Oh, Murderer Mine by Norbert Davis (best novels ever txt) đ
- Author: Norbert Davis
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âYouâre scaring me now.â
âIâm trying to. Think back again. What was he doing when you first saw him?â
âIt sounds silly, but he was looking at a pair of my stockings as though heâd never seen any before.â
âHe didnât take anything?â
âNo.â
âWhat else did he disturbâbesides your bureau or dresser or whatever?â
âNothing. Just that one drawer.â
âYeah,â said Doan absently.
âAre you really considering Beulah as a suspect?â
Doan frowned. âI donât see how it could have been her. She had the time, all right. You were still unconscious when she turned up, and Trent thinks it was about seven or eight minutes after I started chasing. But he was so busy dithering around over you it might have been an hour for all heâd know. I made some experiments. In her apartment, with the door closed, it would be hard to hear a fire siren in your apartment. None of the other tenants heard you. We did because your door was open, and the hall funnels the sound. But if Beulah Porter Cowys has a stocking mask around, sheâs carrying it with her. Along with an automatic and a knife, and that doesnât seem reasonable. She does have a pair of black leather gloves, though.â
âDid you search her apartment?â
âSure.â
âHowâd you get in?â
âThe locks in that building are easy to pick. Of course, too, she could have circled around and gone in the front of the building after she shot at meâitâs physically possibleâbut I donât believe she could have done it without Carstairs spotting her.â
âWhy donât you let Carstairs just sniff around until he locates whoever it was?â
âCarstairs?â Doan said. âHeâs not that kind of a dog. He canât smell any better than I can. He operates with his ears and his eyes.â
âLook here,â said Melissa. âWhy are you so interested in me and in my prowler?â
âWhy, Melissa,â Doan chided. âI love you. Did I forget to tell you?â
âPooh,â said Melissa. âWe canât use that. Come on. Iâve cooperated. Now, give.â
Doan said slowly, âI noticed something I donât think Humphrey spotted. You know that directory in the lobby of the Pavilion? The one that lists the names of the tenants opposite the number of the apartment each lives in? Well, the manager or someone had already put Trentâs name opposite your apartment and yours opposite Trentâs last night. You know, because Trent insists on exchanging apartments with you andââ
âI know all about who wants to exchange apartments and why.â
âOh,â said Doan. âWell, that chesterfield in Trentâs apartment is too damned short. Now if youâd just let me sleep in that pull-down bed in your living roomâŠâ
âI wouldnât care for that arrangement.â
âOkay,â said Doan.
âJust a minute here!â said Melissa. âDonât try to get off the subject. Youâre so concerned about this because you thinkâon account of the directoryâthat the prowler made a mistake in the apartments. You think he intended to get into Trentâs apartment instead of mine!â
âYes,â Doan admitted. âAnd I think thatâs why he was staring at your stockings in such a dumbfounded way when you came in, he naturally didnât expect to find a drawer full of womenâs stuff in Trentâs apartment.â
âWell, what do you think he did expect to find?â
âI donât know. Thatâs what Iâm worried about. This bird is no ordinary prowlerâno garden variety of sneak thief. And anyway, Trent has no dough, aside from a big gob of back Navy pay which is in the bank. He hasnât any rajahâs rubies or any secret plans for atomic bombs. I canât figure out what the prowler was after, and why he was willing to go to such lengths to keep from being caught. I mean, look at it this way. Suppose I had caught himâor rather, suppose Frank Ames had. The prowler hadnât stolen a thing. All he could possibly have drawn would be a couple of years for breaking and entering. And yet, he was willingâand ready to commit murder to dodge that. It doesnât make sense.â
âSo you think it was a woman.â
Doan grinned. âNot for that reason. But sometimes they do funny things when they get bitten by the love bug, and Trent is dynamite in that direction.â
âOh-_ho!_â said Melissa suddenly.
âWhat now?â Doan demanded warily.
âIâm just getting the drift of all these sly, snide questions of yours. I know who youâre eyeing.â
âJust relax, now,â Doan advised.
âI wonât. Youâre thinking about somebody whose name starts with H and who hangs around in Hollywood.â
âThereâs still a law against slander,â Doan warned.
âPooh. No wonder youâre worried. Youâre afraid you might be guarding Trent against your own boss.â
âYouâve got an evil mind, Melissa,â Doan told her.
âHavenât I, just? But it works, doesnât it? So Heloise is a crack shot with a pistol, is she?â
âI donât know,â said Doan, âbut she used to juggle knives.â
âShe did? Really? Where?â
âIn carnivals and at county fairs.â
âHow do you know?â
âI investigated her. I always investigate the people who hire me. I want to know whether their checks are good.â
âShe must have millions!â
âMaybe, now,â Doan said. âBut back in the thirties there was a time when she was on the ropes financially. Her outfit nearly foundered under her.â
âWhat happened?â
âHer husband forged her name and misused a limited power of attorney to dribble all her assets into the stock market.â
âHer_ husband?_ You mean, another one? Has she been married before?â
âOh, yes. To a guy named âBig Tubâ Tremaine. He was a spieler on a sick pitch.â
âWhat does that mean?â
âHe sold medicines at carnivals and fairsâKickapoo Joy Juice and Colonel Ousterâs Calibrated Cure-All and stuff like that. Heloise was his come-on. She used to dress in spangled diapers and a necklace and juggle knives to attract a crowd so Big Tub could work them over. He was good at it, from all accounts.â
âWhat happened to him?â
âHe died.â
âAh-ha,â said Melissa. âMysteriously, Iâll bet.â
âNope. He dunked himself in the drink of his own free will and accordâand right in front of about a hundred witnesses who were all chasing him to stop him.â
âWhy did he do that? Kill himself, I mean?â
âBecause he was smart,â said Doan. âHe stole money from Heloise. Thatâs just about as serious an offense as there is. If she could have laid hands on him sheâd have had him boiled in oil or, at the very least, drawn and quartered.â
âHave you ever heard about the other guy who stole money from Heloise?â
âNo,â said Melissa, âI havenât heard. Tell me about the other guy.â
âIâve forgotten his name but he worked for her as a bookkeeper. He figured out a complicated and what he thought was a foolproof system for rigging the books. Heâd embezzled the magnificent sum of one dollar and seventy-six cents when she got wise to him. He was bonded and Heloise forced the bonding company to prosecute, although they didnât want to. The court, however, threw the case out. They said stealing a dollar seventy-six was hardly a misdemeanor, much less a felony. Whereupon, Heloise decided to prosecute in her own wayânot through the courtsâŠâ
âDid she fire the fellow?â
âNo, she kept him onâraised his salary, in fact, so high that the poor guyâs wife wouldnât let him quit. Heloise wanted him right under her thumb where she could torture him. But she didnât let him keep books any longer. She made him the manager of her complaint department, and if you want to live a life of hell and damnation just go get yourself a job in the complaint department of a cosmetics manufacturer.â
âI can imagine,â said Melissa.
âI wonder if you can,â Doan told her. âThis poor ex-bookkeeper, with the sensitive soul youâll find in most embezzlers, had to take lip from women all over the United States and some foreign countries whoâd bought Heloise of Hollywoodâs beauty preparations and hadnât turned out as beautiful as the advertisements said they would. They stormed the poor guy by letter, telegram, telephone and in person. All of them were mad, some of them madder. His nerves gave out.â
âWhat finally happened to him?â
âHe went off his bat, which is what Heloise had counted on. Theyâve got him stuck away now in a nuthouse somewhere in a room wallpapered with mattresses. The doctors say heâll never get any better.â
âUgh,â said Melissa. âThis Heloise must be plenty tough.â
âShe is that,â said Doan, âbut a good businesswoman. She built up her business all on her own, although she did and does use the sap bait Big Tub taught her. He had nothing to do with the management of it. She supported him in relative luxury until he started giving her money to the stockbrokers.â
âWhere did he kill himself?â
âAt Ensenada. He dove off a fishing pier after loading himself down with most of the liquor in the nearest bar and bidding all the patrons a fond farewell. They just thought he was crocked, until he actually did heave himself overboard, and then they had a hell of a time fishing him out again. When they did, he was deader than a kippered herring.â
âIâd really like to see Heloise,â Melissa said ruminatively. âI mean, in person. She interests me.â
âIs that a fact?â Doan inquired politely. âHeloise interests you?â
âDonât get funny.â
âYouâd better forget Trent. Heâs out of your league.â
âOh, is that so?â
âIâm just telling you,â Doan said. âIâm your friend.â
âHa!â
âNow just think. Suppose by some freak of chance you did manage to land him. He looks just as good to other gals as he does to you, remember.â
âI could handle that angle, all right. And without hiring a detective to watch him. Does Heloise give her personal attention to that salon of hers on the Strip?â
âYes,â Doan admitted. âBut if I were you, I wouldnât show up around there.â
âI will if I please, and I think I please.â
âWell, take Carstairs with you, anyway.â
âI canât. I havenât a car. Itâs against the law for dogs to ride on buses.â
âLet him handle that situation. Iâve never yet run across a bus driver who could keep him off a bus or put him off once he got onâŠCarstairs!â
Carstairs raised his head languidly.
âGo with her,â said Doan. âWatch it.â Carstairs lifted his upper lip and sneered at hint in an elaborately bored way.
THE SUNSET STRIP IS A SECTION OF THE county, not incorporated into the city of Los Angeles, which points like an accusing finger directly at the heart of Hollywood. It is inhabited by actors and actresses and their exploiters or victims, and by people who have been run out of Beverly Hills, and by bookmakers, saloon keepers, unsuccessful swindlers, antique dealers and interior decorators of one kind or the other, but mostly the other. It is considered quite fascinating by the sort of people who like to go on bus rides through the Bowery.
Heloise of Hollywood had a building all of her own in the center of this streamlined slum. The building featured glass brick and chrome and pink plaster and dainty gestures in the air, and taken over all it was as slick and
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