Erle Gardner - Beware the Curves

“Did Endicott make any settlement when you left? Any sort of property adjustment?”

“Why should he?”

“Did he?”

“No.”

“You’re dependent on your salary?”

“I’m a working girl.”

I sized her up. Six years ago she had been quite a dish. She was still a good-looking babe. Then she had been twenty-nine. Now she was thirty-five. She could type like nobody’s business.

I said, “It would be unfortunate if some of this came out.”

“In what way?”

I said, “Employers don’t like secretaries who become temperamental and go to wives with stories of the husband’s business.”

She thought that over.

I looked at my watch.

“Gosh, Helen,” I said, “I’ve got to rush on. I’m working on this Endicott case, and I’ve got a million and one things to do. It was perfectly swell of you to give me an evening of your time.”

“Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Donald,” she said.

She came to the door with me. I kissed her good night but it wasn’t much of a kiss. She was preoccupied with her thoughts, and she was worried to beat hell.

Mayor Taber was a man in his middle fifties with heavy jowls, thick lips, cold gray eyes, and a habit of talking in rapid spurts making the words sound like bursts of machine-gun fire.

Cooper Hale was short, fat and quiet. He looked me over, then turned his eyes away, then looked me over, then turned his eyes away.

Bertha performed the introductions, and both men shook hands. Taber did the talking.

“Very unfortunate publicity, very unfortunate indeed! It seems to have emanated from this office. Now I don’t know what your sources of information are, Lam, and I don’t give a damn. All I can say is that it has been insinuated the city government of Citrus Grove has been asleep at the switch, that we’ve let some stupid zoning ordinance stand in the way of development.”

He stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, went on rattling out the words. “I don’t like it. That’s not the way to fight. If you have any legitimate grievance against the city, come down to Citrus Grove and tell us about it. I don’t know what you’re trying to do. I do know you’re mixed in this Endicott murder case, and while I’m not prepared to make any direct accusations in public — as yet — I can’t get it out of my mind that there must be a tie-in.”

“Meaning the information I had is false?” I asked.

“Of course it’s false.”

“What about Crosset’s campaign fund?” I asked.

“Well now there is a matter which is rather unfortunate. I’m very friendly with Crosset, and I respect and admire the man enormously. He’s a man of upright integrity. He has such rigid principles, such high standards of honor that anything that would cast the faintest smirch on his character would be magnified in his mind. I’m terribly sorry it happened.”

“So is Crosset,” I said.

“He’s entitled to accept campaign contributions provided he acts in good faith.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, then why bring the matter up?”

“He resigned, didn’t he?”

“He resigned.”

“Why?”

“Because, as I have explained to you, his standards of honor are so high that he would lean over backwards.”

“What about the others?”

“What others?”

“The others who had two thousand dollars donated to their campaign funds.”

”Do you know that any of the others did?”

“I understand one of the others stated a similar contribution had been made.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why bring it up?”

“I didn’t.”

“You asked the question.”

“I was trying to familiarize myself with the situation.”

Hale shifted his position, raised his eyes to look at me. “After all,” he said, “you may not be in an invulnerable position yourself, Lam.”

“In what way?”

“Many ways.”

“Name them.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Name one.”

“I’m simply making a statement.”

“All right. You’ve made it. Now back it up.”

“We didn’t come here to fight,” Taber said.

“What did you come here for?”

“We’d like to have the co-operation of your firm.”

“In what way?”

“You have been talking with the press.”

“Any objection?”

“We feel some of the statements that have been made to the press are irresponsible.”

“Would you like to see Santa Ana get a big factory away from Citrus Grove?”

“Certainly not. And, for your information, there’s no likelihood anything of that sort can happen.”

“Want to bet?”

“I am not a betting man. I am, however, a businessman.”

“You’re a politician?”

“I have been in politics.”

“And you expect to be in politics?”

“Possibly.”

I said, “This company wants to come to Citrus Grove. It has its location picked out. It wants a reasonable amount of co-operation from the city government. Now of course I don’t know anything about what the newspapers are going to say. I do know that one of the reporters has an idea.”

“What?”

“The idea that some person with powerful political connections who owns land in Citrus Grove wants to change the location of this factory and is stalling around over a zoning ordinance change hoping he can learn the identity of the manufacturer and steal the deal.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous! That’s absurd! That’s utterly false!” Hale said.

“I was merely commenting about an idea one of the reporters has,” I told him.

“If you can tell me which one, I’ll punch his nose.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because there’s nothing to it.”

“Then why should you punch his nose? What’s it to you ?”

Hale said nothing.

Taber said, “What Mr. Hale means is that a publication of that sort of a story, accompanied by a lot of innuendoes might reflect upon him personally.”

“You mean he has property in Citrus Grove?”

“I have always been a strong believer in the future of Citrus Grove,” Hale said unctuously. “I have made money by a series of fortunate real estate investments, which have backed my faith in the growth of the community. I have made considerable personal sacrifices to help this community.”

“That’s the spirit!” I said.

“It is indeed,” Taber agreed.

“All right,” Bertha said, “this crap isn’t getting us anywhere. What do you want?”

“Mr. Nickerson is a witness in the Endicott murder case,” Taber said.

I said nothing.

“So is Mr. Hale,” Taber went on.

“Well?” I asked.

“And you are interested in the Endicott murder case,” Taber said.

“We’re working on it,” I told him.

“Ansel doesn’t stand a chance! Not a single chance in the world! The case against him is dead open-and-shut.”

“Doubtless the district attorney thinks it is,” I said. “Mr. Quinn, who is the attorney for the defense, has other ideas.”

“It is a case where the citizens of the community feel greatly incensed,” Taber said. “That community spirit will manifest itself throughout the trial. In fact, some of the jurors will undoubtedly be from the vicinity of Citrus Grove. The district attorney will demand the death penalty and I don’t think there is the slightest chance but what Ansel will be sent to the gas chamber.”

I said nothing.

“Now,” Taber went on, “we are prepared to co-operate. If, as I rather suspect, much of the motivation back of these rumors which have been appearing in the press is due to a desire to distract attention from the Endicott case and involve certain witnesses, it might be that you are resorting to the wrong tactics. You might make more actual progress by trying to co-operate instead of trying to tear down.”