Том Годвин: Ed McBaines 87th Precinct Mystery Magazine. Volume 1, No. 4. April, 1975

“A quarrel? What about?”

“Mrs. Weiss’ story is that Leland said the store needed modernizing. It catered to stuffy old people. When he told this to King, you can imagine what followed. There was a hot argument and King ordered him to get out of the office and stay out. Mrs. Weiss said there had been some previous disagreements and that this was a kind of climax. What do you think?”

“Don’t know.” Corey weighed the information. “If Leland was given to sounding-off, he might annoy or anger a lot of people.” The two detectives were still discussing the situation when a most astonishing report came in. Two newspapers had received the same call on the night of the murder. The voice on the phone, evidently a woman’s, had been brief: there was a great chance for a story. Leland was involved in another of his escapades, this time, of all places, at the family department store. It was significant that at both papers. The Mirror and The News, the woman asked first for the gossip columnist, who, of course, was not there. But the calls produced an even more surprising outcome. Carroll, the News columnist, contacted at a night club, rushed down to the department store. He told his story at the station. He arrived at about one a.m. to discover exactly nothing. The door was locked, and gazing through the glass he could see a gleaming light in the center of the floor. But there wasn’t a soul around. He circled the store, peering in, and finally gave up in disgust, convinced it had been a crank call or a hoax.

Corey, baffled, tried to conjure up some motive for the calls. Clearly, there was an attempt to splash Leland’s name in the papers, an effort to create another scandal. But why? Corey straightened abruptly. “A change of plans,” he announced to Gerber. “Do you think we can get to see the old tycoon himself?”

“Walter Leland?” Gerber was incredulous. “He never talks to anybody.”

Corey was already thrusting an arm into a coat. “Too many blanks,” he said. “Don’t forget there’s a lot of money lying around, money that would have Dassed down to young Leland. Let’s fill in the blanks. ”

Beyond the girl who sat in an elegant reception room, and who was very pleasant and impressed by their credentials, the two detectives got as far as Ronald Eliot, an aggressive young man who identified himself as Mr. Leland’s personal secretary. “We don’t grant any interviews,” he snapped.

“We’re not requesting an inter view,” said Corey. “This is police business.”

Eliot displayed both indifference and insolence. “It wouldn’t matter to us if one of you were Chief of Police. First of all, Mr. Leland isn’t here.” He waved an impatient hand. “You’re aware of the tragic — ah — circumstances. Mr. Leland, above all, wants to be let alone.”

“It’s just general information, about the estate,” said Corey. “Perhaps you—”

“That’s lawyer’s business.” Eliot had bent down to scribble on a slip of paper. He handed it to Corey. “Contact Mr. Isner, our legal adviser. I’ve written the address.” He turned away, making it quite clear that the conversation was finished.

“Pleasant character,” Gerber murmured as they walked to the reception room The girl’s friendly smile encouraged Corey to linger for a while. “Terrible thing... about young Leland,” he said.

She agreed and noted that Walter Leland was deeply upset. Corey drew her out, and she went on to explain that the old man had plans for his grandson to take a responsible position in one of his enterprises. “He hoped the boy would straighten up,” she said. “And lately he felt optimistic. Arthur seemed to have a new attitude — as though he were maturing.” She glanced nervously toward the inner office. “I shouldn’t be talking to you. Mr. Eliot wouldn’t like it.”

The offices of Sidney Isner on the sixth floor of the Guarantee Trust Building, seemed as solid and respectable as the thirty-year old walls that enclosed them. The detectives were ushered in at once and Isner, gray-haired, distinguished, almost the stereotype of a corporation lawyer, greeted them cordially. Corey’s question brought a measured response. “Some things are — ah — general knowledge. I handle Mr. Leland’s personal affairs and I’m also administrator of the Leland Foundation.” He murmured his regrets over the “distressing situation.” He had known Arthur for many years, had watched the boy grow up. At Corey’s next question he appeared taken aback.

“What you’re really asking about,” Isner said slowly, “is Mr. Leland’s will. I don’t know — ah — that he’d approve of my giving any information.” He meditated. “Well... it’s been a matter of public record for years. Young Arthur, of course, was the main heir. With his death there is no individual who inherits. By arrangement, the — ah — funds will be transferred to the Foundation, to be used for medical research.” He seemed amused at Corey’s persistent queries on the same subject. “I know what you’re after, of course.” He chuckled. “We lawyers are detectives, too. You want a motive for the — ah — dreadful murder. The most likely suspect would be someone who could benefit, right? A person who would now be the new heir, in the event Mr. Leland died? Well, no other heir is mentioned in the will, and I can assure you that the document is drawn so that future claimants would have no chance of success.”

Leaving the office, the detectives shared the same feeling of frustration. “I guess he punctured that idea,” said Gerber. “What do we have left?”

“A very important gentleman — name of Lawrence. I’m sure you remember our evasive watchman?” Corey was grim. “We may have to throw a scare into him, but he’s got to open up.”

Lawrence, if anything, was in a more surly mood than the previous time. “You, again,” he growled. “Why don’t you let me alone? I’ve got my rights. I’ve committed no crime.”

“But a crime has been committed,” said Corey. “A man was murdered — and in the store where you were on duty. Some people were there, after midnight. Now suppose you tell us how they got in.”

“I’ve told you. Nobody got into the store.”

“Yet young Lelands body was found there.” Corey faced him sternly. “I’m placing you under arrest as accessory to a murder. Officer Gerber will read your rights to you.”

“Murder?” Lawrence cried in dismay. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were the only one with a key to the door. You let someone in — deliberately.” Corey nodded at Gerber. “Go ahead.”

“Wait a minute.” Lawrence gazed about like a trapped man. “All I did was let him in. What else could I do? How could I even imagine... a murder...”

“It’s time you told everything,” said Corey. “Remember — no more lies.”

The story emerged under questioning. Young Leland had rung the night bell. Lawrence, who had seen him before, peered through the glass and recognized him at once. “I wasn’t going to let him in,” said Lawrence. “In fact, I turned around and walked away. But he kept pounding on the glass and shouting. I couldn’t call the police, could I? After all, he was the grandson of the big boss. And I’d heard about his past record. If the police came, he’d be in trouble again. I was thinking, one day he might be my boss. I didn’t want—”

“Never mind that,” said Corey. “What I want to know, is who was with him?”

Lawrence considered. “I’m not sure. When I opened the door, there was someone behind him, in the shadows. A man, maybe.”

“What about a girl?” asked Gerber.

Lawrence stared. “Maybe. Later on, I heard voices. One could have been a woman’s.”