Michael Gray Novels

by Henry Kuttner

  “When was this?”

  “About a year ago.”

  “How did he change?”

  “He—it was his temper, mainly. He seemed to be tense all the time. Worried. He’s had business troubles, you see. It was his temper, really, that I just couldn’t stand. It upsets me terribly. He’d go along for a while, just simmering, and then suddenly everything would blow off and he’d start yelling at me. I couldn’t stand it. Finally I just moved out. And then things got worse.”

  “How?”

  “It’s been absolute hell on earth. He’s always phoning, trying to see me, quarreling over the phone. He’s frantic to get me to come back. And then, Wednesday night—Mr. Gray, he just can’t be sane!”

  Gray said carefully, “You tell me the police were skeptical about what happened that night. Do you know why that should be?”

  Karen shut her eyes. Her hand closed tight on the chair arm.

  “I’ve—I’ve had bad luck lately. Some—well, unpleasant things have happened to me. The police—oh, I don’t want to talk about it. That’s not what I came here for.”

  Gray said, “The police must have asked a lot of questions about what happened that night in your apartment. Did you really have evidence to satisfy them that an intruder got in?”

  She made an anxious little grimace. “There was somebody there! All you had to do was look. Glass all over the floor—the neighbors heard me screaming—”

  “And you’re sure it was your husband, not a burglar?”

  “I saw him as close as I am to you! I’d know Dennis anywhere!”

  Gray said, “Was anything stolen? I mean, if it had been a burglar—”

  “It was Dennis. Why should he steal anything?”

  “Did the police test for fingerprints?”

  She nodded grudgingly. “Nothing on the glass lamps. He must have worn gloves.”

  Gray was silent a moment. Then he said, “Your husband sounds to me like an impulsive man. Somebody whose temper explodes unexpectedly. Is that right?”

  She nodded.

  “And yet he takes time to put on gloves before he comes into your apartment. He wears gloves—but he doesn’t try to hide his face. Does this seem strange at all to you?”

  She sat up straighter. Her face flushed a little.

  “You’re trying to say you don’t believe me.”

  “I’m trying to get the situation clear,” Gray amended. “Some of the angles seem hard to understand. For instance—”

  Karen Champion stood up abruptly. “I didn’t come here to have holes picked in my story,” she said in a cold voice. “I’ve told you exactly what happened. I don’t expect you to believe it. Nobody does. There’s no point in even trying to discuss it with you. What I’m paying you for is to help me get Dennis declared insane. Are you going to help me, or aren’t you?”

  Gray rose too. “I’m not sure if I can. I’ve never met your husband. My opinion on his competence wouldn’t mean a thing. That’s why I’ve been trying to find out more about him—and you.”

  She hardly seemed to be listening. In a tight voice she said, “Dr. Ettinger doesn’t believe me. The police don’t believe me. Somebody’s got to believe me, before it’s too late. I’ve got to get help somewhere!” She shut her eyes tight and Gray saw how the gloved hands had closed on the back of the chair, holding on hard. For a moment she rocked forward a little, not like a woman about to faint, but like someone standing on the brink of an abyss, feeling the downward pull.

  Gray said, “Mrs. Champion—”

  She opened her eyes and met his gaze, a look almost of panic on her face.

  Gray went on, “—I’d like to help you if you could let me.”

  She shook her head. With great effort she straightened, drew a deep breath and said, almost brightly, in a controlled voice, “No. I know what you mean. I can’t seem to convince anybody that I’m perfectly all right. It’s Dennis who needs to be looked after. You’re just like all the others—you think there’s something wrong with me.” She put up a steady hand and straightened the flower-basket hat.

  “I’m not the patient, Mr. Gray. It would be Dennis if it were anybody. So it has to be nobody at all. It was a mistake coming here, I can see that.” She turned toward the door. “If you’ll send me your bill—you have my address.”

  Gray went forward to open the door for her. “Problems like this can’t be solved in one sitting, Mrs. Champion. I’d like to think over what you’ve told me and then see you again, if you’d care to come back.”

  She gave him a measuring look.

  “You’re misunderstanding something that just happened,” she said. “I was—dizzy. But there’s nothing wrong with me. I had a bad fall when I was a little girl. From the roof of our house. I still have nightmares about it. They thought I’d lose the use of my arm. The bone never did heal straight. Naturally—” She shrugged. “I still have a fear of falling. But I’m not neurotic, Mr. Gray. I’m just scared. I’ve told you why. There’s nothing you can do.”

  Gray opened the door for her. “I’ll still be here if you change your mind,” he said.

  In the outer office a man rose as Karen Champion came in. His dark gaze flicked from Karen to Gray. “All right, Karen?” he asked, his deep voice almost a growl.

  “Yes, of course.” She hesitated. “Mr. Gray—Mr. Albano.”

  The two men shook hands. Albano had a face like an American Indian’s, dark, chiseled of flat slabs. He was a big man, smooth and sure in his movements. “I hope you were able to help Karen,” he said.

  Before Gray could answer, Karen spoke quickly. “Let’s go, Oliver. I’m dying for a drink. Thanks again, Mr. Gray.”

  Gray watched them go. Just as they passed out of sight, he noticed how Albano’s powerful hand curled delicately, possessively, around Karen’s arm.

  3

  Gray went back to his desk, reached for the telephone and dialed police headquarters. After a little wait he heard Captain Harry Zucker’s heavy voice on the line.

  Gray asked a few questions.

  “Damned if I know, Mike,” Zucker said. “I don’t handle every case in San Francisco. Besides, we wouldn’t have the dope here in Homicide. What are you mixed up in now, anyhow?”

  “Nothing, maybe,” Gray said. “I just have to make sure.”

  “Well, wait a minute,” Zucker said. “I’ll see what I can find out.” There was a long pause. After a while he came back on the wire. “Lieutenant Yeager’s handling your case. Larry Yeager. He’ll tell you whatever you need to know. I’ll switch you over.”

  Lieutenant Yeager had a young, crisp voice. “Captain Zucker tells me you’re interested in the Karen Champion business,” he said.

  “I am,” Gray told him. “Just what did happen the other night?”

  “Oh, we got a call from her about four in the morning. We went out to take a look. Her bedroom was messed up a little. A pair of glass dressing-table lamps had been smashed and the floor was covered with glass. Mrs. Champion wasn’t hurt. There were no signs of forcible entry and no recent prints of her husband’s.”

  “None on the lamps?”

  “A few of hers, where she’d cleared the stuff out of the way. None of Mr. Champion’s or anybody else’s.”

  “What does Champion say about it?” Gray asked.

  Yeager laughed shortly. “Plenty. Incidentally, he has no alibi. We found him at home half an hour after the alleged attack. Said he’d been in bed and asleep, but of course there wasn’t any proof. Except he’d have had to move mighty fast to make it from her place to his in time. We sent somebody direct from the local station to check on him.”

  “You said ‘alleged attack,’” Gray said. “Why’s that?”

  Yeager laughed again.

  “This is the fourth time this year Mrs. Champion has made a complaint. Twice somebody was supposed to have dragged her up an alley trying to kidnap her. Once it was a Peeping Tom. Those were phonies.”

  “You’re sure?”

/>   “We investigated, Mr. Gray. We investigated very thoroughly. We turned up evidence that disproved her story every time—well, twice, anyhow. There might have been a Peeping Tom. I doubt it. What we did find out is that Mrs. Champion’s a pathological liar.”

  Gray said, “I see.”

  “Sure. All her friends know about it. She makes up those stories all the time, just for the hell of it. This time, dollars to doughnuts, she broke the lamps, messed up the room a little and yelled for the police again. We tried to show her it wasn’t any use, but she just got hysterical. She’s sworn out a warrant against her husband and there’ll be a hearing in a couple of days.”

  Gray said thoughtfully, “How sure are you it’s a phony this time?”

  “Sure enough. It’s just one more link in the chain. She’s done it before, she’ll do it again. She’s the kind of woman who makes our job tough. I wish there were something we could do to stop her. Tell you the truth, this hearing’s got me worried, just a little. We didn’t bring charges—there wasn’t any evidence. So she did. If the judge dismisses the case, okay. But if he doesn’t, there’ll be a little hell to pay in the department.”

  “Why?” Gray asked.

  “If she thinks she can get away with it, she’ll have herself a ball. Pull the same thing five times a week. The only way to stop her’s to slap her down hard. And she might tell a good enough story to convince the judge. Liars like the Champion dame can be plenty convincing sometimes, when you don’t know them. Especially if Champion blows off or gets mixed up in court.”

  “You got the impression he might?”

  “Hell, he’s ready to flip. Who wouldn’t be, under the circumstances? Did you know she’s going around claiming he’s crazy?” Yeager laughed. “For my money, she’s the one who hears voices. At the hearing Champion could be nervous enough to give the wrong impression, and then it could be up to the Grand Jury. That’s just what his wife wants. From then on there’d be no holding her.”

  Gray looked thoughtfully at the telephone. “Then you do feel pretty sure she’s lying. Good, that’s what I needed to know. Incidentally, her husband has no record?”

  “Clean as a whistle,” Yeager said. “Have you got any ideas on this case?”

  Gray said, “No. I just talked with Mrs. Champion once. It bothered me a little to think she might really be telling the truth this time.”

  “You can forget it, then,” Yeager said.

  “All right. That settles it, I guess. Thanks very much, Lieutenant.”

  Gray hung up and pushed the phone back decisively. That was that, and it was out of his hands unless Karen decided for herself she was sick enough to need help.

  The foggy evening of that day had begun to close in and mist was rolling across San Francisco from the Bay when Gray’s phone rang and a woman’s firm contralto said, “Mr. Gray? I understand Karen Champion had a talk with you this afternoon. Is that right?”

  Gray said, “Will you let me have your name, please?”

  The woman laughed a little. “Sorry. I’m Joyce Quigley. My husband and I are partners with Dennis Champion. We own CQD—Champion-Quigley Developments.” She hesitated. “Karen did see you today?”

  Gray said, “I think you’d better consult Mrs. Champion about that, hadn’t you?”

  “What good would that do?” Joyce Quigley asked frankly. “When Karen’s in a state you can’t believe a word she says. Well, look—if you have to play it cagey, you have to. I’ll just assume she saw you. What I need to know is whether she told you about our problem?”

  “Problem?” Gray was puzzled. “I’m sorry—I’m not trying to be cagey. Could you tell me a little more?”

  Joyce Quigley sighed. “Easily, If it’s really necessary. Karen said she was going to consult you about it. We’re terribly concerned about Dennis Champion. We need to find out if he’s insane.”

  Gray sat back, jolted.

  Mrs. Quigley said after a moment, “Did you hear me, Mr. Gray? I said—”

  “Yes, I heard you.” Gray tried to think fast. Was he going to have to rearrange all his impressions about Karen Champion? Did this mean Dr. Ettinger and the police were wrong, after all? He said slowly, “It’s a very complex business, determining a man’s mental competence, Mrs. Quigley. You’d need very solid evidence to convince a court that Mr. Champion is legally insane.”

  “Yes, I suppose I would.” She hesitated. “The thing is, Mr. Gray, Dennis Champion owns fifty-one per cent of our partnership. My husband and I own the rest. It’s an unlimited partnership—Roger and I are responsible for any business debts Dennis incurs, for instance. It’s an idiotic setup. We stand to lose everything we have if Dennis goes on the way he’s going. But I don’t dare make a move. There’s such a thing as slander, you know. And yet—I’ve got to make sure we’re safe. Mr. Gray, could you help us out?”

  “In what way?”

  “I’ll pay your fee, whatever it is. But I’d like you to talk to Dennis Champion.”

  “Mrs. Quigley, I—”

  “You could give me an opinion, couldn’t you? I know it wouldn’t prove anything conclusively. But I’ve got to get started somewhere. Look, we’re having a business meeting at our place tonight. If you could just drop in casually and talk to Dennis a little—”

  Gray said, “Wait, Mrs. Quigley. This may not be the right approach at all. I can’t—” He paused briefly, struggling against temptation. Actually, he felt very curious about Dennis Champion. But there was Karen to consider, too. He made his voice firm. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t go along with you.”

  For a moment the line was silent. Then Joyce Quigley said, “Don’t decide just yet. Let me call you back in an hour. Please think it over, Mr. Gray.”

  He tried to protest. She said, “In an hour. Good-by, Mr. Gray.”

  Gray sat grinning reluctantly at the phone. She had sensed his hesitation. In her way she was a fair psychologist herself. He leaned back in his chair and scowled at the opposite wall.

  The affair was no business of his. But Karen had come to him for help and he hadn’t been able to offer her anything she could accept. Suppose she was lying this time. That still meant she was suffering from some deep trouble that drove her to the lies. She needed help, though probably not the kind she thought she needed. But her dismissal of Gray had been firm. If he stepped into this case uninvited by her, his presence might provide the last little push necessary to shut her mind forever to the idea of psychotherapy.

  And suppose she wasn’t lying….

  Gray reached for the telephone and dialed Dr. Ettinger’s number. The office nurse told him Ettinger was at the hospital and would call him back later. Gray lit a cigarette irritably and tried to make up his mind whether he could do Karen Champion more good by staying clear of her affairs or by stepping into them.

  Was Champion really suffering from some mental disorder?

  Finally, with an impatient gesture, he got up, switched off his desk light and put on his coat. Ettinger and Joyce Quigley could both call his home phone when they wanted him. What he needed was fresh air to clear his head and his thinking.

  4

  A man rose from the bench by the elevator as Gray got out at his apartment house floor. “Mr. Gray?” he asked.

  “Yes?”

  “My name’s Fenn. Ira Fenn. Private investigation. Do you have five or ten minutes to spare?”

  “May I see your credentials?” Gray asked.

  Fenn brought out his wallet. Gray nodded.

  “Come on in.”

  Gray unlocked the door. From the kitchen a small cry of greeting and a sudden flurry heralded the approach of Gray’s cat, Julia. She checked herself sharply at the sight of a stranger.

  Gray said, “Sit down. I won’t be a minute.” He went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and poured canned milk into a bowl. Hot water from the faucet warmed the milk up to a suitable temperature and Gray set it on the floor. Julia approached distastefully. She had nev
er cared much for milk. Gray said in a low voice, “It’ll hold you till later. Drink up.”

  He went back into the living room and looked at his caller. Fenn was a tall, thin man who seemed to hang loosely from his bones. He had broad, yellow teeth and deeply sunken cheeks, and his joints had creaked as he lowered himself into a chair.

  Gray said, “Now. What’s the difficulty?”

  “No difficulty.” Fenn’s voice had a creak, as though it, like his joints, needed oiling. “I understand Karen Champion saw you today. Is that right?”

  Gray tried to keep expression off his face entirely. This was turning into a pattern, he thought.

  “Who told you that?” he asked.

  Fenn shrugged. “Her husband.” His face took on a look of labored appeal. “I need some information. I wouldn’t ask you for anything confidential. But I know you work with the police sometimes. As a private investigator, I’m a kind of law-enforcement man myself. I thought you wouldn’t mind telling me a few things that—well, that you’d tell to the police if they asked.”

  Gray said, “What is it you want to know?”

  Fenn cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable.

  “I represent Dennis Champion,” he said. “Mr. Champion’s got a real problem. His wife’s making a lot of trouble for him. She claims she thinks he’s crazy. I guess this is no news to you, is it?”

  Gray looked at him without expression. “Go on,” he said.

  “Hell, I’m not asking you for anything that would get you into trouble,” Fenn said in a quick, defensive voice.

  “You haven’t asked for anything yet,” Gray reminded him. “Just what’s on your mind?”

  “Let’s stop beating around the bush, then. I’ll tell you. We know Karen Champion’s talking around that she’s going to get her husband put away. I know she’s hired you to help her do it. I thought maybe we could get together on this and work things out so everybody’s happy.” Fenn paused and eyed Gray expectantly.