I gave him my banker’s frown. “The firm has been active in that locality, Colonel. I’m not really familiar with the details.”
He nodded. “I kind of figured that. All right, then, get that partner of yours in here. What I have to say is for both of you, anyway.”
I got up and walked carefully and slowly to Max’s office. I opened his door and said, “Colonel Dean wants to talk to us, Max.”
He grinned. “I’m a little busy this morning, Jim. Will you ask him if it’s important?”
“Max,” I said evenly, “let’s go.”
He rose, still grinning. “I’m on the way.”
In my office, Max pulled a chair around next to mine, so both of us were facing the Colonel. If there was any lack of confidence in Max, it wasn’t apparent.
The Colonel studied Max’s face and then his glance came back to rest on mine. “I’m not sure a talk on ethics would be understood in this room.”
Max said, “I studied it in college, Colonel. Under men qualified to lecture on it. Let’s get to the meat.”
The Colonel’s flush was faint and the ice in his eyes shimmered. “Don’t be insolent, young man.”
Max smiled and said nothing. I said nothing.
The Colonel’s voice was low and confident. “I remember Jim telling me one time that you two started in this business with three thousand dollars each. That gave you a working capital of six thousand dollars. Since then, you learned the commission gimmick, and how to put other people’s money to work for you.”
Max and I nodded like robots under the same control.
The Colonel permitted himself a very faint smile. “I wonder, today, just how much of your own money is at work for you?”
Max smiled. “Quite a bit more than the six thousand, Colonel.”
The Colonel nodded. “I’ll accept that. However, if I stopped your Hillview money and your Bay Shore money, you might be in a little trouble, don’t you think?” He looked like a man with a full house.
Max shrugged. “Maybe. Why would you do that, Colonel?”
“For reasons of my own. And then, if Devon’s didn’t come into that area, you might really be up the creek.”
Max shrugged again and his voice was deadly. “I don’t think so. Bullock’s are interested in the site. I have some friends on the Board of Directors.”
The Colonel flinched. “You’re lying, Schuman.”
Max said nothing.
“They’d never get in. They’d never get it zoned. I can see to that in this town.”
“I guess you could, Colonel,” Max admitted. “And you’d keep Devon’s out, too? Why, Colonel? We didn’t touch that property you want. Are you going to cut off your nose to spite your face?”
“And teach a couple of young upstarts a lesson? I might.”
I decided it was time for me to do some of the fighting. I said calmly, “You’re less of a businessman than I thought, Colonel. And don’t ever come in here and threaten us with anything. Because all I have to do is explain to some Devon stockholders the sweet little deal you and your brother-in-law were cooking up. That could finish both of you.”
The Colonel suddenly looked like a man holding two very small pairs. His eyes went from me to Max and back. “Jim Gulliver …” he said curiously and took a deep breath. “My God, to think Jim Gulliver would talk to me like …”
“Like you talked to me,” I finished for him. “I’m a big boy now, Colonel. I don’t need your patronage.”
The Colonel’s flush deepened.
Max said soothingly, “We didn’t buy the land you wanted, Colonel. That would be unethical. We did use some information you gave us in an attempt to make a few dollars for ourselves. I hope that never is considered unethical. You’re too smart a man, Colonel, to let resentment cost you money.”
The Colonel took another deep breath. “I — could use a glass of water.”
Max went and got him one. The Colonel hesitated for only a second before accepting it. He nodded his thanks.
Max was smiling. “More, Colonel?”
The Colonel didn’t look at him nor at me. His eyes went past me and toward the photographs above the safe.
I said, “I’ve gone through a very trying time the last few days, Colonel Dean. If I’ve been rude this morning, that could be a partial cause.”
“Yes,” he said absently, “yes, I suppose …” He shook his head dazedly, and stood up. “Well, it certainly would be stupid for me to lose out because of my own bullheadedness, wouldn’t it?”
Max and I nodded.
The Colonel tried to regain the upper hand. “I’ll have to give this a lot of thought, a lot of thought.” He looked at Max. “You weren’t entirely truthful, young man. You did buy a section of that property, the lots those hovels are on.”
Max said, “I’ll sell them both to you for what I paid for them.” He paused. “Or I’ll give one of them to you, right now. Fair enough? Ethical?”
The Colonel had been thrown a crumb, and it was enough for the moment. He said, “I’ll take the free one.” He looked at me and smiled. “Some partner you have here, Jim.”
“I think so,” I said.
Benign, the Colonel, now. Smiling and important and feeling proud of himself. “Well, I guess there’s no reason why we shouldn’t all prosper, is there? I guess that’s the American way.”
“That’s what makes this country great,” Max said.
I had a feeling that in another few seconds we’d all be singing “God Bless America.”
“My love to Carol and the kids,” the Colonel said, and we both shook hands with him and I went with him to the hall door.
When I came back to my office, Max was still there.
Neither of us said anything for a few seconds. Then Max said, “It didn’t make me proud. He’s an old man, Jim.”
“Old and tough. And still not licked. Don’t get too sympathetic.”
Max put his head to one side and studied me. “You miserable, cold-blooded …” He smiled. “Adele talked to Carol yesterday, Jim. Nothing. Carol’s really burning.”
“I know.”
“And I talked to Sergeant Dyke,” Max went on. “And I told him he’d better be very damned sure of himself before he booked you for anything. I put the fear of God into the bastard.”
“You told Sergeant Dyke that? You went in there cold and told him that?”
“Not cold. I have friends, Jim. And the Sergeant’s got some debts around town, too. Max Schuman never goes in cold.”
I looked at him thoughtfully. “You’ve been a busy little bee, haven’t you?”
“Action, that’s what I like, action. See you, baby.” He waved and went out.
Action, action, action … And what was I doing? Drifting with the current, riding in the backwash of Max’s efforts. But what could I do? I was no detective. And with Carol? I could phone her, though I doubted if it would do any good.
I went into the outer office and told Miss Padbury, “Phone Mrs. Gulliver. But don’t tell the children I want to talk to her if one of them answers the phone. They think I’m out of town.”
She smiled, and nodded. She dialed my number and after a moment said, “Mrs. Gulliver? Just a second, please.” She handed me the phone.
I said, “Carol, I want to …”
I heard the click and then I was on a dead line.
Miss Padbury took the phone from me, and said, “It’s none of my business, Mr. Gulliver, but phoning isn’t the best way. You should talk to her, face to face.”
“I already have,” I said. I went to Max’s office and stuck my head into the doorway to ask, “Did you see Wallace’s home yesterday?”
“I did. A very ordinary house, Jim. I wouldn’t risk a second trust on it. He’s overmortgaged now.”
“Edlinger house,” I reminded him.
“I know. That’s nothing special. Tom’s reputation is big at Heeney’s, but not anywhere else.”
“Okay,” I said. “Shall I tell him
or will you?”
“Either way. Is he a special friend of yours?”
“Not particularly. He’s prepared to bleed, Max.”
“Sure. But you tell him I’m not.”
I went back to my office and phoned Chopko at home, but there was no answer. I phoned Wallace and got him at his office. I told him, “I doubt if we can swing a second on your place, George.”
Silence, and then, “Even at thirty percent? It’s … well, desperation money, Jim.”
“I’ll try and find a lender,” I promised, “though it’s doubtful. None of our own money is available at the moment.”
His voice was ragged. “Do what you can, Jim, please. If I don’t get it, I’ll lose my business.”
And if he did get it, he’d probably lose his business later. I said patiently, “I’ll do my best, George.”
Why did I worry about Lynn and not about George Wallace? Maybe because George didn’t have Lynn’s figure. Or because Lynn seemed to be worth saving, and George didn’t.
I told Miss Padbury, “I’ve nothing on the calendar. I might not be back today.” I left her my new phone number and went in to tell Max I was leaving.
“Good idea,” he said. “Get some sun, get some air. And get some sense, Jim. Carol’s the big objective.”
That she was, but I’d made my pitch. The decision would be hers; I could argue but I could never crawl. Either I was a respected man in my home or I was nothing.
One thing I’d always tried to avoid in my adult years was indecision. It’s easier on the nerves to make a wrong decision than to make no decision.
I went out into the sun and the air and dangled. Nowhere to go, nothing constructive to do. I went into a drugstore and drank a cup of coffee, thinking back on the week, trying to think of something that would give me direction and purpose.
In the phone book next to the booth, I looked up the Paiges, as I had that day of the murder. It was a Santa Monica address, and I drove over.
It was an old and small frame house on a very ordinary street. Janis came to the door.
“I hope you’re not eating lunch,” I said. “I had to have somebody to talk to.”
“Come in, Jim. I’m just having a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Joe doesn’t usually work on Saturdays, but a big job came in late last night.”
The interior of the house was warmer and more interesting than the outside. I asked, “What does Joe do?”
Janis paused in front of a picture. “That … but not for a living.”
The picture was one of those disconnected, modern things of planes and angles, black on white.
“It’s Greek to me,” I said. “Is it good?”
“A number of qualified people have thought so. I’m not sure, either, Jim. At any rate, none of it’s good enough to keep Joe from working at Ellender-Bach. They make theatrical posters, you know.” She paused. “And calendars. Come on out to the kitchen and have a sandwich.”
We went through a small dinette to a tiny kitchen. An upholstered booth had been built into what must have originally been a service porch here.
“Sit down and relax, Jim,” Janis said. “It’s been a bad week, hasn’t it?” She went over to the refrigerator.
She had a figure, slightly slimmer than Rita Edlinger’s, but like Rita’s, it was all feminine. And she had Rita’s dark hair and luminous eyes.
She turned from the refrigerator to find me staring at her. She smiled and said, “The girls in their summer dresses.”
“Come again?”
“Nothing. It’s the title of an old New Yorker story. You were looking at me — speculatively, I guess is the word.”
“A bad habit of mine,” I said, “from the hot summers on the farm. Are you Lynn’s best friend, Rita?”
She frowned. “Rita …?”
“I’m sorry, Janis. I — was thinking of Rita.”
“I’m not complimented. I guess I’m Lynn’s best friend. How about some soup, Jim?”
“No, thanks. I’ll have some of this Wisconsin cheese and toast. Lynn worries me. She doesn’t want to work and I’ve a feeling she’s stone broke and …” I shook my head.
“And independent,” Janis finished for me. “She’s a refugee from that bleak and tormented fiction of the twenties, one of those ‘free souls’ out of Michael Arlen. The attitude went out with the depression.”
“You’re not old enough to remember the period,” I said. “And certainly Lynn isn’t.”
“No, but I’m old enough to read. And so is Lynn.” She came to the nook, bringing a quart of milk with her.
“Lynn doesn’t strike me as a phony,” I said.
“Nor herself. She’s living the part to the hilt.” Janis sat down and looked at me curiously. “Are you and Lynn — I mean, is this thing serious?”
“I love my wife,” I said. “But I want to help Lynn.”
She nodded. “Most men do want to help Lynn. But not many want to marry her.” She put some bread into the toaster atop the table. “I think Lynn loved Tom Edlinger.”
“But Tom didn’t love her?”
“How would I know?”
“You and Joe were his best friends, weren’t you?”
“I guess … Yes, we were.”
I looked out the window to a small back yard. I said, “The day I found Tom, I was going over there with some half-cocked scheme of playing cupid, I think. Or some co-operative effort for the salvation of Lynn Bedloe. Crazy, isn’t it?”
She poured a glass of milk. “I don’t think so. I think you’re more sensitive than people give you credit for being, Jim. And from where you stand so — comfortably, Lynn’s plight probably looked more pathetic than it was.”
“You don’t think it’s pathetic?”
She shook her head slowly. “No. It’s self-imposed. And it’s a little hammy at times, too. I love Lynn, believe me, but her attitudes can be annoyingly immature.”
“That could be said of the whole gang.”
“Maybe. I like to think that Joe and I are above it.” She smiled wryly. “Though I wouldn’t vouch for Joe. But I love that man and where he goes, I go.”
Rita had said almost the same thing about Tom. I sliced a piece of cheese with the wire slicer on the table and bit into it.
“The toast is almost ready, if you want a sandwich,” she said.
I put the cheese on my plate. “Janis, have you any idea who could have — done what was done? Did Tom have any serious enemies in that gang?”
“I wish you wouldn’t call it a ‘gang.’ No, I don’t know of any enemies Tom had in the group.”
The toast popped up and she handed both pieces to me. “Shall I toast a couple more?”
“Not for me, thanks. Is Joe — unhappy, doing that commercial work?”
She shrugged. “He’s adjusted to it. He turned down a job doing those horror comic books.” She smiled. “So he does maintain some standards.”
I was buttering the toast when I saw her smile fade and then she gripped the edges of the table in both hands. Then one hand came up to cover her mouth and she rose quickly and left the kitchen.
“Janis …” I called after her, and stood up. But I heard the slamming of a door before I was a step from the table, and two steps later, I heard the flushing water and the gagging sound of active nausea. I went back to my toast.
When she came back to the kitchen, she brought a shamefaced smile along, and an odor of cologne. She said, “Morning sickness at noon. Typical Janis Paige timing.”
I smiled at her. “And now I know. Mama Paige. Good-bye, Heeney’s.”
She nodded. “And who needs it? You have kids, don’t you, Jim?”
“Two,” I said. “The light of my life.” And suddenly felt a little noon sickness of my own.
Compassion was in her eyes. “Poor Jim Gulliver. The kids are the important thing, Jim. We’re not much, any of us, are we?”
“Not much. I hope my kids are better.”
“Mine will be. Coffee, Jim?”<
br />
Coffee I had. And silence. Saturday, and the kids would be eating now, looking forward to the matinee at the Bay Theatre. Carol and the cleaning woman would be going over the house, inch by inch. Carol had finally found a cleaning woman with Iowa standards.
Janis said, “I hope it’s a girl. Girls are the best, aren’t they?”
“If you have all girls, girls are the best. And the same with boys. They’re both rewarding in their own ways.”
“But if you have only one, girls are the best.”
“No. Don’t get any set ideas about it until you know what you’re going to have.”
She smiled. “All right, Gramps. You’re a good, solid citizen, Jim.”
“I just look like one,” I said, “and that’s my curse. My honest face is all I bring to Gulliver-Schuman.”
“Max Schuman’s the brain, is he?”
“Max is the brain. I never appreciated Max until the last couple of days.”
“I know his wife,” Janis said. “I was in one of those Great Books discussion groups with her. She’s a wonderful girl.”
“And beautiful and smart,” I said. “Max is mighty lucky.”
“Mrs. Jim Gulliver is, too. Fight for her, Jim.”
“I intend to do my damnedest. But it doesn’t look promising.” I finished my coffee. “Well, I’m probably keeping you from something.”
“You aren’t, but Lynn is due here any minute. Or did you know that? Is that why you’re here?”
“I didn’t know it,” I said, “and I don’t think she wants to see me. Thanks for the good Wisconsin cheese and the pleasure of your charming company.” I stood up. “You shouldn’t be drinking, should you?”
“I don’t, since I found out. Just a little beer, now and then.” She stood up, and we went to the door together.
There, she said quietly, “Don’t tell anybody what you learned about me, Jim. None of them know it, and I don’t want them to, yet.”
“It’s our secret,” I said. “Good luck, Janis.”
“And to you,” she answered, and patted my shoulder.
I went from the inner beauty of the house to its outer bleakness and thought I saw some symbolism in that, but it escaped me. I was driving west on Colorado when I passed Old Ironsides, heading east.
Square in the Middle Page 12
