John MacDonald - The Girl in the Plain Brown Wrapper

“If you want me with you, okay. But just for the hell of it, before we see him, can you get a decent check on where he was the night Sherman died, and where he was the afternoon Penny Woertz died?”

“I don’t know about last Saturday, but I remember he was up in Birmingham to bring a prisoner back when Sherman died. Anyway, let me see where that fancy little scut might be.”

He moved to the bed and used the bedside phone. He would mumble greetings, ask about Broon, listen, hang up, dial another number. He made at least eight calls. He got up and said, “Guess I’ll have some time to think it over. He’s been here and there, but nobody’s got a fix on him in the past hour or so. Might be hanging around the courthouse. He’s got cronies over there who feed him little bits of information, probably for cash on the line. Or he could be at city hall for the same reason. Or he could be holed up in that so-called penthouse with a new playmate. Hasn’t had one around for a while, so he’s due.”

He left, saying he would get in touch and pick me up so I could go with him to talk to Dave Broon. After he had gone, I put the lunch tray outside the door so no one would have any reason to come in after it. And before I left, I used one of the oldest and simplest tricks to warn me if anyone came into the room by way of the door while I was gone. I wadded up a sheet of the motel stationery and, as I left, I leaned over and reached back through the opening and placed it on the rug, close to the door, a precise placement because I could measure it by the length of my forearm, from the crook of elbow to the thumb and finger in which I held it. The door opened inward. Anyone entering would brush it away with the door. Even if they had the wit to try to replace it, they could never put it in the same identifiable position as before. When a door opens outward, it is easiest to close it against a bit of matchstick or toothpick inserted at some precise spot and broken off so that it is barely visible from outside the door. But a careful workman can defeat this protection, or the hair and chewing gum device, or the carbon-paper gimmick.

The day blackened, the sky cracked open, and the rain came down, storm gusts whipping the spray of the rebound and the mist of the hot streets, tearing brown fronds off the cabbage palms, shredding the broadleaf plantings, swinging signs and traffic lights. Same kind of storm wind that had made the Likely Lady rock her weight against the anchor lines, creaking and grunting. It had been cozy below.

I tried Hardahee. She said he had left for the day, and I could not tell if she was lying. I found Rick Holton’s law office. The girl took my name and disappeared. She came back and led me down a paneled corridor. He had a big desk with a window wall behind it that looked out onto a little enclosed court paved with Japanese river stones and with some stunted trees in big white pots. Rain ran down the window wall. He had a lot of framed scrolls on the persimmon paneling of his walls, and framed photographs of politicians, warmly inscribed.

He tried the big confident junior chamber smile, but it had sagged into nothing before the girl had closed the office door.

“Sit down, McGee. Told Sally I didn’t want to see anybody. Supposed to be getting through all this damned desk work. Jesus! I read things three times and don’t know what I’ve read. Know where they’re getting with the investigation? No place. I think it was some crazy. Hell, Penny would have opened the door to anybody. They panicked and ran. One of those lousy meaningless things. They’ll pick him up for something else someday, and he’ll start talking and hand them this one.”

“It might open up. Stanger might come across something.”

“He’s good.”

“Better than your friend Dave Broon?”

He shrugged. “Dave is handy for odd jobs.”

“Can I get your opinion on a few things, Holton? Not legal opinion. Personal.”

“For what it’s worth, which isn’t much lately. Everything seems to be going sour. You know, the deal with Penny was going sour. We were about ready to close the books. So why do I miss her so damned much?”

“She was pretty special.”

“So Janice was very special. Past tense. I blew the whole bit. For a roll in the hay with Penny Woertz. Nowhere near as good-looking a girl as Janice. What was I trying to prove? With Janice you don’t just make a sincere apology and go on from there. Done is done. Total loyalty, given and expected. I’ve lost her. Funny thing, driving back from Vero Beach, when I had no idea in the world Penny was already dead, I tried to tell Jan that it was something that had just sort of happened. I said it was over. I wasn’t sure it was over, but I had the feeling that if I told Jan it was, then I’d have to make sure I kept on feeling just the way I felt when she wouldn’t leave your room Friday night when I did. That was before we picked up the kids at Citrusdale. She let me talk. I thought she was really thinking it over, giving me a chance. I reached over and put my hand on her arm. You know, she actually shuddered? And she said in a polite voice to please not touch her, it made her stomach turn over. That was the end of it, right there.”

“When you were waiting for me Sunday night, did you have any idea of shooting me, Holton?”

He tilted his chair back and looked up at the soundproofed ceiling, eyes narrowed. “That was pretty dim. Jesus, I don’t know. I’d read a stat of that note she wrote you. It made it pretty clear about you two. I was aware of the gun. I had the feeling that my whole life was so messed up nothing mattered too much. And you’d hit me harder than anybody ever hit me in my life. I’m still sore from it. Four days and I still hurt when I take a deep breath. I’ve got a lousy temper. Maybe, McGee. All things considered, I just might have. Scares me to think of it. Without Janice and without Penny, things aren’t all that bad. I’ve got a lot of friends. I do a good job for my clients. I made a good record as an assistant state attorney and I’ve got a good chance of becoming county attorney next year, and that’s worth a minimum forty thousand, plus other business it brings in. They say money won’t buy happiness, but you can sure rent yourself some. I’m grateful to you for suckering me. And thanks for taking me home. Where’s the gun anyway?”

“I turned it over to Stanger and he gave it back to me.”

He was puzzled. “Why’d he do that?”

“It’s just sort of a temporary loan, just a little delay in officially turning it over to him.”

“When you give it back to him, tell him to hang on to it. I don’t think I ought to have one around. Not for a while. Maybe not ever. But why does Al Stanger think you need a gun?”

“Just a whim, maybe.”

“You mean you’d rather not say? Okay. Yesterday morning I checked out what you said about yourself. I phoned Tom Pike and he said you were an old friend of Mrs. Trescott and her daughters.”

“If you could check that easily, why didn’t you check before you and Penny pulled that stupid deal, that grade C melodrama?”

He blushed. “So now it seems wild and stupid. We sort of talked each other into it. If it had worked — and you have to admit it came close — then I would have maybe found out from whatever papers you were carrying on your person, the missing piece. We’d narrowed it down to one theory that looked better and better. The tall man could have been in some kind of drug traffic.”

“Oh, come on !”

“Wait a minute now! I held back a little on you when we talked in your room. Penny followed my lead. The man seen leaving Sherman’s office was carrying a case of some kind, light-colored and heavy. No controlled drugs were missing, according to the office records. But there was no control on the stuff he ordered for his experimentations. He did some animal experimentations along with the other stuff. He could have been ordering experimental compounds, couldn’t he?”