Eric Russell - Three to Conquer

Harper had no difficulty in imagining the reaction should the news ever get out that no individual’s mind was truly his own. He would be left without a friend, other than some person of his own peculiar type—if such a one existed.

As for the criminal element, they’d see to it that his life wasn’t worth a moment’s purchase.

Possibly he had been followed-up in police thought as a direct result of his foolishness, in passing them news so openly, and so often. He had been impelled to do it mostly because he detested finding himself in the presence of somebody who had got away with mayhem, and any time might try to get away with it again. It irked his sense of justice.

In the future, it might be better to pass the word to the police by some indirect method—such as, for example, the anonymous telephone call. It was doubtful whether that would serve, however; Harper had become too well-known a local character to leave the police puzzling over the source of such tip-offs.

The phone buzzed, and Riley came on. “I’ve got those two addresses.” He read them out while Harper made a note of them, then said, “The unknown caller hasn’t been traced, but Ledsom now thinks there’s nothing to his message. They’ve found a fellow, roughly corresponding to your description, who gave Alderson some lip in the midmorning. There were several witnesses and, in all probability the caller was one of those.”

“What was the squabbler doing at 4:00 p.m.?”

“He’s in the clear; he was miles away and can prove it.”

“H’m! All right, I’ll go take a look around and hope my luck holds out.”

“ Is it luck?” asked Riley pointedly.

."Bad luck, to my way of thinking,” said Harper. “If you had fathered ten sets of twins, you’d appreciate without being told that some men can be afflicted.”

“More likely I’d appreciate that some guys know how,” Riley retorted. “And that’s the trouble with you—so go to it!”

He faded off the screen. Harper sighed for the third time, tucked the slip of paper with its addresses into a vest pocket, spoke to Moira.

“I’ll phone each day to see what’s doing. If you can’t handle something urgent and important, you’ll have to nurse it until I ring through.”

“Yes, Mr. Harper.”

“And if anyone turns up to pinch me, tell them they’re too late—I’m on the lam.”

“Oh, Mr. Harper.”

Ruth Alderson proved to be a pretty blonde with sad eyes. Obviously she was still in much of a mental whirl.

Sitting opposite her, and idly turning his hat in his hands, Harper said, “I hate to trouble you at such a time, Mrs. Alderson, but it is necessary. I have a special interest in this case. I found your husband and was the last speak to him.”

“Did he—?” She swallowed hard, stared at him pathetically. “Did he… suffer much?”

“It was all very quick. He was too dazed to feel pain; he talked of you, then kind of faded away. ‘Betty,’ he said, ‘Betty.’ Then he was gone.” Harper frowned in puzzlement, added, “But your name is Ruth.”

“He always called me Betty. Said it suited me. He made a pet name of it.”

She covered her face with her hands, but made no sound. He watched her quietly.

When she had recovered, he said, “There’s a slight chance that you might be able to help find the rat who did it.”

“How?”

“Tell me, did Bob have any enemies?”

She considered the question, gathering her thoughts with difficulty. “He arrested a number of people. Some went to jail. I don’t suppose they loved him for that.”

“Did any of them promise to get him when they came out?”

“If they did, he never mentioned it to me. It isn’t the sort of thing he would tell.” She paused, went on, “Four years ago, he caught a man named Josef Grundoff. Bob said that, when he was sentenced, Grundoff swore to kill the judge.”

“But he did not threaten your husband?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“You cannot recall any occasion on which somebody has menaced your husband specifically?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Nor any time when extraordinary resentment has been shown as a result of him doing his duty?”

“He had wordy arguments twice a week,” she said wearily. “He often came home riled about someone. But so far as I can tell, it was the normal give and take between the police and the public. I know of nobody who hated him enough to kill him.”

“Only this Grundoff?”

“Grundoff only threatened the judge.”

“I don’t like pestering you this way, Mrs. Alderson, but can you recall any incident that seemed to worry your husband, even if only temporarily? Any small happening, no matter how insignificant, at any time in the past?”

“Not in connection with his police duties,” she replied. A faint smile came to her face. “All his bothers were domestic ones. He was a bag of nerves when my babies were due.”

Harper nodded understanding and continued with questions relating to a possible jealousy motive. None could be found.

Finally, he asked, “When you first met Bob, did you leave anybody for his sake?”

“I did not. I was free and unattached.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Alderson.” He stood up, glad to be at the end of the matter. “I apologize most sincerely for subjecting you to all this, and I really do appreciate your cooperation.” He followed her to the front door, paused there, patted her gently on the shoulder. “Nothing anyone can say is adequate. Actions speak louder than words. You have my card. Any time I can help, please call on me. I shall consider it a privilege.”

“You are very kind,” she murmured.

He got into his car, watched her close the door, said to himself savagely, “Damn! Damn!”

A mile down the road he stopped beside a phone booth and called Ledsom.

“So it’s you,” said the police captain, not visibly overjoyed. “What d’you want this time?”

“Some information.”

“About what?”

“A character named Josef Grundoff.”

“You’re doing fine, digging up that hoodlum,” Ledsom commented. “I wouldn’t have thought of him myself.”

“Why not?”

“He got twenty years for second-degree murder. It will be a long, long time before he’s out.”

“Is that all?” asked Harper.

“How much more do you want?”

“Official reassurance that he’s still inside; maybe he has escaped.”

“We’d have been advised of it. They’d send out fliers within twenty-four hours.”

“Do you think it worth checking?” Harper persisted. “Just in case some notice has gone astray?”

“I can do that in five minutes. How did you get hold of Grundoff’s name anyway?”

“From Mrs. Alderson.”

The other registered surprise. “Surely she hasn’t told you that Grundoff—?”

“She said only that he’d sworn to get the judge,” Harper chipped in. “So it seemed to me possible that he might have had Alderson’s name on his list as well.”

“He had no list; he was merely making tough talk. The judge said twenty years, and Grundoff went nuts. That sort of thing happens often.” He was silent a moment then continued, “I’ll check, all the same. It’s one chance in a million but we can’t overlook it. Call me back later.”

Harper phoned him from a diner twenty miles farther on.

“No luck,” Ledsom informed him. “Grundoff is still in the jug. And he was a lone wolf.”

“Do you think he may have made friends in the clink who’ve been released and started tending his affairs?’

“Not on your life,” scoffed Ledsom. “No ex-con is going to shoot up a cop merely to please some lug still inside. There would have to be money in it, big money; Grundoff couldn’t dig up ten bucks.”