He was quiet for a moment, then said, "Well, what do you think of my wild guesses now?"
"Not quite so wild."
He glanced at his watch. "I want you to meet Baron and Miss Manning. We're late."
I'd heard of Lilith Manning, or at least of the Mannings. The name was a kind of local Rockefeller or Morgan, the ultimate in Seacliff society. The elder Mannings, now dead, had been immensely wealthy, and had left much of their property to the city: the Manning Memorial Hospital, the public beach Dane had mentioned, an auditorium, even a museum building.
Besides the property bequeathed to Seacliff, a lot of other land and buildings had been left in the control of the Lilith Manning Foundation, a Delaware corporation that the elder Mannings had set up before their deaths. It was a charitable organization, and Dane, I knew was one of its directors.
"Lilith's funny, Shell," Dane said as we drove along. "Educated in private schools back east, never liked Seacliff for some reason. She's spent most of her time around New York or abroad. But, as I told you, she's here now. I met her for the first time a few days ago, when Baron and I had lunch at her place to talk this mess over. Took something like this to get her back here, I guess."
"You said they've both been approached about selling, just as you were. What's to keep them from doing it? You say this Manning gal doesn't like Seacliff."
He said, "In the first place, they've been offered only about half what their property's worth. But I've been worried about that angle myself, Shell. I'm not so much afraid of Baron's selling out. This is his home here, and he's an important man locally, active in civic organizations, member of the bar association, also on the board of directors of the Manning Foundation with me. Besides, he's a fine man with a lot of backbone, and he's just as anxious to keep mobsters out as I am. Miss Manning, at least so far, says she wouldn't think of selling out to this Seaco group. I don't know what she'd do, though, if they upped their price. Easier to put pressure on a woman, too." He was quiet for a moment, then he said slowly, "You know, if they should both sell to Seaco, I'd be almost the only one left with any sizable amount of property. Those crooks would have practically all of it. How does that sound, Shell? A city owned by mobsters?"
"I guess it's the next logical step for the hoods, Em."
He said soberly, "If it could happen in Seacliff, it could happen anyplace else. Anyplace."
The Manning home—or rather estate—was three or four miles out of town and about half a mile from the sea. The huge house sat by itself on the side of a hill, just off Vincent Street, a white monstrosity like a scar against the green, tree-covered hillside. We drove into the curving driveway fronting the house. There was a lot of green lawn in front, shaggy, not tended recently, and the house could have used a coat of paint.
I said, "Place looks a bit decayed, Em."
"Nobody lives here, really. Lilith's only been back a few days. Caretaker comes around every week or so, but it looks like he's a little behind. Oh, there's Baron."
I had parked in an extension of the drive alongside the house and cut the motor. Now I saw a tall man walking toward us from the rear of the house. He waved, then came up alongside the car and said to Dane, "Hello, Emmett. We'd almost given you up."
I got out of the car and walked around it as Dane said, "We had a little delay. Tell you about it in a minute. Clyde, this is Shell Scott."
Baron turned, extending his hand as I came up. "How do you do, Mr. Scott? Glad to have you join us."
He was about forty-five, with neatly combed hair starting to gray, a good-looking man with regular, somewhat fleshy features and blue eyes. He was broad-shouldered, but a little thick through the middle.
Dane asked, "Lilith in the house?"
"She's out back," Baron said. "She's set up a table with sandwiches by the pool." He grinned at me. "They're not very good. Lilith never learned how to cook, and apparently she's not much good even at making sandwiches. But there's beer out there, too."
We walked along the drive toward the rear of the house and Baron said to me, "We can relax at the pool. Lilith, despite all her money, is not at all formal."
And then I saw Lilith. "Em," I said, "why the hell didn't you warn me?"
Chapter Four
For no good reason that I could think of now, I'd formed a mental image, a preconceived idea of Miss Manning. I knew she was rich as hell, educated in private schools, and had spent almost no time in Seacliff. I'd assumed she was "too good" for the place, and somehow I'd imagined she was about forty years old with a face like a hatchet.
That was wrong. She had a good fifteen years to go before forty, and her face was not like a hatchet. The main thing I noticed was the way her black one-piece bathing suit clung to her, and the way it bulged at the top. She was a tall blonde, maybe five-eight, with enough pretty flesh on her bones so that she seemed to have no bones, and that impressed me as an excellent way to be.
She climbed out of the pool and waited for us as we walked toward her, standing relaxed with her hands on her hips.
We stopped in front of her and she said, "Hello, Emmett." Then she looked at me from clear blue eyes. "You must be Shell Scott."
I said, "'Lo. Yes. How do you do?"
"I knew Emmett was bringing a detective," she said pleasantly, "but I'm afraid I did you mental injustice. Somehow I had you pictured as a little man sprinkling fingerprint powder around and skulking after people with your hat pulled down—you know, sort of a cut-rate Sherlock Holmes." She smiled. "I certainly never expected anyone so big."
"To be perfectly frank, Miss Manning, I never expected anyone so bi— ah, so— I mean, you're different from what I expected, too."
"Would you like a sandwich?" she asked.
"Lilith," Baron said, "those sandwiches are lousy."
"I'd love a sandwich," I said.
She laughed, and Baron chuckled. "Remember I warned you," he said, and we all followed her to the little table by the pool, and had sandwiches, and they were awful. I ate four.
While we forced them down and drank beer, Dane told them what had happened.
Baron said, "I'll be completely honest. This frightens me. I don't like dealing with men who— well, who carry guns." He turned to me. "Naturally I don't mean you, Mr. Scott. I'm very glad you're on our side. I mean these others. That chap who talked to me was quite belligerent, but I had no idea . . ." He paused for a moment. "It's fantastic. I don't understand how such a thing can happen."
Dane said, "It's like I told Shell, Clyde. The town hasn't caught on to what's happening yet. It's been a series of isolated cases up till now. Hardly anybody has even heard of this Seacliff Development Company except the individuals approached. And they don't know of the other deals, or what's behind it."
Baron said, "I'm afraid I don't understand what's behind it, either."
Dane had brought his map along from the house. Now he unfolded it and placed it where Baron and Lilith could see it. He said, "I've marked the places sold lately—the ones I know about. They're almost all on the coast near the business district, but only a few are actually downtown. That beachfront property on both sides of town is worth about two million dollars or more right now—of which you and Lilith and I own over half. Now, do you remember a couple of years ago when several of us tried to get some of that property rezoned as a commercial district? And were turned down?"
I thought Baron was going to drop his teeth, he looked so startled, and Lilith gasped. I said, "What's all the fuss?"
Dane looked at me. "Didn't have time to explain this to you earlier, Shell. The point is—as Baron and Lilith understand—that if the beachfront property were rezoned as a business district, it would immediately increase in value anywhere from a hundred to four hundred percent."
"You mean from two million it could go to maybe eight million?" I asked him.
"It could. So you can see the Seaco bunch would have plenty of reasons for wanting that property."
"Yeah," I said. "Millions of them."
Baron had recovered his composure by now and he said, "The rezoning idea seems plausible, Emmett, I have to grant you that." He smiled wryly. "If it were rezoned, you have to admit that, from a purely selfish point of view, whoever holds the land would benefit immensely. That's a good reason for retaining our holdings."
"Of course," Dane said. "But that's not the important part. We can't let hoodlums come in here and take our possessions by force. Even if we did benefit personally, it would be a short-lived benefit. You know we wouldn't have any chance against a criminal combination. Not if we let them get entrenched, get strong. We have to stop them now, while they're weak, if we can."
Baron nodded. Dane went on, "You're in a better position to check this rezoning idea, Clyde. You know the mayor well, and the police chief, and you have more influence than I. Certainly you and Lilith together could stir up a lot of investigation."
"Yes," Baron said. "I'll find out what I can today." He looked at Lilith. "You know where some of the bodies are buried, Lilith. Want to help me dig some up?"
"Love to." She didn't seem particularly carried away with the idea of exerting herself. After all, what's a million dollars? She looked at me, smiling slightly. "Well, Mr. Scott, you're awfully quiet. Anything to add?"
"Most of this is a little out of my line. But I do think like a detective." I looked at Baron. "So what's with the cops in this town? And how's the mayor? For any bunch to come in here and throw a lot of weight around, they'd have to have local help, protection from somewhere."
Baron stroked his chin. "I'm not too much help there. I know Chief Thurmond well, and I can vouch for him absolutely. He may not be all one would want in a police chief, but at least he's completely honest. If he knew of any dishonesty or corruption, he'd root it out. I don't know many of the other officers."
"Well," I said, "I'll nose around. And I'll see this Jim Norris. Either of you know anything about him?"
Lilith shook her head, but Baron said, "Just that he's been associated with some unsavory persons. Possibly persons of the, ah, underworld. I've heard that some of his partners in the Beachcomber's Lodge might have criminal records."
We talked for another fifteen minutes, and wound up all practically twirling with enthusiasm and great expectations. Actually, with what we now knew, it seemed that we'd have little difficulty in stopping whatever was going on. It seemed so patently crooked, and so easy to throw the crooks in the clink. So I can be wrong.
Finally we all got up and started walking back toward my Cad. Lilith and I were in the rear, and she put a hand on my arm. Baron and Dane walked on to the car.
Lilith said, "I'm sorry we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances, Mr. Scott. But I'm glad we did meet. Perhaps the circumstances will be less . . . depressing next time."
"I hope so. I'll keep in touch."
"That's an odd phrase. Keep in touch, I mean. We say so many things we don't mean literally, don't we? Like drop up, and shirt off my back. And keep in touch."
"Ah, yes. Well, I've got to run. Uh, I'll drop— I'll keep— Hell. I shall return."
She laughed. "Well, I'll finish my swim. Anyway, I'm glad you'll be helping us. You do seem quite capable."
I grinned. "Of what?"
She made a face at me. "Almost anything, I imagine. Good-by, Mr. Scott."
"Good-by, Miss Manning."
"Lilith."
"'By, Lilith."
She turned and walked away, and I watched her intently as she reached the pool and either dived in or just leaned forward and let gravity take over. I shut my mouth with a click and went to the Cad.
Chapter Five
When i dropped Dane off at his house, he said, "What time you think you'll be back?"
It was three-thirty. "Six, maybe seven," I said. "I'll see the cops, then talk to those guys you mentioned, including Norris. Look over the town."
"I think you'll notice a change in Seacliff, Shell. We'll have dinner here, huh?"
"Sure, Em. See you later."
"Wait here a minute." He went into the house, then came back with an envelope, which he tossed in the window at me. "We haven't talked money yet, Shell, but this'll hold you a while."
"For God's sake, Em, don't worry about—"
"Beat it," he said. "I need the money? Buy yourself a beer." He walked away.
As I drove toward town, I opened the envelope. Inside was a check for five thousand dollars. Buy a beer, indeed.
The police station was a squat cement building on Third and Elm. The police chief, Wallace Thurmond, was in his office smoking a cigar and reading a newspaper.
When he told me to sit down, I thought there was something vaguely familiar about him. He was of medium height and heavy. His face was pale, and fog-gray eyes under sparse eyebrows and almost nonexistent brownish hair gave his features a drained appearance. He looked to me like a genial, bumbling small-town cop. I told him who I was and showed him my credentials, and he leaned back in his swivel chair.
"Scott! Weren't you here on that Dane mess back in—what was it, forty-eight?"
"Forty-seven." Now I remembered him. He'd been Lieutenant Thurmond then, and I'd met him during the job I'd done for Dane. "Hi," I said. "Didn't recognize you at first."
He grinned and reached over the desk to shake my hand. "Put on a little weight." He patted his middle. "What brings you down here, Scott?"
"Little checking. You've got a good memory, Chief."
"Thanks. Part of my job. You working for Dane again?"
I thought about Baron and Lilith. "Partly," I said. "Well, I'll sign a complaint against those guys you've got here. Incidentally, any chance I can talk to them?"
"Why, they're not here, Scott. We booked them, but had to let them out on bail. Lawyer was here—"
"You what?"
He squinted at me and repeated calmly, "Lawyer was here almost as soon as they were. You know we couldn't hold them."
"Do I? Hell, they couldn't have been here more than an hour or—"
This time he interrupted me. "Just a minute, Scott. Wanted to talk to you about this mess. Sergeant Carver told me what happened. I got Mr. Renner's story, but I didn't get yours. I'd like it now."
I was about ready to squirt fire through my nose, but I forced myself to calm down and gave him the story of what had happened that afternoon. I put everything into it: the Seacliff Development Company, the rezoning angle, Renner about to sap Dane, the works.
When I finished, Chief Thurmond closed his pale eyes, then slowly opened them. "You see how it goes," he said. "Story Renner gave me was that Dane attacked him when he was calmly talking to him, and he merely defended himself. And then all of a sudden somebody shot him. He didn't know who, or where the shot even came from, just that he got shot. Now, Sergeant Carver told me what you said happened."
I didn't like his tone and I stood up. But he said, still in the same slow drawl, "And your story agrees exactly with what Carver told me. However, it's still just one story against another. Sit down. And we got laws, a man's got rights. I said sit down."
I was so close to sitting on his head that it was a struggle for a few seconds, but finally I sank back into the chair. "What about the rest of it?" I asked.
He frowned. "I don't know. You haven't shown me any kind of proof yet. Sounds mighty farfetched. Far as I know, this development company is just some local businessmen. Haven't broken the law so far as I can tell."
"Had any complaints from anybody who sold out?"
"Not a one. Well, it's quite a story. You bring me some proof, even show me any kind of evidence of conspiracy, and we'll fill up the jail here. I can't do a thing till then. You know that."
"You check those guys for records?"
"No records around here. Haven't heard from the FBI yet."
"You'll probably hear plenty. Something else. Was there anything fishy about Ed Whist's death? Any chance is wasn't an accident?"
"You serious?"
"Uh-huh. Was an autopsy per
formed?"
"Autopsy? What for? Why the hell would anybody want to knock off old Whist? What got you on this, Scott?" the man seemed bewildered.
"His widow sold their home today to the Seacliff Development Company—that group that hasn't broken any laws yet. It made we wonder."
He sat there looking at me, maybe chewing his cud. I said, "Have you had any reports on known criminals showing up in town? Any out-of-town hoods dropping in?"
He chuckled. "In Seacliff? You're used to Los Angeles, Scott. We got a nice, clean, quiet town here. No trouble except a few flies in summer."
I got up. "I guess that does it. I suppose you know those three bums you let go bear no love in their hearts for me. It's six, two, and even they'll shoot me between the eyes if they get the chance."
He shook his head. "You private detectives, you're all alike. Dramatize things, make a big thing out of nothing."
I leaned forward onto his desk. "Sure," I said. "What do you imagine they use those guns for? Those guns they carry so handy? Picking their teeth?"
For a while he didn't answer. Then he said, "Good to see you again, Scott."
"Yeah." I turned around and walked to the door, then remembered something. It seemed like a waste of time, but I turned and asked, "Just one thing more. I heard Jim Norris is important in the Seacliff Company. You know if that's true?"
"Might be. I think I heard his name mentioned."
"He ever been in trouble with the law?"
"Not around here. No place, so far as I know."
"Hello, chum. See you made it after all." That came from behind me and I knew who it was after the second word.
I turned. "Well, Sergeant Carver," I said. "You've been a big help. If Renner shoots me in the head, you be sure and question him, will you?"
Carver scowled at me, the fleshy face drooping slightly and the dark-rimed eyes squinting a little. "You wouldn't be telling me my job again, would you, chum?"
Too Many Crooks Page 3
