A. Fair: All Grass Isn't Green

“I fired at about the same time he did. He missed. I didn’t.

“I got in a panic. I took his gun, put it in my pocket and threw it away a couple of hours later. I took the Calhoun gun and ran down toward the place where I had parked my car and then threw the gun across the ditch as far as I could throw it.

“Then instead of going to the police the way I should have done I drove down across the border and tried to think of some way out of the mess. I stayed in the car all night. Finally, when one of the stores opened up, I bought some fishline and tied myself up at a place where I felt certain I’d be discovered. If I went too long without being discovered I could untie myself, but I felt certain I could get away with my story.

“I hit myself a good punch in the eye, bloodied my nose, and I made up that story about having been beaten up and kicked. It hadn’t occurred to me that people would be looking for black-and-blue marks on my body.”

“Donald Lam kept trying to get me in the swimming pool at the hotel, and that was when I realized how vulnerable I was. My story wouldn’t stand up if— Well, I don’t want to get blamed for murder. I acted in self-defense.”

Judge Polk looked down at Sergeant Sellers. “Did the officers” he asked, “make a careful examination of the front of that houseboat to see if there was a bullet hole in the boat?”

“There was no hole in the boat, Your Honor,” Sellers said, “but there was a sofa pillow on the davenport that had a very small hole in it. We didn’t take the pillow to pieces to see if there was ‘a bullet on the inside of it.”

“You’d better do that,” Judge Polk said, and then added gratuitously, “It seems to me that the police work in this case had been slightly below par.

“The sheriff will take this man into custody. The case against Milton Carling Calhoun is dismissed.

“Court’s adjourned.”

Judge Polk left the bench and there was pandemonium in the courtroom. A couple of newspaper reporters jammed in the door as they ran simultaneously for nearest telephone.

I looked over at Calhoun and said, “Congratulations!”

The guy grabbed me in an embrace. I was afraid might try to kiss me.

It took us nearly half an hour to get past the newspaper reporters and out to my car. I managed to Calhoun to say “No comment” often enough to make newspapermen give up, but the television men kept hounding us with portable cameras.

Finally we got free.

I gave Calhoun a road map. “What’s this?” asked.

“A map of the road to El Golfo.”

“What’s at El Golfo?”

“Nanncie Beaver,” I said.

“Why at El Golfo?”

“That’s so you can go down and get her without newspaper reporters tailing you — that is, if you’re smart. Then you can come into our office the first of next week and settle up.”

He looked at me with dawning comprehension, then gripped my hand, hard.

Bertha Cool was in rare form. She teetered back and forth in her squeaky swivel chair; her eyes were as hard as the diamonds on her hands.

“Now, you listen to me, Mr. Milton Carling Calhoun,” she said. “You’re supposed to be a big businessman. You’re supposed to know your way around.

“What the hell was the idea of coming in here and getting us to go on a wild-goose chase, looking for Colburn Hale when what you really wanted was to find his girlfriend?”

Calhoun squirmed uneasily.

“I had heard that private detective agencies sometimes blackmailed their clients,” he said. “So I tried to conceal my background. I simply couldn’t afford to have my name associated with that of Nanncie Beaver. If I had told you what I really wanted... Well, I would have left myself wide open.”

“So,” Bertha Cool said, “you led with your chin. And what makes me sore is that fact that you came in here trying to put us on the defensive, pretending that you didn’t know anything about the agency, pretending that Donald was too slight to do the work, and that I wasn’t any good because I was a woman.

“Get out your checkbook, Mr. Milton Calhoun. I’m going to hit you between the eyes.”

“You agreed to a certain per diem,” Calhoun said weakly. “I will boost that, of course, but after all...”

Bertha came forward in her chair with a thump, leaned her elbows on the desk, glittered at Calhoun. And what happened?” she said. “You lied to us. You threw us off on a false track. You put Donald in terrific danger. You...”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Calhoun said, “I’m prepared to pay something extra.”

“How much?” Bertha Cool asked.

“Bearing in mind that Donald Lam gave me the best legal advice I ever had,” Calhoun said, “I had intended to add a gratuity to the amount of the bill.”

“How much?”

Calhoun took a deep breath. “I want your complete silence,” he said. “No word of what I wanted must ever come out of this. I must have complete secrecy.”

“How much?” Bertha Cool asked.

Calhoun reached in his pocket and pulled out a check book. “I have made out a check for ten thousand dollars,” he said, “which I hope will cover the per diem expenses and the gratuity.”

Bertha’s jaw sagged open for a minute. She blinked her eyes a couple of times.

“Fry me for an oyster,” she said.

And then there was a flash of light as her jeweled hand reached for the check.

“And, for your confidential information,” Calhoun went on, “I am completely changing my life. I am sick and tired of the artificial existence I have been living thinking only of money, money, money.

“From now on I am going to try to develop m creative energy. In short, I am going to take up writing and I have a new address. It is Eight-seventeen Billinger Street. I am moving into the apartment vacated by Colburn Hale.”

And the guy positively beamed at us.

Bertha Cool folded the check and said, “Fry me for an oyster — no, damn it, poach me for an egg!”

Calhoun grinned. “Without breaking the yolk — sunny side up,” he said.

I reached across and shook the guy’s hand.

For the purposes of evidence a certified copy of the firearms register is introduced, but for the purpose of identifying the signature of Calhoun it requires a photo static copy of the original record. A certified copy only shows the contents of the original certificate. To show the signature on the certificate a photostat required. E.S.G.