Ричард Деминг - Manhunt. Volume 1, Number 6, June, 1953

I had no time for pleasantries. I said, “Did Frank Palance’s policy carry a double indemnity clause, Mr. Grant?”

“Yes, sir. It did.”

“Have you got it?” I asked Parker.

“It’s downtown. With his effects.”

“Mr. Grant,” I said. “Who was the beneficiary?”

“Originally?”

“Yes.”

“Fanny Rebecca Fortzinrussell.”

“What?”

“That’s the name, sir. Fanny Rebecca Fortzinrussell.”

“Okay. Then, on the day he sailed, three weeks ago, you got orders for a change of beneficiary. To Rose Jonas. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Sailing day’s the busiest day. You mean to tell me that Frank Palance was able to get away to sit around to talk with you?”

“No. That’s not a fact. He called me and gave me instructions. I prepared the papers for the change he requested.”

There was a hole there. Big as the socket of a new-pulled tooth. I crossed my fingers. I said, “Did he sign those papers?”

“No.”

No, he said. I blew out a lot of breath. That meant twenty thousand dollars to me. No, he said.

“Was he supposed to sign them?”

“Yes, sir. I had them all prepared. I expected to see him when he returned.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong. But that leaves the policy in status quo. Does it not?”

“Yes, sir. It does.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Thanks very much.”

Parker marched him out, and marched back with Whisper, Rose Jonas, and a uniformed policeman.

Whisper said, “Geez, Mac, they get you bad?”

“They’re going to get you worse, pal. You’re going to fry.”

He had clothes on now, shoes and a shirt and a crumby-looking jacket. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe. Shysters got tricks.”

“There’s only one trick that might get you off the chair, pal. And I got it.”

“You got it, Mac? You got it for me?” A bit of drool leaked out from a corner of his mouth.

Parker creased his eyebrows. Rose Jonas lit a brown cigarette.

I said, “You gun-happy, Whisper?”

“Not me. Not Whisper.”

“They’re laughing at you, pal. They got you down as a nut. Gun-happy.”

“Who? Who's laughing?”

“Everybody. All the boys. Joe April, Ziggy.”

“You tangled with them, kid. Didn't you? That's how you got the slugs.” He giggled.

Smart Parker. He hadn't told him about April and Ziggy. He hadn't told Rose either. Smart cop, that Parker. He hadn’t told either of them, the giggling Whisper, and Rosie with the cigarette under full control.

“They’re laughing at you, Whisper. They figure you’re washed up. They’re making jokes about you. She's laughing too. Rose Jonas.”

“Not Rosie.”

“She says you’re gun-happy too. She’s making jokes with the boys, she’s even making jokes with the cops. About you, sucker.”

“Not Rosie. Rosie knows I ain’t gun-happy.”

“Shut up,” Rose snapped.

Whisper turned his head to her. “Don’t talk like that, Rosie.”

“Shut up,” she said.

I said to Parker, “Get her out of here.”

Parker motioned to the cop. The cop took her out.

I said, “You’re not gun-happy, are you, Whisper?”

“No, I ain’t. And I don’t like no jokes about it.”

“Rosie’s making the jokes, all over town. You’re a sucker.”

“Sucker, maybe.”

“She talked you into it because it meant loot for her.”

“Loot? How?”

“Frank’s life policy. In her name. Did she tell you?”

“No.”

“She cuts you out of the loot, and then she makes jokes that you’re gun-happy. But you’re not gun-happy, are you, Whisper? You let him have it because she told you to let him have it. Right?”

He said slowly, “Right.”

“Now listen to me, Whisper.”

“Yeah, Mac, I’m listening.”

“You tell the truth, they might let you plead guilty to second. That gets you off the hot seat. It gives you life. Life, there’s always the possibility of parole. She pushed you around, pal. You’re supposed to push back.”

“I’ll push back,” he said.

Parker took him out. There must have been more cops in the corridor, because Parker came back. “Nice work,” he said. “The District Attorney’ll love you.”

“You think it’ll stick?”

“Yeah. All we got to do is keep them apart. After we get his admissions, signed and sealed, hers will come easy. Thanks for a murderer, Pete. How’d you make it?”

“It didn’t budge her when I told her Frank was dead. She knew it. She took me to where Whisper was holed up. She pulled a gun on me before I talked. When she wanted to know how I knew, I told her I saw it in the papers. She knew I was lying because she knew when he got it. How’d she know? Whisper didn’t tell her. Whisper was holed up, and she was working at the Raven. Put that together with the way Whisper looked at her, and the fact that April told me he had specifically ordered Whisper to bring Frank in, not to gun him. You don’t need a machine to add it.”

“Sweet thinking, Pete. Nice work.”

“Miss Southern out there?”

“Yes.”

“Send her in, will you please, Louis? And with her I don't need any other company.”

“Fine, Pete. Good night, and take it easy.”

“Good night. Lieutenant.”

I was alone for a minute, then Lola came in, in a black suit and a high-collar lace blouse and a black beret on the side of her head. She walked on tip-toe, a little wan, a little worried.

“Are you all right?” she said. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. Be out of here in three days.”

“Oh, I’m glad. Can I kiss you?”

“Lightly.”

She kissed me. Lightly. It was the beginning of my convalescence.

I said, “Are you Fanny Rebecca Fortzinrussell?”

She blushed right up to the roots of her golden hair.

“Ain’t it the craziest?” she said.

We laughed, together.

“Can you prove it?” I said.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“For a hundred thousand dollars.”

“For a hundred thousand dollars I can prove it, and I don’t know if I'd prove it for anything less. You delirious?”

“Practically.”

“How come?”

“Frank Palance know that Fortzinrussell label?”

“Yes he did. Happens it’s my real name. Glamorous, isn’t it. Why?”

“That's the name of the beneficiary of his policy.”

“Only it was changed. To Rose Jonas.”

“Not true.”

“But the guy on the phone. The agent. Keith Grant.”

“He had instructions for a change of beneficiary. He had prepared the necessary instrument, but Frank hadn’t signed it. He was going to sign it, on his return, but he got killed too quick. Which keeps the policy as is, to the benefit of Fortzinrussell. Fifty thousand face, but when you get shot, it’s accidental death, double indemnity, a hundred thousand dollars. Yours.”

There was very little reaction. She said, “I’m not interested in that right now. I’m interested in you. Are you all right?”

“Fine, I told you. I’ll be out in three days.”

She bent to me and her lips brushed my ear. “I love you,” she whispered. “I can t wait.”

“I can’t either, believe me.”

A starchy nurse came in on rubber heels. “I think he’s had enough,” she said. “Every rule has been broken, what with police and things. He’s had enough, Miss.”

“I’ll be around tomorrow, during regular visiting hours,” Lola said. She kissed me again, not as lightly.

The starchy nurse ushered her out.

I settled back in the bed. I mused. I would be out in three days. Nice to be out in three days and have a shining blonde waiting for you. I mused some more. I thought about the first moment I had seen her as my eyes had flicked up from the crap game, and then the ride out to Lido, and the structure of that poised body high on the diving board, and the fingers ripping at the belt of the terry-cloth robe, and the glistening two-tone body, brown and white, brown and white...