Джеймс Чейз - There’s Always A Price Tag

He answered after a delay.

‘For sweet Pete’s sake!’ he moaned, ‘You woke me up. Damn it! You said nine o’clock.’

‘Did you dig up anything?’

‘I said I would, didn’t I? Let’s get together some time today. And listen, you bring the five hundred bucks or I don’t give.’

‘Come over here. I don’t know if I’ll be needed today so I’ll have to stick around. We can talk here.’

He said he would come after he had had breakfast and not before. I told him I’d have something for him here, and to get out his car and come right away. Grudgingly he said he’d be over, and forty minutes later I spotted him walking up the drive. At least he had had the sense to leave his car somewhere out of sight.

‘You’re a lucky guy,’ he said, sitting down at my table. ‘That job could have taken me a week, but I ran into a newspaper guy I knew in the old days, and he had the whole thing at his fingertips.’

I put eggs and ham in front of him. I didn’t feel like eating myself, but I poured a cup of coffee.

‘Let’s have it,’ I said. ‘What did you find out?’

‘How about something on account if you haven’t got the five hundred here?’

‘You can have a hundred if that’s any good to you.’

He wasn’t expecting that, and he stared at me pop-eyed.

‘You haven’t started anything yet, have you?’ he asked anxiously.

‘What do you mean?’

‘How did you get the money? Look, pal, this business worries me. If you’re going to put the bite on this woman...’

‘Will you relax?’ I said. ‘Dester’s paid me. He gave me an advance.’ I took out my chequebook. ‘So I can let you have a hundred.’

‘Not by cheque you won’t,’ he said hurriedly. ‘That’s okay. I’ll trust you. When you pay me, I want it in cash.’

‘I don’t believe you’d trust your own mother.’

‘I did once, and she gypped me out of fifty bucks,’ he said, scowling. ‘I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I do know any dough I get from you is going to be in small bills and not by cheque.’

‘Okay, okay, now tell me what you have found out.’

‘I was lucky. I ran into this newspaper guy by chance. His name’s Mike Stevens, and he’s on the World Telegram. He’s a smart reporter and I thought it might pay off if I told him what I wanted to find out, and it did. He covered the case himself. The guy who fell out of the window was Herbert Van Tomlin: he was in the fur trade; an agent or something — a one-man show like mine, only he made it pay. He was a bachelor, had a small apartment on Park Avenue, ran a Cadillac, and when he wasn’t working, he was having himself a good time. It came out at the inquest that he met your Mrs. Dester at the Fi-Fi Club: she was a cigarette-girl there. She took Van Tomlin’s eye and he propositioned her. He suggested he should set her up in an apartment in return for the usual favours. She agreed, and he got her an apartment on the eighth floor on Riverside Drive.

‘Van Tomlin wasn’t a chicken. He was nudging sixty, and, according to Stevens, he was crazy about the girl. She was then known as Helen Lowson. She cost him most of his spending money.’ Solly paused to finish his ham, then shoved his plate away and fit a cigarette. ‘Van Tomlin saw Helen nearly every night,’ he went on. ‘They went around the night spots together, and he spent more than he was earning. One night when he was in Helen’s apartment, he had a heart attack. For a short time it was nip and tuck. She got a doctor in, and later this doctor gave evidence at the inquest. Stevens said anyone could see the doctor had been given the treatment by her. At the inquest, he couldn’t say enough in her favour. His evidence turned the trick when the showdown came.

‘When Van Tomlin recovered from the attack, he took out an insurance policy in Helen’s favour for twenty grand.’

I felt the blood drain out of my face when he said that, and I got up and went over to the far side of the room, my back to him while I poured out more coffee. I didn’t want him to see that bit of information had jolted me down to the heels.

So she had been already mixed up in an insurance case! That put her right out on a limb. Insurance companies tip each other off. It was a safe bet that Dester’s insurance company knew by now that his wife had been hooked into a previous insurance investigation.

Solly went on talking: ‘Van Tomlin didn’t want her to be left high and dry if anything happened to him. He hadn’t much cash, but so long as he kept working, he broke even. There was no secret about the insurance. He got the salesman around to Helen’s apartment and she must have worked on the guy too. Van Tomlin told him he wanted to give her financial protection, and in view of his medical history, the premiums were pretty steep.

‘A month later, while he was in her apartment, he fell out of a window.’

I came back with the coffee and sat down.

‘How did he fall out?’ I asked in a voice I scarcely recognized as mine.

‘He was waiting for her while she took a bath,’ Solly said. ‘At the inquest she said she heard him cry out. She ran into the sitting room, naked and dripping wet, in time to see him clawing at his throat before the open window. He overbalanced and fell out before she could reach him.’

I drew in a long, deep breath. This was even worse than I had imagined.

‘What did the coroner think?’

Solly finished his coffee and pushed back his chair.

‘It wasn’t what he thought that mattered. She had only to flash her legs at him and he was happy to take every word she said as gospel. What did matter was what the insurance company thought. Stevens got this first hand from the insurance salesman, a guy named Ed Billings, who had signed Van Tomlin up. Billings told Stevens that both he and his company thought something was wrong. Van Tomlin had only just paid the first premium before he fell out of the window. Billings went around to see Helen with the idea of scaring her out of making her claim. He didn’t pull his punches. He warned her if she went ahead with the claim, they would fight her. He told her if the company raised doubt at the coroner’s inquest the chances were she would find herself on a murder rap. He thought he was going to put the fear of God into her, but he didn’t. She accused the company of trying to side-step their responsibilities and threatened to bring that out at the inquest. It so happened the company wasn’t too solid financially. Adverse publicity wouldn’t have done them any good.

‘It was the case of who held the strongest hand. On Helen’s side the police were satisfied that Van Tomlin had died accidentally. The doctor was prepared to state on oath that Van Tomlin’s heart was on the blink. Against that, the insurance company could point out that Van Tomlin had only paid one premium and Helen had the opportunity of pushing him out of the window. Billings underlined the fact that if the insurance company refused to settle the claim, the police would investigate further, and they might turn up something. In the end, they compromised. Helen accepted seven thousand instead of twenty, and the insurance company agreed to tell the coroner they were settling the claim, and once an insurance company shows willingness to settle a claim a coroner stops asking awkward questions. At the inquest the doctor said he was satisfied Van Tomlin had overbalanced during a heart attack and had fallen out of the window. The insurance company said they were going to settle the claim. Helen made eyes at the coroner, and everything went off nice and friendly.

‘She stayed on in the apartment for three or four months, then when her money began to run out, she looked around for another rich man. She met Dester. He was crazy enough to marry her, and you know the rest.’