Эд Макбейн - The April Robin Murders

Bingo hoped he wasn’t blushing at even hinting that a respected member of the legal profession wouldn’t keep secrets.

“Just give me the details about this property,” the lawyer said. He pulled a pad of paper closer and picked up a pencil. “And how you acquired it. First, story, book, play—”

“No,” Bingo said. “I mean, neither. In fact, this hasn’t anything to do with our business at all. It’s a very personal matter. That’s why it’s confidential.”

Arthur Schlee laid down his pencil and said, “Woman trouble? In that case I’d better call in my brother. He specializes in—”

“No,” Bingo said. “No, no, no. It’s—”

Well, he reflected, if you have a lawyer, you’re supposed to trust him and tell him everything. He drew a long breath and told Arthur Schlee everything about the purchase of the April Robin mansion. Everything, that is, except the size of the dent the purchase had made in their capital.

“It isn’t the money involved,” he said at last. “It’s a minor loss.” He didn’t dare look at Handsome. “But we want to keep the house.”

“Of course you do,” the lawyer said. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t want to keep that house? With its memories of April Robin.”

“You knew her?” Bingo said excitedly.

“I remember her,” Arthur Schlee said. He said it reverently.

There was a little silence.

“I,” Arthur Schlee said, “am a very busy man.” He leaned back in his mahogany chair, placed his fingertips together, and went into details about how busy he was, and with what important things, until Bingo began to feel apologetic for taking up even five minutes of that precious time.

“But,” Arthur Schlee said at last, “there is nothing I wouldn’t do for friends of Leo Henkin. Literally nothing. Yes indeed, I will take your case.”

The tone in which he said it gave Bingo the feeling that their ownership of the April Robin mansion was settled, right here and now. He mentally thanked Hendenfelder for his advice, and resolved to do something very nice for him, as soon as things straightened out.

“There are a great many things that will have to be looked into,” the lawyer went on. “And I shall look into them. I shall look into every aspect of the matter, and I shall advise you. And because you are friends of Leo Henkin, for whom I would do literally anything, my retainer will be extremely small. Five hundred dollars, and no other expenses. Unless we should have to go to court.”

There was no time to think it over, and if there had been, the decision would have been the same.

The five hundred dollars changed hands. Bingo pocketed a receipt and said, “What do we do in the meantime?”

“In the meantime,” Arthur Schlee said, “you go right on living in the house.” The assurance with which he said it was worth five hundred dollars to Bingo right there.

Outside in the car, though, he faced the matter of explaining it to Handsome. Again Handsome beat him to the problem.

“We’re still just protecting our property, Bingo,” he said.

Bingo sighed. “Any more of this,” he said gloomily, “and we’ll protect ourselves right out of business.” He drew a long breath. “Handsome, it was more than just having a lawyer make sure we keep our house all right. But Mr. Leo Henkin recommended that lawyer. If we’d just walked out when he told us how much it would cost, how would that have looked to Mr. Leo Henkin? To a valuable contact? Handsome, we need valuable contacts in our business.”

Handsome didn’t ask, “What business?” He started the car and drove silently in the direction of Sunset Boulevard.

“Handsome,” Bingo said desperately, “everything’s going to be all right. We came to Hollywood to get rich, and we’re going to get rich. You know that.”

“Sure, Bingo,” Handsome repeated. “I know that.”

“Well, then,” Bingo said. There really didn’t seem to be anything else to say, not at that moment.

Handsome sighed and said, “Bingo. You remember when we kidnapped Mr. Pigeon?”

“We didn’t kidnap him,” Bingo said severely. “We were only protecting him from harm.”

“Okay, Bingo,” Handsome said. “Only, while we were protecting him from harm we used all our money, and we had to provide for him because he was our guest, and we had to hock both the cameras.”

“And my best suit,” Bingo said.

Handsome said, “And it turned out fine.”

It not only had turned out fine, it had provided them with the maroon convertible, suitcases filled with clothes, and the means to head for Hollywood.

“And, Bingo,” Handsome said, “you remember when we were in Thursday, Iowa, and we ran out of money again?”

Bingo winced. Their stay in Thursday, Iowa, had been the result of one of his investments that hadn’t turned out too well. Not at first, at least.

“But everything turned out all right,” Handsome said, “and when we left Thursday, Iowa, we had five hundred and twenty-seven dollars and forty-seven cents more than we got there with.”

Bingo said cheerfully, “Well, see what I mean? And we’ll do a lot better than that right here in Hollywood.” He thought everything over for a moment and then said, “Handsome, how much money do we have left?”

“Fifty-two dollars and twenty-five cents,” Handsome said. “And, Bingo—”

“All right,” Bingo said. “I know. We’ll get out the cameras and buy a permit.” He drew a long breath. “And here in Hollywood, we ought to do fine. With all the tourists that come out here, probably wanting to have their pictures taken in front of the Brown Derby and places like that to send home to the folks. And we’ve got lots of film and paper and everything, so at two-bits a picture we’ll be making a clear profit.” He began to add up the profit in his mind. “And we’ll take Mrs. Mariposa DeLee the pictures we made for her for a present, and maybe she’ll want to order some to advertise her motel.” The profit began to mount. “Why, there are all kinds of opportunities out here, Handsome.”

He wondered if they ought to take time to have lunch at Romanoff’s, since they were so near. No, he decided, better to wait until another time and take a guest with them, such as Leo Henkin, or their other new-found friend, Victor Budlong. Someday, perhaps, Rex Strober himself.

There was a good chance that the police would find Courtney Budlong and get part of that two thousand dollars back. With a good lawyer like Arthur Schlee, they could hang on to the April Robin mansion. If Julien Lattimer had been murdered, they could quite possibly find his body and collect enough from Adelle Lattimer really to own the April Robin mansion and get a nice start in business. If Julien Lattimer should, by chance, turn out to be alive, well, there was his signature on the papers, Courtney Budlong or no Courtney Budlong. Chester Baxter, rather. In the meantime, they had friends in high places, and they practically had an office. The rest was just a simple little matter of getting started.

The April Robin mansion looked even better than before as they turned in the driveway. He hadn’t noticed that there was a small rose garden to the left of the house, just coming into bloom. He made a mental note that something would have to be done about getting that vast expanse of lawn mowed, and the driveway swept clear of leaves.

Too, he reflected as they went into the enormous living room, something would have to be done about furniture. But all that could be attended to as soon as Arthur Schlee had cleared up everything.

He sat down to smoke a cigarette while Handsome prowled the kitchen in search of something for an early lunch. There was no point in going out to take pictures on an empty stomach. After lunch Handsome could get out the cameras and load them, they’d find a place to get cards printed while they waited, take out a permit, and go back in business.