Ричард Деминг - The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK®

She sighed. “Stanton would never give me anything like that. In fact, I’m quite sure he won’t go any higher than he has to under our agreement. He’s not tight with personal expenditures, but he’s very tight about business matters.”

Gary made a face. “Then we’ll have to think of some way to get money out of him before you leave him.”

“Like what?”

He didn’t answer immediately. After a time he asked casually, “Are you named in his will?”

Stiffening, she withdrew from his arms and looked at him. “I hope that was a joke.”

He emitted an easy chuckle. “Of course it was, honey. What else?”

“It sounded as though you were contemplating making me a widow, and that kind of talk is definitely out so far as I’m concerned.”

Realizing his remark had really upset her, he said, “It was just a bad joke, honey. Do I look like a killer?”

Examining his smiling face, she decided she had never seen anyone look less like one. Relieved, she snuggled up against him. Neither said anything for some time.

Eventually he asked, “Do you have moral reservations about crimes less than murder?”

“What do you mean?”

“How far would you be willing to go to shake some money out of him?”

“Nothing criminal,” she said definitely. “I’m not going to risk jail.”

“Well, the idea that just popped into my head may be criminal, but I don’t think there would be any risk of jail, even if it went sour. How would you like to be kidnapped?”

She stiffened again. “Kidnapped! They put you in jail forever for that!”

“Only if it’s a real kidnapping, honey. If we faked a kidnapping and it backfired, the most we could be tagged for is attempted fraud; and it seems unlikely to me a man would push that against his own wife. You know your husband better than I do—would he push charges against either of us if we got caught trying to shake him down by pretending you’d been kidnapped?”

After thinking his words over, she shook her head. “I’m not sure exactly what he would do. He might kick me out, but then again he might even forgive me. He’s pretty crazy about me. One thing I’m sure he wouldn’t do is press charges, because he would want to hush it up. Stanton is quite vain, and he couldn’t stand the thought of appearing ridiculous to the whole world.”

“Then there’s no risk,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

She had some reservations, but eventually he convinced her there was absolutely no danger, only a little embarrassment if they got caught. Once she finally agreed to go along, the discussion turned to how much ransom to ask. He suggested they try for a quarter of a million.

“Oh, Stanton would never go for that much,” Irma said in a positive tone. “I don’t think we should ask for more than a hundred thousand.”

“I thought you said he’s crazy about you. The way this is going to be presented to him, he either pays off or gets you back dead. You think he’ll set a limit on what your life is worth?”

“No, of course not, but you have to understand how Stanton’s mind works. He isn’t in the least cheap, but he is quite calculating about major expenditures. He makes sure he always gets full value for his money. When he buys a new car, for instance, he shops and shops until he gets absolutely the best possible deal.”

“What’s that got to do with anything like this?”

“I’m just trying to explain how I think he will react to a ransom demand. You would class that as a major expenditure, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess,” he admitted. “So how would he react?”

“That would probably depend on the amount asked. Up to a certain sum—my guess is a hundred thousand—I suspect he would go along with all instructions without trying to set any traps, and maybe without even informing the police. He would figure it was worth that much to get me back without risking antagonizing the kidnapper. If you asked much more than what he considered a reasonable amount, he would start balancing the risk to my safety against the money. It isn’t that he doesn’t love me; it’s just that he also loves money.”

“You mean he would refuse to pay a larger amount?”

“Oh, he probably would pay anything you asked, but if you ask too much, he’s going to do his best to arrange things so there is at least a chance to recover his money. Probably he would call in the FBI, have our phone tapped and set all sorts of traps for the kidnapper. I just think it would be safer to set our sights low. Can’t you start your machine shop on a hundred thousand?”

“I could probably set up a pretty fair operation with that for a down payment,” he admitted. “Okay, you ought to know how your husband ticks. We’ll ask for only a hundred grand.”

Gary took a week to work out the details of a plan. Then he spent a whole evening thoroughly briefing Irma. The following day they put it into effect.

Just before noon Irma stopped by her husband’s office. Stanton Carr was dictating to his private secretary when she arrived.

Marie Sloan, a pert brunette of about twenty-five, was a relatively new secretary, the previous one having quit to join the Peace Corps. Stanton Carr always hired pretty secretaries, which partly accounted for his having married two of them, and Marie was no exception.

Marie, who as yet didn’t know her boss’ wife well enough to be fully at ease with her, immediately rose to leave when Irma came in.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Irma said quickly, preferring to have the girl hear what she had to say too. “I’ll be only a minute. Keep your seat, Miss Sloan.”

The girl glanced at her employer, then reseated herself when he nodded. “What is it, dear?” he asked Irma.

“I’m supposed to meet Hazel Ellison for lunch, and I’ve discovered my wallet isn’t in my purse. Can you spare a twenty-dollar bill?”

Stanton Carr drew a twenty from his wallet and handed it to her. “That all, dear?”

“Yes, thanks. You can get back to work now.” She started for the door, then paused and turned. “The oddest thing happened, Stanton. A masher followed my car all the way down Wilshire from Beverly Hills. I noticed him in the rear-view mirror shortly after I left home.”

Her husband frowned. “You sure it wasn’t just somebody going in the same direction and traveling at the same speed?”

“Positive. En route I stopped at DeWitt’s Department Store. That’s when I discovered I didn’t have my wallet. When I drove on, the same car was behind me again. It followed me right to the entrance to the plant parking lot, then drove on by when I turned in.”

Stanton Carr’s frown deepened. “How do you know it was a masher? Did he make any overt move, such as honking his horn at you?”

“No, but what else could it have been?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea, but I don’t like it. Did you get a good look at him?”

Irma shook her head. “All I could tell was that he was a heavyset man. I couldn’t see him well enough in the rear-view mirror to make out his face. But he was driving a black Ford and I managed to catch his license number as he drove by the parking lot entrance.”

“Good. Give it to me and I’ll have the police check the man out.”

“It was FHB-548.”

Carr glanced at his secretary, who jotted the number in her notebook. “I’ll find out who your masher is,” he said to Irma. “I have a friend in the Department of Motor Vehicles.”

Irma was quite satisfied with the way things had gone. When the black Ford was discovered abandoned on the plant parking lot, it would be assumed the mythical heavyset man had waited for Irma on the lot, then had abducted her in her own car. It shouldn’t take long to find the car, because Irma was fairly certain of how Hazel Ellison would react when she failed to meet her for lunch. First Hazel would phone her home, and Mrs. Felton would tell her Irma had left some time ago to meet her. Then she would phone Stanton at his office to find out if Irma had stopped by there. That call would most certainly cause Stanton to investigate the parking lot.