Lawrence Block - The Topless Tulip Caper

“No thanks.”

He crossed to the bar and put another ounce or so of scotch in his own glass. “Now here’s my line of thought,” he went on, returning to his chair. “I think it would be very convenient if it happened to turn out that Andrew Mallard murdered Cherry. He was there. He could have done it. Any list of suspects would have to have him on it, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so.”

“There it is,” he said. “All Leo Haig has to do is prove Mallard killed Cherry. Then he got full of remorse over what he’d done and did some heavy drinking. And so on. How do you like it?”

“Well, it’s certainly possible.”

That’s the ticket.” He drew an alligator wallet from his jacket pocket and pulled out a sheaf of bills. They were hundreds, and he counted out ten of them, paused, studied me for a moment, and counted out ten more. I don’t know what he saw in my face that doubled the ante. Maybe the whole thing was just theatrics. “Two thousand dollars,” he said.

“Uh.”

Then he did something incredible. He took the twenty bills and tore them in half. I guess I wasn’t perfect at keeping a straight face, because he grinned at my expression.

“For Haig,” he said, offering me what managed to be half of two thousand dollars without being one thousand dollars. “Here, take it. He gets the other half when he proves that Andrew Mallard murdered Cherry Bounce. That’s if he brings it off within three days. Take it.”

I took it because it was impossible not to, but instead of holding onto it I set it down on the table next to Leonard Danzig’s glass of scotch. “There’s one problem,” I said.

“Let’s hear it. I’m usually fairly good at straightening out problems.”

I could believe it. I said, “The thing is, you don’t know Mr. Haig. I’m not saying he wouldn’t work for you, but suppose Andrew Mallard didn’t murder Cherry Bounce? Suppose someone else did?”

Danzig thought this over. I’d hate to play poker with him. Nothing at all showed in his face. At length he shrugged and said, “All right, I just thought it was easier that way. No loose ends. What I’m concerned with is the time element. If Haig gets the murderer in three days he gets the other half of the two thousand. How’s that?”

“Whoever the murderer is?”

“Whoever.”

I asked if I could use the phone. He pointed at one halfway across the room. I don’t suppose it was more than forty yards from me. “It might be tapped,” he said. “I pay a guy to check them out periodically, but he hasn’t been around for a few days.”

I told him it didn’t matter. I didn’t dial Haig’s number because the phone had buttons instead of a dial I pushed Haig’s number and got him. I said, “I’m at Mr. Leonard Danzig’s apartment. I just learned that Andrew Mallard died earlier today. It was on the radio.” I went on to tell him the cause of death, then brought him up to date on Danzig’s proposal and my counterproposal. He said “Satisfactory” a couple of times, which made me very proud of myself, and then he talked some more and I listened. Finally he said, “I am going to sleep now, Chip. Don’t disturb me when you return. Your report can wait until morning. You made all the necessary arrangements?”

“Yes.”

“Goodnight, then. And come directly home when you leave Mr. Danzig’s apartment.”

I said I would and hung up. To Danzig I said, “Mr. Haig says I should take your money.”

Danzig smiled and pointed to the little pile of bills.

“There are a couple of qualifiers first. You mentioned a three-day limit.”

“If it went a few hours over—”

“That’s not the point. Would it be worth a bonus if Haig wrapped it up within twenty-four hours. Say tomorrow afternoon?”

“It wouldn’t hurt any. What kind of a bonus?”

I was supposed to use my judgment on this one, so I judged quickly. “Double,” I said. “Four thousand if it’s wrapped up tomorrow. Two thousand if we make the three-day limit. Beyond that you don’t owe us anything and you get the stack of homemade fifties back.”

“Done.”

“All right. The second point is that I’m supposed to ask you some questions now. Mr. Haig said he’s assuming that you did not kill Cherry and don’t know who did. He says only a rank fool would hire him under those circumstances, and I’ve used my intelligence guided by my experience to decide that you’re not a fool.”

“I’m honored.”

“Were you at Treasure Chest the night Cherry was murdered?”

“Yes.”

The admission was so direct that it stopped me momentarily. I got back into gear and said, “Were you there when it happened?”

“I was on the premises.”

“You missed the police dragnet.”

“I went out the back. I didn’t know it was murder but I gathered she was dead and I didn’t want to be found on the premises in an official investigation.”

“Are you the owner of Treasure Chest?”

“Let’s say I’m a good friend of Gus Leemy’s. Will that do for the moment?”

“Sure. Do you have any idea who might want to kill Cherry?”

“No one now. She’s already dead.”

“I mean—”

He crossed one leg over the other. “Just a small joke,” he said. “No, frankly, I have no suspects. I rather like the idea of Andrew Mallard, but that’s simply because it would be so convenient that way. And he seemed to be a disturbed person. Would a sane man choose that way to kill a woman?”

I wanted to say that a sane man wouldn’t kill anybody for any reason but I didn’t know how well this would go down, because I had the feeling that Danzig had killed people now and then, or had had them killed, and this would mean calling him a lunatic by implication.

“And you saw nothing suspicious?”

“Nothing. I was in no position to see anything at the time the incident occurred. I was in the office in the rear with Gus.”

“Was anyone else with you at the time? I don’t mean that you and Gus can’t alibi each other, that’s all right. But if other people were with you we could also rule them out.”

“I’m afraid we were alone together.”

I drank the last of my scotch. It was really great scotch. I said I guessed that was about it. “Mr. Haig wants you at his office at three-thirty tomorrow afternoon,” I said. “You might as well bring the other half of the two thousand. Plus another two thousand.”

He got to his feet and we began the long walk to the door. “Three-thirty,” he said. “I’ll be there. I wouldn’t want to miss it. He really thinks he can come through in that short a time?”

“Evidently. He wants to earn the bonus.”

But the bonus wasn’t the big consideration, I knew. What Haig really wanted was the applause.

Thirteen

THE CAB DROPPED me at West 20th Street around two- thirty. I used one key to let myself into the courtyard, climbed two flights of stairs, and used another key to let me into Haig’s half of the house. There was a light on in the office and I guessed that he hadn’t been to sleep after all, but when I went in ready to hit him with some smartass remark or other his chair was empty and Tulip was sitting on the couch reading a Fredric Brown novel. Mrs. Murphy’s Underpants , one of the late ones.

“This is pretty good,” she said. “Have you read it?”

“Sure. Mr. Haig made me read everything of Fredric Brown’s. That’s not supposed to be one of his best.”

“I’m enjoying it anyway. I like the way the two detectives play against each other. An uncle and a nephew.”

“Ed and Am Hunter, right.”

“Do you and Mr. Haig interact the same way?”

“Not exactly. Of course we’re not related, which helps. Or hinders. I’m never entirely sure which. Also Ambrose Hunter is supposed to be reasonably sane.”