Say Yes to Murder - Todhunter Ballard (book club recommendations .TXT) 📗

the Bowers operatives I ever seen rode bicycles and wore nice tan uniforms.”

The passenger was sweating. “That’s our home-protection patrol. We have several departments. On the level, I’m with Bowers. You can find my badge, card, and stuff in my pocket.”

Lennox looked at the man’s face. The green had faded out, leaving it a dead white. There was no color anywhere. “If you’re with Bowers,” he said, “why the devil were you trailing me?”

The man was eager to talk now. “I was hired to, that’s all, brother. I was just working for my bread and butter. I’ve got three kids and a sick wife.”

“Skip it,” Lennox told him wearily. “You were paid to follow me. Who paid you?”

“We’re not…”

“You’re not supposed to get caught, either. Come on. Unless you want a cracked head keep on talking, and you’d better make it good because I’ve always been hard to convince.”

“All right,” said the man. “An actress—an old dame. Her name was Mary Morris.”

Lennox almost pulled the trigger of the gun in his surprise. “Mary Morris hired you to follow me?”

“Well… Not exactly you.”

Bill lost his temper. “Gosh darn it! What is this—a quiz program? She either wanted me tailed or she didn’t, isn’t that right?”

“It was her granddaughter I was to keep tabs on,” the man sputtered quickly. “Me and my partner was to camp but at the apartment house where the girl lived and keep track of anyone that she went out with or anyone that came to see her. If we didn’t know them by sight, we was to follow them until we found out who they were.”

“And you don’t know who I am?” Lennox said suspiciously.

Some of the man’s self-confidence had returned as the prospect of being worked over by Jake’s bat diminished. “No,” he said indifferently. “Why should I?”

They had just crossed La Brea west on Sunset. Jake pulled to the curb beyond the sandwich stand and Lennox got out. The man’s pockets yielded a badge, a card, some other identifying papers, and a typed order which was substantially what he had just finished telling Lennox.

Lennox returned them. “All right. Scram.” He broke the gun, dumped the bullets on the ground and passed the empty weapon to its owner. “You ought to tie it on better.”

Lennox got back into the coupe. “Nancy’s,” he told Jake. “Well, that proves one thing I knew already.”

“What?” said Jake.

“That Mary Morris didn’t kill herself. If she’d been planning to, she certainly wouldn’t have hired those detectives this morning.”

“Cripes!” said Jake, and his eyes were like marbles. “Cripes! Is Mary Morris dead? I wonder whose number is coming up next?”

3.

Nancy Hobbs had the door open before Lennox reached the top step. He’d never seen her so excited. She was like a kid who hears the engine on the next street, yet knows she has missed the fire.

“I can’t understand it,” she said. “One minute the doped girl was there; the next minute she was gone. It doesn’t make sense. The nurse was in the room with her. She came out into the kitchen, and when she got back the bed was empty.”

“Where is the nurse?” Lennox asked.

“Upstairs packing her things.” Even as she spoke they heard the woman’s heels in the upper hall, and she came down the steps carrying a small suitcase.

Lennox walked over to meet her. The nurse paused on the lower step so that her eyes were almost level with his. “I’m glad to be out of here,” she said. “I don’t like any of this. If I were the doctor, I’d report it to the police.”

He tried to smile. “There’s nothing to get worked up about.”

She sniffed. “That’s a matter of opinion. From what I’ve read in the newspapers, I wouldn’t want to trust your judgment too far.” She started past him, but he blocked her passage.

“Just a moment, please. What shape was that girl in? I mean, do you think it would have been possible for her to have walked out of here by herself?”

The nurse looked at him, and for an instant it seemed that she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said: “I don’t know, Mr. Lennox, and that’s God’s own truth. It’s hard to tell about people who are under the influence of dope.

“It is very possible that she had recovered more than we realized and that she could have left here alone, but I’d hate to swear to it,” He nodded and backed out of the way. “Thank you. I know you feel as if you’ve been in a den of murderers and thieves. I can only tell you that you’re mistaken. If you want to do me a great favor, you’ll not talk about what happened here.” He drew some money from his pocket and overpaid her.

After she had gone Nancy said: “That was a mistake.”

“What was?” he asked abstractedly.

“Paying her too much. Now she will be certain that you’ve got something to hide and are bribing her to keep silent.”

“You think of everything,” he told her sourly, then paused for a long moment before he added, “Did I tell you that Mary Morris is dead?”

“No,” she gasped. “When… how did it happen? Tell me about it, Bill.”

He explained briefly. “They’re going to have an autopsy to ascertain the cause of death. They’re trying to suggest that she killed herself.”

Nancy shook her head slowly. “Not Mary. Mary would never kill herself. She’d have gone down fighting.”

“Maybe,” he said tentatively, “she thought her granddaughter was involved in Heyworth’s death.”

“She still would have stuck around to help.” Nancy sounded positive. “Remember how she fired that manager of hers? Practically threw him out of the theatre single-handed.”

Lennox got a peculiar expression on his face. “That’s right, she did. I’d forgotten about that.” He was silent, thinking.

Jake had been an interested listener. “Here’s an idea,” he said in his guttural voice. “The old lady is a firebrand, see! She hears that her granddaughter is buzzing around with the wrong characters, so she hikes up her skirts and goes over to the gal’s apartment. When she gets there this Heyworth louse is working on Kingstone. The old lady is so mad she can’t see straight and thinks that Kingstone dame is her granddaughter.

“She’s got a knife, and blooey!—Heyworth is deader than a herring. Then Kingstone tries to tag her for some dough. So the next night the old gal gets up from bed, hikes over, and takes care of the Kingstone doll. See? She’s killed them both. There ain’t nothing left to live for, so she drinks a double shot of this sleeping medicine and that’s all.”

“You’ve been going to pictures,” Lennox accused.

“He’s not so bad,” Nancy defended him. “I don’t believe it, but it’s entirely possible. And Mary might very well have done just that if she thought that Jean was in serious trouble. You amaze me, Jake. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“See,” said Lennox. “I knew he’d been following the delirium tremens of some scenarist’s mind.”

“Well,” Nancy said practically, “have you got any better suggestion? Someone did kill Heyworth, someone shot Kingstone, and Mary is dead.”

He nodded. “All true,” he admitted. “Which reminds me, that wrecked cab is still in your garage. I’d better move it.”

She said: “Why don’t you leave it there? You’re in trouble enough.”

He shook his head. “Jake, I’ll drive it down below Sunset and park. You trail me in your car.”

The girl said: “Be sure to wipe all your fingerprints off everything you may have touched.”

He gave her a twisted smile. “You’ll be an expert criminal if you keep tagging along after me, chicken.”

He didn’t answer, but went out, got the cab, and drove away. He had a bad moment crossing Sunset, for a prowl car was coming east. The two cops in it apparently were too busy arguing to pay any attention to him. He parked the cab without incident in a vacant lot below the railroad right-of-way, using his handkerchief to obliterate fingerprints. A minute later he was pulling away in Jake’s coupe.

“Where now?” Jake asked hopefully.

Lennox told him to drive to the telegraph office on the Boulevard. There was a whole sheaf of yellow messages waiting at the office, and he went through them as the coupe pulled out Cahuenga and onto the pass. Fifteen minutes later they turned into the curving driveway of the house where Leon Heyworth had lived.

Lennox wasn’t sure that there would be anyone there, but the lights were on and the houseboy answered his ring. Bill knew the boy. He nodded and stepped into the entry hall.

“I wasn’t sure I’d find anyone.”

The boy said: “Mr. Heyworth’s lawyer, he say me stay till they find out to do. Me still here.”

Lennox nodded. “All right, Juan. I know the police have asked you a lot of questions, but I’m going to ask some more. Did you hear Mr. Heyworth mention Mary Morris at any time in the week preceding his death?”

The boy’s dark face split to show white teeth as he remembered. “Yes, sir. He was sitting there at that desk”—he indicated a piece of gray modernistic furniture in the corner—“the night before he killed. He was writing and I bring drink. I hear him say: ‘Morris is good gal.’ Yes, please. ‘I think maybe I should tell her.’ Yes, sir.”

“Did he say what he should tell her?”

Juan’s black eyes did not change. “Boss think awhile. ‘There’s money in it,’ he say. ‘Maybe instead of telling, I should cut in.’ Then he write a note and I take it to Miss Kingstone.”

Lennox walked over to the desk. “This the place where he was sitting, huh?”

“Yes,” the boy agreed.

Lennox went through the drawers and found nothing save a used blotter. He held this up to the mirror and made out in the maze of ink stains several words that interested him.

“You have… idea Tina. Think I will cut in. Where is the girl?

Leon.”

He folded the blotter and stuffed it into his pocket. “All right, Juan.” He gave the boy five dollars. “Forget we were here.” He turned and went back to the car. As they headed down the drive, a man suddenly stepped out into their lights, holding up his hand.

Jake needed no orders. He bent over the wheel and tramped hard on the gas. The coupe leaped toward the man, who jumped wildly for safety. The next minute a gun hammered in the night and a bullet clipped through the coupe side and went into the top between them, just missing the upper edge of the windshield.

“Jeese,” said Jake, “shall we stop and take them?”

“Heck, no,” Lennox said, peering back through the hole where the rear window had been. “Drive like the devil.”

“It’s Mary,” said Lennox. “That’s the way she broke into show business, as a human target. She’s come a long way since then, a lot further than Strong. Life does funny things.” He stuffed the picture back into his pocket and returned the glass to Marx.

“In the morning we’ll get hold of the probate judge and check up on Austin. I’ll call you when I’m ready. So long.”

Marx walked with him toward the door. “So long. You’ll call me if you’re alive.” He didn’t sound hopeful.

Lennox found Jake shivering under the wheel. Due to the broken rear window it was very cold in the coupe.

“Stop beefing,” said Lennox. “From now on I’ll take you inside with me. Let’s run over to my place first.”

Jake obediently turned the car toward Lennox’ apartment hotel. But Bill broke his promise. He didn’t take Jake inside. He said,