The Weird World of Wes Beattie

by John Norman Harris

  Sam Black hurried over to offer a hand with the luggage, but the luggage consisted merely of two feminine overnight bags, two office briefcases and a large brown paper bag which any connoisseur would recognize as coming from one of the retail outlets of the Ontario Liquor Control Board.

  The two young women who emerged from the car kept looking at each other and giggling nervously.

  The driver of the car, a tall, handsome youth, started for the door of the unit but turned back.

  “Gosh, Sid, maybe I better not park right here,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Sidney Grant said.

  Sam Black chuckled and said, “Pull over there into that line. You’ll be okay there.”

  He took the key from Sidney’s hand, opened the unit and ushered Sidney and the two girls in. “One bedroom there, one this side, bathrooms attached,” he said. “’Ere’s your air-conditionin’ knob, switch the TV on there, kitchenette in be’ind.”

  The girls shed their coats and started to take off their gloves, but then one of them giggled and pulled her left glove on again, and the other followed suit. Black saw the gesture and grinned.

  “Nothing to worry about ’ere, miss,” he said ingratiatingly. “Now then, need any mixers?”

  “Soda, ginger ale and ice,” Sidney said.

  “Oh, and I like Seven-Up. Bring some Seven-Up,” June Beattie said. “And have you got those salted peanuts? Can you bring a can of salted peanuts?”

  “Surely, miss. Won’t be ’alf a tick,” Black said, and went out, standing aside at the door to let the other man enter.

  “Well, how did we do?” June asked when the door had closed.

  “Very nicely. To the manner born,” Sidney said. “You may have laid it on a bit too thick, but Sam Black doesn’t seem to be a subtle fellow. He, by the way, is the man who caught your brother with the purse on him, and he was one of the witnesses against him in the police court.”

  “A charming specimen,” June said. “Now then, Kay, darling, Sidney says this man is so far gone in voyeurism that he gets his kicks from watching other voyeurs voying. Live it up, kid. Start an affair on that sofa with your husband, but try to act as if he isn’t your husband.”

  “That’s the ticket,” Bob Duffy said. “Come on, Kay darling. Enough of this holy matrimony bit.”

  “And as for you, young Gargoyle,” June said, “get your coat off, loosen your tie and sit in this armchair. I will sit on the arm and smother you with burning kisses.”

  “This is the nicest piece of research I ever dreamed up,” Sidney said.

  June made sure that the door was unlocked and then proceeded with the scenario.

  Black, running right with the form book, entered without knocking and apologized profusely as the two couples flew apart in wild confusion.

  “I say, old man, won’t you join us for a quick one?” Bob Duffy asked, grinning guiltily.

  “Well, I don’t like to be a spare part at a wedding,” Black said, “but I don’t mind a quick one. Scotch and soda, if that’s all right.”

  Sidney poured three ounces of Scotch into a glass with some ice cubes and a splash of soda, passed it to Black, then began to fix drinks for the others.

  “Here, sit in this armchair,” June said. “Kay, get some music going, dear. Gee, Mr. Black, it sort of gives a girl confidence to have a man like you around as chaperon. I’ll bet you have to do some chaperoning around here. Do they have many wild parties? Oh!”

  She put her hand over her mouth and giggled shrilly. Bob Duffy, out of sight of Black, held his nose and turned his thumb down to indicate that the act was going too far. But Black’s gaze was fastened on Miss Beattie’s décolletage, and he was having far too much fun to worry about minor details.

  “Hah!” he said, drinking deep of the Scotch. “I see some parties around ’ere. You girls are too young to know the goings-on, believe me.”

  “I’m over twenty-one,” June said coyly, brushing her hand over his forehead.

  “Well, ’ere’s luck,” Black said. “But just remember to lock that door and keep the curtains pulled. I’m not twenty-one yet, and I ’ave to keep walkin’ back and forth.”

  He chuckled throatily and downed the balance of his drink in two gulps.

  “No, no more, thanks,” he said, as Sidney reached for his glass. “Got a couple of chores to do—got to run. But…”

  “Can you come back later and have one? We’d love to have you. You’re cute,” June said.

  Black blushed prettily.

  “Well, about ’alf an hour there’ll be a quiet spell, like as not. If you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Oh, of course not! Do come!” June said. “You’d like to have him, wouldn’t you, Kay?”

  “Oh, yes indeed,” Kay said, stretching her mouth wide and articulating carefully. Her manner suggested that she wanted nothing more than to be alone with her lover, but that she didn’t dare say so.

  “Sure, come on in, first chance you get,” Sidney said. “But this time, knock, you naughty man,” June said archly.

  “And you see you lock your door, miss,” Black said, and thereupon departed into the night.

  When he had gone, Sidney Grant made sure the door was locked and then all four shook helplessly with laughter.

  “June,” Bob Duffy said, “you were corny as hell. Frightful.”

  “Ay’m over twenty-one, you cute old rascal,” Kay Duffy mimicked mincingly. “Oh, that cute baby speech of yours. Why, you’ll never see twenty-four again, you saucy baggage!”

  “Shut up,” Sidney said. “No dissension in the cast, please. Everyone was dandy, and we’ve established the right rapport. Now the idea is to get him talking, bragging, until we can pump him without seeming to. Peeping into bedrooms seems to be the exploit he is proudest of, so that may be the start. We’ll work round as painlessly as possible to his great exploit of arresting Wes Beattie, the notorious murderer.”

  “What do you expect to gain from this, Gargoyle?” Bob Duffy asked.

  “I want to ask him about Janice Wicklow, who gave her name as Mrs. Leduc, and about the boy friend who was with her here. They must have paid him a reward for recovering that purse. He can probably tell us something about them. If there was actually a conspiracy, though, he may have been a paid hireling. Now if we seem interested in that business, he may clam up. But get him bragging and we may have something.”

  “Well, that makes sense,” Duffy said. “Now how do we all fit into this little plan?”

  “You two are gaga about each other, and you’d like to be alone,” June said. “But you won’t come out and say so. I’m a naughty little tease, trying to make Sidney jealous and frustrated and keep the party going. Sidney is too much of a country boy to belt me one and tell Black to go peddle his peanuts. But Sidney is so thrilled by this mad adventure that he’s enjoying it all and being nice to Black so as not to make a fool of himself. Is that psychologically sound?”

  Bob Duffy roared with laughter. “Don’t get analytical,” he said. “Just carry on. I hope your brother will appreciate our efforts, making such disgusting exhibitions of ourselves to help him out.”

  “He’ll never know,” Sidney said. “But this is our prime chance to find out if these people were actually working some flimflam on Wes, or if they had some other nefarious scheme on foot here that was interrupted by the purse bit.” For half an hour the four people sat up chastely and watched a TV show, until they were interrupted by a discreet knock on the door.

  “Take your positions for Act Two,” June Beattie said, and the Duffys got up and went into a bedroom.

  Sidney, his tie off, and a stiff drink in his hand, answered the door.

  “Oh, maybe you changed your minds,” Black said, grinning. “I just thought…”

  “Oh, heck, come on in,” Sidney said. “Glad to see you. Have the other half.”

  As Black entered, Bob and Kay Duffy were emerging from the bedroom. He blushed guiltily, but she held his arm and looked up
at him with admiring sheep’s eyes. June was straightening her blouse and skirt, but she looked up roguishly and called “Hi” in that little-girl voice.

  Black was pushed into an armchair and furnished with another strong drink.

  “Got a bit of a quiet spell,” he announced. “The boss has gone in to dinner with some TV people.”

  Conversation began slowly this time. Bob Duffy said it was easy to see that Black had been in the army. Black said yes, he’d been in India, Hong Kong, Eye-rack, Egypt and Gib. Infantry for a start, then in the military police.

  This led quite naturally to his favorite subject, namely, the things he had seen in Sister Street in Alexandria, and while inspecting certain establishments in Baghdad, and presently they were back at the Midtown Motel and June, looking like a naughty boarding-school girl telling stories in the dormitory, wanted to know about the local goings on.

  The whisky was taking effect. Sidney quietly recharged the glass, and Sam Black, unable to resist stardom, threw discretion to the winds. “Well, now, I’ll tell you,” he said. “P’raps I shouldn’t…”

  “Oh, go on,” June said.

  “Well, like one afternoon ’ere—some people like the afternoon—there was this couple. Just like you, this bloke asked me to come in and ’ave one. Well, I did, and ’e said to come back later, maybe ’alf-past three, and ’ave another. Well, I did. I come back, and ’is wife—well, she was supposed to be ’is wife—she said she was going to take a shower while we ’ad our drink, so we sat down over ’ere like, ’im and me. So she goes in the bedroom and gets undressed. But there was this cupboard door with a full-length mirror, see? And it was opened just so, and from where I sat I could watch her, in the mirror. Stripped right down to the buff she did, and me sitting there drinking and trying to listen to this bloke telling me about some deal—didn’t ’ardly ’ear a word of it, I didn’t. Right down to the buff. Then she ’ops into the shower and I sat back sort of gahspin’, and tryin’ to pick up the thread of this story the bloke was feedin’ me, when out she comes with a towel and dries ’erself, right in the same spot! Gord, I’m tellin’ you, I was weak! Then she starts gettin’ dressed, and me watchin’ every move, you may believe it! And then the bloke drops ’is glass and it ’it the edge of the little table and broke. Well, she looked up and caught my eye in the mirror, and was my face red! But wot do you know? She just give ’erself a little shake and winked at me!”

  “Oh, the brazen hussy!” June said.

  “Tellin’ me!” Black said. “She wasn’t no better than she ought to be! Well then, you may believe it or not, just as you choose, but of all the things to ’appen! This bloke ’ad got up, and ’e’s lookin’ out the window into the car park, and suddenly he sings out.”

  Sidney, who was walking behind Black’s chair, stopped still and froze.

  “Yes sir,” Black said. “’E sings out, ‘Look! There’s a kid going through the parked cars. He’s taking something out of our car. Nip out there and grab ’im.’ Blimey, I gave myself a shake and out I went, and ’ere’s this kid, lad of about eighteen or twenty, comin’ ’ind end foremost out of the car and shovin’ something under his raincoat. I grabbed ’im quick, and ’ere it was this dame’s ’andbag. She must have finished dressin’ awful quick, because she come out while I was strugglin’ with ’im and claimed ’er bag.”

  He drained his glass and looked expectantly at Sidney, who jumped forward and seized the glass at once. Black paused irritatingly while Sidney refilled it, then leaned forward to gain impressiveness for his next remark.

  “And you’d never guess who that kid was,” he said.

  “No, who?” June said.

  “It was none other than this ’ere Wes Beattie, that’s now up on a murder charge. I’m not kidding you, either.”

  Black could not have been more pleased with the effect of the story on his listeners. They gasped.

  “Now, can you beat that?” Black asked, and took a pull at his drink.

  “No sir, I can’t even come close to it,” Bob Duffy said.

  Sidney, whose manner had suddenly changed, strolled over to his briefcase and removed some photographs from it. He walked behind Black’s chair and extended a photograph of Janice Wicklow before the attendant’s eyes.

  “Was this the woman, by any chance?” he asked tonelessly.

  Black suddenly froze. The evil grin disappeared from his face, and anger slowly replaced it. He turned and glowered at Sidney.

  “Say, what is this?” he demanded.

  “Do you know this woman? Is this the woman?” Sidney said.

  “Never seen ’er in my life,” Black said. “Say, what the ’ell are you tryin’ to pull off?”

  “And is this the man?” Sidney went on. “Did he pay you well?”

  Black started visibly as he looked at Howard Gadwell’s picture, obtained from the files of a newspaper office.

  “Never seen ’im either. ’Oo is ’e? Wot’s your game, mister?”

  “He is a rich stockbroker named Howard Gadwell,” Sidney said. “He must have known you. He must have known the kind of show you would fall for. How much did he pay you?”

  Black leapt to his feet, and his face was blazing. “I tell you I never seen this bloke in my life,” he snarled. “’Oward Gadwell? Never ’eard of ’im. Why should ’e pay me?”

  “To shut up,” Sidney said. “Not to tell the whole story in court. Mr. Gadwell wanted to stay right out of the business, didn’t he? He disappeared and let the woman carry the can back.”

  “Listen, mister,” Black said. “We don’t like no snoopers around ’ere. What are you after, anyway? Took me for a bleedin’ mug, didn’t you, you and your dames…”

  “Easy, fellow!” Bob Duffy said. “You might make us cross.”

  “Pack of snoopin’ bloody Nosy Parkers,” Black said, but as Duffy moved toward him he dashed out and slammed the door.

  “Well,” Sidney said, “we now know all we need to know and all we’re likely to find out here. But it is past all doubting that those people worked out a frame-up for Wes Beattie, and a very neat one too.”

  “Just how was it done?” Duffy asked.

  “They rented a car and booked a suite here,” Sidney said. “Gadwell called Wes and made him a juicy job offer. Wes swallowed the bait. Knowing Black’s tendencies, Gadwell was able to get him out of the way while some girl—posing as his secretary—drove the car out of the car park and went to pick Wes up. Then Gadwell, with the aid of a striptease by Janice Wicklow, kept Black rooted to the spot long enough for the girl to drive Wes back here and park. The girl led Wes across to the bar entrance, leaving a handbag in the car. Then, at the entrance, she missed her purse and asked Wes to go back and fetch it. As soon as he turned, she walked through a corridor, which I have explored, and out to the street. She just disappeared. When Wes turned back to the car, Gadwell smashed his glass as a signal to Janice to hurry up and dress. Then he sent the well-bribed Black out to catch the boy. Black didn’t know he had been bribed. He only knew that Gadwell tipped well. Then Janice finished dressing quickly and dashed out to claim the purse. Neat, eh?”

  “Good lord!” Duffy said. “It could happen to anyone.”

  “But to a chronic liar it was fatal. Realizing how weak the truth would sound, Wes tried to think of a better story. Well, June, your classmate and her good man have done a noble service. Hope you don’t feel too dirty after amusing Black. But let’s keep all this strictly beneath the headgear.” It was so agreed, and the party adjourned to a spaghetti house for a late supper.

  Seven

  “MR. BALDWIN OGILVY CALLED,” Miss Semple said. “He seemed very anxious to get in touch with you. He said would you either call him or go to see him at his office this morning.”

  “Yipe,” Sidney said. “Storm warnings. I’d better get it over with right away. I think I’ll walk around there right now.”

  After the partying of the night before, Sidney did not feel in first-class shape to face an
angry Baldwin Ogilvy, so he decided to dive right in before he had time to think about it. On arrival he was ushered straight in to the great man’s presence, and he found a very angry Ogilvy indeed. “Just what is the meaning of all this, Mr. Grant?” Ogilvy demanded. “What is this mysterious information that Paget was supposed to give me?”

  “We’re going to save time, sir, if I start right at the beginning,” Sidney said. “But first let me make one observation. When I was a law student at Osgoode Hall, we had some lectures on criminal law from an eminent counsel, who said—I remember the words well: ‘When you defend a man on a criminal charge, remember that, no matter how worthless, despicable or vile he may seem, you are right there in the dock with him. The whole world may regard him with loathing or contempt, but you have to stand right by his side and defend him as if he were your own brother.’”

  “Do you recall the name of this lecturer, by any chance?” Ogilvy said.

  “Yes sir. It was Mr. Baldwin Ogilvy,” Sidney replied.

  Ogilvy grinned. “This not-too-subtle flattery won’t get you very far, Grant,” he said. “Nevertheless it’s nice to know that one’s words are remembered.”

  “Well sir,” Sidney went on, “everybody—even his loving sister —seems to regard Wes Beattie as a poor fish, so nobody paid much attention to his statements. Conclusions were jumped at, and everything was decided on the basis that Beattie’s story was a tissue of lies from start to finish. And now I can virtually prove that there was a conspiracy against him in the matter of the theft.”

  “Paget never even discussed the matter with me,” Ogilvy said. “I don’t like being kept in the dark. Let’s hear your story.”

  Speaking very quickly, Sidney led him through the whole course, from Mrs. Ledley to Sam Black, and Ogilvy listened with close attention.

  “Now then,” he said when Sidney had finished, “this has very serious implications for the defense. Two psychiatrists—one retained by us and one by the Crown—have developed a theory of insanity based on the premise that all this conspiracy business was a figment of Wes’s imagination. In the light of your discoveries, it might be claimed that Wes worked a very cunning trick. In short, that he murdered his uncle and made up the same sort of yarn that he had used before. In other words, that he deliberately planted this pattern of insanity. If he can’t explain his fingerprints on that telephone, no jury is ever going to believe that he didn’t kill his uncle. So there are just two courses open.”