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

work Stiles.”

“Thanks Cap.”

At home that evening and after eating his supper, Wallace sat in the dark, living room of his condo. As usual his mind was constantly going over the facts he knew and things he wished to know. The Stereo was playing a recording of Ravel’s Bolero, one of his favorite classical pieces of music. The song relaxed him. As he reclined in his favorite leather chair with his eyes closed he occasionally brought the cigarette he held in his hands to his lips. When he did he drew in the tobacco smoke. Drawing it deep into his lungs he held it there then slowly exhaled, hating the fact that he was addicted to the nicotine that was destroying his lungs and the fact that when he got involved in an investigation he tended to smoke more. Still, it was the nicotine that kept him going, kept him concentrating, kept him going for hours never tiring, kept him thinking, allowing him to mentally cut through the words, words that were answers to questions, words that were suggestions, some good, some bad. Then, there were the reports, written reports, some important, most trivial. Then, eventually, maybe seventy-two hours later his body would rebel. His lungs would ache. The many cups of coffee he downed gave him indigestion. He had headaches and the aspirin he took to combat the pain increased the acid in his stomach. It happened time after time, investigation after investigation. He knew that it would, but he never changed. He just vowed that with the next case he would be different.

When the record stopped playing he got up out of his chair and shut off the stereo. He made it a point ot examine the ashtrays, insuring that no cigarettes were burning and as he did the telephone rang. He lifted the receiver and said, “Hello.”

“Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in two days”, said Elaine.

“If you’ve read the newspaper you would have known that I’m busy trying to solve Judge Pierpont’s murder.”

“You’re not too busy when you want to spend the night with me.”

“Did you call to break my balls or do you have something worthwhile to say?”

“Well, I see you are in a foul mood, nonetheless for your information, guess who moved into the house on Timber Lane?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea”

“Miss Joan Applewhite.”

“Mrs. Gray’s social secretary?”

“Correct.”

“Interesting. When did that happen?”

“This morning. Vernon called to tell me to take the house off of the market. I was removing the for sale sign on the lawn when Miss Applewhite drove up into the driveway, followed by a truck load of new furniture.”

“And?”

“It seems that Grace Gray decided that the house on Timber Lane would make an excellent residence for her secretary. Now, if you would like my opinion I believe that there is another reason.”

“And, what would that be?”

“She is very beautiful Robert. I think that the new, Mrs. Gray doesn’t want this young woman in the same house with her husband.”

“You base this theory on what?”

“The fact that I hear through the grape vine that the former Grace Hodges is the jealous type and very possessive. Add to that the fact that she is as plain as mud and Vernon is a man.”

“Did he ever cheat on Lillian?”

“Who knows what happens at those medical conventions?”

“I take it then that you don’t know.”

“Take it any way you like…good bye.”

Wallace heard the sound of the receiver being slammed. “what a pain in the ass”, he thought to himself.

At eleven o’clock on the morning of the next day Robert Wallace watched as a young woman entered his office escorted by Detective Stiles. Out of professional respect he stood as Stiles said, “Captain, this is June Florio.”

“Good morning Miss Florio…I am Captain Robert Wallace. Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable. May I offer you a cup of coffee?”

“No thank you.”, the woman replied.

“At this time may I introduce you to officer Mildred Andrews. Officer Andrews is present due to police department regulations. There must be a female officer present during an interview with girls or woman.”

June Florio looked at the police woman but did not say anything.

“Allow me to get right to the point. You are aware that we are investigating the murder of Judge Pierpont?”

“Yes”

“It has been brought to our attention that you knew Judge Pierpont. Is that true?”, asked Wallace.

“Listen…Am I being accused of anything?”, asked the woman.

“Miss Florio if you were a suspect in this case you would have been given your rights under the law. No one is accusing you of anything. This is not an interrogation we just want to ask you some questions. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now allow me to repeat, did you know JudgePierpont?”

“Yes, he was a frequent patron of the club where I work.”

“Is that the Pony Club? “Yes.”

“What is your position there?”

“I am a hostess.”

“And, where do you live?”

“The Golden Arms.”

“Apartment three zero seven. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Could you tell me just how much the rent is for your apartment?”, asked Wallace.

“I believe it’s three or four hundred a month.”

“You believe. Don’t you know?”

“The rent just went up. I forget what I paid last month. It might have been three or maybe four hundred. Right now I’m not sure. You have me confused.”

“Take your time. Think carefully before you answer.”

“Thank you. I will.”

“Good…Let me help you a bit. Isn’t it true that Judge Pierpont was the one paying the rent for your apartment at the Golden Arms?”

June Florio sat in silence. Wallace watched her hand trembling. Her face turned red. “Take your time Miss Florio. While you do I hope you don’t mind if I smoke”, he said.

As Wallace exhaled cigarette smoke from his lungs June Florio looked at Wallace and said. “Yes.. The Judge paid the rent. He liked me. He bought me things, things that I couldn’t afford. He cared for me.”

“And, you cared for him?”

“Yes…He was like a father to me.”

Wallace smiled at her answer. “What ever you say Miss Florio. Let’s move on. I have another question. Do you know a man named, Nuncio Vergasi”?”

Once again the woman became upset, disturbed perhaps even scared. Wallace could see the fear in her eyes and by the expression on her face. “I…I…I have nothing more to say. I know my rights and if you ask me any more questions I want a lawyer.”

Wallace leaned forward and crushed the cigarette butt in the ashtray on his desk. “That won’t be necessary at this time Miss Florio. However, the next time we meet it might be advisable…You’re free to leave…Thank you for your co- operation.”

After June Florio left, Stiles looked at Wallace and said, “She knows something.”

“You bet your ass she does. Alright. No one said it would be easy. We’ll just keep working on it”, said Wallace.

 

Chapter Six

Summer was over and, the resort town of Nautilus Beach returned to normal. Reduced traffic made driving enjoyable again. The stores and super markets catered to the local inhabitants where service was given with a leisurely smile and prices returned to

what was typical. It was mid September. Daytime temperatures

kept at a comfortable temperature and the ocean was at its warmest. Wallace an avid fisherman waited for the annual run of the striped bass feeding in the surf.

Elaine Benson had flown to Las Vegas to attend a realtor's convention and Wallace had agreed to keep a check on her house and water the lawn while she was away. He stood on the grass of the front yard attired in tan shorts, a white tee shirt and a pair of old boat shoes that he had placed on his bare feet. As he held the rubber hose he cursed under his breath as the water leaked from behind the nozzle giving off a mist like spray that landed on his hand, forearm and shoulder, wetting his tee shirt. “Bastard needs a new washer”, he said aloud. His concentration was broken when he heard the sound of a female voice.

“Good morning.”

Wallace looked toward the sound of the voice and saw a young woman across the street. “Good morning”, he responded. The woman began walking towards him. He twisted the hose nozzle shutting off the stream of water. He tossed the hose letting it fall on the lawn and he turned to her.

“You must be Mister Wallace. Elaine told me that you would be looking after her place while she was gone. My name is Joan Applewhite.”

Wallace took a long look at the young woman. What he saw standing before him with her hand extended was a small, petite oriental woman. She had long, dark brown hair, oval brown eyes, pink lips and was wearing a shoulder less white, summer dress. He took her hand in his and said, “I’m pleased to meet you, is it Miss or Mrs. Applewhite?”

“It’s Miss, but please call me Joan.”

“Then Joan it is.”

“Good. Then that’s settled, all the formalities are over I hope. Elaine told me that you are a police officer.”

“Yes, I am.”

“That to me is a dangerous profession.”

“It can be at times. More often it is very boring.”

“Really?…Nonetheless, I imagine at other times it can be rather exciting.”

“At times. How do like living in Nautilus Beach?”

“I must say that it’s different. I’m used to the big city, the museum’s, the theater, art, music, those things I miss.”

“What type of music do you like?”

“All kinds, classical, jazz, country western, but not too much rock.”

“A girl after my own heart.”

“Oh are you a music lover too?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Have you ever attended the Philadelphia Orchestra concerts?”

“I’m ashamed to say that I haven’t.”

“That’s too bad, Eugene Ormandy is a great conductor.”

“ I understand that you are the social secretary for Grace Gray.”

“Yes, I am.”

“That must be interesting work.”

“It is, when I work. Grace has been sick in bed ever since she returned from her honeymoon.”

“What seems to be the trouble?”

“Doctor Gray is treating her for the flu. She has all the symptoms vomiting, diarrhea and chills.”

“Sorry to hear that, still, I imagine you’re still kept busy.”

“At this time it is responding to her correspondence.”

“Well, it was a pleasure meeting you Joan.”

“Same here, Mister Wallace.”

“Robert, the name is Robert.”

That evening Wallace walked to his desk and checked the audio tape in his recorder. He picked up the small microphone, pushed the RECORD button and spoke. “Researching symptoms of flu like conditions and poisoning. Possibly consult with Doctor Edwards.”

He stood and walked to his small, private library. There he searched for and found the book he was looking for, “The Poisoners Handbook“, by Deborah Blum. He took the book and walked to his favorite leather chair and sat down. He looked at the table of contents and turned to the chapter containing Arsenic, and read: “Arsenic as it turns out is fairly tasteless, and if you give it at just the right dose…you can make it mimic a gastrointestinal illness…there are of course other options, morphine, mercury, carbon monoxide, all virtually undetectable.”

Wallace smiled, stood and walked back to his library and placed the book on the shelf. Walking to his bedroom he shut off the living room lamp by flipping the wall switch. He then went to bed.

The next morning after breakfast Wallace dialed the telephone number of Doctor. Manfred Edwards. Surprisingly to Wallace the doctor answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Good morning doctor. And, how are you this fine morning?”

“It was fine until I answered the telephone and heard your voice. What do you want?”

“As usual, your medical opinion.”

“Can it wait? I’m late for a foursome.”

“Tell me when and where.”

“My place…I’ll pop a couple of steaks on the grill..you bring the beer.”

“What time”?

“Any damn time after four. Now get the hell off of the telephone and let me go play golf.”

At four thirty that day Wallace walked into the backyard of Doctor Edwards. He found the man using a wire brush on the gas grill, removing the charred remains of other meals cooked at other times. Edwards turned at looked at the man holding a six pack of