The Ferguson Affair

by Ross Macdonald

  “Do you know that for a fact?”

  “I ought to.” Her smile faded. “It was no secret in our family. There were never any secrets in the Dotery family-the old man saw to that. When we were kids, he brought it up about three times a day, at mealtimes, that Hilda wasn’t his, or anybody’s. It was very nice for all of us, especially for Hilda.”

  “She must have been somebody’s.”

  “She was Momma’s. The father was some guy that Momma knew in Boston before the old man married her. The jerk ran out on her. He sent her a thousand bucks, which Dotery used to buy a car to come to California. That’s all I know about it.”

  It was enough. Ferguson’s teeth were set like a wounded man’s biting on a rag.

  His wife told her story to Wills when he arrived. I sat and monitored the interview, ready to suppress hearsay evidence and irrelevancies. I was Ferguson’s lawyer, after all, and Hilda was his daughter.

  Wills sat slumped in a chair and listened without arguing. He looked very tired. There was a black smear of char on his right cheekbone. He shook his head at her when she had finished. Ashes fell from his hair, filling a shaft of sunlight with their particles.

  “I wish you’d spoken up this morning, Mrs. Ferguson. Time is of the essence in these matters, and your sister could have traveled a long way since early this morning. In addition to which, we put out the word that Gaines is traveling alone.”

  “But I didn’t know that Hilda was in it this morning.”

  He looked at her unresponsively. “How could that be, Mrs. Ferguson? It was her phone call that decoyed you out of the Foothill Club and set you up for the sna-for the abduction.”

  “I know that now,” she said. “I didn’t then. When Hilda phoned me the other night she said that she was Renee, my youngest sister. She just got in from San Francisco, she said, and she was down at the bus station. She said she was in trouble, and needed help. I believed her.”

  “The girl’s in trouble, all right,” Wills muttered.

  “You won’t be too hard on her, will you? Hilda isn’t too responsible, and Gaines has always led her around by the nose.”

  He disregarded her question. “That’s another thing I don’t understand, Mrs. Ferguson. You knew what kind of a character Gaines was, going back to early days of childhood. You knew that he was using a false name. Yet you’ve been fraternizing with him these last months. No offense intended, but you must have been aware you were putting yourself in danger.”

  She looked at her husband, rather guiltily. He looked guiltily back at her.

  She said: “I was a damned fool, frankly. He told me he was reformed, that he was trying to live down his past and earn an honest living. I felt so lucky myself, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.” She changed the subject quickly. “What are you going to do to him and Hilda?”

  “Find them.” Wills hunched his body forward, heavily, and held out his hands as if he was getting ready to receive a weight. There were lines of grime across his palms, and his fingernails were dirty. “Then it’s out of my hands.” He let his arms drop to his sides.

  “Will Hilda go to jail for a long time?”

  “She’ll be lucky if that’s all that happens to her. There’s no use beating around the bush, Mrs. Ferguson. This is a case of multiple murder. You know the penalty for premeditated murder.”

  “But Hilda didn’t kill anyone herself.”

  “She didn’t have to, to be guilty of murder. Ronald Spice says she was the one that phoned them and told them to knock off Secundina Donato. Even if Spice is lying, she’s tied to another murder, one we didn’t know about. We’ve been doing some digging at the scene of the fire, and we found human remains. There isn’t much left of whoever it was-”

  Holly cried out, and turned her head away. She had reached her limit. Dr. Trench stepped in and ended the interview. As Wills and I left the room, she began to wail.

  I couldn’t keep up with Wills, but he was waiting for me in his car. I got in beside him. “Whose body is it, Lieutenant?”

  “You can’t call it a body-a piece of skull and some teeth and a few charred bones. I was hoping you could tell me who they belonged to. Who else was up there, besides you and Gaines and the sister?”

  “Nobody else that I saw. Are the remains male or female?”

  “I can’t tell for sure. Simeon probably can, but he hasn’t seen them yet. They look like a man’s teeth to me. Do you have any suggestions on the subject?”

  “Not unless it’s Gaines himself.”

  “That doesn’t seem too likely. As I see it, he and the woman made a clean getaway in your car. The Mountain Grove P.D. picked up your car about a block from his mother’s house. Apparently he had his own car stashed in her garage. There’s fresh oil spots on the floor, and she has no car of her own.”

  “Did Mrs. Haines go with them?”

  “Not her. The Grove police brought her in for questioning, but she claims to know nothing about them. She says she had a headache and took some sleeping pills, slept right through until the police woke her up. The chief there says she’s been off her rocker for years, in a harmless way. Ever since her boy got into trouble the first time.” Wills sighed. “Why can’t people stay out of trouble and lead a natural life?”

  “You’d be out of a job.”

  “Gladly. Dr. Root tells me, by the way, that he gave you the slug extracted from your shoulder. He shouldn’t have done that. It’s evidence.”

  “Take it up with him.”

  “I already did. Do you have it with you, Bill?” He was calling me Bill again.

  “It’s in my room at the hospital. Do you want to drive me back there? I was intending to ask you for a lift.”

  “Sure thing. You look as though you could use more hospital. As a matter of fact, you look like the wrath of God.”

  I caught a glimpse of my face in the rear-view mirror, and concurred. I’d been going on nerve ever since Ferguson’s Boston adventure shocked me out of bed. I leaned my head against the back of the seat and dozed all the way to the hospital.

  The nurse in charge at the third-floor station opened her mouth to upbraid me. She closed it again when Wills stepped out of the elevator behind me. I was probably being arrested. I certainly deserved it, her look said.

  I opened the drawer of the bedside table and handed him the pillbox. He dumped its contents into his hand, growling over them. “Fragmented. We probably can’t do anything with it.”

  “What do you want to do with it?”

  “Just hold it in readiness,” he said, “until we get our hands on the gun. Who shot you, Bill, Gaines or the woman?”

  “She did.”

  “And then she dragged her unconscious sister out and changed clothes with her?”

  “Apparently.”

  “That’s what I guessed. You thought you were covering up for Mrs. Ferguson. The girl you were actually covering for may turn out to be the most vicious killer of them all. There’s a hole in that piece of skull we found, looks like a bullet hole, spang in the middle of the forehead. She left three people to burn up in that fire, you and the sister and a third party who was probably dead already. Who was the third party, Bill? You must have some idea.”

  I remembered the second shot Hilda had fired, just before I knocked myself out on the door frame. I’d assumed it was aimed at me.

  “There was no third party, unless he or she was out of sight with the unconscious sister. You may have turned up the victim of an old killing.”

  “That’s possible, too.”

  Wills went away at last. I undressed with shaking hands. The head nurse came in to fix my bed and give me hell. Dr. Root dropped by and gave me hell. Sally came up in a wheelchair and gave me hell.

  Very mild hell. She had the baby with her. I passed out more or less content, wishing my little nameless girl a better fate than some.

  chapter 30

  FERGUSON HIRED DETECTIVES. The FBI entered the case on the grounds that Gaines and Hilda we
re in unlawful flight. In two days the various agencies established that the pair had crossed no borders, taken no planes; and were not walking the streets of Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Salt Lake City, Reno, Las Vegas, Phoenix, Albuquerque, New York, Miami, or Boston.

  Dr. Root let me out of the hospital on the afternoon of the third day. I found Ferguson’s check for two thousand dollars waiting in my office mail, and later used it to make a down payment on a house.

  That same afternoon I asked Mrs. Weinstein to place a second call to Michael Speare in Beverly Hills. I was remembering things.

  Speare hadn’t been in his office all day. His secretary, if that is what she was, finally relinquished his private number. I reached him there at seven o’clock at night.

  He greeted me over the wire like a long-lost brother. “Good to hear from you, Bill. I’ve been following your adventures in the newspapers. Greatest thing since Pearl White in Plunder.”

  “Thanks. I want to talk to you as soon as possible. Tonight.”

  “Go right ahead.”

  “In person.”

  “What about?”

  “Certain phases of my adventures involving you.”

  “You mean Holly and this Gaines character? I’ve been thinking maybe I made a mistake about them. They probably weren’t as close as I imagined, you know how it is.”

  “I know how it is, Speare. That’s just one of the things we have to discuss.”

  He was silent for nearly a minute. Then he said in a chastened tone: “As a matter of fact, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. How’s about coming over for a drink?”

  “You come here. I’m not driving yet.”

  I told him how to find my office, and he agreed to be there in an hour. Shortly after eight o’clock I heard a racing motor die coughing in the street. Something told me it would be Speare. Through the window I watched him disembark from a low-slung silver car and take off his helmet and goggles.

  In the full light of the anteroom I saw that he was a worried man. He had been treating his worry with alcohol, more alcohol than he could have drunk in an hour. When I ushered him into my private office I could smell his breath. He sat down as if he had eggs in his pockets. I shut the door. The sound of it made him jump.

  “About those little discrepancies, Bill, you got to understand. I had a lot at stake in Holly’s career. Things have been tough in my business the last five years. And you got to admit I was only telling you what you wanted to hear.”

  “Just don’t tell me any more lies.”

  His face crumpled and uncrumpled. “Is this room bugged?”

  “No.”

  “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  “That’s not our problem. How well did you know Larry Gaines?”

  “You don’t expect me to answer that one, do you? He’s wanted for a list of crimes as long as your arm. I’m not responsible for the morals of people I do business with.”

  “You did business with Gaines?”

  He caught himself up. “No. He came to me, wanted me to represent him. I didn’t think he had it. Besides, I didn’t like his looks. I wouldn’t touch him.”

  “I heard different.”

  “Oh?” His webbed eyeballs rolled. “Who from, Bill?”

  I left his question hanging. “Why did Gaines pick you out to represent him?”

  “It’s a long and sordid story. I don’t mean I did anything out of line. I was only trying to protect my client.”

  “Then you don’t have any reason to suppress it. And you might as well tell the truth the first time around. If we have to go around a second time, we’ll do it up the street at the police station.”

  “That’s a hell of a way to treat a man, when I came here willingly to co-operate.”

  “Then co-operate.”

  His eyes, his entire face, even his bald spot, had a fine glaze on them, like well-fired pottery. He rose and took a few steps away from me and then came back. He leaned on the top of my desk. “I came here to co-operate. I’m in a worse bind than you know. The whole thing started early last spring before Holly left me. That sister of hers, the one you’re looking for, ran up some bills in Palm Springs stores, using Holly’s name. I hired a detective to track the sister down. If she got into the papers, it wouldn’t be good. The sister was traveling with Gaines at the time-he was the one who put her up to the con game-and they gave my gumshoe quite a chase, all the way across the country.

  “I kept the gumshoe after them because when he found out what they were doing, it looked pretty serious.

  “He traced them to San Antonio and dug up a dentist there who’d put crowns on Hilda’s teeth, Hollywood style. The dentist led him to a crooked plastic surgeon who specialized in fugitives from justice. He’d given Hilda a nose bob and some other touches, working from a photograph of Holly. From San Antonio the two of them went to Houston, where she promoted herself a wardrobe. Then on to sucker-land.

  “The suckers in Miami weren’t having any, not the respectable ones with the big money. Hilda looked like Holly, but she lacked the class. She had to settle for fringe benefits, using Holly’s name to gamble on. She fell into the hands of a cookie named Salaman-the hood they arrested in L.A. the other day. When my man caught up with her finally, she was living with Salaman, paying off the interest on the money that she owed him. She was still using Holly’s name, and Salaman thought he was sleeping with a star, bragging around town about it. I flew to Miami the end of August to put a stop to it.”

  “Why didn’t you put a stop to it?”

  “I did. At least I thought I did. I gave her twenty-four hours to crawl back into the woodwork and stop damaging my client.”

  “Holly wasn’t your client at the end of August.”

  “I know, but I was hoping to get her back. And I anticipate what you’re going to say, that I was too soft-hearted. I should have turned Hilda and Gaines over to the police, and saved us all a lot of tragedy. I’ve always been too softhearted where women-”

  I cut him short. “What happened after that?”

  “Nothing. I paid the detective off, with my own money, and flew on home.”

  “Will he confirm your story?”

  “Certainly, if you could reach him. Only, he’s retired to Honolulu.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Smith. I forget his first name.”

  “I know a police detective named Wills,” I said. “If I can’t get the truth out of you, he can.”

  “The truth is all I’ve been telling you.”

  “Tell me more of it.”

  “You can’t get blood out of a stone, Bill.”

  I picked up my phone, dialed the police station, and asked for Lieutenant Wills. The desk sergeant said I could probably get him at home.

  Speare seized my arm and spilled whisky-flavored words over my face. “Listen, no cops, the publicity would ruin me. Hang up.”

  He spoke with the sincerity of panic. I hung up.

  “You got to understand, Bill. How could I tell it was going to turn out the way it did? I thought I was acting in Holly’s best interests. She married an old man for his money. I thought she’d be better off working, in fact I know it. I know my clients like a book, better than they know themselves.”

  “What did you do? I think I know, but I want to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”

  “Nothing much. I brought Gaines and Hilda back here and kept them on the hook for a while, wondering what to do with them. Some way or other they got the idea that I’d be pleased and happy if Holly’s marriage didn’t work out too well. I talk too much sometimes when I’ve been drinking-”

  “I’ll translate that. You blackmailed Gaines and Hilda into coming out here and trying to break up Holly’s marriage.”

  “That’s a rough way to put it, Bill. Gaines needed no urging. He had his own ideas about Holly May. I think he got delusions of grandeur traveling with her double. He told me one night when he was high that h
e was going to take her away from Ferguson and marry her himself.”

  “What was he high on?”

  “Heroin. They both take heroin when they can get it.”

  I stood up behind my desk. Speare sat down quickly, for fear I was going to hit him. I almost hit him anyway, with my left hand. “That was a fine plan you had, turning loose two hopped-up criminals on your ex-client.”

  “It wasn’t such a good idea, Bill. I didn’t know it was going to turn out this way.” His face had broken up like crackleware. “Look. I’ll make a deal with you. Forget about this little business, keep my name out of it, and I’ll give you something you really want.”

  “I have everything I really want.”

  “You don’t have Gaines and the woman,” he said softly.

  “You know where they are?”

  “I might.”

  “Let’s have it.”

  “I said a deal. If this thing spills in the L.A. press, I’m a nothing man, I’m dead. I’m back selling stockings from door to door.”

  “Have you sold stockings from door to door?”

  “Not in recent years, but my uncle does. I guess I can always get my old job back, if you insist on ruining me.” He watched me through his pathos. He was sobering up. “Do I deserve to be ruined, Bill?”

  “Stop calling me Bill.”

  “Whatever you say. Do we make a deal?”

  I gave it some thought. It didn’t take much thought, with the entire country being ransacked for the pair.

  “It’s a deal. Give me Gaines and the woman, and I’ll forget you. With pleasure.”

  “I can’t guarantee Gaines for sure. Hilda says he ran out on her. But she should be able to lead you to him.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “Oh yes. I’ve talked to her. You think I blackmailed her! She’s been blackmailing me!”

  “What for, or need I ask?”

  He hung his head. His bald spot shone like a wet egg. He covered it with a hand that was pocked with droplets of sweat. “She threatened to wreck my reputation unless I gave her money. I guess she’s afraid to spend the ransom money. Or else Gaines really did run out on her. I’ve been putting her off with peanuts for the last two days, and incidentally slowly going crazy. She’s sitting there like a ticking bomb. Last night she threatened to shoot me-”