Джон Макдональд - Area of Suspicion [= My Brother’s Widow]

“If I ever saw a man seeing a ghost, it was you, Fitch. We’ve got your playmate, LeFay. He’s told us how it was worked, with you and Dolson. We can prove every bit of it. You’re a lawyer. You must know criminal law. This isn’t a case of nailing you for getting your hands on government money. I want you for murder, too. For being an accessory in the murder of the Brady girl.”

“But I didn’t even know they were going to—” He stopped abruptly.

“How did you get in with Dolson?”

“I found out how he was doing it. Nobody else knew. He had to let me in. I set Acme up on a better basis than they had it. Safer.”

“Who told you Gevan Dean was dead? Was it Mottling?”

His eyes went wide. His shock was evident. “Mottling! He hasn’t got anything to do with—” I saw the shock fade and his eyes get wary as he began to figure out some of the things that had evidently bothered him because they hadn’t added up.

“Come now, Fitch. Mottling and LeFay corrupted Dolson, then used the knowledge of his thefts to blackmail him into sabotaging production. Don’t look so innocent.”

Lester looked bewildered. “Sabotage? It was only the money. LeFay said Ken had found out about it, and he would fix it. I didn’t know until afterwards he was going to have him killed.”

I butted in. “Why did you want me to back Mottling if you didn’t know he was in on it?”

“I didn’t. LeFay was afraid of what Granby might find out, if he was in charge, being a financial man and all. He thought Granby might change the office procedure on purchases and that would spoil it.”

Tancey sighed. “It hangs together, Mr. Dean. I don’t think Fitch knew about the other. As it is, we can give him a few years in a federal prison.” He talked as if Lester wasn’t in the room. That, more than anything else, seemed to crack Lester Fitch.

He said, in a quick, thin voice, “Look, I’ll cooperate in any way. I’ll pay back every nickel. I’ll testify to everything. Please, Mr. Tancey. Please. If you want me to, I’ll testify that Mr. Mottling helped set up the Acme swindle and even got some of the money. I know I did wrong, and you’ve got to give me a break.”

Tancey didn’t even look at him. As far as Tancey was concerned, Lester had not spoken. The young man with Tancey gave Lester a contemptuous glance.

“Take him in,” Tancey said.

The lunch bells were sounding out in the production areas. Lester stood up slowly, pushing the chair out of his way. Then he whirled and moved with a speed that caught us off balance. He plunged through the ground-floor window, protecting his face with his arms. I saw him roll and bound to his feet and start running toward the lunch crowd thronging toward the gates.

Tancey shoved me out of the way. He had a short-barreled revolver in his hand. He aimed at the running man and fired once. Lester went down hard, with a long, shrill scream. His thigh was curiously shortened and twisted and he grasped at it with his hands as he worked himself in a slow circle on the ground, like a crippled insect.

People ran over, formed a circle around him. He screamed again and again. It reminded me of another scene long ago, when the kids at recess had gathered around Lester in that same way. A boy who came up to Lester’s shoulder had belted him solidly on the nose. And Lester had screamed in that same way, and the crowd standing around him had looked just the same. Awed, and ashamed.

Tancey said quietly, holstering the gun, “We need him for the LeFay testimony.”

“Nice shooting, sir.”

“Thank you, Larkin. Make the necessary arrangements, please.”

Larkin left. The gate guards were dispersing the curious. I saw the shards of Lester’s broken glasses glinting in the noon sun.

I said to Tancey, “Niki — Mary Gerrity, or whatever I’m supposed to call her — asked me to stop out at her house at five.”

“We’ll be picking her up before then.”

“Let me go out there at five. Pick her up after that. Give me some time with her first. Just ten minutes. I owe Ken that much.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t want to lose her.”

“You can cover the place, can’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ve earned it, haven’t I?”

He shrugged. “All right. It’s not smart. But all right.”

We talked some more. “I don’t think we can tag Mottling. We’d have to have a good reliable witness who saw Mottling and LeFay together. After we pick up the woman, I’ll pay Mottling a private visit. It’s about all I can do.”

“Couldn’t you make Niki talk?”

He gave me a pitying smile. “If we could use their methods, perhaps.”

He left and I had no time for lunch. I was busy with the reporters and then I was closeted with Uncle Al’s lawyer.

When he heard that Ken’s widow had taken someone else’s name, he assured me that gave me enough basis to have Ken’s will broken, and it would be almost automatic if it could be proven that she had entered into the marriage for some illegal purpose. After he left I was on the phone for nearly an hour. I got a yes from Garroway and Poulson and a maybe from Fitz. It felt good to be reorganizing the team. Dolson’s replacement arrived, a lean man with a snow plow jaw.

There were some Washington brass with him who needed reassurance, and I did the best I could. They were miffed that Mottling was out, and I wished I could tell them more of the score. I wanted to see how far their eyes would bulge. But Tancey had told me to keep my mouth shut.

I talked to Joan on the phone and told her I would pick her up at her house some time before six. I called the car rental place and told them where they could find their car.

I drew a company sedan for my personal use until I could buy something or get my car shipped up from Florida. There was the problem of disposing of the beach house, after it had been used for a very short honeymoon.

When it was time to go see Niki, I checked with Tancey and he said his arrangements were all made.

My palms were sweating on the wheel of the company car as I drove out to the Lime Ridge house for the last time. I knew I would never go in there again. After the estate thing was fixed up, it would go on the market. It would make a nice house for somebody who didn’t know what had happened in it. I would build Joan a house.

There was no wind and the late afternoon sun was low and bright as I drove in. Victoria let me in. She seemed nervous and glad to see me. I wondered how much they had told her, and how much she had guessed.

Niki was in the living-room. She came toward me and took my hands in hers. She looked regal and lovely. “Darling!” she said. “This is a celebration, you know. Can I be as bold as brass?”

“Of course.”

“Victoria is going out later. I’ll cook for you. I have good wine. I want us to forget everything tonight. Everything but us, darling.”

She held her chin up and half-closed her eyes in a way that clearly indicated her desire to be kissed. She released my wrists and gave me a look of quick annoyance and moved away from me.

“Will you make martinis?” she asked.

“I’m sorry. I can’t stay. I’ve got a date.”

“Break it.”

“Can’t. Sorry.”

She tilted her head. “I must say, you’re looking and acting very, very strange, Gevan.”

“I feel strange.”

“With me? Or is it that you’re worried about the job and all?”

“It’s you, Niki. I don’t know how I should react to you.”

“I thought I made that clear. And not in a ladylike way, either.” Her smile was lascivious. I felt utterly no response to her hints, to her warmth and ripeness. Joan was too much with me.

“I came to say good-by, Niki.”