Джордж Хиггинс - The New Black Mask (No 4)

Craig Winton got to his feet and shook hands once more. “I believe I’m in competent hands. You’ve taken a load off my mind already.”

“We’ll want to speak with Mrs. Winton, and possibly with your secretary as well.”

“Go right ahead.”

After he’d gone, Mike Trapper was beaming with pleasure. “I got us a client, Al! The first real client for Darlan and Trapper!”

“That was good work. I couldn’t have done better myself.” I meant it, yet I was puzzled as to why a man like Winton would have chosen a kid he’d never met before. I’d listened to his explanation about wanting a small agency and it made sense. And yet—

“You don’t really think it’s a ghost, do you? A doppelganger sort of thing?”

“I stopped believing in ghosts a long time ago. For one thing, they’ve got no money to pay my bills.”

In the morning we drove out to the suburbs and visited Rina Winton. Somehow I wasn’t surprised when she turned out to be a curly-haired blond at least twenty years younger than her husband. Divorce and remarriage to a younger woman seemed to go with success in the executive suite these days.

“What can you tell us about this man who impersonated your husband, Mrs. Winton?”

Though I asked the question, her eyes were all over Mike, like she was undressing him while we talked. “Frankly, Mr. Darlan, I don’t know what to think. We only have one car right now and we’re not planning to get a second one till fall, so I’m pretty much tied down to the house when Craig is at work. The other morning after Craig drove off to the office I heard a noise in the garage. I went out there and saw someone I thought was Craig.”

“Did he speak to you?”

“He muttered something about forgetting his briefcase and then went out again. But our car wasn’t in the driveway. He simply walked down the road. I phoned his office later and he said it wasn’t him. You know the rest. I insisted he hire a detective.”

“Was Craig married before?”

“Yes. He was divorced five years ago.”

“Any chance his first wife bears a grudge?”

“Why should she? He certainly made a generous settlement!”

“Is she here in the city?”

“No, she moved to Arizona after the divorce. There were no children.” Her eyes kept shifting to Mike, and she asked him, “Don’t you have any questions for me?”

He blushed and said, “Al is handling it pretty well.”

As she saw us to the door she asked, “Is my husband in danger?”

“Possibly. We’re checking out every angle.”

We left her standing in the doorway of the fashionable ranch home and drove back to the city. “She seems quite nice,” Mike commented.

“Watch yourself, kid. That kind could eat you alive.”

“I just meant—”

“I know. Look, I’ve got a surprise for you on the way back.”

“What sort of surprise?”

“You’ll see.”

I took him to the gun shop and produced the permit he’d signed for the police. The clerk handed over the .38 Terrier and I thought Mike’s eyes would pop out of his head. “This is mine?” he asked.

“Yeah. A little gift. Do you want a shoulder or belt holster for it?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“A belt holster’s a lot cooler in the summer.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ve arranged with Sergeant O’Keefe for you to use the police pistol range for practice.”

As we left the gun shop he said, “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“Not bad. I’ll tell you better when we see what happens with the Winton case.”

Later that afternoon I took him to the bar around the corner for a drink. “You ever been married, Al?” he asked me.

“Yeah, when I was a kid about your age.”

“What happened?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. I guess kids today are smarter to live together. One day we just decided to call it quits.”

“Have you got any family?”

“Parents are both dead. I’ve got a sister who sends me Christmas cards.”

“Isn’t it sort of lonely? Didn’t you ever want to get married again?”

“Sure, kid.” I gave him a smile. “Maybe I will some day.”

“What about the Winton case? What should I do?”

I pulled out a copy of Craig Winton’s schedule. “Cover him like we discussed. Look for anyone who resembles him and is dressed like him. Meanwhile I’ll go talk to his secretary.”

I did that the next day but I didn’t learn much. Winton was a middle-level executive with the insurance company and she was a middle-level secretary. Her name was Milly Scorese and she was a fortyish redhead, a bit overweight. When I mentioned it, she remembered the month-old incident. “Oh, yes. Mr. Winton seemed quite disturbed by it.”

“Did the man speak to you at all?”

“No. He entered through that private door and went right into Mr. Winton’s office.”

“So no one else saw him?”

“No.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“Well,” she admitted, “more at his clothes than at him. He went by my desk so fast I just got a glimpse of the pink sports jacket Mr. Winton was wearing that day. But I certainly thought it was him. When he left a few minutes later it looked like him from the rear. But he didn’t speak.”

I gave her a smile. “Thanks, Milly. Look, here’s my card. If anything unusual like that happens again, call me right away.”

“I’ll help any way I can. Mr. Winton told me to cooperate.”

On my way out of the office I thought I saw Winton ahead of me, getting on the elevator. I hurried to catch up, but it wasn’t him. I decided there were a lot of tall white-haired men in the business world.

The case dragged on for a couple of weeks without noticeable progress. I saw Mike Trapper only during the hours when Winton was safely in his office with no plans to leave. The rest of the time Mike was watching the Winton home, or shadowing him at business meetings. Once, when Winton flew to New York, the kid went ahead on an earlier flight and was at the airport to pick up the trail when our client landed.

But there was no sign of the double.

“Maybe only Winton can see him,” Mike speculated one evening after he’d trailed him home.

“You’re back to your doppelgangers again.”

“I just like to consider all the possibilities.” He had a sudden thought. “Hey, my dad’s in town tonight and I’m meeting him for a late dinner. Come along with us! I know he’s been wanting to meet you.”

“Well, it’s sort of short notice,” I replied.

“Come on! He’ll love it!”

James Trapper was a stout friendly man who wore thick glasses and a checked vest. “I never imagined Mike would end up the partner in a detective agency,” he admitted. “How’s he doing, Mr. Darlan?”

“He’s learning.”

“Had any good murder cases yet?”

I laughed. “I haven’t had a case involving murder in four years. They don’t come along every week, despite what you see on TV.”

Dinner was pleasant, and somehow they made me feel like part of the family. It was a good feeling. At one point James Trapper said, “Mike’s always had an eye for the ladies. You’ve probably noticed that already.”

“I’ve noticed they have an eye for him,” I said, remembering our client’s wife. “But I keep him pretty busy.”

As we were leaving the restaurant Mike asked me, “How long we going to keep on with this Winton case?”

“As long as he pays us. Speaking of Winton, I have an appointment to meet with one of the vice-presidents at his insurance company tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know if I learn anything. What’s Winton’s schedule?”

“Routine during the day, but he has a Civic Club meeting in the evening, out at the Expressway Motel.”