The Fabulous Clipjoint by Fredric Brown (the reader ebook TXT) đ
- Author: Fredric Brown
- Performer: -
Book online «The Fabulous Clipjoint by Fredric Brown (the reader ebook TXT) đ». Author Fredric Brown
I said, âI guess that would date from the time he got held up before. He lost his social security card and union card and everything and a good billfold. I guess he figured if he got held up again, or his pocket picked, he wouldnât lose anything but the money. Itâs plenty easy, I guess, to get rolled on Clark Street.â
âYeah,â said Uncle Am. âAnyway, Gardieâd seen him hide the wallet once, and knew about it. So she looked, and it was there in the bookcase, with twenty bucks left in it. She figured it wouldnât hurt anybody if she kept it.â
I said, âFinders keepers, sure. I donât mind that, thatâs what I figure sheâd do, but why did she have to give the billfold away âand make me make a damn fool of myself? Oh, well, skip it. It was an off chance that I happened to see the billfold Reinhart was carrying. Did Bassett believe her?â
âAfter heâd looked in the bookcase. There was dust back of the books, and marks in the dust where the billfold had been, just where sheâd said.â
âAndâabout Mom?â
âI guess he pretty well convinced himself she didnât do it, kid. Even before I got hold of him and told him about the Reynolds angle. Also they searched the flat pretty thoroughly. They didnât find any insurance policy, or anything else of interest.â
âWhat did Bassett know about Reynolds, if anything?â
âHe knew of him. There is such a guy, and everything Kaufman told us about him fits with what Bassett knows. Bassett thinks thereâs a pick-up order out for the three of themâHarry Reynolds, Dutch, and the torpedo. Bassettâll look into it and get their names and histories. He thinks the three of âem are wanted for bank robbery in Wisconsin. A recent one. Anyway, heâs more interested now in that angle of the case than in heckling Madge.â
âDid you get Bassett drunk on purpose tonight?â
âA manâs like a horse, Ed. You can lead him to whiskey but you canât make him drink. You didnât see me pouring any whiskey down him, did you?â
âNo,â I admitted. âI didnât see you grabbing it away, either.â
âYou got a nasty suspicious mind,â he said. âBut just the same, we got the morning free. Heâll sleep till noon, and weâll be ahead of him with the insurance company.â
âWhy do you care about thatânow that we got a lead on Reynolds?â
âKid, we donât know why this Reynolds was interested in your dad. I got a hunch if we find out the inside story of why Wally carried that much insuranceâand kept it secret that he was carrying itâwe might get an idea. Iâd just as soon have some idea what itâs all about before we go up against Reynolds. Also we canât make a move till we get the listing on that phone number, so what have we got to lose but sleep?â
âThe hell with sleep,â I said.
âOkay. Youâre young; youâll live through it. I ought to have more sense, but I guess I havenât. Shall we get some more coffee?â
I looked at Thompsonâs clock. I said, âWe got over an hour before the offices open downtown. Iâll go get the coffee, and then you can tell me more about what you and Pop did when you were together.â
The hour went pretty quick.
The Central Mutual turned out to be a moderate-sized branch office of a company whose headquarters were in St. Louis. It was a break for us; the smaller the office the more likely they were to remember Pop.
We asked for the manager and were taken into his office. Uncle Am did the talking and explained who we were.
The manager said, âNo, I donât recall him offhand, but Iâll have our records checked. You say the policy hasnât turned up yet. That wonât matter, if itâs on our records, and paid up.â He smiled slightly, deprecatingly. âWeâre not a racket, you know. The policy is merely our clientâs record of a contract that exists and will be kept, whether or not his copy is lost or destroyed.â
Uncle Am said, âI understand that. What weâre interested in is whether you recall any circumstances about the policyâfor instance, just why its existence was kept a secret from his family. He must have given a reason, some reason, to the agent who sold him the policy.â
The manager said, âJust a minute.â He went out into the general office and came back a few minutes later. He said, âThe head clerk is looking up the file. Heâll bring it in personally, and maybe heâll be able to recall the insured.â
My uncle asked, âHow unusual is it for a man to keep a policy secret that way?â
âItâs not unique. It is highly unusual. The only other case I can recall offhand is that of a man who had a touch of persecution complex. He was afraid his relatives might do away with him if they knew he was insured. Yet, paradoxically, he loved them and wished to provide for them in case of his death. UhâI didnât mean to imply that in this caseââ
âOf course not,â Uncle Am said.
A tall gray-haired man came into the office with a file folder in his hand. He said, âHereâs the Wallace Hunter file, Mr. Bradbury. Yes, I recall him. Always came into the office to make his payments. Thereâs a notation clipped to the file that no notices were to be sent out.â
The manager took the file folder. He asked, âEver talk to him, Henry? Ever ask him why the notices were not to be mailed, for instance?â
The tall man shook his head. âNo, Mr. Bradbury.â
âAll right, Henry.â
The tall man went out.
The manager was leafing through the file. He said, âYes, itâs paid up. There are two small loans against itâmade to meet premium payments. Theyâll be deducted from the face of the policy, but they wonât amount to much.â He turned another couple of pages. He said, âOh, the policy wasnât sold from this office. It was transferred here from Gary, Indiana.â
âWould they have any records on it there?â
âNo, aside from a duplicate of this file at the main office in St. Louis, there are no other records. This file was transferred here from Gary at the time Mr. Hunter moved to Chicago. I see by the dates that was just a few weeks after the policy was taken out.â
Uncle Am asked, âWould the policy itself show any details not given in that file?â
âNo, the policy is a standard straight-life form, with the name and amount and date filled in. Pasted inside it is a photostatic copy of the application for the policyâbut the original of that photostat is here in this file. You may see that if you wish.â
He handed Uncle Am the file, opened to a form filled in with pen and ink, and I walked over behind Uncle Amâs chair so I could read it over his shoulder. I made a mental note of the date of the application, and the signature of the agent who sold itâPaul B. Anderz.
Uncle Am asked, âDo you know if this agent, Anderz, is still working out of your Gary office?â
âNo, I donât. We can write them and find out.â
Uncle Am said, âNever mind, thanks anyway. Youâll want a copy of the death certificate, of course?â
âYes, before we can issue a check to the beneficiary. This young manâs mother, I take it.â
âHis stepmother.â Uncle Am handed back the folder and stood up. âThanks a lot. Oh, by the wayâwas the policy paid quarterly?â
The manager did some leafing through the folder again. He said, âYes, after the first payment. He paid a yearâs premium in advance with the original application.â
Uncle Am thanked him again, and we left.
âGary?â I asked.
âYeah. We can get there on the el, canât we?â
âLess than an hour, I think.â I thought for a minute. âGosh, less than an hour from the Loop, and yet I never went back there after we left.â
âDid Wally or Madge ever go back? For a visit, or anything?â
I thought, and then shook my head. âNot that I remember. I donât believe any of us ever went back there. Of course, I was only thirteen when we came from there to Chicago, but I think Iâd remember.â
âTell meâwait, letâs wait till weâre on the train.â
He didnât say any more till we had a seat on the Gary Express. Then he said, âAll right, kid, let go. Relax, and tell me everything you can remember about Gary.â
I said, âI went to Twelfth Street School. So did Gardie. I was in the eighth grade and she was in the fourth. When we left, I mean. We lived in a little frame house on Holman Street, three blocks from the school. The school had a band, and I wanted to get in it. They lent instruments and I borrowed a trombone. I was getting so I could read simple stuff on it, but Mom hated it. She called it âthat damn horn,â and I had to go out in the woodshed to practice. Then when we came to Chicago we lived in a flat and I couldnât have practiced even if Mom had liked it, so Iââ
âForget the trombone,â Uncle Am said. âGet back to Gary.â
I said, âWe had a car part of the time, and part of the time we didnât. Pop worked at two or three different printing shops at one time or another. He was out of work for a while with arthritis in his arms and we went way in debt. I donât think we ever quite got out. I have a hunch we left so suddenly because we were running out on some of the debts we still had.â
âYou left suddenly?â
âIt seems to me we did. I mean, I donât remember it being talked over. All of a sudden the van was there loading our furniture, and Pop had a job in Chicago and we had to leave rightâ Wait a minuteââ
âTake your time, kid. I think youâre getting at something. My God, Ed, what a sap Iâve been.â
âYou? How?â
He laughed. âIâve been overlooking my best witness because I was too close to see him. Forget it. Get back to Gary.â
I said, âI remember now. Something that was funny at the time, but Iâd clean forgotten until I started talking about moving. I didnât know we were moving to Chicago until we got here. Pop said we were moving to Joliet; thatâs about twenty-five miles from Gary, same as Chicago, but west instead of northwest, and I remember telling all my kid friends we were going to Jolietâand then it turned out to be Chicago. Pop said heâd got a good job in Chicago and changed his mind about taking the one in Joliet. I remember, it seemed kind of funny to me, even then.â
Uncle Am had his eyes closed. He said, âGo on, kid. Dig as deep as you can. Youâre doing swell.â
âAfter we got to Chicago, we moved in right where weâre still living. But Pop couldnât have been telling the truth about the job in Chicago, because he was around home the first few weeks after we came to Chi. Not all the time; but enough so I know he wasnât working. Then he got the
Comments (0)