Say Yes to Murder, Todhunter Ballard [affordable ebook reader .TXT] 📗

the details; there didn’t seem to be anyone else to take charge. Spurck was useless; the production chief had settled down into one of the high-backed hall chairs and buried his face in his hands.

The lawyer listened intently, his eyes shielded by drooping lids until they were little more than slits. “I can’t believe Mary would kill herself.”

Lennox said: “I can’t either, but unless we suspect the nurse, it’s either that or an accident. Or,” he added as an afterthought, “Rita.”

Austin looked horrified. “Surely you’re not serious? Why, Rita has been with Mary Morris for forty years. They were almost as one person. I tell you it is impossible!”

“Nothing is impossible,” Lennox said coldly, “when you’re dealing with murder. How do we know what the maid thinks about? How do we know whether or not her whole life isn’t warped by jealousy of her mistress. And there’s another angle—the one of profit. Do you happen to know whether she is mentioned in Mary’s will, and if so to what extent?”

Austin coughed. “I know,” he said discreetly, “since I drew the will, but I’m not certain it would be exactly ethical…”

“Ethics be darned!” Lennox was losing all patience.

Bernard Austin stopped him before he could reach the door. “Just a moment, Mr. Lennox. I’m older than you are—a lot older—and I’ve lived through other trying circumstances. I’ve found that it never pays to go at things hurriedly but, since you and I will have to work together, it might be wise if we settle any personal feeling now.” Lennox stopped. “Work together?”

The lawyer nodded, and from his expression Lennox judged that he was not happy. “Yes. Work together,” he said. “Mary Morris changed her will yesterday. She named you as one of the executors.”

For some reason it struck Lennox as funny. He had an insane desire to laugh. Funerals always had affected him the same way. It was as near nervous hysteria as he ever came.

“So I’m an executor? Did she leave very much?”

Austin looked more reproving. “About four million.”

“Four million!” And he was an executor. The thought sobered Lennox, but he, was so tired that it was hard to control his nerves. Four million… And Mary’s granddaughter would get the greater part of it—maybe.

2.

Jean Jeffries said: “I’m going over to my apartment. I can’t bear to stay here. Rita will stay and look after things for the time being. Will you take me home?”

Lennox nodded. He saw Austin coming down the hall. The lawyer asked: “Are you all right, Jean? Is there anything I can do?”

Her voice caught. “If you could keep them from taking her body to the morgue…”

He shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, but there were two quite large insurance policies. They have a perfect legal right to perform an autopsy.”

She nodded. “I’m silly, but the thought of the morgue horrifies me. Mr. Lennox is going to take me home. If there is anything I should know, or if you have to reach me, I’ll be there.” They went down the steps and out to a cab.

As they got in she told him: “It’s strange. When did we meet? Day before yesterday. And yet I feel as though I’ve known you for ages.”

He didn’t answer. He wished she would stop talking, but she did not stop. She said: “Austin tells me that my grandmother changed her will yesterday and that you are one of the executors. I suppose we will see quite a lot of each other if only for business reasons.”

“If I’m not in prison,” he said.

She caught her breath. “How stupid of me. I’d forgotten you are still out on bail.” She reached over and grasped one of his hands in her gloved one. “Bill, there will be quite a lot of money coming to me from my grandmother’s estate. I want you to know that all or any part of it is yours. That we will get the best lawyer in America, and…”

Lennox’ old humor flashed to the surface. “I’ve got the best lawyer in America. He admits it himself.”

They went into the empty lobby. The place appeared deserted, but as they stepped from the elevator at her floor the owner-manager, Boren, came along the hall.

“I’m terribly sorry to hear about your grandmother’s death, Miss Jeffries. The news came in over the radio half an hour ago.”

“Rather a habit of yours—listening to the radio, isn’t it?” Lennox asked.

Boren smiled, showing his too white teeth. “I keep it on most of the time,” he admitted. “I especially like to listen to the police calls. I find them very interesting indeed.”

After they had the apartment door closed, Lennox said:

“He seems to be a friendly soul.”

The girl nodded. “He is. He’s really quite nice. He’s done innumerable little things for me since I moved here. I’m surprised you don’t like him.”

Lennox shrugged. “I neither like nor dislike him. He’s just something I keep finding underfoot and stumbling over. How about dinner? I promised you that, I think.”

She said: “Would you mind terribly if I broke the date? After what happened, I think I’d like to be alone for a little while.”

She raised her face as if expecting him to kiss her, but apparently he did not see, for he was already turning toward the door. In the hall he paused for an instant. Sounds reached him. It might have been sobs. He could not be sure.

As he stepped out of the building he saw that the sun was just settling beyond the shoulder of the hills. The fog was gone, the air warm, and a couple of faint stars showed themselves in the arch of the evening sky.

The street was fairly full, people walking aimlessly, people hurrying. He had never realized there were so many pedestrians on Franklin. He stood on the corner, trying to catalogue them in his memory. He paid no attention to the women, or to the men accompanied by women. There were perhaps half a dozen men alone.

He started on, crossing to the south side of the street at the Beech-wood light. Another block and he rounded the curve and walked down Argyle toward Yucca, pausing at the big market which faced the intersection and going to the phone.

He took the receiver from the hook and stood sideways in the booth so that he could peer out through the glass panel of the door.

A man in a double-breasted suit had stopped before the market and was reading the headlines on the racked papers. There was nothing suspicious about him, except that he had followed Lennox all the way down Franklin and that he continued to wait.

Bill dialed Nancy’s number and when he got the connection said, “That girl didn’t come back yet?”

Nancy sounded disgusted. “Of course not. And Jake won’t let me go out of the house. He’s here with a ball bat, looking like an Asbury version of a Five. Points bruiser. He’s kept the nurse here, too, and she’s about to have hysterics.”

“Is Jake still there?”

“Of coarse he’s here.” She sounded even angrier. “He almost killed a Fuller Brush man an hour or so ago. Me, I think that he’s nuts. I wish that you’d come and take him away, and the next time you need a hiding place for your women count me out.”

Lennox did not laugh. “Let me talk to Jake,” he said, and waited.

The ex-cabman answered. “No one’s gotten in here since I come, Chief. If I’d have been here sooner, that dame would never have vanished. Me, I can’t figure how they got her out.”

Lennox said, “Maybe she just evaporated.”

“That’s it!” said Jake, not having the remotest idea what the word meant. “She just evaporated.”

“O.K. Now listen, Jake. I’m at the corner of Yucca and Argyle—or I will be. There’s a guy in a blue suit trailing me. Get in your car and come on over here. We’re going to ask this bird some questions.”

“Whee!” Jake said joyfully. “I’ll be right over, Chief.”

He crossed to the traffic island and then to the far sidewalk, turning back toward Franklin. He covered almost half a block when he apparently changed his mind and right about-faced. The man in blue had just crossed Yucca. Lennox started toward him.

Caught by this maneuver the man hesitated. He dared not turn toward Vine, for Lennox might cross the wide street toward the market. He compromised by bending over and pretending to tie his shoe. Lennox passed so close that his trouser leg brushed the man’s coat sleeve.

He saw Jake come up Yucca in the car, cross Vine, and make a U-turn around the island, pulling up at Lennox’ side as the man in blue straightened. Lennox jerked his head slightly and walked for several feet down the street, then he swung about just as Jake left the car. The man was trapped between them and he sensed that something was the matter. He stopped.

Both Jake and Lennox kept going. Another few steps and they would meet at the man’s side. Their quarry turned, evidently fearing Lennox. He did not glance at Jake, but as he tried to pass, Jake stuck out his foot and the man sprawled headlong over it. As he fell a .38 Special jumped from his shoulder clip and skidded along the sidewalk. Before he could move, Lennox had one hand, Jake the other, and they were hoisting him to his feet.

“You’re hurt,” said Lennox. “Here, get him to a hospital.”

The man tried to protest that he was all right, but they gave him no chance. Before he realized what was happening he was in the car. Jake hurried around the car and slid under the wheel. Lennox scooped the gun up from the sidewalk and in the same movement pressed his bulk in beside the man.

The man was suddenly very scared. He had a long narrow face with high cheekbones and black deep-set eyes. He might have been an Indian from his appearance, but he wasn’t as stolid as an Indian is supposed to be.

“Lemme out! You’ve got it wrong, mister. I wasn’t following you. Why should I follow you? I never saw you before in my life.”

“You’re lying,” Lennox said coldly. “You followed me all the way down Franklin. You stopped in front of that market and waited while I made a long phone call. You shouldn’t have done that. You should have guessed by the way I acted that the game was up. Why were you trailing me?”

The man’s face turned a yellow color which changed to a dirty green. Lennox feared that the man was going to be sick, but he gulped only twice and seemed to be trying to swallow his tongue. Then the light blinked to green and the car moved across the intersection away from the policeman. They all felt better.

Jake sounded breathless when he said: “I thought we were going to be combing the law out of our hair.”

Lennox’ tone was icy. “Our friend here won’t believe we are serious.”

“Wait until we get to the house,” Jake promised. “I left my bat there. I’m a heller with a bat. You never saw me bust a head, did you?”

Their passenger shivered. “If this is a joke…”

“We never joke,” said Lennox. “We were brought up to consider jokes a vile form of humor. I hope the bat is strong, Jake. I’d hate to think there was a chance of it breaking and forcing me to finish the job with a gun.”

“Look,” said the man with simulated bravado, “fun’s fun, but I’ve had enough. My name is Forrister and I work for the Nick Bowers Agency.”

“Where’s your bicycle?” Jake inquired. “All