by Parnell Hall
They nodded at me.
“All right. Here’s the scene. Tallman, the owner of Tallman’s Casino, and Minton, the owner of Minton’s Detective Agency are going to jail for murder. The murder of Frederick Nubar and the murder of Joseph T. Steerwell.”
There was stirring on the couch. Both Harold and Barbara were ready to speak.
“Shut up,” I said. “I told you, I don’t want you to interrupt. I’m going to tell it all.
“Now, we’ve been on to Tallman for some time. This goes back to a few months ago, when we approached Harold Dunleavy and asked him to do a job for us.”
Barbara Dunleavy stared at me. Her eyes were wide. She turned and looked at her husband. Harold Dunleavy’s eyes were wide, too, and his jaw was actually open. He was gaping at me, but, thanks to my several admonitions, he wasn’t about to interrupt.
“You see, Mrs. Dunleavy,” I went on, “seeing as how Harold was both a stockbroker and a gambler, it made him the perfect person to get close to Tallman. So we approached him with a proposition. I say we—Harold’s never met me before—but my men approached him. And I must confess, at our insistence, he was not allowed to say anything to you.”
Barbara looked at Harold. Harold looked at Barbara. I don’t know how to describe those looks, except to say they were pretty phenomenal.
I didn’t want the two of them looking at each other, so I went on hurriedly.
“That’s how it was,” I said. “Now it happened that Tallman had a girlfriend. A blackjack dealer in the casino. We figured she was the best way to get a line on Tallman, so we asked Harold to cultivate her. Now I have to apologize for this, Mrs. Dunleavy, ’cause I’m sure it was very hard on you, particularly with Harold instructed not to tell you anything. But that’s the way it had to be.
“Anyway, through her, Harold got a line on Tallman. And what he found out was Tallman was connected to a loan shark named Frederick Nubar. That’s how Tallman got all his financing for the casino. It was a secret. It was something that, if it got out, would have wrecked Tallman’s empire. It was hot news. Only two other people knew this. Minton, who was shaking down Tallman, and Steerwell, who was attempting to do the same thing.
“Steerwell was the added starter. We already knew about Tallman and Minton, but it was late in the game when we tipped to Steerwell. And that’s because it was late in the game when Steerwell tipped to the play.
“Of course, when we found out about it we asked Harold to get a line on Steerwell. He was a natural for the job. Of course, no one knew he was working for us. And he was the guy with the ins all around. He was perfect.
“Which brings us to the day of the murders.
“Now, I’ll tell you briefly what actually happened, ’cause neither of you know. Minton and Tallman decided to kill Nubar. Tallman was deep in hock to him and saw no other way to get out. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, so he offered Minton a partnership for doing the job. They decided to kill Steerwell at the same time because he was trying to muscle in on their racket.
“Here’s what happened. The day before the crime, Minton flew to Vegas, presumably on business. Then he had a private plane fly him back.
“That’s where the comedy begins, and that’s how we got in this mess.”
I stopped and looked at them. They were staring at me, wide eyed. I was ready to plunge ahead, to make sure neither one of them interrupted and said a word. I realized it wasn’t necessary. At that moment I don’t think either one of them would have been capable of speech.
“So here’s what happened. Minton drove out to Steerwell’s. Steerwell wasn’t surprised to see him. He hadn’t known Minton had supposedly gone to Vegas, ’cause Minton hadn’t told him. And Minton was Steerwell’s boss. So Steerwell invited him in, and Minton promptly pulled out a gun and shot him in the face.
“That’s where the fun begins. Harold, here, following our instructions, drove up to see Steerwell. Minton heard the car pull up and didn’t want to get caught with the gun, so he dropped it on the floor and beat it out the back door. Harold came in, found Steerwell dead, didn’t know what to do, and beat it out of there fast.”
I turned to Barbara. “And that’s where you come in Mrs. Dunleavy.”
I turned back to Harold. “See, Harold, the strain on your wife had been too much. Our fault, of course, but you can see how it would be. She was suspicious. Very suspicious. Particularly with you instructed not to say anything. So she followed you that day.”
Harold started.
Barbara started.
But neither said a word.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what happened. She arranged for the kid to go home with a friend from school, and she got in the car, and she followed you. You can’t blame her for that. You’d certainly given her enough reason. But that’s what happened. She followed you to Steerwell’s. And she saw you go in. And she saw you run out. She didn’t know what had happened, but she sure as hell was determined to find out. As soon as you drove off, she pulled up, parked the car and went up to the house.
“The front door was unlocked. She pushed it open and went in. Of course, you know what she found. Steerwell’s body was lying there on the floor. A gun with a silencer was lying there next to it.
“And that, Mr. Dunleavy, is when your wife did a dumb, heroic thing. You can’t blame her for it, and neither can we, but I must say it did screw up the investigation for some time. Fortunately everything’s straightened out now.
“Your wife saw the body and the gun lying there on the floor. And she jumped to a conclusion. She knew you were into something, and she didn’t know how deep, but she thought this had confirmed it.
“She thought you’d killed Steerwell.”
I paused and let that sink in.
“And that’s when she did the thing that is both dumb and heroic. You may have given your wife a hard time, Mr. Dunleavy, and she may have given you a hard time, and life lately may not have been what you could refer to as marital bliss. But, underneath all that, your wife must still care for you a whole lot, because she took a terrible risk.
“She thought it was your gun, and she wanted to get rid of it. She picked it up and carried it out of the house. Unfortunately, at that moment, the next-door neighbor came out of her house and saw her. Your wife screamed, panicked, dropped the gun, hopped into her car and sped off.”
Barbara MacAullif Dunleavy was now gawking at me with an expression identical to the one worn by Harold when I’d been talking about him.
“Now,” I said, “naturally she’s been in an absolute panic ever since. And you, Harold, you’ve been in an absolute panic ever since. And neither one of you’ve felt you were able to talk to the other. It must have been living hell for you.
“But the thing is, I’m here to tell you it’s over. Harold, you’ve done a good job, but we don’t need you anymore. We don’t even need you to testify. We nailed these birds, and we got ’em dead to rights. As far as we’re concerned, your job is over.
“And you, Mrs. Dunleavy, as far as we’re concerned, you’ve done nothing wrong. Technically, you’re guilty of failing to report a crime. Technically, so is Harold. But we’re willing to overlook that. Particularly, under the circumstances. It only seems fair.
“So Harold, thanks for a job well done, and Mrs. Dunleavy, we’re sorry to have inconvenienced you, we hope there’s no hard feelings.”
Harold and Barbara gawked at me. Then at each other. Then back at me.
All right, so it wasn’t brilliant. I told you I’m not that good a writer. It was the best I could do. It was a story with more holes in it than a Swiss cheese. He knew everything I said about him was bullshit. And she knew everything I said about her was bullshit. And they probably both could assume what I was saying about the other one was bullshit, too.
But I figured it didn’t matter. They could pretend to buy it and ride along. Or they could buy parts of it and discount other parts of it. Or they could admit the whole thing was bullshit. Fr
ankly, I didn’t care. The thing was, whatever they chose to do, they’d have to talk to each other.
And that was the best I could hope for.
But the talking would come later. For the moment they were speechless.
I smiled, bowed and started out.
It was Barbara who recovered first. I was halfway to the door before she stopped me.
“Who are you?” she said.
I turned and looked at her for one last time. Barbara MacAullif Dunleavy. Daughter of Sergeant MacAullif. The woman I’d admired from afar. She had risen and come to the door. And there she was. Up close at last.
The cheeks were every bit as smooth as they’d seemed. The face so young, so bright.
Barbara MacAullif Dunleavy. The woman I’d seen in dirty photographs with a young stud. The woman I’d thought deserved better. The woman I’d secretly thought deserved me.
Barbara MacAullif Dunleavy. The woman I’d done everything in my power to get back together again with her weak, philandering husband.
I looked at her that one last time.
I smiled slightly and, I’m sure, somewhat regretfully and then tossed the line away.
“Who was that masked man?” I said.
Then I was gone.
43.
I LAID THE GUN ON MacAullif’s desk.
“Thanks for the loan,” I said.
MacAullif picked it up and slid it into a desk drawer.
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “Everything go all right?”
“Like clockwork. Minton and Tallman are going down.”
“Fuck them,” MacAullif said. “I mean the pictures.”
“No problem. Twelve of thirteen rolls were duly delivered to the boys at Major Crimes, who were duly grateful.”
“And Barbara’s outside interest?”
“He’s history.”
“And Harold and Barbara?”
“They’re getting their best shot. Whether they take it or not is up to them.”
MacAullif nodded. “Best you could do.” He looked at me. “Sorry you couldn’t meet Barbara. She’s quite a girl, you know.”
“I’m sure she is,” I told him. Holding out on MacAullif was getting to be a hard habit to break.
MacAullif looked embarrassed. I knew why. He wanted to say something that was awkward for him.
“I just want you to know—” he began.
“Skip it,” I said.
“Right,” he said. “Fuck it. But if there’s ever anything I can do for you.”
“I don’t suppose you can fix Jersey traffic tickets?”
“Little out of my jurisdiction.”
“That’s what I figured. So how’s your three murders going?”
“One lapsed and went in the “Unsolved Crimes” file, one I’m working on and one Daniels actually solved.”
“Not a bad batting average,” I observed.
“Par for the course,” MacAullif said.
I left him to grapple with the third murder. I was thankful it had nothing to do with me.
I wouldn’t want you to think I’m entirely forgetful. On the way out, I checked his name on the certificates. The man I’d done the favor for was named William. Sergeant William MacAullif. I counted that as a particularly useless piece of information. I couldn’t imagine myself ever calling MacAullif “Bill” or “Billy.”
I got in the car and drove home. Alice and Tommie were glad to see me, absence making the heart grow fonder, and all that shit.
“How’d it go?” Alice asked.
“Not bad,” I told her.
“Are they going to get back together again?”
“That’s up to them. I did all I could.”
“I’m sure you did. And I’m sure they will.”
And she was sure, too. Alice has absolute confidence in my ability to do things. I wish I shared it.
Yeah, Alice was real pleased with the way things had turned out. Of course, I’d left out a few details in my account of what happened. Like the bit about almost getting nailed for two murders and one grand larceny charge. Little things like that.
So Alice probably didn’t understand my reaction later that evening, when she called out, “Honey?” as she has a habit of doing when she wants me to do some small thing for her, like pass her the TV Guide or get a roll of toilet paper or bring her a bowl of chocolate ice cream on my way back from the kitchen.
“Honey?” she called. “Do me a favor.”
“No way.”
Books by Parnell Hall
Stanley Hastings private eye mysteries
Detective
Murder
Favor
Strangler
Client
Juror
Shot
Actor
Blackmail
Movie
Trial
Scam
Suspense
Cozy
Manslaughter
Hitman
Caper
Stakeout
Puzzle Lady crossword puzzle mysteries
A Clue For The Puzzle Lady
Last Puzzle & Testament
Puzzled To Death
A Puzzle In A Pear Tree
With This Puzzle I Thee Kill
And A Puzzle To Die On
Stalking The Puzzle Lady
You Have The Right To Remain Puzzled
The Sudoku Puzzle Murders
Dead Man’s Puzzle
The Puzzle Lady vs. The Sudoku Lady
The KenKen Killings
$10,000 in Small, Unmarked Puzzles
Steve Winslow courtroom dramas
The Baxter Trust
Then Anonymous Client
The Underground Man
The Naked Typist
The Wrong Gun
The Innocent Woman
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Books by Parnell Hall
