Джеймс Чейз - You Never Know With Women

“I guess so. Once a dick, always a dick. I’m sorry, Mick. I don’t think it’s anything.”

He shrugged.

“Play it the way you like. I’m here if you want me.”

Lu got back late in the afternoon. I was jittery by that time, and when he came in I grabbed him.

“Well? How did you get on?”

He shook his head.

“He’s in the clear. He didn’t shoot Brett. He was at the Casino all the evening. There’re a hundred witnesses who saw him. He didn’t leave until two o’clock.”

“Any chance that he sneaked out and came back again?”

“Not a chance. He was playing roulette and never left the table. I’ve checked until I’m dizzy. He didn’t shoot Brett, and he didn’t know Brett either. He’s never even spoken to him.”

Well, that seemed to be that.

The hot evening sunshine came through the slats in the venetian blinds and made a pattern on the carpet. The pattern, from where I was sitting, looked like the bars of a prison cell, and added an incentive to my thoughts. I was alone in Mick’s office, and had been alone for the past hour. The office door was locked, and I had no fear of interruptions. I sat in the desk chair; a cigarette burned forgotten in my fingers, a glass of whisky stood neglected on the desk while I exercised my brain until it creaked.

Gorman hadn’t shot Brett. Well, someone had, and it was up to me if I was to save my neck to find out who that someone was. I had already sent Lu out to check Boyd’s alibi, but that was routine. I didn’t believe Boyd was the killer. He had no motive. Whoever had killed Brett had wanted money. Well, if it wasn’t Boyd who else was there to suspect? Sheila Kendrick, the future Mrs. Brett? A possibility. One of Brett’s servants? One of the guards? Or Mr. or Miss X, the unknown? I didn’t know.

Already I had decided the quickest way to arrive at a solution was to begin at the beginning; to ignore anything that was a guess and to concentrate only on facts. If I didn’t hurry and find the killer, the police would find me, and then that would be that.

What facts had I? Not many: Brett knew the killer, otherwise the killer wouldn’t have got near Brett’s gun. The motive for the killing was the twenty-five grand. Then there was the mysterious twelve words that had interested Max as well as Brett: For Alma from Verne: “A man’s best friend is his wife.” What did that mean? Did it play a part in Brett’s death? Why had Max also scribbled the words down? Who were Verne and Alma?

Finger-nails tapped on the door. Mick’s voice called softly. I pushed back my chair, opened the door, let him in and locked the door again.

“How’s it going?”

“It’s not,” I said. “My brain feels as if it’s walked miles.”

“What are you working on?”

“I’m waiting for Lu. He’s digging into Boyd’s alibi. It’s a waste of time, but I’m checking everything. You never know. Here, take a look at this.” I tossed over Brett’s card. “Make anything of it?”

He frowned at the words, then shook his head.

“Means nothing to me. Some code, do you think? I wouldn’t say a man’s best friend’s his wife, would you? I thought a man’s best friend’s his dog.”

“Don’t be such a damned cynic. Its the kind of sentiment a guy would have engraved on a wedding ring, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about a guy who is in love with his wife. That’s something you wouldn’t understand.”

“I guess not.” He ran stubby fingers through his hair, frowned again at the words. “How does this figure in the set-up?”

“Brett gave me his card. He wanted me to telephone him. I found that on the back, and it’s got me puzzled.”

Mick shrugged.

“What the hell? Why should it have anything to do with his death?”

“I have a hunch that it has. It must mean something, and I can’t afford to pass anything up. If I could find out who Verne and Alma are it might help. But how do I do that?”

Mick thought, shook his head.

“Well, there are the Baillies of course, but it wouldn’t be them. A guy like Brett wouldn’t know the Baillies.”

“You mean Verne Baillie, the bank bandit?”

“That’s who I mean, but it’s a shot in the dark. It couldn’t be him.”

“No.” I reached for a cigarette, paused and frowned, then lit up. “He had a wife, Alma didn’t he?”

“That’s right. That’s why I thought of them.”

“It couldn’t be them. Brett wouldn’t mix with bank bandits. That doesn’t make sense. Besides, they’re dead, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. Verne was killed by the Feds a couple of years ago. Alma was killed in a car crash a year later.”

I calmed down.

“You know, for a moment I thought we had something. It’s a coincidence though, isn’t it? You’re sure they’re both dead?”

“I guess so. Anyway, Lu will tell you more about them. Hewas friendly with Verne.”

“I don’t think it matters. As you say, it can’t be them. I wish I could question the future Mrs. Brett. She might tell me a lot if I could get at her.”

“You can’t do that. I’d forget it if I were you. It only complicates things. It’s nothing to do with the killing, you can bet on that.”

But then he didn’t know Max had also been interested in those old words. But I wasn’t going to talk to anyone about Max. A tap sounded on the door. It was Lu.

“Any luck?”

He shook his head.

“It wasn’t Boyd. He was at his house all the evening. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Well, it isn’t Gorman and it isn’t Boyd. Who else have we left? There’s Sheila Kendrick. She was right on the spot. But we can’t check what she was doing at the time Brett was shot unless we tip our hand, and we can’t afford to do that. It could have been anyone. I mean someone we’ve never heard of. It’s hell, isn’t it?”

Lu smiled sympathetically.

“I know just how you feel. It keeps coming back to you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I got up and began to pace up and down. “You knew the Baillies, didn’t you?”

“I knew Verne Baillie. Why bring him up?” He seemed startled.

“How well did you know him?”

“Pretty well. We kicked around together three or four years ago. When he married I didn’t see much of him. But what’s he got to do with this?”

“I don’t know.” I threw him Brett’s card. “Make anything of that?”

Lu gaped at it.

“That’s Verne all right. He was always saying Alma was his best friend. They were crazy about each other.”

I began to get excited again.

“Are you sure, Lu? This is important.”

“Of course I am. I know Verne used those words hundreds of times. All his pals were sick of hearing them. I was, too.”

“Could he have known Brett?”

“Verne? Not a chance. Be your age. Verne wouldn’t mix with millionaires.”

“And yet Brett wrote those words on his card.”

“Looks as if you have something there,” Mick said. “But I don’t know what you’re going to do with it now you have it.”

“Verne never knew Brett,” Lu said with conviction. “He was never closer to the Pacific Coast than Kansas, and that’s a long way from Brett’s territory. I don’t know what this means, but I do know Brett and Verne never hooked up.”

“What happened to him, Lu?”

“He was shot. It was after the Tulsa bank robbery. Maybe you remember it. Verne got away with a hundred grand. It was a sweet job. He and Alma pulled it, but things went wrong. I think she lost her head. Verne had a machine-gun with him. He knocked off a couple of tellers, wounded another, killed two bank guards and wounded a cop.”