Erle Gardner - Beware the Curves

“Another matter.”

“What was it?”

I said, “I was looking up certain matters for a client whose name I can’t disclose. For your information, Citrus Grove is about to become the center of one of the biggest industrial developments in this part of the country. A large eastern automotive manufacturer is looking for the proper place for a western assembly plant with adequate space, railroad facilities, a sufficient opportunity for residential expansion and all that goes with it.

“Citrus Grove has been tentatively selected as the spot. In order to get the spot the company wants, it became necessary to change the zoning restrictions on a piece of property adjoining holdings the company had secretly acquired. In the interests of community expansion, in the interests of adding to the industrial life of Southern California, the zoning ordinance should have been changed as a matter of course. Actually there has been a delay and the company has been concerned about that delay. There were indications that certain influential persons were trying to get a handout. The company wanted that situation investigated. Actually the company doesn’t want to invest in a city where there is corruption.”

“We can quote you on that?” the reporters asked.

“You may quote me.”

“On this plant coming to Southern California?”

“That’s right.”

“What plant?”

“I can’t divulge that information.”

“You said it’s an eastern automobile manufacturer?”

“I have said that,” I told them, “and you can quote me, but don’t be too surprised if it should turn out to be an establishment of similar size in some other industry.”

Pencils were making frantic notes over the notebooks. Bertha was looking at me with startled, incredulous surprise depicted all over her face.

“And what were you doing down in Citrus Grove looking through the back files of the newspaper?”

“I was trying to get some personal information about a character.”

“Subsequently you went to Susanville?”

“Subsequently I went to Susanville.”

“You encountered the Orange County sheriff up there and you were given the bum’s rush out of town?”

“I was asked to leave town as a personal favor to someone on the police department down there.”

“Why?”

“Because, as I understand it now, the police were baiting a trap for the person they thought was the murderer of Karl Carver Endicott. At the time I didn’t know why. I was asked to withdraw as a personal favor and, because I convinced myself that the lead I was following was not going to be productive of anything, I withdrew.”

“Is it safe to assume that the person you were investigating was in some way mixed in with the corruption you have mentioned?”

“It depends on what you mean by it being ‘safe’ to assume that. If you want to assume it, that’s fine. If you want to publish that assumption, it could get you involved in a libel suit.”

They thought that over. “How did you happen to get involved in this Endicott case?”

“Quinn retained us.”

“When?”

“At an early hour this morning.”

“Did he call you?”

“We discussed the matter over the phone, yes.”

“Where did the conference take place?”

“In his office.”

“Isn’t it rather a coincidence that you should get in on two matters connected with Citrus Grove within the last few days?”

“That depends on what you mean. I think perhaps we should be grateful to the Citrus Grove Clarion. It published a story to the effect that I was investigating the Endicott murder case. That story was read by Barney Quinn. I wouldn’t be too surprised if, under the circumstances, it had something to do with our employment in this Endicott case.”

“What’s Mrs. Endicott going to do? Is she going to co-operate with the authorities?”

“You’ll have to ask Quinn about Mrs. Endicott.”

“How did it happen that John Ansel, who was supposed to have been killed in the Amazon jungle several years ago, never let it be known that he was alive?”

“You’ll have to ask Quinn about that.”

“Why did he keep under cover?”

“I don’t know. He may have been investigating something on his own. You’ll have to ask Quinn.”

“Is it true that Mrs. Endicott knew Ansel was alive before her husband was killed?”

I said, “Look, boys, you’re wasting a lot of time. You’ve got a darn good story. Why don’t you go out and put it in the papers? You know damn well we can’t tell you anything about what any of the principals in the case are going to do. The only person who could make any announcement of that sort would be Barney Quinn.

“As it is, I’ve stuck my neck out. We’re working on this Endicott case. You wanted a story. I’ve given you a brand new angle.”

They exchanged glances and nodded. The photographer took a picture of me sitting on the edge of Bertha’s desk. He took a picture of Bertha and me “conferring.” He took a picture of Bertha and me shaking hands.

They shook hands with us and left.

“You little bastard!” Bertha said. “They’ll crucify you for that!”

“For what?”

“For all that cockeyed information.”

“Wait and see,” I told her.

The story made headlines in the afternoon papers. The evening edition of the Citrus Grove Clarion contained a statement from Bailey Crosset, one of the city trustees of Citrus Grove.

Crosset denied unequivocally the slanderous accusation made by an “irresponsible Los Angeles detective” to the effect that any member or members of the city council of Citrus Grove had had their hands out or were standing in the path of progress.

There had, he admitted, been some off-the-record discussion concerning changing of a zoning ordinance in connection with a tract of land. The city council had the matter under informal advisement.

Crosset stated that he had at no time received any money or ever expected to receive any money for any matter in connection with his duties as city councilman. He was, however, in politics, and as a politician he was entitled to accept campaign contributions. He had accepted a campaign contribution from Drude Nickerson. The amount had been two thousand dollars. At the time Nickerson had given him the money, he had understood there were no strings attached to it, but he was going to call for an investigation. If it should appear that Nickerson was in any way interested in this zoning matter, it was all news to Crosset, and, as a matter of principle, Crosset intended to vote against any change in the zoning ordinance so that there could be no question of any money being paid to him in connection with any pending ordinance.

The newspaper account went on to state that Drude Nickerson, who had been named by Crosset as having made a campaign contribution in an amount of two thousand dollars, was the same Drude Nickerson who was a witness in the Endicott murder case and, because of developments in the murder case, was at the moment unavailable for questioning.

The Santa Ana papers carried the story about a big eastern manufacturer looking for a suitable location and stated that, while it was rumored Citrus Grove had been tentatively chosen by the manufacturer, there were now indications that property adjacent to Santa Ana was being considered for this big industrial expansion.

Stella Karis called me on the phone. She was so mad she could hardly talk. “What in hell have you done to me?” she asked. “Why, you double-crossing rat! You—!”

“Pipe down,” I said. “I told you that any information you gave me wasn’t confidential.”

“Those may have been your words, but the way you told me you... you—”