by John Holt
The next day I was at the corner of Albany and Fifth. It wasn’t long before Miss. Franklin came out of her apartment block. She walked to the corner, and crossed the street, heading towards the park. I followed her along the path running around the lake. She suddenly stopped. I wondered if it was to meet up with Walker. It wasn’t, but not to worry because I got a few more photographs of her, feeding the ducks.
One more trip to the Carlton and I was done. Dane had managed to record some of their conversations. Don’t ask, because I didn’t. I didn’t want to know, and neither should you. I didn’t care. Recording someone without their knowledge is highly illegal. But I’m not going to tell anyone and neither are you, are you?
I just thanked him, and gave him a fifty dollar tip. I now had everything that I needed. I made copies of everything, and arranged for Mrs. Walker to collect them. I was instructed to leave them in a deposit box at Grand Central Station. The box was open when I arrived. I imagined that she had the key.
* * *
That was six weeks ago. I had heard nothing since then, until this newspaper item. So she was dead, murdered. I couldn’t believe it. Mrs. Amanda Walker, my client, was dead, stabbed twice. Why, I wondered? Why would anyone want to kill her? And more importantly who would want to kill her? Maybe Walker found out about her wanting a divorce. Maybe he wasn’t agreeable, and maybe he killed her. It wasn’t unknown or unusual. I mean lots of husband murder their wives, for all kinds of reasons.
But why the different name? That made no sense.
I thought that maybe Detective Frank Bates would have some answers, and be willing to help? I reached for the telephone and dialed the number.
A few moments later I was put through. I explained the reason for the call. Clearly Bates was not in an accommodating mood. Bad day I guessed. Or maybe it was his ulcer playing up again.
“Daniels, I’m not sure I can be much help to you,” he said dismissively.
“Frank, come on now, I need this,” I said, trying not to sound too desperate.
Bates wasn’t having any of it, at least not just like that. “What’s it to you anyway?” he asked.
I spent the next five minutes telling him the whole story. “The woman was my client, and now she’s dead,” I started to explain. “I want to know why.”
I have to say he didn’t seem that impressed, not until I got to the part about the fifty thousand dollars. And even then he wasn’t too concerned, not until I told him how unlikely it was that I’d actually get paid.
“Gee that’s a shame,” he said.
Strangely enough I wasn’t convinced that he really meant it.
“All that I can tell you, is that the dead woman is not Amanda Walker,” he continued. “More than that, we just don’t know at present.”
“Not Amanda Walker,” I repeated puzzled. “She had to be Amanda Walker. Who else would she be?”
Bates heaved a sigh. “And I’m telling you, she ain’t Mrs. Walker.”
“But she was here in my office,” I replied. “No more than six weeks ago.”
“Well I’m telling you the dead woman is not Amanda Walker,” Bates said.
“So who is she?” I asked.
“Susan Brady,” Bates replied.
“Who the hell is Susan Brady?” I asked.
Bates heaved a sigh. “I’ll see what I can find out,” he replied and hung up.
* * *
Chapter Four
Denis Walker
So it was quite obvious that I wasn’t going to get much out of Detective Bates, not just yet anyway. Perhaps it was too early, perhaps later when he knew more. In the meantime maybe I would do better by speaking with Mr. Walker himself.
I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. In fact I wasn’t even sure it was the right thing to do, the right thing for me that is. I figured that such a meeting would hardly be a smash success, but it seemed to me that I needed to speak to him. He needed to know what had been going on behind his back.
Clearly it wasn’t his wife who had come to see me, so I guessed that she wasn’t really looking for a divorce after all. I wondered if she knew about the Carlton Hotel. It was probable that she would be just as surprised as him. It was also pretty clear that I wouldn’t be getting twenty-five dollars, let alone twenty-five thousand. And I had more chance of going into outer space as I did of collecting the fifty thousand. Oh well, easy come, easy go I guess. Whoever said that needs to have their head examined.
What do they say? If something looks too good to be true, it usually is. Now why did I think of that now, why didn’t I think of it at the time? It might have saved me a lot of time and trouble.
No matter. Something about spilt milk, and closed stable doors, came to mind. Apart from the need to tell Walker, and his wife, what had happened, there was another little matter that was causing me concern. It occurred to me that this Susan Brady, or whatever her name was, had probably been blackmailing Walker, using information that I had supplied. I didn’t feel too good about that. In fact I felt real bad, and wondered if, in the circumstances, I could be classed as an accessory.
It didn’t take a great brain to know that such a meeting could be risky for me. It could go badly, and maybe cause me trouble, trouble I neither needed nor wanted. But I guessed I owed him.
* * *
I put in a call to Walker. I told him that I thought we should meet. He wasn’t too interested at first. And who could blame him? He was a busy man wasn’t he? He really didn’t need to be bothered by the likes of me. Maybe I should just forget the whole thing, and hang up. There again, maybe not.
“Tell me Mr. Walker do you know a Susan Brady?” I asked.
He was hesitant. “I don’t think so,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Have you seen today’s Herald?”
“No I haven’t. Why?” he replied.
I took a deep breath. “There’s a photograph on the front page,” I explained. “A photograph of a certain Susan Brady.”
There was no response. It seemed that I wasn’t getting through and he was likely to just hang up at any moment.
“Let me tell you a little more, and then I’ll ask the same question,” I continued. I told him about her body being discovered in Battery Park. “She had been stabbed,” I added. “I think she has been blackmailing you.” I paused for a moment. “Now I’ll ask again. Do you know a Susan Brady?”
“What makes you think she’s been blackmailing me?” he asked.
I took another deep breath. “Because I supplied her with the necessary information,” I replied.
There was silence. For a moment I thought that he had hung up. Then I heard a cracking sound, and papers being moved around. Then he came back on.
“What information?” he asked.
That time had come, the time I had been dreading, the time when I needed to come clean, and confess. “Information about you, and Miss. Franklin, and your, shall we say, meetings at the Carlton Hotel,” I replied.
“You did what?” he asked.
“Mr. Walker, I think we should talk,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “Either at your office, or here, it’s up to you. I think here would probably be better for you, it will, at least, be more private.”
I gave him the address, and we agreed to meet. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” he replied, and hung up.
* * *
Twenty-five minutes later the door to my office was flung open and in walked Mr. Denis James Walker. He looked anything but happy. He moved to the centre of the room, roughly pushed some files off of a chair and sat down.
“So you were spying on me is that it?” he said. “Invading my privacy, that’s a pretty despicable kind of way to earn a living don’t you think?”
I held up my hands, and nodded my head. “Now, Mr. Walker, I don’t entirely disagree with you,” I said as though that would make everything wonderful. “But in this rotten world it’s sometimes necessary, believe me. There’s a lot of bad people out there,�
�� I pointed to the window. “And besides I don’t have a fleet of ships to order around.”
You know I instantly knew that last remark was not going to win me any friends in a hurry. Clearly Mr. Walker wasn’t too impressed.
“Look, I thought I was doing it for your wife,” I continued. “She came to me looking for help.”
“But it wasn’t my wife was it?” Walker replied.
“No it wasn’t, but I didn’t know that at the time, did I?” I said.
“And you call yourself a detective,” Walker murmured. “Did you never think to check on her? I mean her picture is in the newspapers almost on a daily basis.” He heaved a sigh. “Or, in the New Yorker, or maybe Time magazine, but I guess you would never read such publications, would you?”
He was right, absolutely, but what can I say? What could I do? It was easy to be wise afterwards. I should have checked, I know that now, but she, whoever she was, was so convincing. I had no reason to doubt. Sure it wasn’t his wife, but it sure could have been. Anyway at the end of the day, whether the lady had really been his wife or not, didn’t really matter did it. Nothing had changed the fact that the guy had been cheating on his wife, and not just for a couple of days. So how come he was so uptight, so high and mighty. So what was worse my spying, or his cheating? Something about pots and kettles being called black came to mind.
Talking about his wife, I wondered how she was. Certainly it wouldn’t be right to ask would it? I mean, in the circumstances it would be quite tactless to say the least.
“How is your wife by the way?” I asked.
I think that it would be quite fair to say that was not the greatest idea I’ve ever had, or even the second greatest. If looks could kill then that would be a new way of committing murder, and I would be lying dead right this minute. Mind you I suspect that he would claim that he acted in self defense, and get away with it. Clearly he wasn’t going to tell me how she was. Okay I could live with that. It probably wasn’t that important anyway.
“That is of no concern to you,” Walker replied angrily. I guess he had a point.
“Sorry, just forget it,” I replied hurriedly. It wasn’t the greatest of apologies I grant you, but it was the best I could manage on the spur of the moment. I mean given a couple of weeks or so, maybe I could have come up with something a bit better.
“The point is, Mr. Walker, this Susan Brady took me in, no question,” I continued. “I got the information for her, for whatever reason, and she used it to blackmail you. She has been blackmailing you hasn’t she?”
Walker nodded. “Yes, she has,” he replied.
“How much have you paid her so far?” I asked.
“Forty thousand dollars so far,” he replied.
I let out a low whistle. “And your wife still knows nothing about your activities?” I continued. Sure it was a risk to ask, but I needed to know.
Walker shook his head. “She knows nothing about Miss. Franklin, if that is what you mean,” he said. “And that’s how it should remain. Do you understand me?”
“Oh yes, I understand,” I replied. You didn’t need to a brain surgeon to get his meaning. “I shan’t breathe a word, you can rely on me, and Miss. Brady isn’t going to tell now is she?”
Walker looked up, but said nothing.
“She’s dead,” I continued. “And I want to know why.”
Walker remained silent for a while. “And you think I should know.”
“Well you have to admit that it does kind of let you off the hook doesn’t it,” I replied. “Blackmail’s a pretty good motive for killing you know.”
If I was looking for brownie points, I soon realized that this was not the way to go about it.
“You’re crazy,” Walker yelled. “I never killed anyone.”
I shook my head. “Sure you didn’t,” I replied. “But it was a possibility, you know. It’s been known, it’s not unusual.”
“When was she found?” Walker asked.
I reached for the newspaper, and scanned the news item. “It says that she was found at about five thirty this morning,” I replied. “The preliminary investigation puts the time of death at between three thirty, and five thirty.”
“Well I can state quite categorically that I was nowhere near the Bowery between those times,” Walker replied.
“You can prove that can you?” I asked.
“Daniels I don’t have to prove anything,” Walker replied. “I’m innocent until proven guilty remember. That’s our tried and trusted system.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“But if you must know I was away on business,” Walker continued.
I smiled and nodded. I had heard that one before, many times. “Sure you were,” I replied.
“Miss. Franklin was with me,” Walker continued.
So it was that kind of business. No surprise there then. I should have guessed shouldn’t I?
* * *
Chapter Five
More Snooping
I was tempted to ask whether Miss. Franklin would back him up with that alibi, but I guessed it would only cause Mr. Walker even more stress, and me further trouble. Besides I imagined that I’d used up my allotted allowance already.
I also imagined that she had already been primed anyway. Of course she would back up his story.
“Daniels, what would you say if I told you that I was still being blackmailed?” he asked. “I had a call at just after ten today, making another demand, together with instructions about the pay off.”
That made no sense. Was he just saying that to take the heat away from himself? Or was this genuine? “Man or a woman?” I asked.
“Oh a man definitely,” he replied.
I shook my head. I wondered how far he would go with this little game. I decided to play along for a while. Okay, so there was a chance, a slim one admittedly, that he was actually telling the truth wasn’t there?
“Have you been to the police?” I asked.
He shook his head, and glared at me. “Daniels you know the score,” he replied. “No police, that’s the instruction. No police.”
I shook my head, and smiled. “Kidnapping,” I pronounced.
Walker looked puzzled.
“In cases of kidnapping, that’s when they say no police,” I explained. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard it in a case of blackmail.”
“Daniels, you know what, I’m not really that interested in your opinion,” Walker responded. He didn’t sound too pleased. “The guy said no police.”
“Had you had contact with him before?” I asked.
Walker shook his head. “Never,” he replied. “It has always been that Brady woman, or whatever her name was.”
“Could you tell anything from the voice?” I asked. “I mean his age, nationality, things like that. Did he have a stutter? How about an accent? Did he have a deep voice maybe?”
“I’m not good at that kind of thing,” Walker replied. “But if I had to guess, I would say a white guy, aged, oh, I don’t know, about thirty maybe, thirty-five, something like that. No accent.” He paused for a moment and shrugged. “Does it matter anyway? I mean do you think you would be able to get him.”
He shook his head once again. Obviously he had very little confidence in my abilities, if any.
I thought for a few moments. Could there really be a second person? Could he be a partner to Miss. Brady, and could he be her murderer? Maybe he thought that he could manage without her. Maybe they had a disagreement, maybe a misunderstanding, something like that. Or maybe he just got greedy, and he wanted more.
More to the point, would I be able to catch him, or was Walker right to doubt my abilities. Don’t answer that.
“Daniels, how much did my supposed wife offer you to get the information?” Walker asked.
I wondered why the question. I didn’t imagine that he suddenly felt sorry for me, and that he was about to make good my losses. “Twenty-five thousand when I supplied the evidence,” I replied. “And another t
wenty-five after the divorce was settled.”
Walker shook his head and smiled. “And you didn’t consider that odd in any way. I mean that’s your normal rate is it? A basic fee of twenty-five thousand dollars, you must be good.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s certainly not my normal rate,” I replied. “I’d say that would be nearer five thousand.”
“So?”
I took a deep breath. “She said that you were worth a couple of billion, so I guessed that she could afford it.”
He was silent for a while. I was sweating, and wishing I had a drink.
“I slight exaggeration, I’m afraid,” he replied. “It’s just a little over one billion.” He paused for a moment. Perhaps it was to give me time to feel sorry for him, and express my sympathy.
“I’m not sure whether or not to report you, and have your license revoked,” Walker announced. “I need to think this out.”
Take as long as you like, I thought; a week, or two, a month even. Six months. I was in no hurry. Though, I guess to be honest I didn’t really blame him, but it wasn’t my fault. I mean anyone can make a mistake, and she was so convincing. How was I to know?
“I’ve decided on what I’m going to do,” said Walker.
Here it comes, I thought. It was nice while it lasted. It was just a pity it couldn’t last a bit longer.
“I want you to find the blackmailer,” Walker continued. “When you do I’ll pay you ten thousand. You don’t deserve it but.”
* * *
He was right, I didn’t deserve it. More to the point I didn’t want it. I wasn’t really interested in his blackmailer, but I owed him, owed him big time. We agreed that I would take it on. Walker would keep me informed of any calls, and I’d take it from there.
But if I was going to look for a blackmailer I really needed to know if the reason for the blackmail was still valid. I mean I wondered if little Miss. Terri Franklin was still an issue. I was tempted to ask but remembering what happened before, I decided against. Instead, I decided that maybe a bit more surveillance might be called for.
