A. Fair - The Bigger They Come

‘It isn’t that kind of a message.’

‘Who are you?’

‘I’ll give you the name when you come down,’ she said.

For a second or two the man seemed undecided, then he slammed the window down. A light clicked on, and the window blazed into an oblong of brilliance that was subdued as the shade was pulled A second or two later I heard steps on the stairs.

‘Move over to one side, Donald,’ she said. ‘Let me stand in front of the door.’

The porch light clicked on, flooded us with brilliance. Bertha Cool stood squarely in front of the oval plate glass window in the front door. The steps had ceased now, and I had the impression that someone was looking through the window, sizing her up.

After a moment, the door opened a crack, and the man said, ‘What is it?’

I stepped back and around so I could see him. It was the chief. He was wearing light silk pajamas and slippers, with no robe.

I said, ‘Hello, chief.’

He stiffened for a minute into ominous, tense immobility. Then his fat, blubbery lips twisted into a smile. He said, ‘Well, well, well, it’s Lam! I hadn’t expected to see you so soon, Lam. I hadn’t expected you’d find your way back so quickly. And who’s your friend?’

‘Bertha Cool,’ I said, ‘head of the Cool Detective Agency.’

‘Well, well, well,’ the chief beamed. ‘This is indeed a pleasure, and I want to congratulate you — er — er — is it Miss or Mrs.?’

‘Mrs.,’ she said. ‘Mrs. Bertha Cool.’

‘It’s indeed a pleasure.’ He bowed. ‘And you’re to be congratulated on having a man so quick-witted and courageous as Lam working for you. He’s a bit of all right, that boy! A most observing disposition; and I can personally vouch for his courage. Do come in.’

He stood to one side. I hesitated, but Mrs. Cool sailed past me through the door and into the reception hall. I followed her. The chief slammed the door shut, and shot a bolt into place. ‘So you found your way back. Lam?’

I nodded.

‘I’ll have to speak to Fred about that. I will indeed. That was rather a faux pas on his part, letting you get the address. Would you mind telling me just how you did it, Mr. Lam?’

Bertha Cool answered the question. ‘Yes, he would,’ she said.

‘Well, well, well, no hard feelings,’ the chief said. ‘Won’t you come in and sit down — sorry I can’t offer you a drink.’

He switched on lights in the living room and we went in and sat down.

A woman’s voice from the head of the stairs called down, ‘Who is it, dear?’

‘Come down, m’love. Slip on something and come down. We have a couple of visitors. You know one, and I’m quite anxious to have you meet the other.’

He beamed across at Mrs. Cool, and said, ‘Always like to have the little woman in our conferences. You know how it is. I believe marriage is a partnership, and two heads are always better than one. Whenever the situation becomes just a little delicate, I always call in the little woman.’

I heard a door slam up above, and then the stairs began to creak. We followed the creak down until the tall woman came silently into the room, walking on the felt soles of bedroom slippers.

She didn’t pay any attention to me. Her eyes were fixed on Bertha Cool’s.

I got up when she came in. The chief didn’t. I said, ‘Mrs. Cunweather — is that the name?’

The fat man hastened to say, ‘It will do just as well as any, Lam, my boy. After all, what’s in a name? Yes, yes, let it be Cunweather by all means. Mrs. Cunweather, my wife, Mrs. Cool. I want you two to be friends.’

The tall, big woman looked down at the chunky one. Mrs. Cunweather said, ‘How do you do, Mrs. Cool?’ And Mrs. Cool said, ‘Howdy do. I hope you don’t stand on formality — I don’t.’

Mrs. Cunweather sat down. Her eyes were cautious-watchful.

The chief said, ‘Precisely what do you want, Mrs. Cool?’

‘Money,’ Bertha Cool said.

His face broke into blubbery smiles. ‘Well, well, well, Mrs. Cool. That’s being direct! That’s a woman after my own heart. I’ve always said that I like plain, straightforward business where there’s no beating about the bush, haven’t I, m’love?’

He didn’t turn toward his wife as he spoke. Evidently, he expected no reply from her, and she made none.

Mrs. Cool said, ‘I thought we’d talk terms.’

‘Now, don’t get me wrong,’ the fat man said. ‘I don’t know what Mr. Lam has told you, but if he insinuates that he received other than the most courteous treatment at my hands, he—’

‘Nuts,’ Mrs. Cool said. ‘We’re not wasting time over that. You beat him up — it’s good for him — toughen him up some. Beat him up again if you want to, only don’t leave him so he can’t go to work at eight-thirty in the morning. I don’t give a damn how he spends his evenings.’

The chief broke into laughter. ‘Well, well, well,’ he said, ‘if you aren’t a quaint, original woman — that is, if you don’t mind my saying so. That’s being delightfully frank. Now tell me, just what was it you had in mind, Mrs. Cool?’

‘You want to know about Morgan Birks. I might be able to tell you something.’

‘Well, well, well, that’s nice of you, Mrs. Cool. We certainly appreciate that, my wife and I. And it was nice of you to drive out here early in the morning and tell us. After all, you know, sometimes seconds are important in this business, and we hate to lose them. Now precisely what was it you had to offer, Mrs. Cool?’

Mrs. Cool said, ‘We served papers on Morgan Birks.’

‘Oh, you served them.’

‘Of course we served them.’

‘Do you know,’ the man said, ‘I insisted all along that Donald had served them. And so did the little woman. You served them somehow in the hotel, didn’t you, Donald?’

‘Don’t answer, Donald.’

‘I’m not going to,’ I said.

The chief turned to his wife. ‘There you are, m’love,’ he said, ‘perfect teamwork. That’s what comes of doing business with people who appreciate the possibilities of a situation.

‘Well, well, well, Mrs. Cool. I don’t know just what to say. You say that we want Morgan Birks. That isn’t at all correct, and yet it’s the way it would doubtless appear to a person running a detective agency. But let’s concede, just for the sake of the argument, that we would like to have a few words with Morgan Birks — what of it?’

‘How much is it worth?’

‘Well now,’ the fat man said, stroking his chin, ‘this is a rather unusual proposition.’

‘And rather unusual circumstances,’ Bertha Cool reminded him.

‘Yes, yes, that’s right. It is for a fact — I can’t get over Donald finding this place so promptly. It’s rather uncanny, you know. I had thought that all the necessary precautions had been taken.’

Bertha Cool said, ‘I know where Morgan Birks can be found. You can’t talk with him. Is that information worth anything to you?’

The smile froze on the chief’s face. Above the curved lips, his eyes were hard and watchful.

‘You mean he’s in jail?’

‘I mean you can’t talk with him.’

‘He’s been drinking again?’

‘I can tell you where he is.’

‘How much do you want?’ the chief asked.

‘Whatever it’s worth.’

‘Why can’t I talk with him?’

Bertha Cool said, ‘I don’t want to take an unfair advantage.’

‘You mean he’s dead?’

‘I can tell you where he is.’

The fat man looked at his wife. She shook her head. The gesture was all but imperceptible.

The chief turned back to Bertha Cool. He seemed more relaxed now. ‘No,’ he said, ‘the information wouldn’t be worth anything to me. I’m sorry, Mrs. Cool, because I think you have a great deal of ability. And I’m positively fond of Lam. I really am. Perhaps some day I can hire your agency. There might be some information you could get for us.’