The House on Timber Lane by Robert F. Clifton (top business books of all time .txt) 📖

is more evidence, the proof that he shot and killed Judge Pierpont. The only thing I have right now is mere suspicion. I have no witnesses. The only thing they can testify to is a masked man shot the Judge. I have no weapon, the firearm used is now in all probability destroyed. What I do have is a psychopath killer in Nautilus Beach.”

Robert Wallace returned to his small library, he reached up and removed the book, “New Clues To The Causes Of Violence”, by Gene Bylinsky. Wallace went again to his favorite chair, sat, opened the book and began to read. “By tradition, students of aggression and violence have been divided into two separate camps that hardly ever communicated with each other. On one side stood the ethologists, students of animal behavior in the wild, many of whom held that man is biologically fated to violence. At the other extreme were social scientists, who knew, or cared, little about biology. They argued that violent crime is strictly a social phenomenon, best dealt with by eliminating slums, urban crowding, and racial discrimination and by alleviating poverty and improving the prison system.”

Wallace closed the book and reached for a cigarette. As he sat and smoked he thought about what he had just read. “I side with the ethologists. Man is an animal and has an inherited trait that causes violence. That trait in all probability comes from a gene inherited from early man. Science has learned that the brain reacts from the genes that determine behavior. The Neanderthal and later tribes of early man hunted for food, most often he killed the animals he ate, so he killed out of necessity. Most mammals kill either for food or for self defense. The fact that man became civilized did not erase the characteristic of killing, just as the domestication of cats and dogs did not do away with the natural instinct to hunt, stalk and kill their victims. As a result killing became a part of life. If it is true that man descended from the apes then look at the primates. Armies of baboons or chimpanzees attack other groups. African tribes, American Indian tribes, and European tribes fought wars and developed weapons of destruction. There were no urban slums, no urban crowding and while there might have been poverty there was no prison system. Yet, man, killed, raped, robbed, burnt and many times he did it with increased violence and he did it to send a message, a sign to others. Just like Vergasi sent a message, one that said, do not challenge me. If there was any debate on whether or not man was biologically fated to violence then all one has to do is return to the scientific findings. Among the findings of anomalies discovered so far is that there is a connection with violent behavior and the famous extra Y chromosome. A normal male has an X and Y chromosome. A female has two X chromosomes. Yet, the XYY male who is usually tall are said to have a natural propensity for violent crime. Interesting. If I ever arrest this son of a bitch I’m going to have him tested.”

The homicide rate here in Nautilus Beach is low, averaging two or three a year with most of those resulting from domestic disputes or atrocious assault and battery. Nonetheless, when anyone, particularly a county judge is murdered in his own home the public wants answers. It also wants an arrest and conviction. And, in case the public begins to overlook the crime the media is always ready to remind them of the lack of answers by the police. In this case they wanted answers from Captain Robert Wallace.

 

Chapter Eight

The days, weeks and months passed quickly by. The anniversary of the Pierpont murder came and went with no results. In fact, after a year there was no new evidence and the case now considered cold was even getting colder. Fortunately, after all that time the press had found new interests to complain about and had let Wallace and his men alone. Still, the Major Crime Squad continued working on the case.

Surveillance of Vergasi failed to find him in any violation of the law. They did record the many times that he visited June Florio at her apartment, but that wasn’t against the law. When Wallace finished reading the latest observation reports he looked at Bill O’Neil and asked, “How about visits to him by members of the Philadelphia family?”

“None that we know of. Macaluso probably considers it still too hot to send anyone down here to see Vargasi even though it’s been over a year. In all probability he’s sending someone down here, but if he is we don’t see him.”

“Do we have Vergasi leaving town?” asked Wallace.

“Nope…In fact he doesn’t drive.”

“Macaluso won’t use the telephone or mail. He’s afraid of federal wiretaps and any school kid knows how to steam open an envelope. Still, he could have someone else drive. He doesn’t have to go to Philly, just out-of-town and up the road, meet who ever the messenger is and get his orders. According to the reports I just read we’ve been putting him to bed between ten and midnight.”

“Right, as you know it’s a question of manpower and of course the overtime.”

“So my theory is a possibility”, said Wallace.

“Hey, anything is possible”, answered O’Neil. “What about June Florio?”

“Nothing new there either, unless Vergasi paying the bills now is relevant to the case.”

“Not at the moment…Alright, let’s stay with it. Sorry I can’t give you more men Bill. Hell, we’re lucky that we’re still in business. We don’t have enough cases to justify our squad. The Chief is an ex-detective and is under the opinion that the Detective Bureau can and should handle our cases, particularly homicides.”

“I know, but he can’t argue with success can he?”, asked O’Neil.

“Right now that’s all we’ve got going for us. We have to close this Pierpont case”, Wallace answered.

“Well, I suggest we keep the tail on. I don’t expect anything to happen, but if it does where will you be tonight, just in case I have to call you?”, asked O’Neil.

“I’m dining at the Le Bristol. My reservations are at eight. After that who knows?”

“I didn’t know you liked French food”, said O.Neil. “I don’t, but the lady does.”

“Elaine?”

“Yep.”

“Are you two getting serious?”

“Nope…She’s keeping me up to date on a private matter I’ve been working on. If this thing develops as I think it will, then I’ll bring you in on it. Right now it’s just mere speculation on my part.”

“Hey…you know me, what ever, when ever. Right now I’m concentrating on Vergasi. Have a nice dinner Cap.”

 

*******************

 

At exactly eight P.M. Elaine Benson and Robert Wallace were seated at a window table in the Le Bristol Restaurant. Elaine ordered her usual whiskey sour. Wallace order coffee…decaf. As they both read the menu three violinist’s dressed in white tie and tails played softly as they walked through the dining room.

Wallace placed the menu on the table and took a sip of coffee. “Do you see anything that you might like?”, he asked.

“Not really Robert. Why don’t you order for both of us.” “Alright, I think I know what you might like. So tell me What’s new with the Gray’s?”

“I hear that Grace is having health problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Joan told me that Grace has been diagnosed as having something called…Let see I f I can get this right...Trans…Transient Ischemic attack.”

“By who?”

“Vernon of course.”

“Did Joan say how doctor Gray was treating his wife?”

“No, she didn’t.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the waiter. “May I ask if you are ready to order?” asked the waiter.

“Yes we are. For the first course we will have the blue lobster, chilled with tomato gazpacho along with the slightly spicy avocado cannelloni.”

“The avocado is not too spicy is it?”, asked Elaine.

“No Miss, just enough spice to tempt the taste buds”, answered the waiter.

“Fine”, Elaine responded.

“For the second course we would like the saddle of lamb from the Aveyron roasted in nori crumbs along with the kohlrabi puree and the wild herb gnocchi.”

“And for desert sir?”, asked the waiter.

“If we want desert I’ll be sure to let you know”, said Wallace.

“And, your wine sir?”

“ Is the Sauvignon Blanc French or from New Zealand?.”

“French sir.”

“Excellent, a bottle please, now after you place our order please bring me another cup of coffee and an ashtray.”

“Very good sir.”

After the waiter left Wallace sat in silence, deep in thought. “What’s on your mind?”, asked Elaine.

“Oh, excuse me…I was just thinking. It has been just a little over a year since Grace Gray recovered from arsenic poisoning. And, now she’s ill again”, said Wallace.

“Yes Robert, but this time it is a disease, not a poison”, said Elaine.

“Ah, but is it a malady or something created by the good doctor?”

“I don’t know. I never heard of what ever she has.”, said Elaine.

“That’s the medical term for Minnie strokes. I can’t remember all the symptoms, but I’ll look it up later.”

“Tell me Robert…What is the name of the song the musicians are playing?”

“Variation Of The theme From Paganini.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, it is.”

Later, Wallace walked Elaine Benson to her door. “Thank you for a lovely evening and dinner Robert. Would you like to come in?”

“If you don’t mind I’ll take a rain check. The information you gave me at dinner has my mind racing and investigative juices flowing. I want to get home while I still have the ideas I have in my head. I hope you understand.”

“Of course…Why would a woman who had a lovely dinner and looked forward to the rest of the evening being romantic lack understanding.”

“Thanks…I’ll call you…Good night."

“Good night Robert.”

Wallace started his Ford and backed slowly out of the driveway. He beeped the horn as he drove away.

He sat at his desk smoking a cigarette dressed only in his underwear and dialed the number. Looking at his watch he noticed that it was nearly ten thirty P.M. Listening, he counted the number of rings knowing that the doctor never answered his telephone quickly. Finally he heard the receiver lift and then a voice, “HELLO!”

“I’m going to give you several symptoms. When I’m finished you tell me the medical condition they exhibit”, said Wallace.

“You son of a bitch…Do you know what time it is? I’m getting ready to go to bed and you’re playing telephone games…If you were right here I’d kick you square in the ass!”

“Alright Doctor, here are the symptoms…Blurred vision…Nausea…Vertigo…Burning or tingling…Trouble with balance and confusion.”

“Wallace, you keep this shit up I’ll go to the chief of police…I’ll go to the Mayor…I wish the hell I never laid eyes on you."

“Answer the question doctor what is the medical condition?”

“Transient Ischemic Attack.”

“Excellent…You win a cigar…anything else?”

“Yes, diabetes.”

“What?”

“Diabetes.”

“I’ll be a son of a bitch”, said Wallace softly. “Yes you are…Why do you need to know this information especially when I’m getting ready for bed?”

“You might have just solved a murder and prevented another Doc. I’ll get back to you…Thanks and good night."

“What murder?”

“Good night Doc.”

“Wallace you rotten bastard, now I’ll be up all night trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about.” Click.

After talking to Doctor Edwards Wallace walked over to the small filing cabinet he kept in what he called his office. He pulled open the lower drawer where he kept, old, outdated information, information that he was certain could be used at another time. He moved file cover after file cover until he found the one he was looking for, “Use Of Insulin In Homicides.” Removing the file he closed the cabinet drawer and went back to his desk. He took a seat, lit a cigarette, opened the file and began to read: Journal Of The Royal Society Of Medicine. “William Dale Archerd was found guilty on March 15, 1968 of murdering his nephew and two of his seven wives...On July 24, 1956 Archard contacted the Los Angeles Police to report a robbery at his home. Archard told