“Yeah.” Harmas held his head. “What’s he want?”
“I don’t know. I took the newspaper into him about five minutes ago. There was an explosion, then I heard him yelling for you.”
“I have an idea that this isn’t going to be my favourite day,” Harmas said entering Maddox’s office.
Maddox was smoking furiously. Although it was only a quarter after nine a.m., from the state of his desk and floor, he might have been working throughout the night.
“Look at this,” he said and tossed the newspaper at Harmas.
Harmas sank into a chair and read the banner headlines.
Maniac Strikes Again: Carbon Copy Murder and Assault.
He glanced at Maddox who was watching him, then he began to read the small type under the headline. Suddenly, he stiffened.
“Philip Barlowe? He’s a client of ours, isn’t he? Isn’t he the one…?”
“He was our client!” Maddox said, a snarl in his voice. “He was insured for fifty thousand dollars… now he’s dead!”
“Shot through the back of his head… his wife raped!” Harmas looked shocked. “It’s time they caught this nut. She sounds in a bad way.”
“I can read,” Maddox said, “Steve, I don’t like this. There’s a smell to it. This guy took out a life coverage ten days ago… now he’s dead. I don’t like it.”
“I guess she doesn’t like it either,” Hannas said a little impatiently. “It’s one of those things.” He looked sharply at Maddox. “You don’t think he was killed for the insurance money?”
“I don’t know, but when a two bit salesman insures his life for fifty thousand dollars and then he dies before the ink’s scarcely dry on the policy, I don’t like it.”
“It says here she was raped and is suffering from a dislocated jaw. She gets the money, doesn’t she? Don’t tell me….”
“For fifty thousand dollars I’d be raped and have my jaw dislocated,” Maddox said grimly. “I’m a head start on you. You haven’t seen the dossier the Tracing Agency turned me on this woman… I have. It’s some story. A woman life that could do anything.”
“Where’s the dossier? Let me see it, then I can look and act as clever as you,” Harmas said.
“Never mind about the dossier. We’ve got to move fast. I want you to go to Brent right away. See leutenant Jenson. Tell him I don’t like the set-up and that I want you to work with him. He’ll be glad to have you. I want you to be there when Jenson talks to this woman. Keep your eyes and ears open. See Anson. Warn him I’m going to fight her claim when she puts it in. I don’t want him shooting his mouth off to the press. Go to Jason’s Glen or whatever it’s called and look around.” He stubbed out his cigarette and lit another. “And Steve, while she’s in hospital, go out to her house and look around. Don’t tell Jenson you’re going".
“What am I supposed to be looking for?” Harmas asked. “I don’t know. Get the feel of the place. You might find something. Get out there and look.”
“Well, okay,” Harmas got to his feet. “I’ll see Jenson first.”
“Get the doctor’s report about this woman. I want to be satisfied she was raped and attacked.”
“It says so here, doesn’t it?” Harmas pointed to the newspaper.
“Do you believe everything you read in papers?” Maddox snapped. “Get the doctor’s report!”
A few minutes to nine o’clock, Anna Garvin arrived at the office. She was surprised to find Anson already at his desk.
“You’re early,” she said, then looked at her watch. “Or am I late?”
Anson had arrived some thirty minutes ago. He had come to the office early to disconnect the time switch clock and remove the tape on the recorder before Anna arrived.
“I’m early,” he said. “Seen the paper? Barlowe’s dead… you remember… the guy I sold that big policy to.”
“Yes, I saw it. It’s awful, isn’t it, Mr. Anson? I’m scared to go out at night.” Ancon dailed the Pru Town Gazette. He asked to speak to Jeff Frisdee.
When the reporter came on the line, Anson said, “This guy Barlowe… I sold him a fifty thousand dollar life coverage only a few days ago. I thought you might want that bit of news.”
“Why, sure", Frisbee said. “Thanks a lot. Fifty thousand, huh? That’s quite a hunk of dough. Well, his wife will welcome it. I’m glad you told me.”
“There’s been no arrest yet?” Anson asked.
“No. Jenson’s going round like a zombie… he hasn’t a clue.”
“How’s Mrs. Barlowe?”
“Pretty bad. The doctor won’t let anyone talk to her.”
“If you hear anything, let me know. I’m interested as Barlowe was my client.”
“Sure will. How soon will your people pay the claim?”
“Shouldn’t take long.”
“Let me know when they do. It’s news. I’ll let you know anything of interest from my end.”
Anson said he would and hung up.
“How is she?” Anna asked.
“Pretty bad. This is a horrible thing. I think the least I can do is to send her some flowers. Call up Devons and tell them to send a dozen roses right away to the hospital, will you, Anna?”
Lieutenant Fred Jenson of the Brent homicide squad was a chunky, fair man with alert grey eyes and a brisk manner. He wasn’t much of a policeman, but he did try and sometimes, but not often, his efforts were rewarded.
He was flicking through a file when Harmas walked in.
“Hello,” he said. “What do you want?”
He had worked with Harmas in the past and the two men got along well together. Harmas sat astride a straight back chair.
“Maddox sent me down,” he said. “Barlowe… we have him covered for fifty thousand and Maddox is laying a square egg.”
Jenson who knew Maddox grinned.
“Fifty thousand! I’ll say the egg’s square! So what? Don’t tell me he’s trying to make a mystery out of this one! It happened five days ago… it’s happened again. We have a sex killer in the district: it’s as simple as that. Catching a punk like this isn’t easy. I’m planning to plant a police officer and a girl out at Glyn Hill in the hope of trapping him.”
“Maddox thinks this is a lot more complicated than that,” Harmas said. “He’s even thinking Mrs. Barlowe shot her husband and raped herself to collect the fifty thousand.”
Jenson moved impatiently.
“Maddox is crazy!” he exclaimed. “You don’t mean this seriously, do you?”
Harmas shrugged.
“When can you talk to Mrs. Barlowe?”
“Doctor Henry at the hospital said I could call him around six o’clock. He thought she might be ready to be interviewed by then.”
“I’d like to come along. I won’t be in the way. Maddox wants me to be around and help where I can. Fifty grand is lots of folding money.”
“Okay. You help me… I’ll help you, but Maddox is just shooting at the moon.”
“Yeah… I’ve said time and time again that he’s shooting at the moon, then what happens? The sonofabitch hits the moon!”
Jenson looked sharply at him.
“You don’t really think Mrs. Barlowe is involved in this killing?”
“I’ll tell you after I have talked to her,” Harmas said “I’ll be happier too, when I have talked to Doctor Henry.”
“This is wasting time. This killer hit her so hard that he dislocated her jaw. Don’t tell me…”
Harmas lifted his shoulders.
“Maddox says for fifty thousand bucks, he would let anyone dislocate his jaw.”
Jenson stubbed out his cigarette.
“Maddox! The fact is he doesn’t want to meet Mrs. Barlowe’s claim! That’s the long and short of it! He’d believe any story so long as he doesn’t have to pay out and you know it.”
“I guess you’re right,” Harmas said. “Well, I’ll get along. I’ll look in again around six o’clock. I want to be there when you talk to Mrs. Barlowe.”
> Leaving police headquarters, Harmas drove over to Anson’s office.
He had met Anson once before, but had only a vague recollection of him. He knew him to be a smart salesman but that was about all he did know about him.
He found Anson at his desk. As soon as he saw him, he remembered him: a man of middle height, blond, slimly built with grey, rather staring eyes.
“Remember me?” he said, offering his hand. “Why, sure,” Anson said. “It’s Steve Harmas, isn’t it?” He got up and shook hands, “Glad to see you. You’ve come about this shocking murder of Barlowe?”
Harmas was aware of the fat, homely looking girl at the other desk who was staring and listening.
“That’s it,” he said. “Look friend, I’ve just arrived from “Frisco". How’s about you and me going some place for a cup of coffee?”
“Why, sure,” Anson said, “There’s a place right across the road.” To Anna he went on, “I’ll be back in about an hour… if anyone wants me.”
A few minutes later, seated in a quiet comer in a cafe, Anson said, “Maddox on the warpath?” Harmas grinned. “That’s an understatement. He thinks Mrs. Barlowe shot her husband and raped herself!”
Anson dropped a lump of sugar into his coffee. “The man’s pathological. Well, he’ll have to pass this claim! What’s fifty thousand dollars to the National Fidelity? The press know about it. If he tried to block payment, he’s going to get some rank publicity.”
Harmas stroked his nose. He looked thoughtfully at Anson. “How come the press know about it? Did you tell them?”
“Why not?” Anson asked and sat back looking at Harmas, his grey eyes mildly inquiring. “Here we have a front page murder. Everyone in the district knows me. I sold Barlowe the policy. It’s great publicity not only for me but also for the Company. It is this kind of publicity, providing the claim is paid, that sells policies.”
“Maddox didn’t want you to talk to the press,” Harmas said.
“Why not?”
“He thinks the set-up stinks.” Anson smiled as he stirred the coffee.
“You work for him,” he said. “I work for the Company. If I worked the way he wants a salesman to work, the Company would go broke. Come on… you know that’s right. Maddox should have retired years ago. He never gives a salesman a chance.”
“When you turned in that policy,” Harmas said, “Maddox didn’t like it. He got a Tracing Agency to dig up some facts about Barlowe and his wife. He has a dossier on them both. I haven’t seen it, but from what he tells me the wife hasn’t anything to shout about. He told me a woman of her reputation could be capable of anything.”
Anson suddenly slopped his coffee. He put down the cup and looked at Harmas, the grey of his eyes darkening.
“What’s this dossier?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen it yet; that’s what he says. He thinks she is capable of anything.”
“He’s crazy!” There was sudden doubt in Ansons voice. “This woman was attacked and raped! Hasn’t he any feelings?”
“Jenson thinks the way you do,” Harmas said quietly, “but I’ve worked with Maddox now for ten years. He has never been wrong when he claims a policy is off colour…”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Anson asked. Harmas winked. “You know, Maddox is something very special. He told me to come out here and look around. He had no idea what I was to look for and nor did I, but he told me to get the feel of the place.” He tapped his pocket. “Believe it, or not, here is an outline for a short story of a woman who swindles an insurance company. She and her lover… he is a ticket officer of an airline company… it’s a nice idea. Maddox will love it. If she wrote it, it shows she has had the idea of swindling an insurance company and when she puts in the claim, we can use this story to show the state of mind she’s in.”
“Look this is ridiculous,” Anson said angrily. “Plenty of people write stories about…” He stopped as he saw Harmas wasn’t listening. Harmas had got to his feet and was now wandering around the room, whistling under his breath. He paused and peered at something hanging on the wall. “Well, seen this?” he said. “Barlowe was a pistol shot champion.
He won first prize at the Pru Town Small Arms and Target Club.”
“So what?” Anson said, an edge to his voice. “We’d look a couple of jerks if someone found us here.”
“Relax,” Harmas said. “Who’s likely to come? Now a guy who is interested in pistol target shooting is likely to have a gun. I wonder if he did own a gun?”
“What does it matter if he did?” Anson said. Harmas began moving around the room. He paused to open cupboards and drawers and finally he came to the ugly heavy, sideboard. He pulled open a drawer.
“Here we are… a gun box.” He took the wooden box from the drawer and opened it. For a long moment there was a heavy silence, then he said “Cartridges, cleaning material, but no gun, and yet here’s a place for the gun. Where’s the gun?”
“Are you asking me or are you talking to yourself?” Anson demanded. Harmas grinned at him.
“I was talking to myself. Look, why not go and admire the garden. I’m going to be here quite some time. This place fascinates me.”
Anson went over to the settee and sat down.. “I’ll stay here. If there is anything I can do…” Harmas, humming under his breath, wasn’t listening. He walked from the room and Anson listened to him climb the stairs.
CHAPTER 9
An hour and a half later, Harmas and Anson drove away from Barlowe’s house and towards Pru Town.
Harmas was silent, for some time during the drive, then as they approached the outskirts of Pru Town, he began to talk.
“Maddox may seem to you to be a deadbeat always looking for trouble,” he said, “but he’s far from that. He’s practically clairvoyant, and I’m not kidding. Here we have a situation: a man working as a small time clerk, insures himself for fifty thousand dollars. Maddox was right to raise his eyebrows. Now I’ve seen this guy’s home, I also ask myself why he should have insured himself for such a sum.”
Anson hunched his shoulders.
“He wanted the policy to raise capital so he could start up on his own as a horticulturist,” he said tonelessly. “I’ve already explained all this to Maddox. I didn’t persuade Barlowe one way or the other if that worries you at all.”
“He must have been planning something big,” Harmas said, noting the irritation in Anson’s voice. “Fifty grand is a hunk of dough for a little man like Barlowe.”
“You’ve seen his garden,” Anson said. “Why shouldn’t he have big ideas? He was able to pay the first premium, so why should I worry?”
“He paid in cash?”
“Yes.”
“From the look of the house, you wouldn’t have thought he had that much money in cash.” Anson shrugged impatiently.
“Okay… go ahead: make a mystery of it. He had the money: he gave it to me: do I have to get worried about a man giving me cash?”
Harmas glanced thoughtfully at the small, blond man at his side and then looked away.
“You’re right,” he said soothingly. “Tell me about Mrs. Barlowe. What kind of woman is she?”
“I don’t know,” Anson said curtly. “I only saw her once… she’s good looking, youngish. I didn’t pay her much attention.”
“Did they get along together?”
“Yes, they did,” Anson said. “They got along very well together.”
“Is that a fact? What makes you say that?”
Anson suddenly stiffened. Careful, he told himself, this guy isn’t flapping with his mouth for the sake of making noises.
He is the top investigator and Maddox’s stooge.
“I don’t know… an impression I got. The way Barlowe spoke about her.”
“He must have been smart to fool you,” Harmas said, putting a cigarette between his lips. “You been upstairs and looked the set-up over?”
Anson’s hands tightened on the steering-wheel.
&nbs
p; “Fool me? What do you mean?”
“They didn’t sleep together. You should have seen his room. The sheets hadn’t been changed in months.” Harmas grimaced. “Our little pal was a pervert. I found some books in his room that would make your hair stand on end. There were other things too. Those two didn’t live as husband and wife. I’m ready to bet a hundred bucks.”
“Well, that’s as it may be,” Anson said tonelessly. “I had the impression that they were happy together.”
“She kept the house like a pig sty. If a woman really loves her husband, she makes an effort to keep his home decent.”
“That your idea?” Anson said indifferently. “It doesn’t mean that to me. It just means she doesn’t know how to run a house… some women just can’t.”
“Well, we’ll see. I just can’t wait to read her dossier,” Harmas said, lighting his cigarette.
“Just what is this dossier?” Anson asked, his voice sharpening.
“I haven’t seen it yet, but Maddox is worked up about it.”
“I’d like to see it,” Anson said.
“You don’t have to worry your head about all this. It’s your job to sell insurance and you do it damn well. It’s my job to make sure the policy is okay.”
Some five minutes later, Anson pulled up outside the Marlborough hotel.
“I’ll leave you here,” he said. “I have still a lot of work to do.”
“Fine,” Harmas said, getting out of the car. “I have to see Jenson at six. We’re calling on Mrs. Barlowe. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Yes,” Anson said, and waving his hand, he drove away.
Fay Lawley watched Harmas get out of Anson’s car and walk over to the Marlborough hotel. She watched Anson drive away. She waited a moment, then crossing the street, she entered the hotel in time to see Harmas pick up his key from the desk and cross the lobby to the elevator.
She walked over to the desk where Tom Nodley, the clerk in charge, was busy sorting mail.
“Hi, Tom,” she said and gave him her wide professional smile.
“Hello, baby,” Nodley said, letting his eyes run over her lush body. “What do you want?”
Tell It to the Birds Page 11
