by Nick Charles
The Gibson Murder Case
- A Richard Diamond Mystery -
Hello there. This is Diamond. I got a beef. I went shopping for my girl the other day. Helen Asher. Yes, shopping. You know, stuff for dinner. This town's gotten hotter than a blast furnace in Death Valley, so you gotta pick out things that make for a cool meal. Like salads, cold cuts, and beer. Real picnic-style. Well, I figured I could whip up a fancy tossed salad or something. Until I got around to the tomato counter. Have you glommed onto the price of tomatoes lately? Now what’s with that? So the cost of living is inflated? So a t-bone makes like it just arrived from the sultan’s classiest cow. Okay, a t-bone I can understand. But what’s with a tomato when it costs so much it should hanging from a charm bracelet instead of lying on a salad bowl? Who needs it? So I bowed from the waste and figured you still could do a lot of things with a plain head of lettuce.
Oh, I got another beef, too. Why can't people start their killings in December when it’s cool? About a week ago, I got mixed-up in a case and before it was over, I took so many salt tablets, I am now the best-seasoned private detective in New York. It started when my phone rang.
“Diamond Detective Agency,” I said, hoping it was a wrong number. “Murders financed while you wait.”
“You are an idiot.” It was Helen. Better than a wrong number.
“Is this "Toodles" Asher, the belle of Park Avenue?
“This is Helen Asher, the girl that goes steady with Diamond Detective Agency.”
“Sounds like a fine organization. Are they reliable?”
“Very seldom.” I let a moment of thick silence follow, teasing Helen that she quite possibly could have hurt my feelings. “I’ll tell you better as soon as I find out what I'm going to do tonight.”
With that, I broke the silence. “You're gonna give your butler the evening off and the Diamond Detective Agency is gonna march through your front door, single file, and show you a short cut to spin the bottle.”
Helen responded with her usual lighthearted chuckled, which she knows I love. “What time does all this begin?”
“How long will it take you to pucker?”
“About two seconds.”
“I won’t get there ‘til eight. Don’t hold it or you'll end up looking like Betty Boop.”
“Rick. I think you’re the most wonderful man in the world. ”
“See you, baby.” I hung up the phone thinking about those puckered lips of hers. Then I noticed how hot the room had become. I needed to open the window. It was already open. Remember how I said it all started with a phone call. It wasn’t the one from Helen. It was the one that immediately followed. I expected Helen again.
“Now look honey, I can’t make it until eight o’clock. I got a fan dancer who’s a client and she wants to go out and trap an ostrich this afternoon.”
“Is this the Diamond Detective Agency?” The voice was female--soft and lovely, but not Helen’s. It was also noticeably upset.
“Yeah? What's the problem? Sounds like you're standing on a body.”
“Please, Mr. Diamond, you've got to help me, I… I just don't know what to do.”
“Now take it easy. Who is this?” The woman gasped, causing me to sit up straight for the first time in three hours. “Miss? What happened?”
“Nothing. I thought it moved.”
“You thought what moved?”
“The man sitting in my chair!” She was starting to get impatient with me. The feeling was mutual.
“A man does tend to do that every now and then.”
“But this one is dead.” I nearly jumped to my feet, but she had already caused me to sit up and one woman can’t expect to get too much of a rise from me at that time of day. She didn’t wait for a response. “I came home this afternoon from Girl's Camp and when I unlocked my door and went in, I found this man sitting on my Hepplewhite.”
“On your what?”
“Hepplewhite! I don't know how he could have gotten there.”
“Hepplewhite?”
“No, the dead man!”
“What about Hepplewhite?”
“Who?”
“The guy this corpse was sitting on.”
The woman paused and then let out a nervous laugh. “Oh no, no, no, no, no, that's a chair! Hepplewhite is an old antique chair!”
“Now, take it easy and give me one thing at a time. Who’s the dead guy?”
“I don't know! I never saw him before in my life!”
“Okay. Why haven't you called the police?”
“I thought about that. But I'm a schoolteacher, Mr. Diamond, and I was afraid of the scandal. I read a lot of detective stories and the first thing that came to my mind was calling a private eye. And you have the biggest ad in the phone book, so naturally… ”
“Naturally,” I repeated, trying my best to dilute the sarcasm. If the story weren’t so peculiar I would have hung up right then. My curiosity nagged me to go and take a look, not at the dead man as much as the Hepplewhite. “Well, give me your name and address and I’ll be right over.”
“Oh, Esther Blodgett, at 419 East 79th Street. Apartment 108”
“Alright, Esther. Now don't let anyone in and don't touch anything.”
“I know that, silly! After the initial shock wore off, I found myself in complete control…” Esther gasped again. Now I did stand.
“What's wrong?”
“I’m so nervous! I just lit a cigarette and it tasted so good I offered one to the dead man.”
I held back a snort and merely smiled instead. I was beginning to like this disembodied female voice, making me as anxious to see her body as much as the dead one. “Well, if he takes it, remember how you did it. I'll be right over.”
After hanging up, I instantly called police headquarters. Lieutenant Levinson was gonna have the time of his life with this Hepplewhite routine.
“Homicide, Sgt. Otis,” answered Sgt. Otis of Homicide.
“Good to meet you, Sgt. Otis Homicide.”
Otis let out a heavy sigh during what I’m sure was a theatrical rolling of the eyes. “Is this Diamond?”
“No, it’s Black Beauty. I just did a mile in one-twelve and I want to report that I've been doped.” Otis let out an annoyed moan. “I didn't win the race but I was the happiest horse on the track. Now, put the lieutenant on the phone.”
Otis was very compliant to unload the nuisance of yours truly on his weary Lieutenant. Levinson was less compliant.
“I don’t want any,” he yelled on the other end of the line. “You take your killings to another precinct.”
“Don't be a sorehead, doll face. Giving you business is my offering of friendship.”
“Can't we just be buddies at a distance? I'm tired of chasing corpses.”
“Well, grit your teeth and get over to 419 East 79th Street, Apartment 108.”
“Homicide?”
“Yeah. A dame named Esther Blodgett reported it. She lives there.”
“Who’s dead?”
“Some guy named Hepplewhite. Ask Esther about it; she’ll put you straight.”
As I went out of my office, I thought about Esther Blodgett and wondered how mad she would be when the police turned up. I had to call them whether she wanted the scandal or not because homicide comes first in my book. I'm an ex-cop and I still follow the rules. It’s not a conscience; I just like staying in business. So when someone turns up with a killing, I always let Lieutenant Walt Levinson know about it. I grabbed a cab and twenty minutes later, I was standing in Esther’s apartment along with Walt, the dead man and Hepplewhite.
Levinson greeted me
with his usual venom. “I’ve been going through that "Hepplewhite" routine for the last ten minutes! I just found out it was a chair.”
I repressed a laugh. Levinson didn’t like me and I knew I could only push him so far. And by then my attention focused on the attractive blonde approaching me with almost as much anger as Levinson.
“Mr. Diamond,” she said. “Why did you call the police?”
“Because that man’s been murdered, Miss Blodgett,” Levinson cut in. “That’s what good citizens do when they find a dead man in the apartment.”
“But I'm a schoolteacher!” Esther looked directly at me, ignoring the Lieutenant. Walt tried to display his authority by standing tall, but clearly it was I who the young lady preferred. “What will my students’ parents think?”
“Honey, just confuse ‘em with that "Hepplewhite" routine. What'd you find out, Walt?”
“Not much. The coroner will be here in a few minutes.”
“Looks like someone gave him a pretty good beating,” I said, hunching over the corpse. “What’s that all over his clothes?”
Esther leaned on my shoulder like a curious child. “Isn't that blood, Mr. Diamond?”
“I mean that brown stuff. Looks like lint or something.”
“I noticed that, too,” said Walt. “I don't know what it is. We’ll have the lab analyze it.”
Esther was staring at me as if I were the only person in the room. So I stared back. “Tell me Esther. You said, when you came in, you unlocked the door.
“That's right.”
“Are you sure it was locked?”
“Absolutely. It has a catch lock. Besides, you have to turn the key and use the other hand to turn the knob.”
Walt got tired of being left out and stepped forward. “Did you touch anything? Open any windows?”
“I touched nothing,” said Esther and made a face at Walt resembling one a mother makes to tell her child to go to bed so her and daddy can have an serious conversation.
Walt wasn’t going anywhere, especially not to bed. “Do you always lock the windows when you go out, Miss Blodgett?”
“Well, if you must know, I’ve been away for several weeks. At a girl's camp.”
“Aren’t you a little old for that sort of thing?”
“I’m one of the teachers who goes along to take care of the young girls.”
“What do you think,” said Walt, facing me again.
“I know one thing,” I said. “He wasn't killed in this apartment. There's only blood around the chair and on the body. He must have been carried in.”
“There would be blood trails on the floor.”
“Not if he was carried in something. Any identification in his wallet?”
“Yeah, Gibson. Leland Gibson. No money taken either. So that eliminates the robbery angle.”
“Any address?”
“He’s got an old driver's license. 12 East 64th Street. Pretty classy district.”
“Judging by his clothes, he was well fixed. Tailored. Good store.” Walt nodded to my every word. He’d figured this all out by himself. I stepped away from Miss Dreamy Eyes. “Hey, Walt, let me check the 64th street address for you.”
“This is a police job. Why do you want to check it?”
“Because poor Miss Blodgett looks so unhappy.”
“I am, Mr. Diamond,” said Esther, stepping between me and the lieutenant. “I am very unhappy.”
I flashed a guilty grin at Walt. He just shrugged his shoulders. “So she's unhappy! If you wanna check the place on your own, go ahead! But I'm sending some men over anyway.”
Esther and I were once again left alone in the apartment, at least in her mind. She placed a hand on my chest with tender affection. “Mr. Diamond. I like you.”
“Gee thanks, ma’am.”
At this moment, the young lady looked as if she was about to do the most exciting thing she’d ever done in her life. “I want to hire you to catch the killer and free me from this awful policeman.”
Levinson wasn’t about to take that. “Awful policeman? Do you know how I got this way, Miss Blodgett?
“I'm sure it wasn’t easy.” She said to me and not Walt. I winked and she blushed innocently.
“It’s because of this private detective. Ever since he stopped working with me, and left the force, I've gotten mixed up in more screwy cases than an alcoholic in a whiskey truck! There isn't one week that he doesn't turn up with one or two killings.”
Esther chuckled. “My, he gets excited, doesn't he, Mr. Diamond?”
“Just call me Rick, dear.”
Walt didn’t like how all this was going. He demanded to be heard. “I’ve taken enough bicarbonate in the last year to stop Vesuvius from erupting!”
But the man’s rant fell on death ears. Esther and I were in love. Or we might as well have been with the way we went on. “Rick? That's a nice name.”
“How did you ever get to be a schoolteacher? You don’t look the type.”
Levinson was at the end of his rope. “Are you listening to me?”
Now there were two individuals in my presence with deep red faces, each for different reasons. “What makes me so different?”
It was my turn to blush. “I've seen signs on highways that say it better than I can.”
“You mean the ones that say, danger; stop, look and listen?
“That fits. But I was thinking about curves and soft shoulders.”
Lieutenant Levinson had heard quite enough from us. “Now you listen to me, Diamond! This is serious business. A man's been killed in soft sho… I mean, Miss Blodgett's apartment! If you wanna take her on as a client, go ahead? But any questions from here on end will have to be gotten down at police headquarters.”
Esther started to pout. “Are you taking me in, Captain?”
“That’s Lieutenant! Yes, you'll have to come down for questioning.”
“Rick.”
“You go along with the big, bad policeman, honey? I'll have you out in no time.”
“Well, all right.” Her eyes filled with tears. “If you say so? But this has never happened to me before.”
What else could I do but comfort this poor woman as if she were my own little girl. So I patted her soft shoulders. “Now, now.”
At which point Walt released me of my fatherly duties. “You get out of here!” And Esther cried even louder.
I left Walt jumping up and down in front of Esther and the corpse and headed for 12 East 64th Street. It was an old brownstone in one of the wealthier districts. And when I rang the bell, I got another surprise. The door was answered by Mr. Gibson’s frazzled old butler. And when I say frazzled old butler, I really mean his beautiful young daughter.
“May I help you,” she said, and I’d never heard it said any better than when she said it. Maybe it was just because I liked what I saw when I heard it.
“Don’t tell me you’re a schoolteacher.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Forget it. Do you know a Mr. Leland Gibson?”
“Yes, he’s my father. Who are you?”
I introduced myself and informed her I had bad news, at which she became rather troubled and invited me in. Once inside, I broke it to her as gently as I knew how. Like any decent human being, she started to cry after hearing of her father’s passing.
“I know this is tough, but you’ve got to help me. The police’ll be here any minute.”
“I’m sorry. Have you a handkerchief?”
“Oh, sure. Here.” I handed her the handkerchief that, due to my unsentimental character, I never used. She made good use of it. “Now, think you can talk about it?”
Miss Gibson blew her nose and nodded. “Dad left the house about three weeks ago and moved into a hotel.”
“Did you have a fight or something?”
“Oh no, things couldn’t have been better. And he was in wonderful spirits when he left.”
“Then do you have any idea why he suddenly packed up and went?”
/> “I'm not sure. I think it was a woman. He told me he met someone he liked very much. The day after that, he moved into the Adams Hotel on Madison Avenue. I never saw her and he never said any more about her.”
“Weren’t you a little worried?”
“Of course. Father isn't a young man anymore. I mean, wasn't.” That’s when she broke down and bawled.
“Are you alone, miss?
“Yes.”
“Got any friends you can call?”
“A few.”
“Call ‘em. It’s best not to be alone. And bawl your head off. It’ll do you some good.”
“I'll send you your handkerchief, Mr…”
“Diamond. Richard Diamond. It's in the book.”
For some reason I’ve got a talent for leaving people emotionally disturbed. Walt hops around like a rabbit in a cabbage patch. And Otis always tears his hair out by the handful. Miss Gibson was less active about it. She just tried to smile and feel enough grief to fill a tub.
I grabbed another cab and headed for the Adams Hotel. The clerk at the desk looked like an overgrown weasel disguised as an undersized man.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Do you wish to register?”
“No, but I want to find out about someone who did, three weeks ago. A Mr. Leland Gibson.”
“Why, yes, he's staying at the hotel.”
“From now on, that's past tense.”
“I don't understand. He hasn't notified us that he's leaving.”
“Well, that might be a little difficult. If you’ll run down to the morgue, I think you'll find Mr. Gibson has taken over one of the slabs down there. Rent-free.” The man’s cheap toupee nearly flew off his head, out the window and south for the winter. “When did you last see him?”
“Early this morning.”
“Do you remember him having any visitors in the last three weeks? A girl, I mean.”
“No! Are you looking for a girl?
The man was generally confused. I was generally tired. It was going to be a long night. “Mr. Gibson’s daughter seems to think he was running around with a woman since he moved into the hotel.”
The confusion immediately left the man’s face. “Oh!”
