A. Fair - All Grass Isn't Green

Newberry asked, “What was the condition of the houseboat when the police discovered the body? Was there a light on or had the battery that furnishes juice for the lights been run down? Had the bed been slept in? Was there a dirty coffee cup? Was there—”

“The police,” I said, “are singularly uncommunicative. They wanted to get Calhoun’s story before they gave out any facts.”

“They didn’t get Calhoun’s story?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I advised him to see a lawyer before he talked,” I said.

“Anything else?” Newberry asked.

I said, “Eddie Sutton had a companion with him when he crossed the border.”

“Male, female?”

“Male.”

“Description?”

“Can’t give it. He was on the far side of the pickup and the light was such that I could only see the figure of a man.”

“Do the police know that?”

“They know it.”

“And they know that you saw this companion?”

“They know that.”

“We would, of course, like to know who that companion was.”

“We would all like to know who he was.”

“Any ideas?”

“Nothing I can talk about.”

Newberry was thoughtful. “You know Lam” he said “I think I can use you.”

“One way or another,” I said.

Again he grinned. “One way or another — no hard feelings if I try to pin this on you?”

“No hard feelings.”

“And you’ll let me know if you uncover anything that will help my client?”

“Probably.”

“But you won’t confer with me and cover the case under my directions?”

“No, I play a lone hand.”

“All right,” he said. “I’m going over to the jail and see my client.”

He shook hands, a strong, sinewy hand that gripped mine hard.

“And you were in Calexico at the time the murder was committed?”

“Apparently.”

“Good luck, Mr. Lam,” he said. “You may need it.”

He went out. I stopped at the desk in the outer office to get his secretary to give me one of his cards with telephone numbers on it; then I got in the agency car and drove back to Calexico.

I did a lot of thinking on the road back.

Nanncie had left the Maple Leaf during the early morning hours. She had gone either north or south. She wasn’t apt to have gone either east or west. She had gone by taxicab or in a private car.

I had more legwork to do.

It didn’t take me long to cover the taxicabs in Calexico. I drew a blank.

If Nanncie had gone south, she could have gone to San Felipe. Someone must have taken her in a private car. If she went north, she probably would have returned to Los Angeles by bus. But that wouldn’t have been smart under the circumstances.

If Calhoun had been the one to call on her there at the motel, he couldn’t have taken her very far. He had driven down from Los Angeles. He was tired. He might have taken her to the north as far as El Centro or he might have taken her south-across the border.

I decided to check the really modern hotel in Mexicali as being the most logical place to look.

The Lucerna is an up-to-the-minute hotel with a patio, swimming pool, cocktail lounge and luxurious rooms.

I parked my car and walked out to stand by the pool, looking over the people who were basking in the Baja California sunlight.

I thought some of quizzing the hotel clerk as to whether some young woman had checked in early in the morning, but I thought better of that when I took stock of the situation.

The Mexican is an innate gentleman. If I had been able to get a Mexican police officer to go with me I could have secured the information; but to try to get it out of the clerk cold turkey was out of the question. The señorita’s business would have been her own business and money wouldn’t have changed the situation very much.

I was trying to think what Calhoun would have done — what he had done — what he had told Nanncie.

It had been some emergency which had caused her to check out and...

Suddenly I stiffened to attention. Nanncie in a two piece suit that showed a bare midriff, carrying a towel over her arm, came out and seated herself in one of the sunning chairs around the swimming pool.

I had a chance to take a good look at her. Then I went to where I had parked the car, unlocked the trunk, took out my baggage, and registered in the Lucerna Hotel.

Ten minutes later I was in my trunks and dunking in the pool. I came out, picked a chair which wasn’t exactly the right style to suit me, got up, moved around and finally dropped into a vacant chair next to Nanncie.

I debated whether to make a pickup and get acquainted the slow way or whether to hit her right between the eyes.

I decided to hit her right between the eyes. There wasn’t time for the slow way.

I looked straight ahead at the people in the swimming pool and said, “Nanncie, why did you check out of the Maple Leaf this morning?”

She jumped as though I had jabbed her with a needle, sucked in her breath as though to scream, then thought better of it and looked at me with wide, startled eyes.

I watched her out of the comer of my eyes but kept my face straight ahead.

“Who... who are you?”

“Donald Lam,” I said, as though that explained everything.

“No, no, I don’t mean your name. I mean who... how do you know who I am and what is it you want?”

I said, “I’m looking for Colburn Hale.”

“What makes you look here and why ask me?”

“Because I’d like to have your help.”

“Why do you want him?”

“I want to talk with him.”

“About what?”

“Dope smuggling.”

Again she caught her breath.

There was an interval of silence. “You’re a detective?” she asked.

“Private,” I said.

She thought for a few moments, then said, “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Mr. Lam.”

“I think you can. How did you get over here, Nanncie? You left the Maple Leaf Motel this morning, didn’t have any car and you didn’t come by taxi.”

“A friend drove me over.”

I made a shot in the dark. “You came here with a man who is driving a Cadillac automobile,” I said.

“Lots of men drive Cadillac automobiles. If you must know, I’m hiding out.”

“But you were waiting for Hale at the Monte Carlo Café last night.”

She said, “He was supposed to meet me there right around seven o’clock. He said if he didn’t show up within an hour I wasn’t to wait but was to start protecting myself.”

“Why did you check out of your apartment in Los Angeles, putting all your things in boxes and taking them to the storage company?”

“Because I’m in danger. We’re both in danger.”

“Meaning you and me?”

“No, meaning Colburn Hale and myself.”

“On account of that dope information you gave him? The information you got from the hairdresser?”

“I’m afraid Cole is in trouble. He was to have met me last night and would have unless something terribly urgent had prevented him.

“He was to have followed that dope shipment up, getting the license number of the automobile and all that, and then he was to look me up. The dope runner was to go to the Monte Carlo Café to see if the Coast was clear. He was to meet a confederate there, so Cole said I was to go there at seven and wait. While I was waiting I could look the situation over. After last night he’d have all the information he needed to file his story. He had some editor who was waiting for it.”

“Now, let’s get this straight,” I said. “You picked up the tip originally in a beauty shop?”

“Yes, my hairdresser is very friendly and she was going with a man whom she didn’t care too much about, but he was a good spender and she was playing along with him. Then suddenly she found out that he was smuggling dope across the border. She didn’t know exactly how, but she had enough proof so that she didn’t want any part of it. The guy was not only smuggling it across but he was pushing it, particularly with school kids.”