The Bigger They Come

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  ‘Was that what you really wanted to know?’ I inquired.

  ‘Of course I want to know?’

  ‘Just what is it you want to know?’

  ‘What did Bleatie suspect-did he accuse me of being friendly with Dr. Holoman?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Your memory isn’t very good, is it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t make a good detective.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘You’re working for me, you know.’

  ‘I’m working for a woman by the name of Bertha L. Cool,’ I said. ‘I make my reports directly to her. As I understand it, I’m employed to serve papers on Morgan Birks; and I gather that you brought me in here to show me some photographs of your husband.’

  ‘You’re being impertinent.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh well,’ she said, ‘I don’t know why I’m so crazy as to want an answer. I know what the answer is. Of course, he panned me. We never did care for each other as brother and sister are supposed to care. But I didn’t think that even he would drag Dr. Holoman into it.’

  ‘I’d prefer snapshots,’ I said, ‘that show the face with some sort of expression, laughing or smiling.’

  She almost threw the album into my lap.

  She opened the book. I started turning pages.

  The first picture was of Sandra Birks seated on a rustic bench with a waterfall in back, pine trees, and a stream running across the left foreground. A man had his arm around her shoulders. She was looking up into his eyes.

  ‘That Morgan?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ she said, and turned the page.

  She turned the leaves rapidly. ‘I don’t know just where it is,’ she apologized. ‘I put these pictures in helter-skelter. We were on a vacation trip together and—’ She turned two more pages, said, ‘There he is,’ and leaned across me to point.

  It was a good clear photograph of a tall, thin man with sharp features, glossy black hair combed straight back away from a high forehead.

  ‘That,’ I told her, ‘is exactly what I want. It’s a clear picture. Got any others?’

  She slid the pointed tips of her crimson nails under the picture, lifted it from the corners by which it was fastened to the book. ‘Perhaps,’ she said.

  She turned two or three pages-pages that were filled with ordinary photographs, people in cars, people sitting on porches, people grinning inanely at the camera. Then she said, ‘Here are three or four pages taken on our vacation. Some of us girls went swimming together-you mustn’t look.’

  She peeked down into the pages, giggled, turned four or five of them all at once, and then found another picture of her husband. ‘This isn’t quite as good as the other,’ she said, ‘but it gives you a profile view.’

  I took it, compared it with the other, and said, ‘This is fine. Thanks.’

  ‘Are those all you need?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She continued to sit there on the bed, her lips slightly parted, her eyes focused on distance as though thinking something over. Abruptly she said, ‘Excuse me for a minute. There’s something I want to ask Alma.’

  She jumped up from the bed and went out into the other room, leaving me holding the photograph album. I tossed it up to the head of the bed.

  She was gone a couple of minutes. When she came back, Alma was with her.

  ‘I thought perhaps you’d like to have one of the newspaper pictures,’ Sandra Birks said. ‘Here it is.’

  She’d clipped a picture from a newspaper. The caption read:

  ‘MORGAN BIRKS, ALLEGED PAY-OFF MAN FOR SLOT-MACHINE SYNDICATE, WHOSE PRESENCE IS SOUGHT BEFORE THE GRAND JURY.’

  I compared the picture with the two photographs. The newspaper picture wasn’t clear but was quite evidently that of the man whose photograph I held.

  Sandra Birks gave a little squeal and grabbed for the photograph book. ‘Oh, I forgot about this,’ she said.

  Alma Hunter looked at her questioningly.

  ‘It has those swimming pictures in it,’ she said, and laughed. ‘I left Mr. Lam unchaperoned with them.’

  I said, ‘I didn’t look. I’ll take these pictures, report to Mrs. Cool, and get in touch with Sally Durke. You’d better give me your telephone number so I can call you as soon as I have something to report.’

  Sandra said, ‘One thing, Mr. Lam. I want to know exactly when the papers are going to be served.’

  ‘I’ll report to Mrs. Cool as soon as I’ve made the service,’ I said.

  ‘That isn’t what I want. I want to know about an hour before you serve the papers.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I have reasons.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘I think Bleatie may be planning to double-cross me.’

  ‘Orders,’ I said, ‘come through Mrs. Cool. You’ll have to get in touch with her.’

  ‘Will you wait?‘she asked.

  ‘I’ll stop by the office to report,’ I said.

  ‘All right. Here, take my telephone number, and you, Alma, take my car and go with him. You can drive him around. It’ll save time-you’ll need a car, Mr. Lam, if you’re going to be shadowing this girl. I have an extra one you might just as well take. Do you drive?’

  I looked at Alma. ‘I’d prefer a driver.’

  ‘You’ll drive him, Alma? Do. There’s a good girl.’

  Alma said, ‘I’ll do anything I can to help. You know that, Sandra.’

  She walked across to the dressing table, patted her hair, powdered her face, and tilted back her head to apply lipstick. A stretch of her neck was visible above the high collar. I thought at first the reflected light from the mirror was throwing splotches of shadow on it. Then I saw they were dark spots-bruises.

  Sandra Birks said quickly, ‘Well, let’s go in the other room and let Alma dress.’

  ‘I don’t want to dress,’ Alma Hunter said.

  ‘I’ll buy you a drink, Mr. Lam,’ Sandra Birks invited.

  ‘No, thanks. I don’t drink when I’m working.’

  ‘My, what a moral young man,’ she exclaimed, and her voice was mocking. ‘You have no vices.’

  ‘I’m working for you,’ I pointed out. ‘It’s costing you money.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I suppose you’re to be commended.’ Her voice didn’t sound as though she really thought so.

  ‘Your brother,’ I reminded her, ‘wanted to have that sedative the doctor left.’

  ‘Oh, he can wait-the big baby-tell me, what did he say about me?’ Her manner was teasing, coquettish. She was very much aware that she was a woman. ‘What did he say about Archie?’

  Alma whirled away from the mirror to watch me with warning eyes.

  ‘He said that he thought Dr. Holoman was a very skillful doctor,’ I said. ‘He told me you were impulsive and headstrong but as good as gold, that he didn’t always agree with you on little things, but that you always pulled together on big things; that whenever you got in a jam of any kind you could call on him and he’d stand back of you to the limit.’

  ‘Did he tell you that?’

  ‘That’s what I gathered from his conversation.’

  She stood staring at me. Her eyes were round. There was an expression in them I couldn’t exactly classify. For a moment, I thought it might be fear.

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  Alma Hunter nodded to me. ‘Let’s go,’ she said.

  Chapter 5

  IT LACKED five minutes to twelve when I reached the office. A sign on the door announced that no further applicants were being interviewed. There were still men coming in to answer the ad. Two of them were standing in front of the door reading the sign as I approached. They turned away and walked past me with the steady, mechanical tread of soldiers retreating from a lost battle.

  Elsie Brand had finished her typing. She was seated at the desk with the left-hand top drawer open. She closed it as I opened the door.

  ‘What’s the matt
er?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t you supposed to read a magazine in between times?’

  Her eyes looked me over, a head-to-foot glance. Then she slowly opened the left-hand drawer of the desk, and started reading again. From where I was standing, I could see that it was one of the movie magazines.

  ‘How about ringing our employer,’ I suggested, ‘and telling her that Operative Thirteen is in the outer office with a report to make?’

  She looked up from the magazine. ‘Mrs. Cool’s at lunch.’

  ‘When will she be back?’

  ‘Noon.’

  I leaned across her desk. ‘Under those circumstances, I have five minutes to wait,’ I said. ‘Would you prefer to talk with me or read the magazine?’

  She said, ‘Do you have anything worth while to talk about?’

  I met her eyes, and said, ‘No.’

  For a moment, there was a faint flash of humor in her eyes. ‘I hate to listen to worth-while conversations,’ she admitted. ‘That’s a movie magazine in the drawer. I haven’t read The Citadel, Gone with the Wind, or any other worth-while books. What’s more, I don’t intend to. Now, what did you want to talk about?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘for a starter, how about discussing Mrs. Cool? What time does she go to lunch?’

  ‘Eleven.’

  ‘And gets back at twelve? And you leave at twelve and get back at one?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I saw she was quite a bit older than my first estimate. I had figured her then as being in the late twenties. Now, she could have been in the middle thirties. She’d taken, care of her face and figure, but there was more than the suggestion of a line running down from her ears; and the crease under her chin, faint though it was, meant that she’d lived longer than the twenty-seven or twenty-eight years I’d given her on my first estimate.

  ‘I have Alma Hunter waiting for me in a car at the curb,’ I said. ‘If Mrs. Cool isn’t apt to be back on time, I’d better run down and tell her.’

  ‘She’ll be back on time,’ Elsie Brand said, ‘at any rate, within two or three minutes after twelve. That’s one thing about Bertha Cool. She believes a person is entitled to food, and she wouldn’t keep you waiting on your lunch hour.’

  ‘She seems to be quite a character,’ I said tentatively.

  ‘She is,’ Elsie Brand said.

  ‘How’d she happen to get in the detective agency field?’

  ‘Her husband died.’

  ‘There are lots of other things for a woman to go into to make a living,’ I said inanely.

  ‘What, for instance?’ she asked.

  ‘She could have modeled gowns,’ I suggested. ‘How long have; you been with her?’

  ‘Ever since she opened up.’

  ‘And how long has that been?’

  ‘Three years.’

  ‘Did you know her before her husband died?’

  ‘I was her husband’s secretary,’ she said. ‘Bertha got me the job with him. She—’

  Elsie Brand broke off as she heard the sound of steps in the corridor. Then a shadow formed on the ground glass of the entrance door, and Bertha Cool flowed majestically into the room. ‘All right, Elsie,’ she said. ‘You may go now. What do you want, Donald?’

  ‘I want to make a report’

  ‘Come in,’ she said.

  She strode into the private office, shoulders back, breasts and hips swinging loosely inside her voluminous, thin dress. It was hot outside, but she didn’t seem to mind the heat.

  ‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Have you located him yet?’

  ‘Not the husband. I’ve talked with the brother.’

  ‘Well, get busy and locate him.’

  ‘I’m going to.’

  ‘Of course you are. How good are you at arithmetic?’

  ‘What’s the problem?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve received a flat fee covering seven days’ work. If you work seven days on this job, I make a hundred and fifty dollars. If you work one day on it, I make a hundred and fifty dollars. If you clean up the case today, I have six days of your time to peddle to some other client. Figure that out, and tell me the answer. You’re not going to serve any papers hanging around this office. Get the hell out and serve those papers.’

  ‘I came by to make a report.’

  ‘I don’t want any report. I want action.’

  ‘I may need someone to help me.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I have to shadow a girl. I’ve located Morgan Birks’ girl friend. I have to tell her something to make her run to Morgan and then shadow her.’

  ‘Well, what’s holding you back?’

  ‘I’ve arranged for a car. Miss Hunter is going to drive me.’

  ‘All right. Let her drive. One other thing,’ she said. ‘As soon as you get Morgan Birks located, call Sandra.’

  ‘That may interfere with the service of the papers,’ I said.

  She grinned. ‘Don’t worry about that. Financial arrangements have been duly and properly made.’

  ‘I may get into a mess. That’s a screwy family. Sandra Birks’ brother intimates there’s more to be said on Birks’ side of the case than on hers.’

  ‘We’re not paid to take sides; we’re paid to serve papers.’

  ‘I understand that, but there may be some trouble. How about giving me something to show I’m working for the agency?’

  She looked at me for a moment, then opened a drawer in her desk, took out a printed form, and filled it in with my name, age, and description. She signed it, blotted it, and handed it to me.

  ‘Now how about a gun?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I may get in a jam.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Suppose I do?’

  ‘Fight your way out.’

  ‘I can do a lot more with a gun,’ I said.

  ‘You can do too much with a gun. You’ve been reading detective magazines.’

  I said, ‘You’re the boss,’ and started for the door. She said, ‘Wait a minute. Come back here. While you’re here, I have something to say.’

  I turned back.

  ‘I’ve found out all about you, Donald,’ she said in a motherly tone of voice. ‘You gave yourself away the way you looked through those legal papers this morning. I knew right away you’d had a legal education. You’re young. You’ve been in trouble. You weren’t trying to get work in a law office. When I asked you about your education, you didn’t dare to tell me anything about your law work.’

  I tried to keep my face under control.

  ‘Donald,’ she said, ‘I know your real name. I know all about your trouble. You were admitted to the bar. You were disbarred for violating professional ethics.’

  ‘I wasn’t disbarred,’ I said, ‘and I didn’t violate professional ethics.’

  ‘The grievance committee reported that you did.’

  ‘The grievance committee were a lot of stuffed shirts. I talked too much, that’s all.’

  ‘What about, Donald?’

  ‘I did some work for a client,’ I said. ‘We got to talking about the law. I told him a man could break any law and get away with it if he went at it right.’

  ‘That’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Anyone knows that.’

  ‘The trouble is I didn’t stop there,’ I confessed. ‘I told you I liked to scheme. I don’t figure knowledge is any good unless you can apply it. I’d studied out a lot of legal tricks. I knew how to apply them.’

  ‘Go on from there,’ she said, her eyes showing interest. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I told this man it would be possible to commit a murder so there was nothing anyone could do about it. He said I was wrong. I got mad and offered to bet him five hundred dollars I was right, and could prove it. He said he was ready to put up the money any time I’d put up my five hundred bucks. I told him to come back the next day. That night he was arrested. He turned out to be a small-time gangster. He babbled everything he knew to the police. Among other things, he told them that I had agreed to t
ell him how he could commit a murder and get off scot-free. That he was to pay me five hundred dollars for the information, and then if it looked good to him, he had planned to bump off a rival gangster.’

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘The grievance committee went after me hammer and tongs. They revoked my license for a year. They thought I was some sort of a shyster. I told them it was an argument and a bet. Under the circumstances, they didn’t believe me. And, naturally, they took the other side of the question-that a man couldn’t commit deliberate murder and go unpunished.’

  ‘Could he, Donald?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘And you know how?’

  ‘Yes. I told you that was my weakness. I like to figure things out.’

  ‘And locked inside that head of yours is a plan by which I could kill someone and the law couldn’t do a damn thing about it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You mean if I was smart enough so I didn’t get caught.’

  ‘I don’t mean anything of the sort. You’d have to put yourself in my hands and do just as I told you.’

  ‘You don’t mean that old gag about fixing it so they couldn’t find the body?’

  ‘That,’ I said, ‘is the bunk. I’m talking about a loophole in the law itself, something a man could take advantage of to commit a murder.’

  ‘Tell me, Donald.’

  I laughed and said, ‘Remember, I’ve been through that once.’

  ‘When’s your year up?’

  ‘It’s up. It was up two months ago.’

  ‘Why aren’t you back practicing law?’

  ‘It takes money to fit up an office with furniture, law books, and wait for clients,’ I said.

  ‘Won’t the law-book companies trust you?’

  ‘Not after you’ve been suspended.’

  ‘And you couldn’t get a job in a law office?’

  ‘Not a chance.’

  ‘What do you intend to do with your legal education, Donald?’

  ‘Serve papers,’ I said, and turned on my heel. I walked out through the outer office. Elsie Brand had gone to lunch.

  Alma Hunter was waiting for me in the car. ‘I had to use sex appeal on a traffic cop,’ she said.

  ‘Good girl,’ I approved. ‘Let’s go to the Milestone Apartments, and I’ll do my stuff with Sally Durke.’