by Craig Rice
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Browne said.
“No? Then how’d you get Lattimer’s signature for us?”
Browne clamped his mouth shut.
“Did you kill Chester Baxter?” Bingo asked.
“Me? Are you crazy? I never killed anyone in my life!”
“How about Pearl Durzy?”
“I had nothing to do with her death,” Browne said.
“How’d you get that Budlong and Dollinger stuff from Janesse?”
Browne smiled thinly. “I needed the stuff, and I figured out where the weakest link was. Janesse, naturally. A kid who wanted to get into the movies and who’d be impressed by a producer. So I made it my business to meet her, gave her a whirl until I got the stationery and receipt, and then dropped her.”
“Did Lattimer ask you to sell that house for him?”
Browne clamped his mouth shut again, and this time it was clamped shut to stay. Bingo nodded soberly.
“I don’t think you ought to try leaving the city,” he said. “I think the police may be looking you up soon, and they might feel your running away was a clear indication of guilt. Far in excess of simple manslaughter.” He opened the door on his side of the car. “Come on, Handsome. Let’s go home.”
In the convertible, Handsome said, “I don’t think April Robin was very bright.”
“Bright or not, Handsome, she was in a pretty tough spot. There wasn’t much she could do but pay the man.”
“Sure. But she threw away all that money in the trust funds.”
“She also threw away her life.”
“On the other hand,” Handsome said, “she later married a very wealthy man, so maybe she knew what she was doing after all.”
“To my way of thinking, she didn’t learn very much over the years,” Bingo said.
“How so?”
“Well, she ran away again, didn’t she? This time as Mrs. Julien Lattimer. And this time leaving an estate of half a million dollars behind her.”
“Maybe she just doesn’t like money,” Handsome said.
“Maybe not. Or maybe she just didn’t like Julien. Maybe she put him in a car and set fire to him, too.”
“I would buy that, Bingo,” Handsome said seriously, “except that he signed those papers for our house. It would be hard to be dead and signing papers.”
Bingo was silently reflective for a moment. Then he said, “It figures, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“Everyone referring to Lois Lattimer as a young woman. Remember what Leo Henkin said about April Robin? She’d always look young, he said. A timeless beauty. Well, at least we’ve solved one of those problems, Handsome. We know who April Robin is.”
“Yes,” Handsome agreed. “But we don’t know where she is, or even why she went.”
“Do you think we should call Hendenfelder to tell him what we know?”
“Yes,” Handsome said. “As soon as we get home.”
They drove the rest of the way to Damascus Drive in complete though shared silence. As they pulled up to the house, Handsome said, “I think we’ve got company, Bingo.”
And then Bingo saw the light burning in the living room.
twenty-two
The man sitting in the living room did not mince words.
“My name is Rex Strober,” he said, “and I don’t mince words. We’ve met before, briefly. I’m now an independent producer, used to be head of production at Columbia, but there’s more money in it for me this way. Leo Henkin tells me you’ve got a hot property, an actress. Okay, I’ve got a hot property, too. A story. Want to get married?”
“I don’t wish to seem impolite,” Bingo said, “but how’d you get in here?”
“I walked in,” Strober answered.
“That’s impossible. We locked the door when we left.”
“It was open when I got here,” Strober said. He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Besides, wherever I want to get in, I get in. When I was a kid, I lived on the Lower East Side in New York. I made up my mind when I was seven years old that wherever I wanted to get in, I would. And I have. And I still do. Do you want to get married?”
“That depends,” Bingo said.
“On what?”
“On your dowry.”
“Don’t play games with me,” Strober said. “You’ve got a big empty house that needs furniture. You’re not going to fill that house with a one-week option on an unknown redhead. I’ve got an original screenplay by the hottest novelist on the scene. Stick your Janesse Budlong into it and she’s a star overnight. I guarantee it. I’ve made more stars than there are in the heavens, believe me.”
“What’s your deal?”
“Eight hundred a week for your redhead while we’re shooting the picture. Option for her services on the next two feature films we make at terms to be discussed.”
“What about us?”
“Twenty-five percent of the producer’s profits. After double-negative.”
“We’ll want an advance,” Bingo said.
“In addition or against?”
“Against our share of the profits.”
“How much?” Strober said.
“Ten thousand.”
“I’ll give you five.”
“We’ll take seventy-five hundred,” Bingo said.
“Six thousand, and not a penny more,” Strober said.
“Seven thousand,” Bingo said, “and that’s final.”
“Six thousand, two hundred and fifty is my absolute last offer,” Strober said.
“Let’s settle for sixty-five hundred,” Bingo offered.
“It’s a deal.”
He rose and shook hands with Bingo.
“My partner,” Bingo said. “Handsome Kusak.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Handsome said warmly, and he took Strober’s hand.
“Nice knowing you, young man,” Strober said, and he eyed Handsome speculatively, as if weighing his potential box-office appeal. He nodded slightly, making a secret inner judgment, and then said, “My lawyer will draw up the contracts at once. Standard forms, and I’m sure there’ll be no problem. You’ll have your check tomorrow morning. Do you gentlemen want some advice?”
Bingo was smiling from ear lobe to ear lobe. “We’re always willing to accept advice, Mr. Strober,” he said.
“Make it Rex,” Strober answered, “since we are practically partners on this new venture. My advice is this. Sign your Janesse Budlong to a long-term contract immediately.”
“That’s good advice,” Bingo said. “I’ll call my attorney.”
“And who might that be?”
“Arthur Schlee,” Bingo said with some pomposity, but not much, because he somehow felt he didn’t need the distinction of the lawyer’s name any more.
“A good man,” Strober said, nodding. “Shall I have the contracts and check sent to his office?”
“Yes, he’ll want to look them over,” Bingo said.
“Gentlemen,” Strober said, “it’s been a pleasure doing business with you. I hope you’re happy with the deal.”
“We are.”
“You couldn’t get a better deal off a pushcart on Mott Street,” Strober said, “and I am an expert on those. Good night to you both. I’m very content.” He rose. “If you should have any questions later”—and here he grinned for the first time—“I live right next door.” He shook hands all around once more and then went out. Handsome and Bingo were silent for several moments. Quite curiously, Bingo almost felt like crying.
“You did it, Bingo,” Handsome said at last, very gently.
“We did it,” Bingo corrected.
The partners fell silent again.
“I wish I could be happier, Bingo,” Handsome said, “but I keep thinking of other things.”
“Like what, Handsome?”
“Like how did Charlie Browne get Julien Lattimer’s signature on those house papers? Nobody else could find Julien. And also, why would Julien let Charlie sell this h
ouse for peanuts?”
Bingo stared at Handsome thoughtfully. There was a look of rapt concentration on his partner’s even-featured face. For an instant Bingo had the distinct impression he could hear gears clicking and wheels turning.
“Maybe, Bingo, he had something on Julien and was blackmailing him just like he blackmailed April Robin. Or maybe—” Handsome stopped, and then he snapped his fingers and said, “Sure, Bingo! Charlie blackmailed April Robin once, so why wouldn’t he do it again? Only now she’s Lois Lattimer and she’s married to a rich guy. So Charlie blackmailed both of them!”
“That’s it, Handsome!” Bingo said, and then his face fell. “But how did he find her again? How did he know she was Mrs. Julien Lattimer?”
“That wouldn’t be too hard,” Handsome said. “After Lois married Julien, she moved back into this house. Maybe for sentimental reasons. Can we say that, Bingo?”
“We can certainly say that, Handsome.”
“Okay. The house was well known, and there probably were some newspaper stories about Mr. and Mrs. Julien Lattimer buying it. Stories with pictures. And maybe somebody saw those pictures and right away recognized that Lois Lattimer was April Robin.”
“Somebody like Charlie Browne, who knew she was alive,” Bingo said, nodding. “And maybe he came back and asked her for more money. A lot more money.”
“Probably all her money,” Handsome said. “We got to remember, Bingo, that this Browne wanted everything on the highway in 1928. And also that he cheated Mrs. DeLee out of the two hundred dollars he promised her on the sale of this house. I think he is a man who would take all he can possibly get.”
“And all he can get,” Bingo said, “is everything.”
“Only maybe Lois doesn’t have anything. Maybe it’s all in her husband’s name.”
“But Browne doesn’t care,” Bingo said. He was beginning to get excited now. He could feel excitement starting way down in his toes and working its way up his legs to settle in the pit of his stomach. “He wants the money, period. So she and Julien had to figure a way to get loose of Charlie. This Julien is a guy who loves money—Adelle told us that, remember?”
“I remember,” Handsome said, taking no offense. “But if Browne had them over a barrel, wouldn’t they have maybe killed him? I mean, Bingo, instead of running away and all?”
“Well, murder is carrying things pretty far, Handsome.”
“That’s true.”
Bingo shrugged. “They ran away instead. What else could they do? If they refused to pay him, he’d go to the police, and Lois would go to jail.”
“So would Charlie,” Handsome said. “He was a party to manslaughter.”
“That might not have stopped him. He might have been angry enough to go to the police and take his chances that they couldn’t prove he’d helped conceal the highway death.”
“Okay,” Handsome said, “if they couldn’t refuse to pay him, why didn’t they simply pay him?”
“What he was demanding?” Bingo said. “Everything Julien had worked for all his life? I don’t think Julien would have liked that very much.”
“No, I don’t think so either.”
“They had to get away from Browne and keep that money at the same time,” Bingo said thoughtfully.
“That’s it!” Handsome said.
“What’s it?”
“If Julien disappeared for seven years, he’d be declared legally dead at the end of that time, and then Lois would inherit the largest part of his estate.”
“Of course,” Bingo said. “With Adelle Lattimer getting only a quarter of it.”
“Which is a lot cheaper than handing Browne all of it.”
“And that’s why Julien disappeared first. It couldn’t seem to Browne or the police or anyone that there was any collusion.” Bingo paused. “They probably planned for Lois to join Julien later, and then they’d wait out the seven years together.”
“Bingo,” Handsome said, and there was the glow of excitement in his eyes also now. “Bingo, I know why Lois took off in such a rush.”
“Why?”
“Because the cops accused her of murdering her own husband. They hadn’t figured on something like that happening. So maybe she wired him and asked him what to do, and he said Clear out fast, honey. That was when she began cashing in everything she could cash, and forging his name to checks besides.”
“Sure,” Bingo said. “They were going to need every cent they could gather. It would have to carry them for seven years. At the end of that time, Julien would be legally dead, and there’d be no proof that he was ever murdered, so Lois could safely claim the inheritance. She could do that through a lawyer so Charlie Browne would never find her again.”
“Then why did they come back now, Bingo?”
“Because they ran out of money, I’ll bet. And I’ll bet Charlie Browne found out they were in town and went to see them again.”
“Bingo, you are pacing the floor.”
“I know I am.”
“All right, Bingo.”
“And by now, Browne was willing to be reasonable. He’d settle for only a part of their money, once they inherited it. In fact, he was willing to help them wait out the seven years by trying for a quick sale on their house while they remained in hiding.”
“But if Browne was willing to co-operate now,” Handsome said, “why wait out the seven years? Why not simply reappear right away and claim what’s rightfully theirs?”
“Because they didn’t want new police curiosity. They didn’t want the cops maybe digging all the way back to 1928.”
“You’re very smart, Bingo,” Handsome said.
“Thank you.”
“Do you think the Lattimers killed poor Chester Baxter?”
“Well, it kind of figures. The Owl’s Roost was probably where they met with Browne. It was Charlie’s hangout, you know. And Chester must have seen them there and followed them when they left. They couldn’t take a chance on anyone else knowing Julien was still alive and hiding out in Hollywood. They’d waited too long to get at the estate. They couldn’t afford to start all over again, not when they were so close.”
“So they killed him.”
“Yes.”
“And Pearl Durzy, too?”
“I don’t know, Handsome.”
“Gee, Bingo,” Handsome said. “Do you think we’re right?”
“You’re right,” a voice behind them answered, “but it won’t do you a damn bit of good.”
The first person they saw when they turned was Lois Lattimer alias Lois DeLee alias April Robin alias Abigail Ross. She was blond and slender and delicate-looking and extremely gorgeous and she didn’t look a day over thirty-two. The pearl-handled revolver in the fist of the gentleman with her didn’t look a caliber over .32.
The gentleman with her was dark and small, with graying hair and gloomy eyes and a poetic mouth. Bingo imagined he was Julien Lattimer. He didn’t have to ask them how they’d got in, because he assumed as past owners of the house they both possessed keys. He knew now why Rex Strober had found the front door unlocked. He didn’t have to ask why they were there, either; the .32 in Julien Lattimer’s hand was unwavering and made the mission absolutely crystal-clear.
“Well,” Bingo said, and he had to admit to himself that the sight of the steady pistol aimed at his midsection was somewhat unnerving.
Handsome said, “April Robin.”
It was amazing how beautiful she was, Bingo thought. Even with the nose-bob—which was an expert job, but which gave her face a slightly Irish cast that didn’t quite fit with the rest of it—even with that, she was an incredibly gorgeous woman. He had to keep reminding himself that she was really forty-seven years old. He also had to keep reminding himself that there was a pistol in Julien’s hand.
Quickly he said, “If you’re worried about our idle speculations—” and then shut his mouth when Julien gestured at him with the pistol.
“Let’s get this over with,” Julien said. His
voice, in keeping with his gloomy eyes, was low and sepulchral. But, despite his words, he did not seem in a particular hurry to squeeze the trigger.
“You’re not really going to kill us, are you?” Bingo said hopefully. “After all, you didn’t kill Charlie Browne, and you had more reason—”
“They should have killed him, Bingo,” Handsome said. “They were just stupid, that’s all.” Bingo blinked. Handsome’s tone had been completely surprising, and besides, this was certainly no time to be insulting these people. To Bingo’s horror, Handsome added, “Plain stupid!” in as jeering a voice as he’d ever heard. He braced himself for the gun explosion he was sure would come. Oddly, the pistol remained silent. It was April Robin who exploded instead.
“We didn’t kill him because he’d prepared a letter telling of the highway accident!” she said heatedly. “If Browne died, the letter would be delivered to the police. That’s why we didn’t kill him when he first made his exorbitant demands. And that’s why we don’t kill him now. That letter is still around. There was nothing stupid about—”
“Of course not,” Bingo said quickly, trying to placate the rising anger. “But it would be stupid to kill two people who really don’t know anything at all.” He tried a feeble grin. “We don’t know that you really killed Chester Baxter or Pearl Durzy. We simply don’t—”
“We did kill them!” April snapped. Her eyes remained on Handsome, as if she was intent on proving something to him. “Baxter, because he followed us; and Pearl, because she got panicky when Browne was showing you through the house.”
“I don’t understand,” Handsome said.
“Then maybe you’re the stupid one,” April said triumphantly. “Pearl Durzy knew who I was. She kept quiet only because we promised her ownership of this house once Julien was declared legally dead.”
“So naturally,” Bingo said, turning to Handsome, “when she saw Browne leading clients through it, she got very upset and she tried to find out what was going on. Browne calmed her down temporarily. And Miss Robin made it permanent. That was very natural, Handsome. It wasn’t—”
“It was a dumb risk,” Handsome said, that same unexpected sneer in his voice.
