Эд Макбейн - Snow White and Rose Red

“Because today is Jake’s day off.”

“Well... is there anyone else you’d feel comfortable—”

“I just don’t want any of these damn women sitting in that car with me, looking down their noses and affecting an oh-so-superior air. This is very important to me, Matthew, I thought you understood how important this—”

“I do indeed. But I can’t see—”

“Will you talk to Cyclops, please? If I can’t get Jake, any of the other male attendants will do. I want to look pretty and fresh and rested when I get to Southern Medical, and I—”

“I’m sure you’ll look beautiful,” I said.

“Thank you, but not if Brunhilde or Ilse or any of the other bitches are watching me like vultures all the way there.”

“I’ll talk to Pearson,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I love you, Matthew,” she said, and hung up.

The person Bloom spoke to at Calusa National was a woman named Adele Halliday. He told her he was investigating a homicide and had learned that the Seascape Corporation banked with them. What he was—

“Yes?” Miss Halliday said cautiously, and Bloom hoped he was not in for another session like the one he’d had with Mrs. O’Hare at First Calusa City.

“What I’m looking for,” he said, “I understand a check was deposited to the account there a few weeks ago... a check from Arch Realty in Stamford, Connecticut...”

“Yes?”

Again the cautious tone. Homicide investigations made people very cautious.

“It would have been made out to the Seascape Corporation... for quarterly maintenance fees in the amount—”

“What is it you wish , exactly?” Miss Halliday asked.

“I want to know who signed that check,” Bloom said.

“Well...”

“This is of enormous importance to me, Miss Halliday,” Bloom said. “A young girl has been murdered. I can apply for a court order to gain access to—”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Miss Halliday said. “Can you hold a moment, please?”

Bloom waited.

When she came back on the line, she said, “Arch Realty?”

“Yes, ma’am. In Stamford, Connecticut.”

“I have a check dated April thirteenth, drawn to Seascape Corporation in the amount of one thousand eight hundred thirteen dollars and twelve cents.”

“That would be it,” Bloom said. “Can you tell me who signed it?”

“It’s signed by... the signature is a little difficult to read... but I believe it’s Andrew Nelson Hennings... or Hennessy... I’m sorry, it’s really a scrawl.”

“Thank you very much,” Bloom said.

Dr. Silas Pearson was not happy to hear from me.

He said he was having a great deal of difficulty with Sarah.

He said her objection to Christine Seifert as a suitable and appropriate escort to Southern Medical was only another manifestation of Sarah’s delusion that everyone was involved in a huge conspiracy to deprive her of her liberty.

“Well, surely,” I said, “if it’s of such importance to her—”

“I have a medical facility to run here, Mr. Hope. I have close to three hundred patients here and a staff only half that size. I’m particularly shorthanded today as concerns male attendants. Mr. Murphy is off on Wednesdays—”

“Mr. Murphy?”

“Yes, Jake Murphy... and two of my other male attendants are on vacation. One learns to expect virtually anything from the patients here, but Sarah’s sudden affection for Jake comes as a total surprise. Until now she’s expressed nothing but contempt for him. Now, all at once, it would seem a dire necessity that Jake accompany her this afternoon. Jake or one of the other men. And I’m afraid that’s impossible. I’ve done everything within my power—”

“Yes, I realize that.”

“—to respect the court order, which requires us to effect a safe and expeditious transfer to Southern Medical. But I cannot jeopardize the well-being of the other patients here in order to satisfy what, I must be frank with you, is the whim of a desperately ill woman — something I feel certain you will learn within the next few days from your team of unbiased doctors at Southern Medical.”

His tone was sharp and impatient. There was a long silence on the line.

“Dr. Pearson,” I said, “surely if Sarah—”

“Sarah seems to believe she’s going to the Governor’s Mansion this afternoon, rather than to a receiving facility for observation and examination. Quite understandable, of course; she’s a sick woman. But she’s been driving us crazy over what she should wear — should it be the red dress or the yellow, no, the red is too garish, should she wear flats or heels, should she wear jewelry? She has finally decided on a yellow dress, exceedingly high-heeled sandals that might be more appropriate on a burlesque runway, and a simple strand of pearls. Fine. For my part, Mr. Hope, she can go in a burlap sack . The results will be the same no matter what she wears. But I cannot allow her to dictate which of the staff will accompany her. We have schedules here, we have responsibilities here, and it will be Christine Seifert who gets into that car with her at five o’clock. I do not wish to discuss this further, Mr. Hope.”

“Thank you for your courtesy,” I said, and hung up.

Bloom’s long-distance call to Arch Realty, on Summer Street in Stamford, Connecticut, was answered by a woman who seemed enormously puzzled by his uncertainty.

“Well,” she said, “is it Andrew Nelson Hennessy or Andrew Nelson Hennings?”

“Whichever one you’ve got there,” Bloom said.

“Well, we have an Andrew Nelson Hennessy, if that’s who you want,” the woman said.

“Yes, please,” Bloom said.

“Well, just a minute,” the woman said, sounding offended.

Bloom waited.

“Hennessy,” a man’s voice said.

“This is Detective Bloom of the Calusa Police Department,” Bloom said. “Am I speaking to—”

“Of the what ?” Hennessy said.

“The Calusa Police Department,” Bloom said. “Is this Mr. Andrew Nelson Hennessy?”

“It is.”

“Sir, we’re investigating a homicide here, and I—”

“A what ?” Hennessy said.

“A homicide, sir, and I wonder if you could answer a few questions for me.”

“Well... I guess so. Certainly.”

“Mr. Hennessy, it would appear that Arch Realty owns apartment one-oh-six at three-seven-four-two Westerly Drive on Whisper Key in this city. It would further appear—”

“ Who did you say this was?” Hennessy asked.

“Detective Morris Bloom of the Calusa PD. It would further appear, sir, that the telephone in that apartment is listed to Arch Realty, and that Arch Realty owns the car in the garage for that apartment — a Mercedes-Benz 380SL with the Connecticut plate WU-3200 — and that it has been paying both maintenance fees and telephone bills for the apartment since July of last year. Your signature is on the automobile registration and checks received for maintenance fees, and I’m assuming it’s also on the checks sent to General Telephone.”

“Yes?” Hennessy said.

“Is that correct, sir?”

“Why do you want to know this?” Hennessy asked.

“As I told you, we’re investigating a—”

“What does Arch Realty have to do with a homicide?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, sir. A woman named Tracy Kilbourne was occupying that apartment until her death—”

“I don’t know anyone named Tracy Kilbourne,” Hennessy said.

“But you were paying the maintenance fees and telephone bills for the apartment she lived in, isn’t that so?”