by Amanda Quick
“Why would he confess?” Mrs. Barrows was in tears now. “He has no reason to do that. He’s a monster.”
He’ll talk because I know his weak point now and I will apply pressure, Nick thought. But he did not say that aloud.
“I can be very persuasive,” he said instead. “I’m going to hang up now, Mrs. Barrows. I have to get to your niece’s house before she and her husband leave for the port. It would be much more difficult to deal with this situation there. Norburn might be able to slip away in the crowd.”
He put down the receiver, stuffed the photos and newspaper clippings into an envelope, and took his gun and shoulder holster off the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard. He buckled on the holster, selected a blazer that was cut in the fashionable drape style so that it concealed the gun, and headed for the door.
Rex bounded after him. Nick opened the passenger side door of the custom-built maroon Packard convertible. The dog leaped up onto the leather seat. He was vibrating with eagerness.
Nick got behind the wheel and fired up the powerful engine.
It was still very early when he arrived in the quiet residential neighborhood a short time later. He cruised slowly past the house where Linda and Gilford Norburn lived. There was a light on in the kitchen and in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The couple was awake but the shades were still closed. There was no vehicle in the driveway. Eleanor had mentioned that Norburn drove an expensive European speedster. It was most likely still parked in the garage behind the house.
Nick continued to the corner and pulled over on a side street. He shut off the engine and opened the door. Rex followed him out. Nick hesitated and then reached back into the car for the leash. Rex often made people uneasy but sometimes that proved a useful distraction. Nick hooked the leather lead to the dog’s collar.
“Try to look adorable,” Nick said. “We don’t want to frighten the neighbors.”
Rex ignored him.
“You aren’t exactly the adorable type, are you?” Nick said. “Neither am I. Probably why we ended up together. All right, let’s case the joint. It’s always good to get the lay of the land before you confront a guy who has no problem killing women.”
A service lane ran behind the house. Nick and Rex made their way along the path and gained access to the grounds by means of a garden gate. There was an unattached garage. Judging from the size and the barn door–style entrance, it had probably once served as a carriage house.
Nick went inside the garage. A sleek speedster loomed in the shadows. In Nick’s experience most people left the key in the ignition. It turned out that Gilford Norburn was no exception.
Nick pocketed the key. In addition to housing the speedster, the garage served as a tool and gardening shed. Rakes, trowels, shears, and watering cans were neatly arranged on a workbench that stood against one wall.
A roll of heavy garden twine caught his eye. He used a pair of shears to cut off a long length of it.
A few minutes later, satisfied with the arrangements he had made, he and Rex went around to the front of the house. Nick pressed the bell. Footsteps sounded in the hall. The door opened. The man who looked out was in his late thirties. He was mostly dressed for the day in a pair of buff-colored trousers and a white shirt. He had not yet put on a tie.
He eyed Rex with an expression that was somewhere between wariness and irritation. Either Rex was not doing a very good job of looking adorable or else Norburn did not like dogs in general. Nick was willing to bet on the latter.
“Gilford Norburn?” Nick said in the tone he used when he was playing the role of a salesman or a messenger.
“I’m Norburn. Who are you and what are you doing on my front step at this hour? If you’re selling something you can get lost.”
Gilford started to close the door.
“I have a message for Mrs. Linda Norburn,” Nick said. “It concerns a member of her family.”
Gilford paused in the act of shutting the door. He narrowed his eyes. “Mrs. Norburn is my wife. She’s upstairs, packing for a voyage to Hawaii. She doesn’t have time to talk to you. Give me the message. I’ll see that she gets it.”
“I was instructed to give the message to Mrs. Norburn personally,” Nick said. “It concerns an inheritance from a distant relative.”
That got Gilford’s attention. He opened the door wide. There was an avid glint of excitement in his eyes.
“I was under the impression my wife had only one living relative,” he said. “Her aunt.”
“Your information is wrong. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss the particulars with anyone except Linda Norburn.”
Light footsteps sounded in the hall behind Gilford. A woman appeared. She peered past Gilford’s shoulder.
“I’m Linda Norburn,” she said. “I heard something about a message for me.”
Gilford looked annoyed. “It’s all right, darling. I’m sure it’s not important.”
“The message concerns a death in the family,” Nick said. “And an inheritance.”
Linda stared at him, horrified. “Not Aunt Eleanor. I talked to her yesterday. She was in excellent health.”
“If I might come inside?” Nick said. “This isn’t the sort of news that should be delivered on the front step.”
“Yes, of course, please come in.”
“We don’t know who this man is,” Gilford said. He was starting to appear uneasy again.
“My name is Nick Sundridge,” Nick said. “Mrs. Norburn, your aunt, Eleanor Barrows, is fine. But she sent me to tell you some very important news.”
“Let him in, Gilford,” Linda said.
Nick was relieved to hear the firm edge of authority in her voice. Linda was not a weak-willed individual. Norburn evidently realized he would not win the small skirmish. Reluctantly he stepped out of the way.
“The living room,” Linda said. “Follow me, please.”
Nick moved into the hallway. Rex accompanied him.
“The dog stays outside,” Gilford ordered. “He looks vicious.”
Nick motioned Rex outside. Rex obeyed. Nick dropped the leash on the front step. Rex sat down.
“Stay,” Nick said.
Rex whined but he sank down on the step.
Gilford shut the door. Rex’s low growl could be heard through the wooden panels.
Nick walked into the living room behind Linda. She stopped and turned to face him, her hands knotted tightly together, eyes huge with fear.
“Please tell me who died,” she said.
“The good news is that the death has not yet occurred,” Nick said.
“What?” Linda stared at him.
“But if I can’t make you believe me, you’re going to be the victim of a tragic accident at sea,” Nick added.
“What the hell is going on here?” Gilford demanded. “Linda, he’s crazy. We’ve let a madman into our house.”
Nick opened the envelope and dropped the contents on the coffee table.
“Did your husband tell you that he has been married and widowed twice?” he asked.
Linda shook her head, dumbfounded. “I have no idea what you are talking about. You must have the wrong address.”
“Damn right, he’s got the wrong address,” Gilford roared. “He’s a con artist or a thief who talked his way in here to rob us. Sundridge, you had better get out of here before I call the cops.”
“Go ahead and call them,” Nick said. “I’m sure they’ll be interested in these photos.” He picked up the pictures and held them in front of Linda’s face. “Meet Norburn’s first two wives. Both drowned within a few months after they were married, just as you’re going to drown somewhere en route to Hawaii. Did you know that your husband took out a life insurance policy on you recently?”
“You’re lying,” Gilford snarled. “You can’t possibly know that. Furthermore, tha
t isn’t me in those pictures.”
He lunged forward in an effort to grab the photos. Nick snapped them out of the way and then gave them to Linda.
Bewildered, she stared at the pictures. “Gilford, is this you in these pictures?”
“Of course not,” Gilford said.
“Look at the eyes and then look at the ring on his little finger,” Nick said. “It’s the same one he’s wearing now.”
Linda inhaled, a sharp, shocked breath. She looked up from the photos. “It is you, Gilford. What is going on here? I don’t understand.”
“I told you, the man in those photos isn’t me,” Gilford said.
“I’ve got the telephone number of the insurance agent who sold your husband the policy on your life,” Nick said to Linda. “The office opens at nine so you’ll be able to verify what I’m telling you. Your husband bought the policy a month after you were married. Payable on your death. Accidental death, I might add. Which is why you’re scheduled to go overboard. Murder isn’t covered.”
“All lies,” Gilford snarled.
True. The part about having tracked down the insurance agent was a lie. The best you could say about it was that it was a bluff. Just one of the tactics that gave private investigators a less-than-respectable reputation. There hadn’t been time to start making phone calls to every insurance company in the Los Angeles area. But there was bound to be one because it was part of the pattern.
Linda turned to Nick. “My aunt asked you to investigate Gilford, didn’t she?”
“Darling, your aunt disapproves of me,” Gilford said. “You know that. This is some kind of setup. She’s trying to make you distrust me.”
Outside a car screeched to a stop in the street. Linda rushed to the window and pulled the shade aside.
“It’s Aunt Eleanor,” she said.
“The police will be able to verify the identity of the man in those photographs,” Nick said. “They might not be able to prove that Norburn murdered his first two wives but they can certainly confirm his first two marriages.”
“That proves nothing,” Gilford raged.
“Among other things it proves fraud.” Nick paused. “Unless you disclosed those first two marriages to Linda?”
“No,” Linda said. She turned away from the window to stare at Gilford. The photos in her hands shook a little. “He never told me that he had been married.”
Gilford made fists of his hands. His eyes were very hard and very cold. “My past has nothing to do with us, Linda. Sundridge can’t prove anything.”
“I don’t need to prove anything,” Nick said. “The police will handle that end of things. In a couple of days the story will be front-page news on every paper in the country. The press loves a good society murder story. A court of law might not be able to get a conviction but that won’t be necessary. You’ll be tried and convicted in the press.”
A loud pounding sounded on the door. Rex started barking furiously.
“Linda,” Eleanor shouted, her voice muffled. “You must listen to me. Norburn intends to murder you at sea. I’ve called the police. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Linda started down the hall toward the front door. Unfortunately her path took her very close to Norburn.
“No,” Nick said.
Why in hell couldn’t things ever go according to plan? Why did there always have to be a miscalculation?
Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. People. They were invariably the problem. Unfortunately for a man in his line of work, people—specifically clients—were the ones who paid the bills.
He moved quickly, trying to intercept Linda, but it was too late. Norburn grabbed her and pinned her close with an arm around her throat. At the same time he took a folding pocketknife out of his trousers. He flicked the blade open and put the tip to Linda’s throat.
It was not a big knife but it didn’t take a large blade to do lethal damage.
The front door opened. Eleanor appeared. Rex raced inside.
“Rex,” Nick said quietly.
The dog rushed to his side and took up a position next to him.
“The door was unlocked,” Eleanor said. She stopped, taking in the situation at a glance. “Let her go, you bastard.”
Rex growled.
“Keep that damned dog away from me or I’ll cut Linda’s throat,” Norburn said.
“Rex,” Nick said. “Stay.”
Rex obeyed but he shivered with battle-ready tension.
“Linda and I are leaving,” Norburn said. He backed away, Linda locked against him, the blade of the pocketknife at her throat. He edged toward the rear of the house.
“I assume you’re going to try to get away in your car,” Nick said.
“That’s right,” Norburn said. “My speedster can outrun any police car. If anyone tries to stop me, Linda will be a dead woman.”
“You’ll be needing your key,” Nick said. He held up the key he had taken from the ignition.
Norburn stared at the key in disbelief. “You son of a bitch. Give the key to Linda. Go on, give it to her, you bastard.”
“Sure,” Nick said.
He walked forward. Rex paced beside him.
“Stop,” Norburn yelped. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Make up your mind,” Nick said.
Norburn angled his jaw toward a console table. “Put the key on top of that table. Linda will pick it up.”
Nick set the key down on the polished wooden table. Norburn edged toward the table. He did not loosen his hold on Linda.
“Get it,” he told her.
She reached out and picked up the key, fingers visibly shaking.
Gilford dragged her out of the living room. They both disappeared down the hall.
Eleanor turned to Nick, stricken. “He’ll kill her.”
“No,” Nick said. “He won’t. She’s his insurance policy. She’s no good to him dead.”
But he knew he was taking chances now. He had a talent for predicting actions and calculating outcomes but Norburn was wound up very tight. Rage and panic created an explosive tension. People who lost control were highly volatile, less predictable.
Nick and Rex reached the kitchen just in time to see Norburn and Linda at the back door. Norburn no longer had Linda by the throat. Securing a captive in that way was awkward, after all, especially when you were trying to run. He now had his fist clamped around Linda’s upper right arm.
“Open the door,” Norburn ordered.
She obeyed. Norburn charged through first, intent on pulling her after him.
The toe of his shoe caught on the garden twine that Nick had strung across the back door a few inches off the floor.
Norburn yelped. In a frantic effort to keep his balance, he released Linda, dropped the pocketknife, and flailed wildly. But it was too late. He had too much momentum.
He toppled forward, slamming chest-first on the floor of the porch with enough force to send a shudder through the wooden boards.
“Guard,” Nick said to Rex.
The dog leaped forward and took up a threatening post near Gilford’s head.
“Get that dog away from me,” Gilford said.
Everyone, including Rex, ignored him.
Nick stripped off his necktie and crouched to bind Norburn’s wrists behind his back.
Wailing sirens shattered the early-morning silence of the neighborhood.
“The police are here,” Eleanor said. “Thank heavens. Linda, are you all right, dear?”
“Yes.” Linda wrapped her arms around her midsection. She gazed at Gilford. Shock and disbelief were starting to give way to fury. “You were right about him, Aunt Eleanor.”
Eleanor put a comforting arm around her. “I’m so sorry, darling.”
Nick got to his feet.
“You can’t prove anything,” Gilford hissed.
But his voice was weaker now, as if he was trying to convince himself.
“All I have to do is make sure that every newspaper in the city knows that you married Linda under false pretenses and took out a life insurance policy on her, just as you did after you married those other women,” Nick said. “You lied about your name. You lied about your previous marriages. You lied about your finances.”
“You don’t know anything about my finances,” Gilford roared. “That’s private information.”
“I’m sure Linda’s lawyer will be able to get those details,” Nick said.
Gilford’s jaw clenched. “My wife doesn’t have a lawyer.”
“You’re wrong, Norburn,” Eleanor said. “Linda does have a lawyer—my personal attorney.”
Two uniformed officers appeared around the corner of the house.
“No one answered the door,” one of them said. “Thought we’d better have a look back here. What’s going on?”
Eleanor pointed at Gilford. “That man on the floor is my niece’s husband. He was planning to murder her for the insurance money. Mr. Sundridge stopped him.”
The officer’s eyes narrowed in a thoughtful expression. “Nick Sundridge?”
“That’s right,” Nick said.
“Heard Detective Teague talk about you. You’re the private detective who was involved in that shoot-out on top of the hotel a year ago. Something about a fight over a woman.”
“That’s right,” Nick said. There was no point trying to explain the nuances of what had happened on the hotel rooftop. The public’s impressions had been fixed in stone, thanks to the press.
“I hired Mr. Sundridge to investigate my niece’s husband,” Eleanor explained.
Linda raised her chin. “My aunt is right. My husband was planning to kill me.”
“Don’t listen to my wife,” Norburn said. “She’s mentally unstable. She needs help. I’m going to arrange for her to enter an asylum.”
