Эд Макбейн - The April Robin Murders

In the background he heard Handsome cough faintly. But this was no time to boggle at trifles.

“Well!” Victor Budlong said again, and this time he said it in a cordial and extremely helpful manner. “Exactly what kind of space do you have in mind?”

Bingo crossed his fingers, plunged in, and said, “Well, eventually of course, we want to build our own little building. Nothing elaborate, but tasteful.” There, that sounded just right.

“If you’re not looking for too large a place,” Victor Budlong said, as though the idea had just come to him, “I know of something that might do very nicely until you decide to build. Charming little suite of offices. Furnished, too. Very pleasant. Provincial style waiting room.”

This time Bingo said, “Well!” with just the right note of interest.

“As a matter of fact,” Victor Budlong said enthusiastically, “it’s only a step or so from here. Almost across the street. Would you like to take a look at it, just for fun, while we’re waiting?”

Bingo said that would be very pleasant indeed. Handsome went along, his face impassive. Officer Hendenfelder said, tactfully sounding very unofficial, he’d like to come too, if nobody minded, he always liked to see the inside of these classy buildings.

Across the street, and one door down from the nearly Georgian brick building wearing the name HENKIN, was a two-story nearly Colonial, done in well-nigh dazzling white.

“Upstairs is a model agency,” Victor Budlong said. “Fine outfit. One of the best. Don’t know if you use models or not, but in case you ever should—”

Handsome had decided reluctantly to enter into the spirit of things and said, “Oh, we do!”

This time Victor Budlong made it “Well, well!” with enthusiasm. He added, “I must show you my daughter’s picture.” He looked through his keys, nodded toward one of the white columns, and said, “Pure Ionic. Must admire their simplicity. You should see some of the buildings that go up in this town! Talk about ornate! But this—” He waved a beautifully manicured hand. “Simple!” He quoted Bingo right back at him. “Tasteful!”

He threw open the beautiful, simple door as though he were unveiling a war memorial. An instant later he said, “Excuse me a minute,” slipped into the waiting room, and closed the door.

Bingo stood perfectly still, saying nothing and almost not thinking. In the moment when the door had been open he’d caught a glimpse of the room beyond it, a quick, shadowy glimpse, but enough to reveal the outlines of a sofa. There had been a girl on the sofa, a girl with extremely white skin, and wearing a pair of deep orchid pants and brassiere, a small string of pearls, and a lot of long, red hair. He noticed too, in that brief glimpse, that she was a trifle plump.

Suddenly, with a startling whir, the blinds shot up behind the windows, and the door was reopened. Victor Budlong looked perspired and very pale, but not rattled. Angry, perhaps, but not rattled.

“Wanted you to see this at its best,” he said, not sounding angry, either, but magnificently calm. “With the glorious California sun shining in. You being from New York, you’ll really appreciate this.”

“This” was a medium-sized room. Even to Bingo’s unpracticed eyes it was beautifully and probably expensively decorated, with its small receptionist’s desk, pale pink telephone, carved chairs, end tables, oil paintings and sofa. There was a heady and heavy odor of perfume in the air.

Victor Budlong said, “Beautiful room. Simple.” He opened a window and said, “Now right down this way—”

“Down this way” was a narrow hall with three more oil paintings. From the hall opened three offices, a conference room, a bathroom complete with tub, a ladies’ powder room, and a tiny kitchenette.

“Everything,” Victor Budlong said. “And everything furnished!” He added, “Simple! Utilitarian! Tasteful!” He began to draw a long breath.

Bingo beat him to it with “Charming!”

“Well,” Victor Budlong said modestly, “I just wanted you to see it.” He led the way back to the reception room. “And the rental—” He paused. “As a matter of fact, the building is for sale. With the model agency’s long-term lease on the top floor, it would pay for itself. But since you’re planning to build—”

“We are,” Bingo said quickly. He thought he heard a soft sigh of, relief from Handsome.

“The rental is absurdly low,” Victor Budlong said. “Twelve hundred a month. And while you’re building—” He paused again, to prove he was no high-pressure salesman. “You’ll want to look around before you decide.” The next pause was longer, and meaningful. “But since I feel that the inadvertent use of my name has put you to a little difficulty — I think I can arrange to have it held for you — for an extremely small deposit.”

He clapped an almost paternal hand on Bingo’s shoulder. “We’ll talk it over back in my office, yes?” and led the way out.

Crossing the street on the way back, he walked a good distance ahead with Detective Hendenfelder, chatting idly, and giving his prospects a chance to talk things over.

There wasn’t time, Bingo thought, to explain to Handsome all that was in his mind. He said, “Handsome—”

“Everything’s going to be all right,” Handsome said. “That girl probably wears glasses.”

Bingo blinked. “You saw her too?” Obviously Handsome had seen her too, he reminded himself. He wondered if Detective Hendenfelder had. “How do you know she probably wears glasses?”

Handsome said seriously, “Because, Bingo, girls with that color skin and that color hair, natural, always have bad eyesight. If they have brown eyes, I mean.” He added, “They usually get fat easy, too, and freckle. I read about it in a magazine article once. Of course, I couldn’t see the color eyes she had. The article said—”

But they were in through the entrance of BUDLONG AND DOLLINGER before Handsome could go into more details.

“While we wait,” Victor Budlong said, with that warm cordiality, “shall we be comfortable in my private office? And talk over the possibilities of that little office suite?”

Victor Budlong’s private office was not small, nor was it simple, but Bingo decided it must be tasteful. Handsome gazed around with a puzzled and faintly reminiscent look, and finally said, “I been here before.”

Victor Budlong chuckled happily. “So you think, so you think. This is a small-scale, but almost exact, replica of the Mayor’s office in New York’s City Hall.” He smiled proudly and said, “Just a little foible of mine.”

Hendenfelder spoke up unexpectedly and said, “This is Hollywood. Everybody’s got to have some foibles.”

Bingo wondered suddenly, and uncomfortably, where Perroni was, and what he was doing.

“How right you are,” Victor Budlong said, offering more cigarettes. “Now that little suite of offices—”

The extremely small deposit turned out to be a mere two hundred dollars. The advantages were manifest and obvious. Bingo hesitated only a minute or two, keeping his eyes resolutely away from Handsome.

Drawing up the papers, turning over the money, and affixing signatures was also a matter of minutes.

“At least this time,” Victor Budlong said, handing over the receipt, “you’re dealing with a genuine Budlong.”

Bingo managed to pretend that he, too, thought that was very funny.

“And if you’d like to use the offices temporarily between now and when you move in permanently,” Victor Budlong said, “my girl here has a set of keys. And if you’d like to have a design drawn up for your firm name on the building, there’s an artist I can heartily recommend. He did ours.”