Эд Макбейн - The April Robin Murders

“But first you put April’s clothes on the young girl, put April’s purse in the car with her, together with a few bills from the bank, and then shoved the car over a cliff,” Bingo said.

“And then we set fire to it later,” Browne said. “We threw gasoline on the wreckage. And... and the girl. Miss Robin touched the match. I remember that very clearly. It was her who touched the match.”

“And then what?”

“Then she left. In the papers the next day, after the accident was reported, after everyone thought April Robin was dead, I found out she’d withdrawn seventy-five thousand dollars from the bank. She’d sold us short by twenty-five grand.”

“How’d you split the money?”

“We got fifty all told. Twenty to me, twenty to Mariposa, and ten to the doctor who made out the death certificate.”

“And the grave?”

“Nothing but an empty box in Lois’ grave,” Browne said. He paused. “I didn’t commit any crime. April Robin was driving that car.”

“You’re an accessory to manslaughter,” Handsome said flatly.

“Okay,” Bingo said, “let’s say that April Robin, now Lois DeLee, learned her slack-wire act and got into show business again, far from Hollywood. Let’s say the twenty-five grand she withheld from you didn’t last very long and that she was damned anxious to marry Julien Lattimer when he came along. By this time, she’d bleached her hair blond and possibly had a nose-bob done on that famous profile. So she marries him and becomes the fifth Mrs. Julien Lattimer. All right, why does her husband disappear? Why does she vanish immediately after him?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Browne said.

“No? Then how’d you get Lattimer’s signature for us?”

Browne clamped his mouth shut.

“Did you kill Chester Baxter?” Bingo asked.

“Me? Are you crazy? I never killed anyone in my life!”

“How about Pearl Durzy?”

“I had nothing to do with her death,” Browne said.

“How’d you get that Budlong and Dollinger stuff from Janesse?”

Browne smiled thinly. “I needed the stuff, and I figured out where the weakest link was. Janesse, naturally. A kid who wanted to get into the movies and who’d be impressed by a producer. So I made it my business to meet her, gave her a whirl until I got the stationery and receipt, and then dropped her.”

“Did Lattimer ask you to sell that house for him?”

Browne clamped his mouth shut again, and this time it was clamped shut to stay. Bingo nodded soberly.

“I don’t think you ought to try leaving the city,” he said. “I think the police may be looking you up soon, and they might feel your running away was a clear indication of guilt. Far in excess of simple manslaughter.” He opened the door on his side of the car. “Come on, Handsome. Let’s go home.”

In the convertible, Handsome said, “I don’t think April Robin was very bright.”

“Bright or not, Handsome, she was in a pretty tough spot. There wasn’t much she could do but pay the man.”

“Sure. But she threw away all that money in the trust funds.”

“She also threw away her life.”

“On the other hand,” Handsome said, “she later married a very wealthy man, so maybe she knew what she was doing after all.”

“To my way of thinking, she didn’t learn very much over the years,” Bingo said.

“How so?”

“Well, she ran away again, didn’t she? This time as Mrs. Julien Lattimer. And this time leaving an estate of half a million dollars behind her.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like money,” Handsome said.

“Maybe not. Or maybe she just didn’t like Julien. Maybe she put him in a car and set fire to him, too.”

“I would buy that, Bingo,” Handsome said seriously, “except that he signed those papers for our house. It would be hard to be dead and signing papers.”

Bingo was silently reflective for a moment. Then he said, “It figures, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“Everyone referring to Lois Lattimer as a young woman. Remember what Leo Henkin said about April Robin? She’d always look young, he said. A timeless beauty. Well, at least we’ve solved one of those problems, Handsome. We know who April Robin is.”

“Yes,” Handsome agreed. “But we don’t know where she is, or even why she went.”

“Do you think we should call Hendenfelder to tell him what we know?”

“Yes,” Handsome said. “As soon as we get home.”

They drove the rest of the way to Damascus Drive in complete though shared silence. As they pulled up to the house, Handsome said, “I think we’ve got company, Bingo.”

And then Bingo saw the light burning in the living room.

The man sitting in the living room did not mince words.

“My name is Rex Strober,” he said, “and I don’t mince words. We’ve met before, briefly. I’m now an independent producer, used to be head of production at Columbia, but there’s more money in it for me this way. Leo Henkin tells me you’ve got a hot property, an actress. Okay, I’ve got a hot property, too. A story. Want to get married?”

“I don’t wish to seem impolite,” Bingo said, “but how’d you get in here?”

“I walked in,” Strober answered.

“That’s impossible. We locked the door when we left.”

“It was open when I got here,” Strober said. He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Besides, wherever I want to get in, I get in. When I was a kid, I lived on the Lower East Side in New York. I made up my mind when I was seven years old that wherever I wanted to get in, I would. And I have. And I still do. Do you want to get married?”

“That depends,” Bingo said.

“On what?”

“On your dowry.”

“Don’t play games with me,” Strober said. “You’ve got a big empty house that needs furniture. You’re not going to fill that house with a one-week option on an unknown redhead. I’ve got an original screenplay by the hottest novelist on the scene. Stick your Janesse Budlong into it and she’s a star overnight. I guarantee it. I’ve made more stars than there are in the heavens, believe me.”

“What’s your deal?”

“Eight hundred a week for your redhead while we’re shooting the picture. Option for her services on the next two feature films we make at terms to be discussed.”

“What about us?”

“Twenty-five percent of the producer’s profits. After double-negative.”

“We’ll want an advance,” Bingo said.

“In addition or against?”

“Against our share of the profits.”

“How much?” Strober said.

“Ten thousand.”

“I’ll give you five.”

“We’ll take seventy-five hundred,” Bingo said.

“Six thousand, and not a penny more,” Strober said.

“Seven thousand,” Bingo said, “and that’s final.”

“Six thousand, two hundred and fifty is my absolute last offer,” Strober said.

“Let’s settle for sixty-five hundred,” Bingo offered.

“It’s a deal.”

He rose and shook hands with Bingo.

“My partner,” Bingo said. “Handsome Kusak.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Handsome said warmly, and he took Strober’s hand.

“Nice knowing you, young man,” Strober said, and he eyed Handsome speculatively, as if weighing his potential box-office appeal. He nodded slightly, making a secret inner judgment, and then said, “My lawyer will draw up the contracts at once. Standard forms, and I’m sure there’ll be no problem. You’ll have your check tomorrow morning. Do you gentlemen want some advice?”

Bingo was smiling from ear lobe to ear lobe. “We’re always willing to accept advice, Mr. Strober,” he said.