Brett Halliday - Blue Murder

“It did,” Baruch said.

“Tucker didn’t play it for me, just the opening announcement. Now I’m going to ask Tim Rourke a question. If you went to a sneak preview of this film, written by Tucker’s wife, what would be your first move?”

“Call a high-level conference, including attorneys,” Rourke said promptly. “Pomeroy wouldn’t sue Warehouse, but he’d be delighted to sue the News, because we have assets. It’s a hell of a story by itself, just the fact that such a movie has been made. The timing’s perfect, with the convention coming up. First I’d check the Pomeroy angle. Does Gretchen really have a brother in a Texas jail on a drug rap? Is the prosecutor known to be someone who wants a judgeship? We already know Pomeroy pushed through the resolution setting up the Tucker committee, but do the dates fit? What she’s doing here is accusing her husband of pimping, of persuading her to go down on an elderly congressman to get her brother out of jail—”

“The kid brother she’s always been very close to,” Peter put in.

“But how much of it I could write, I’d have to work out with the lawyers. Meanwhile, the public would flock to the picture, and they’d have to believe it was true. All of it. And I think the scene that would hurt Tucker most is that first one, where he’s watching the stag film. The woman was clever.”

“Say something, Tucker,” Shayne said. “We don’t want to do all the talking.”

“Gretchen wasn’t well.”

“And didn’t you have something to do with that? I agree with Tim, people would think so. Well, we’ll find out. I know Armand’s already planning to pull the movie he’s showing now and open Domestic Relations without advertising.”

“Who needs advertising?” Baruch said. “The word of mouth is going to be terrific.”

Gentry said, “Mike, are you suggesting that we let him go ahead and show this movie?”

“I don’t see how we can stop him, Will.”

“There are ways,” Tucker said harshly. “I don’t understand your attitude. Are you working for me or against me? Your fee was contingent on finding and destroying this lying film. It’s true, I didn’t tell you the full story. Would you have acted any differently in my place?” He leaned forward, his hands tightening on his knees. “You don’t think I murdered her, do you?”

Shayne let an instant pass.

“I think you meant to, Tucker.”

Tucker sat back, as though believing the worst was over. “Murdering people is not one of the things I do. Tell me why you think so.”

“I’ve got another film I want you to see.” He tossed Armand the core with the 16-mm. footage he had shot in the shopping center. “Can you run this on the same projector?”

Baruch had to rewind it onto an empty reel. He made the necessary adjustments and again the lights went off. They watched in silence.

“That’s my Pontiac,” Tucker said as the convertible approached the camera. “But it isn’t me! It’s an obvious frame-up!”

“I agree with you,” Shayne said when the lights came up. “What was your wife’s blood type, do you know?”

Tucker made a distracted gesture. “O, with some funny Rh business, I don’t remember.”

“Did you find the car in his garage?” Shayne asked Gentry.

“With blood on the carpet. They’re testing it now.”

“I’ll bet you another steak it turns out to be the same type as Gretchen Tucker’s. That gives us a good circumstantial case, but let’s hold it.” He took a step toward Tucker. “Why didn’t you tell me she made a date with you for nine thirty this morning?”

“I wanted to talk to her, make her realize—”

Shayne shook his head. “You were keyed up to kill her. You knew you couldn’t relax as long as she was alive. You knew she hated you so much, you and your ideas, that she wouldn’t stop until she brought you down.”

“Oh, yes,” Peter said. “A determined woman, Gretchen. She knew him better than he knew her.”

Shayne swung to face Peter. “And she thought you ought to hate him just as much.”

“You know it. She kept saying the son of a bitch was responsible for putting me in jail. But was he? He didn’t write the Texas drug laws. That business with Pomeroy wouldn’t have worked. Too far away, too many people involved. If she’d come down and taken on the prosecuting attorney and the judge and all the gentlemen and ladies of the jury, we might have got somewhere. Jail wasn’t really that bad. But I couldn’t get her to see it, she thought Tucker wrecked my life.”

“Then she actually did—” Gentry said. “With Pomeroy—”

“She told me so often enough,” Peter said wearily. “But if it was that repulsive, why did she go on with it? Once, O.K., to keep me out of jail. But it wasn’t just once, was it, Congressman?”

Pomeroy smiled slightly. “I’m not even admitting to once. The girl in the film seemed to enjoy it.”

“Nobody has hangups in my movies,” Baruch said.

“Now is everybody clear about the situation?” Shayne said. “Gretchen and Baruch had come up with a very good blackmail technique. It was a vanity film: she put up the cash. But they weren’t in complete agreement about what they were after. She wanted her husband’s capitulation, and a little money. Armand wanted a lot of money and a success. The difference didn’t matter until Capp came on the scene. Capp is basically a hijacker.” He looked at his old enemy, who looked back through narrowed eyes. “He prefers the old way of making dirty movies, when you didn’t keep books or pay taxes. Armand tried to keep this picture a secret, and Capp couldn’t have liked that. As soon as he found out what they had, he decided to hijack it. Because there was one thing they overlooked. If it was good blackmail against Tucker, it was better against Pomeroy, a much more important figure. So Capp sneaked the film out of the vaults and invited Pomeroy to a private screening. They agreed on a price. Then some dirty dog came along and hijacked the hijacker. Here’s what happened. Maureen Neal, in a new town, picked Capp as the most important person to move in with. Every night she told him about that day’s shooting. But her real loyalty was to Pussy Rizzo, an old friend in LA. She decided that Pussy deserved that quarter of a million more than Capp.”

“I’m trying to follow,” Gentry said. “Capp had the film at this point?”

“Between his bedboard and mattress. Maureen found it. He caught her on the way out. Things were too far along. He was swindling his partner, selling company property. He didn’t want out-of-town hoods moving in on the deal. To keep it under control, he had to kill her.”

Gentry again: “Do we even know she’s dead?”

“She has to be dead. I’ve been working backward. Gretchen had been worrying about Capp, and she had Peter watching the house. This is last night now, the night of the declaration of war. Am I right so far, Peter?”

Peter turned sideward to look at Capp. “I’ve decided to let him have you, Frankie. Maybe he’ll be grateful and send me cigarettes in jail. Because I’m in violation of parole here, aside from the fact that I’ve probably broken a few freaky laws.”

“What did you see, Peter?” Shayne said.

“He knocked her around a little, cut her face. Then he said he was sorry and she let him sponge off the blood. She was sitting in a white chair. He shot her through the head so she’d be hard to identify.”

The room was silent.

“Nothing like that happened,” Capp said.

“Then he whipped her and did one or two other things. I was outside the window shaking like a leaf. The whole thing was out of character for me.”