A. Fair - Up for Grabs

“My client had them taken.”

“You didn’t ask to interview the doctor?”

“I— Well, I’ve been terribly busy,” Melvin said, lamely. Of course when it came time to prepare for trial, I would have investigated, but— You know, how those things are, Lam.”

“I know how those things are,” I said, and walked out.

A midnight plane got me back to Los Angeles so I was at Breckinridge’s office by the time it opened.

Breckinridge came in, looking worried. There were puffs under his eyes and his usual jaunty appearance had vanished. There was nothing crisp or youthful about him now. He had all the snap of a wilted lettuce leaf.

He registered surprise when he saw me there.

“Lam!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be making a settlement in Dallas.”

“I’ve made it.”

“You’ve done what?”

“I’ve made it.”

“Did you get... everything?”

I said, “You have a projection room here, don’t you?”

He hesitated, then said, “Well, yes, but I don’t want to have one of the projectionists run any pictures you have.”

“I’ll run them,” I said.

“You know how?”

“Yes.”

We went to a projection room. Breckinridge saw the pictures. When we came out, he was shaking like a leaf.

I handed him the roll of films. “You’ll know what to do with those,” I said.

“How much did it cost?” he asked.

“Well,” I said, “I’ve had quite a few expenses. I’ve been riding back and forth between here and Dallas on the jet planes. The hostesses think I’m a company representative and—”

“Oh, that!” he said, waving his hand. “We don’t give a damn about expenses. How much did you settle for?”

“Nothing,” I told him.

“Nothing!”

“That’s right.”

“How did that happen?”

I said, “If you’ll read the noon papers you’ll find an article in there about how the extreme devotion to duty of Sergeant Frank Sellers, and Jim Dawson of the Sheriff’s Office in Kern County, solved one of the most perplexing murder cases the state has ever had to contend with.

“At first the case seemed to be a typical accidental death. Probing deeper these veteran officers found evidence of a murder for insurance but since one or two seemingly trivial facts didn’t fit into the framework, they kept plugging away on a day-and-night basis until they uncovered a plot so bizarre that it once more proves the old adage that truth is stranger than fiction.”

Breckinridge said, “Do you mean to say those two... gentlemen... took all of the credit in the press?”

“Sure,” I said, “Why wouldn’t they?”

Breckinridge said, “That is unfair. I am not entirely without influence in police circles. One of the police commissioners is my close personal friend, and I...”

He suddenly hesitated, and I said, “... While you have problems of your own.”

He fingered the round can holding the motion-picture film. “While I,” he echoed, “have problems of my own. But if I can’t make it up to you in one way, I will in another, Lam — I not only have a bonus for you from my company but by this time tomorrow I’ll have a bonus from a dozen companies that will surprise you. This man, Melvin, has been a thorn in our side for a long time.”

Breckinridge went out into the outer office and came back with a check.

I looked at it whistled put the check in my pocket.

Breckinridge thrust out his hand, “Lam,” he said, “this was a real pleasure. A real pleasure.”

I let it go at that.

I walked into the office. Bertha blinked her eyes and said, “My God, can’t you ever stay in one place? How are you going to get a job finished if you keep flitting back and forth?”

“The job’s finished,” I told her.

Bertha said angrily, “You were supposed to have three weeks to work on it. Three weeks at sixty dollars a day is—”

I interrupted to toss Breckinridge’s check on the desk in front of her.

She unfolded the check, started to say something, then her eyes began to get big.

“Fry me for an oyster,” she said. And then after a moment, added, “And to think that somebody else was paying all the expenses.”

“All except one five-hundred-dollar item,” I said.

“A five-hundred-dollar item? What’s that for?” she asked.

“A bonus for Elsie Brand,” I said, and walked out of the office while she was still sputtering.