a stop. “You dirty old skunk, stop this car this second!”

     She opened the door and jumped out. I wiggled my toes. She shook a fat fist at me. “If I tell my son what you just said—I hate to think what he'd do to you! And for your information, I was home all night after I left Priscilla's. Why I even sat up until three in the morning, watching out the window to see if Edward came home. Then my younger boy, Mike, got up and made me go to bed. There, you dirty-minded ferret!”

     I watched her walk away in the rain, the jelly-flesh on her wide backside shaking. I drove to Hampton, letting the talk with Mrs. Barnes cook in my mind. The “evidence” against Jerry was getting downright silly, and there were at least five leads that made a damn sight more sense than Jerry's alleged motive. Nelson, whoever he was, could be the 'old goat.' Mrs. Barnes had reason enough to kill her husband, so had Jane Endin—if what Jerry said was true.

     Nor could I even rule out burly Mrs. Jenks—she might have wanted her son to practice in the Harbor awfully bad.

     Any lawyer could prove Mrs. Barnes was far from positive the doc didn't make two calls that night. Why, I could take the stand and disprove Roberts' “evidence” on the basis of my conversation with Mrs. Barnes. I considered Roberts a hot lead, too. As the guy in Riverside said, not much in the way of a salary or pension for a small-town cop. Not impossible Artie decided to get something going for himself, and Priscilla must certainly be the Harbor's richest widow right now. That fitted, he needed other reasons beside hushing up a town scandal for making such a sloppy case. But—it takes a certain kind of sharpie to make a realistic job of playing an older woman, and Roberts was all lardhead. Of course, you can never tell about motives—he could be framing Jerry merely to spite me. That was fantastic, but then what was my motive for being an eager-beaver in my old age?

     However, I felt quite pleased with myself. Detective work was only using horse sense—shame I hadn't been more ambitious when I first got on the force. This job was far from over, though. Tracking down Nelson would be hard, I didn't even know his first name. Probably mean a lot of digging into Doc's past—I had the hunch they'd known each other years ago—and that would require spade work. The thing to do was take a crack at what I had on hand—Jane Endin.

     You'd never guess Hampton was only seventeen miles from End Harbor, everything about the town cried money: solid, father-to-son folding dough. The large houses and great estates looking like something you see in the movies, the swank shops—branches of famous Fifth Avenue stores —the expensive cars, even teenagers zipping around in foreign jobs. I had to ask a couple times before I found the watch factory—a new brick building covered with vines and flowers, the windows large and clean, bright neon lights inside. I would have taken it for a small ritzy school.

     People rarely question a police badge, the gal at the reception desk didn't when I flashed my tin and said, “Peace Officer. I'd like Miss Endin's home address.”

     “This is something, the police phoned yesterday and this morning asking for her. She lives in End Harbor.”

     “I know that, but she hasn't been home,” I said, thinking I was wrong not to have tried her house instead of taking the boy-cop's word for it. “Did she have any address here in Hampton? You know, some place to call in an emergency?”

     “No sir, we only have the Harbor address for her.”

     “I see. Can I speak to whoever worked next to her, any close pal she has among the girls here?”

     “I suppose it's about that murder in the Harbor. Gee whiz, we never have nothing here but hot-rod jerks wrecking themselves.” She phoned in to somebody, then told me, “Girl be out in a second. This Jane in trouble?”

     “No.”

     A young girl in a tight red turtleneck sweater, and tighter jeans showing off her round basketball rear, walked up to me. When she walked the basketball was far from still. “You the detective? See, I work next to Jane. Is she in a jam? When I saw her this morning she didn't act like....”

     “Where did you see her?”

     “On the Dunes Road. I can't, sleep much when it's muggy and my old man is too cheap to get air conditioning, so I was up early this morning. I drove around and she passed in her old struggle-buggy. She didn't stop, just waved at me. Jane looked bad, like she'd been up all night.” The girl had a jerky way of talking—and thinking, for she reached up to brush her close-cut dark hair with her fingertips... and to make sure I saw her tiny pointed breasts.

     “Did Miss Endin ever mention any friends in Hampton? Say, some place where she might go on her lunch hour, or after work?”

     “Naw. She didn't talk much. Even though I've worked beside her for over a year now, Jane ain't the buddy-buddy type. You see, she's old, and an Indian. Last....”