Эд Макбейн - The April Robin Murders

“Maybe you’d better let me pour the coffee,” Handsome said, in his gentlest voice.

Mariposa DeLee looked at her hands, forced a smile and said, “Well, maybe I am a little nervous.”

Half a cup of coffee and two puffs of a cigarette later, she said, “All right, in this world a certain number of people are going to get gypped. For those who can afford it, it’s sometimes a laugh. I came up in the world the tough way, and I’d rather be on the side of the ones who are doing the gypping. If I can do it in a nice way, and without hurting anybody, I mean. Someday, I’ll own a whole chain of motels.” She added, “I hope you boys know what I mean.”

Bingo did. But he only said, “This Pearl Durzy—”

“I’ll get to that,” she said. She took another gulp of coffee. “Hell, I looked at it this way. You boys are rich, you’ve got a big business, you can afford to lose a little dough. And Charlie said he had a nice little thing lined up, if the right people could be steered his way. So I steered you his way.”

“Charlie?” Bingo said.

“Charlie Browne. Browne with an ‘e.’ He’s been a friend of mine a long time.”

“Plump little guy?” Handsome said. “Real gray hair and glasses, and dresses neat?”

“And wears cuff links and a tie pin with ‘C.B.’?” Bingo prompted.

“That’s him,” she said cheerfully. “I gave him those cuff links myself.” She looked at them sharply. “Now don’t misunderstand me, boys. Charlie was strictly a friend and a kind of business partner. No sentiment. He was, you could almost say, sort of related to me. We were friends way back when his wife died. And she was a sister-in-law of mine.” She poured a little more coffee. “Maybe I’m boring you.”

“Go on about Charlie Browne,” Bingo said. “I can’t hear too much about him!” Or about Courtney Budlong, either, he thought.

“Well,” Mariposa DeLee said, “this was a couple of years ago. I had a nice little place in Kimballsville. Where I started, as a matter of fact. Eight nice cabins, filling station and a little store. My sister-in-law, Miss DeLee, came out there. At least, I thought she was Miss DeLee, I didn’t know she was married. She didn’t have a lot of money, and she was real sick.”

She sighed and said, “She was such a sweet little thing, I would have taken care of her even if she hadn’t been a sister-in-law. Then her husband — that’s Charlie Browne — got there, and he just took charge. He was so good to her. Why, he nursed her as if he’d been her mother, not her husband. And when she died, it like to have broken his heart.” She sighed again. “She was buried right there, right in Kimballsville.”

There was a very brief pause. “Well?” Bingo said at last.

“Well, we went on being friends, and he gave me a lot of good business advice, and helped me set up this place and the one I have out near Victorville. I mean, he’s a friend, a real friend.” Then suddenly she looked up, her eyes narrowed and she said, “I mean, I considered him a real friend. He told me he had a very nice thing set up, if I could steer just the right people to him, and like I told you, I figured you could afford to lose a little money and Charlie certainly needed it. So all I was to do was call him up and tell him you were going out on a tour of where the movie stars lived and that you’d stop along the way to pick up a map. I didn’t know what he had in mind until he came back here and told me about it.” A smile touched her lips. “It was a smart stunt, any way you look at it.” The smile faded. “He was going to give me two hundred dollars, which was no more than fair, considering. But just about then, this old woman turned up.”

“Pearl Durzy,” Bingo said.

Mariposa DeLee nodded. “I didn’t know what her name was. But she was mean. Mean, and sore! She’d come out here to warn you boys off that house deal, which of course she would’ve been too late to’ve done, and then she saw Charlie and she got almost wild. And just about then you came driving up to check out and pick up your things. Charlie said he’d handle everything, and he told me to go out and see you, which I did.”

She drew a long breath. “She was right in here, in this apartment, all the time you were checking out, and taking pictures and everything. Charlie said something to her to calm her down, I don’t know what it was, but it worked. Because when I came back in, he said everything was fine, and she was going to go straight home, and there wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“But there was,” Bingo said softly. “There was a little trouble.”

“I don’t think Charlie Browne would’ve murdered her, or anybody,” Mariposa DeLee said, the friendliness gone from her eyes now. “He was too nice to his sick wife. But he never did give me my two hundred dollars.”

A little matter of murder might not bother Mariposa DeLee, Bingo reflected, but not getting her cut of two thousand dollars would. He said, “If you’ll tell me where I can find him—”

She shook her head. “I don’t know where he lives. The only phone number I had for him was a drugstore phone booth. But,” she said, “I’ll find him for you. I’ll get your money back for you, too. So don’t worry.”

Find him, her eyes said, dead or alive.

“Bingo,” Handsome said, halfway home, “how much of what that Mrs. DeLee told us do you believe?”

Bingo sighed and was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I don’t know just why, but somehow I believe most of it.” He noticed they were passing the spot where the map saleswoman had been during the daylight hours, and scowled deeply. “Mr. Courtney Budlong,” he said, “I mean, Mr. Charlie Browne, said something to Pearl Durzy that made her calm down and go straight home. I wish I knew what it could’ve been.”

“Maybe,” Handsome said diffidently, “he told her he was going to give her two hundred dollars, too.”

Bingo thought that over. He was beginning to have a feeling that their Mr. Courtney Budlong, Charlie Browne, not only wouldn’t give anybody the time of day, but even the day of the week. On the other hand, he could have, in what must have been an emergency, promised Pearl Durzy two hundred dollars or more. He could have promised that he’d bring it to her that evening. He could have put the whole thing on a basis of good fellowship, and mixed her a drink. He could—

“I suppose he’d have had to murder that nice old lady,” Handsome said thoughtfully, “to keep her from telling us about everything.”

“Stop reading my mind!” Bingo snapped. Then, sorry for his temper, he added, “Please.”

Only the man who called himself Courtney Budlong would have had any reason to murder Pearl Durzy. Only he would have had reason to remove the note they’d left for her, telling her they wouldn’t need her any more.

A few blocks later Handsome said thoughtfully, “I suppose we ought to tell the police. Mr. Hendenfelder, I mean.”

Neither of them had the faintest idea of telling Perroni.

“Later,” Bingo said firmly. “It’s been a long day.” He added, as an afterthought, “Anyway, Handsome, the police don’t know where he is. So they couldn’t very well arrest him for murder.”

“No,” Handsome said. “Only, Bingo, they’re looking for him, anyhow. They might look for him a little harder.”

“I doubt it,” Bingo said. “Not with that Perroni thinking he might know where Julien Lattimer is.”

It had grown dark now, the sudden California darkness. As they turned in the driveway the enormous house loomed ominous and shadowy, only a faint light showing through the vines that overhung the front windows. Bingo shuddered.