Safer Dead

When I came out, it was dark. As far as I could remember Lincoln Avenue was only a five minute walk from the station. I started off keeping my eyes open. Fifty yards from the movie house I spotted a patrolman, and I ducked into a tobacconist store to let him pass. I bought a pack of Camels, took my time getting out a cigarette and lighting it, then I went out on to the street again.

A four minute quick walk brought me to the corner of Lincoln Avenue. I paused and examined the long road before starting down. It was as deserted and as silent as a graveyard at midnight.

CHAPTER TEN

I

I’ve got Lassiter’s boys on my tail,’ I said as soon as I had sat down in one of Bradley’s worn armchairs, ‘but I shook them off before coming here.’

‘You managed to get on the wrong side of him fast, didn’t you?’ Bradley asked as he fixed two whiskies. ‘How come?’

I told him what had happened at the Golden Apple. He stood, holding his glass, looking at me, his face hard.

‘What do you know about Cornelia Van Blake, Captain?’ I asked when I had finished my tale.

‘She got me slung off the force,’ Bradley said, sitting down. ‘At least, it was through her, and I’m pretty sure it was on her say-so.’

‘To do with her husband’s murder?’

‘You’ve been getting around since last we met, haven’t you? Who told you about the murder?’

‘A gilded lily. Care to tell me more?’

He stretched out his massive legs and made himself comfortable.

‘Don’t think it has anything to do with your case, because it hasn’t,’ he said. ‘But I’ll tell you: do you want the outline or details?’

‘I want the details. It may not have anything to do with my case, but some of the characters appear in both cases, and there may be a hook up. Tell me about it.’

He screwed up his eyes and stared up at the ceiling while he marshalled his facts.

‘Van Blake was shot on August 6th of last year. He went riding over his estate early in the morning. After a while his horse came back to the house without him. The staff searched for him and found him on the top of a hill in open country. He had been killed by a shot gun.’ He paused to look at me. ‘It was a big shakeup. Van Blake was rich and well known. The press and the political boys raised all hell. I knew I had to make good fast or lose my job.’ He sucked at his pipe reflectively. ‘As it turned out, I lost my job.’

I didn’t say anything, and after a pause he went on, ‘Van Blake’s wife was in Paris at the time of the murder. Van Blake had business in Paris, and a month before he died, he had made arrangements to go over there with her. At the last moment he had to attend two important board meetings which delayed his departure, but his wife went on ahead of him. Van Blake’s secretary cabled the news to her and she flew back.’

‘Who’s the secretary?’ I asked.

‘His name’s Vincent Latimer. He quit after the funeral and he’s working with the Hammerville Engineering works now. If you’re planning to talk to him, save your breath. He’s tighter than a clam.’

‘Did you come across any clues?’

‘It was an odd murder. The shotgun puzzled me. If it was a planned killing, why a shot gun with only a killing range of thirty yards? I’ve always thought it was a planned murder, and the explanation of the shot gun pointed to the killer being known to Van Blake. He was murdered out in the open: he wasn’t ambushed. He must have known the killer or he wouldn’t have got within range. Anyway, that’s how I figured it.’

‘My gilded lily said it was a poacher.’

‘I know. They all said it was, but I wasn’t sold on the idea.’

‘You thought it was the wife?’ I said, looking at him.

He shrugged.

‘I work on motives. She had a hell of a motive. She was twenty-two years younger than he was. They couldn’t have had anything in common. Before she married him she was a model and lived in a two room apartment. She came in for most of his money. Maybe she got impatient. You’ve seen her, haven’t you? She isn’t the type to be bossed around, and Van Blake could be like that. She’d want to handle the money herself, as she’s handling it now. I liked her for the job.’

‘But she was in Paris when he was shot!’

‘Yeah; a sweet alibi, wasn’t it? I’m not saying she shot him, but she could have planned it with someone’s help.’

‘Was there another man in her life?’

‘She saw a lot of Royce. A guy with his background must kill sooner or later. I liked him for the job too. When she got control of the estate, she sold the club to Royce. He had always wanted it, but Van Blake wouldn’t part or else his price was too high. That was a nice motive. She might have bribed Royce with the club to get rid of Van Blake.’

‘Did he have an alibi too?’

Bradley laughed mirthlessly.

‘I’ll s say! It was cast iron. He was in New York playing poker with three of the most respectable men in town: one of them was a judge. They swore he was with them all the time. I don’t say he did it himself, but Juan Ortez or any of his thugs could have done it on his say-so.’

‘You didn’t get anywhere on that angle?’