The Star Reporter Mystery

by Norvin Pallas LLC

  “But where they do exist,” said Uglancie quickly, “it’s because the people want them and the police tolerate them. Either the police, or a group of citizens acting through the police, could close them all down in half an hour. Anyway, I don’t know what that has to do with me. I have no connections with these down-state operations, and I never did.”

  “Knight seemed to think otherwise.”

  “You know something?” said Uglancie, smiling. “I think Knight must have written those articles with a lawyer looking over his shoulder. He implied a great deal, but what he actually said was so carefully worded that my attorney didn’t think it was any use plastering him with a libel suit. That’s the vicious thing about newspapers. They can ruin reputations by hint and innuendo, without saying anything you can pin on them. Knight didn’t say I was the slot-machine king. He only said I was the alleged slot-machine king, but he didn’t say who alleged it, except himself.”

  “At least he was able to show your connection with the local coin-operated machines, as you call them.”

  “I’ve always been fascinated by those machines,” said Uglancie seriously, “even as a kid. I used to stand by the hour and watch those little steam shovels operating. A lot of these machines render a very useful service. There are some that dispense a useful product, some dispense music, there are weighing machines, machines that represent a game of skill like the pinball machines, and some that are just interesting to watch in operation. You’d be surprised at all the different types of machines. You know how some people get frustrated when the machine outwits them? Well, there’s one machine just coming out that provides a place below where the customer can kick it. Then a few seconds later, after the customer has turned away, the machine emits a raspberry call. The idea is to make the customer laugh.”

  Ronald wondered what his own reaction would be if he were a customer—probably come back and give the machine a harder kick, he thought.

  “I hope we’re going to become good friends,” Uglancie went on. “Sometime when you’ve got a little time to spare, I’d like you to look over some of my catalogues. I think you’ll agree that there’s nothing vicious about machines like these.”

  “I don’t think Knight objected to the machines themselves,” Ronald remarked. “It was your manner of running your business he didn’t like.”

  “And once again he was careful not to attribute any malfeasance to me directly,” Uglancie pointed out. “I don’t see how he could have, anyway. It’s true I did own and service a couple hundred machines several years ago, but I’ve sold out. My only interest now is as a hobby.”

  “Apparently Knight didn’t think so. It wasn’t his habit to rake up old scandals. I’m sure he wouldn’t have brought your name into it unless he felt you were still actively involved.”

  “Does that mean he’s still after me?” The question was asked very smoothly, without a trace of rancor, so that Ronald was almost surprised into giving an answer. He caught himself quickly.

  “I guess you’ll have to ask Knight about that.”

  “There’s nothing I’d rather do.” Uglancie’s manner remained politely calm, but his hard eyes were fastened squarely on Ronald. “Let’s come off it, Wilford. I know exactly why you’re here. Knight has run out on you, and you don’t know why or where. So you’ve come here to try to pump me for information.”

  Ronald was startled. How could Uglancie know any such thing, unless…? “Does that mean you have anything to do with his leaving town?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Uglancie coolly. “In fact, I’ll go so far as to say just the opposite. I don’t know where he is now, or why he left. But I’d very much like to find out. I owe Knight a score or two. Whenever anybody hits me, I try to hit him back just a little harder if I can.”

  “Is that a threat?” Ronald demanded. “If it is, you can save your breath. You have a fine home, a family, servants, two fancy cars out in the garage. You’ve won a certain acceptance in the community. I’m sure you’d like to hang on to all that. The community tolerates you so far, but you know you have to play it pretty carefully so it will continue to do so. I don’t think either Knight or I need to be afraid to go out on dark nights.”

  “You’re right there,” said Uglancie quietly. “I have managed to acquire a certain standing in the community that I intend to hang on to at all costs. It would be a good thing for you to bear that in mind.” He added quickly, “Now don’t go getting worked up again. That’s no threat. If you knew me better you’d know I never make threats; what’s the use? If I intend to do something I do it, and why tip off the other party in advance? However, neither you nor Knight has anything to worry about from me—anyway, not in the way you mean. I never resort to violence—”

  “Not even in Blassingham County early last summer?” questioned Ronald.

  “That was an entirely different matter,” said Uglancie carelessly. “When I’m hit, I do hit back, and sometimes I’m not always particular if I hit a little low. But I do hit back. It might be just as well to remind your friend Knight of that, in case he ever considers using the rest of the material he’s got stored away in the third locked drawer on the right-hand side of your office safe.”

  Once again Ronald was amazed. How could Uglancie know all this? Did he have a source of information within the newspaper office itself? Uglancie leaned back, took out his cigarette case, and after making a gesture toward Ronald, took one himself and lighted it. Only then did Ronald see that Uglancie’s hand was trembling. Beneath his appearance of calm, he must have been a very worried man. Ronald looked around the room, at the expensive period furniture, thick carpeting, rich draperies, and a number of paintings on the wall that appeared to be originals, and he thought: What’s the use of all this, if you’re going to be nervous about it?

  “You appear to be a fine young man, Wilford,” Uglancie went on, his tone once more smooth and syrupy. “I could tell you a lot about yourself, perhaps more than you even know yourself. You’re a small-town boy, come to make good in the big city. You’ve still got the stars in your eyes, still convinced this is a great, big, wonderful world, except for a few minor flaws that you expect to correct singlehandedly.”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with a person’s having ideals,” Ronald broke in.

  “Of course not. I like to see it, particularly in a young person. But while your eyes are blinded with stars, it’s a good idea to remember that you’ve got two good feet that ought to remain firmly planted on the ground. That’s the first rule of journalism, or if it isn’t, it ought to be.”

  He continued, as Ronald made no comment, “You were born and raised in Forestdale and attended school there. You were a student leader, served on the newspaper, ranked high in your class. After graduating you served a hitch in the army, then went to work for the town newspaper. You have a younger brother named Ted, and with him you were engaged in two investigations that brought you some passing mention in the national press. That’s very good going for a small town.”

  Further details about Ronald’s past life flowed smoothly from his lips, as Ronald grew more and more astonished. A few of the details were inaccurate, but most of it was accurate enough. He could tell that Uglancie had gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to learn all he could about Ronald. But why, what purpose did it serve?

  “And now shall I tell you a little about Miss Curtis?” Uglancie proceeded. “Did you know she has a twin sister with whom she doesn’t get along well?”

  A twin sister! Then the woman who had looked him over so coolly wasn’t Knight’s secretary at all. You often hear people say, it must have been my twin, but just once in a thousand times it may happen to be true. All the same, Ronald didn’t feel that he ought to be picking up details like this from Uglancie.

  “I don’t think I want to hear anything more about Miss Curtis,” he objected. “All these things you’ve told me, I suppose, are the kind of things almost anyone could find out, if he wanted to go to the b
other. But now that you know, what good does it do you?”

  “In your case, none at all, for the time being—although I can’t be sure but what you might get in my hair sometime in the future. Quite frankly, Wilford, I don’t care two pins about you at this moment. All I care about is Knight, and anybody who may be associated with him. I want to know all there is to know about Knight, every detail about his past life, I want to know him so well that I’ll know what he’s thinking at almost any given moment. Now here’s my proposition, Wilford. You don’t like me. I’m sorry about that, but it’s only because you don’t understand me. Twenty years from now you’ll be able to understand me better. But liking me isn’t important. We’re in a position where we both want the same thing. You want to find Knight, and so do I, so why don’t we join forces, pool our efforts, so to speak?”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Uglancie,” said Ronald, rising to his feet. “I wouldn’t care to make a bargain I might want to back out of later. It was courteous of you to grant me an interview, but I don’t think I’ll be bothering you again.”

  On his ride back downtown, Ronald did some heavy thinking. If Uglancie was sincere (but could you count on it?), he had had nothing to do with Knight’s disappearance. One of the two leads Ronald had depended on had snapped in his hand, but he still held the other. The logical thing to do, then, was to follow the other thread, that letter of recommendation from Dr. Milton. But as he thought it over, Ronald felt less certain that this was another thread at all. Maybe the two were entwined together. Uglancie was interested in uncovering Knight’s past, too, and apparently he hadn’t gotten very far, for he had asked Ronald to help him. But Ronald hadn’t gotten very far himself. The only clue he held was Dr. Milton’s letter, but seemingly this was a clue Uglancie, for all his sources of information, was lacking. Ronald was beginning to feel this letter might prove to be very important.

  He stopped for lunch in the terminal, then returned to the office. He reported his failure, if it was a failure, to Miss Curtis, and could tell she was very disappointed.

  “Then I suppose, Ronald, that it’s something tied up with one of his previous cases.”

  “It might be,” Ronald agreed slowly, “and I suppose it would be a good idea for you to check back through the files to see what you can find. Somehow I don’t think that’s the answer. This all came about too suddenly. If it does have anything to do with Knight’s investigations, it’s more likely to be some new investigation that we don’t know anything about. I’m going to follow a little different lead. I’m going to drive down to Imperial this afternoon. If I don’t uncover anything, I’ll be back tomorrow. If I do, it’ll probably take me longer.”

  He hesitated, as he started to leave. “I didn’t know that you had a twin sister, Carole.”

  She looked up at him in surprise. “And I didn’t know that you even knew I had a first name.”

  “Oh, I’ve known that for a long time. Only when I met this girl coming down the steps a couple of times, and she didn’t say hello, I thought that—”

  He felt his cheeks growing red.

  “It’s an odd thing,” she covered up smoothly, “Karen and I don’t dress alike, so women never confuse us. It’s only the men that do.”

  “I suppose I wouldn’t have, except that she was coming out of the office, and then—”

  “Karen often stops in during her lunch hour. I suppose you heard that we didn’t get along? There’s never been any serious difference between us, except that we each feel we’d like to preserve our individuality. Don’t you ever quarrel with your younger brother?”

  “Mm, not very often—not since he got big enough to hit back.”

  It was necessary for Ronald to procure his suitcase from the editor’s office. Burnett was in and asked how he was coming, and Ronald supplied the details.

  “Are you sure Uglancie wasn’t just acting?” asked Burnett.

  “If he was, he ought to get the Academy Award.”

  Ronald had forgotten that he had left his suitcase just around the end of the editor’s desk. He stumbled across it, and the suitcase burst open with a bang. The editor looked at him grimly, but didn’t say anything.

  Gathering his effects together, Ronald hurried out. And so, without ever having returned to his apartment in Bratenahl at all, he found himself on the treacherous ice-marred paving of Route 42 as he headed once more out of town.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Man Who Never Existed

  Mrs. Milton received him cordially and invited him in, but when he inquired for Dr. Milton, she responded:

  “My dear, then I suppose you haven’t heard. Doctor Milton passed away two years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ronald murmured.

  “I’m sure you mean that, young man, but you needn’t be. Doctor Milton lived a full and useful life, and I shall be joining him very soon.” Faith and hope shone triumphantly in her eyes.

  Ronald could think of nothing to say except to proceed to business. “Mrs. Milton, did you ever know a person—a boy or young man—named Barry Knight?”

  “Barry Knight?” Her brow puckered as she tried to recollect. “No, the name doesn’t sound at all familiar to me.”

  “Well, then, is it possible that your husband knew him?”

  “Oh, yes, that’s quite possible. Doctor Milton knew a good many people whom I didn’t know.”

  “This Barry Knight is said to have graduated from the local high school about six years ago.”

  She brightened. “Oh, then, that makes it very possible. You see, this is a fairly small village, and I think I know everyone who lives here. And I also know everyone in our congregation, whether they happen to live in the village or not. But the high school is different. Students come in from a large area around here. If they lived outside of town, and their families were not members of our church, then I might not ever meet them. But my husband might, for he was often concerned with school affairs.”

  Ronald produced the letter of recommendation her husband had written and showed it to her. “The question on my mind, Mrs. Milton, is whether your husband really wrote this letter.”

  “Yes, I would think so,” she returned, after studying it carefully for a few moments. “This is our regular church stationery, and that looks like my husband’s signature. Yes, I think I can say almost positively that my husband wrote this letter.”

  “I notice that there are no stenographer’s initials on it. Does that mean that he typed the letter himself? Please excuse me for questioning you on all these details, but I feel the matter is very important.”

  “I think he must have typed it himself. Notice how short it is. If it had been a long letter, or a matter of great importance, my husband would probably have dictated the letter to the church secretary over the telephone, but a letter like this he could handle by himself. I can almost imagine how it must have happened. You say this young man had just graduated from school. Wanting a recommendation, I suppose he came to my husband and asked for it, and Doctor Milton agreed. He took the young man into the study, got out his old portable, and typed up the letter. He could manage pretty well with his two fingers, even though you can see that he did make some mistakes.”

  Ronald hesitated. “Please excuse me once more, Mrs. Milton, for suggesting anything unpleasant, but may I assume that your husband really did have a long acquaintance with Barry Knight—that it wasn’t just a casual friendship?”

  “Doctor Milton says in his letter that he knew Barry for a number of years,” said Mrs. Milton warmly, “and if he said it, you may be certain it was so. Doctor Milton tried to give people a helping hand when he could, but he always felt that nothing useful is ever accomplished with a lie.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Milton,” Ronald agreed quickly, “I’m quite certain it must have been so.” But he could not help but wonder why Barry had come to Dr. Milton for a recommendation, when he was not a member of the local church. Was it because there was no one else he could turn to? Had he been completely fr
ank with the minister, or could he, perhaps, have managed to dupe him if he wanted to? But why should he want to do that? Just the fact that Mrs. Milton didn’t remember Knight was nothing very substantial against him. But why, again, was so little known about Barry Knight’s early background, why had Uglancie been unable to find out?

  “Thank you, Mrs. Milton, you’ve been very helpful to me. As I mentioned before, it’s very important that I should find Mr. Knight just as soon as I can, and I thought talking to some people who had known him in years past might be helpful to me.”

  “I’m only sorry I couldn’t help you more. I won’t ask you why you want to find Mr. Knight, for I’m certain it’s none of my business, and it couldn’t be anything disreputable if he was a friend of my husband’s. I wish you good luck just the same. I suppose it must be very bad driving?”

  “The snowplow has been through, and I have snow tires,” Ronald reassured her. “I must be on my way. Good evening, and thank you once more.”

  Outside, he hesitated only a moment. His failure to secure anything very definite hadn’t discouraged him, but instead had alerted him to a possibly bigger story. It was dark already, and to return to the city that night would have meant a long drive over bad roads. Besides, he was fully convinced that another day in Imperial might prove very profitable. If Mrs. Milton didn’t know Knight, who did? The high school was probably the next place to check, but it was too late to do anything more that night. He got a room at the village’s small hotel, and after catching up on some correspondence, turned in early.

  Although this was still Christmas vacation, the school’s secretary was at work when he arrived at the office to inquire. When he asked about Barry Knight, she consulted her files for a moment, then said:

  “I’m sorry, but there was no one named Barry Knight in the graduating class you mentioned. Look here.”

  She produced a graduation day program, listing the names of all the persons graduating that year. Barry Knight’s name was not given.