The Soft Centre

The Hare Investigating Agency advertised that they offered superlative service with quick results. The Agency was controlled by Homer Hare, assisted by Lucille, his daughter, and Sam Karsh, his son-in-law. They were regarded by the police and by those who had had dealings with them as ‘The Unholy Trinity’.

Homer Hare, nudging sixty-five, was an immense man, grossly fat with a turnip shaped head, a bulbous nose, shrewd little eyes and a drooping moustache that half hid a cruel, avaricious mouth.

His daughter, aged twenty-eight, was small and bony. The sharpness of her features and the brightness of her little black eyes gave her the appearance of a dangerous and suspicious ferret.

Her husband, Sam Karsh, could have been her brother. He had the same ferrety face, the same dark greasy hair and the same muddy complexion. If he hadn’t been offered a job as well as a wife, it wouldn’t have occurred to him to have married Lucille. He had a roving eye for any blonde who came up to his high standards, but as he made a reasonable living working with Hare, he accepted Lucille with as bad a grace as possible.

On the second morning after the murder at the Park Motel, Homer Hare sat in his specially built desk chair, designed to accept his enormous bulk, and regarded Joan Parnell with startled surprise.

‘But this is a murder case,’ he said in his wheezy soft voice. ‘We don’t usually take on murder cases. For one thing the police don’t like an Agency to move in and for another, they have the organisation to solve a murder whereas we are necessarily handicapped.’

Joan Parnell giving off a strong aroma of gin, made an impatient movement.?‘There are other Agencies,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to beg you to work for me. I’m paying a thousand dollars as a retainer. Are you taking the job or not?’

Hare blinked.?‘My dear Miss Parnell,’ he said hurriedly, waving his great hands that looked as if they had been fashioned out of dough, ‘if there is one Agency that could help you, it is us. Just what do you want me to do?’

‘Of course I’ll handle it,’ Hare said and pulled a scratch pad towards him. ‘I have read the facts in the papers of course, but let me see if you can tell me anything further that might help. First of all, tell me about your sister.’

An hour later, Joan Parnell got to her feet: On the desk lay five hundred dollars in twenty dollar bills.

‘You shall have the other five hundred next week,’ she said. ‘For this money, I want some action.’

Hare regarded the money with a loving smile.?‘You’ll get it. Miss Parnell. We specialise in quick results. We will have something for you by next week.’

‘If I don’t get it, you don’t get any more money,’ Joan said curtly.

When she had gone, Hare dug an enormous thumb into a bell push on his desk.

Sam Karsh, followed by Lucille, notebook in hand, came in.?‘We have a job,’ Hare said and pointed to the bills on the desk. ‘The Parnell murder.’ Karsh sat down. He pushed his hat to the back of his head, He was a man who would rather go around without his trousers than without his hat. There were times when he was drunk, that he went to bed with his hat on, and would turn vicious if his wife attempted to remove it.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ he demanded. ‘A murder case? You gone nuts? We’re in bad enough trouble with the cops as it is. You aiming to lose us our licence?’

‘Relax,’ Hare said. ‘We’re handling this. You leave it to me. I’ll talk to Terrell. This woman has money. She’s paid five hundred, and next week, she’s parting with another five hundred. That’s the kind of cabbage we need very, very badly.’

Karsh eyed the money and grimaced.?‘I don’t like it. Terrell is only waiting his chance to slit our throats, but okay, so we take the job. Where does that get us? What can we do better than the cops?’

‘Nothing.’ Hare smiled. ‘But we will go through the motions and we will give her an elaborate report. It will be convincing enough for us to collect the second five hundred, then we sit back and do nothing further. She’ll get tired of us and go to some other Agency, but we’ll have picked up a nice, easy grand.’

Karsh considered this, then his ferrety face creased into a grimace he called a smile.

‘Very nice… so what do I do?’?‘You read all the newspapers covering the case. You go down to the Park Motel at Ojus and ask a few questions, then you write a report. I’ll jazz it up a little and we’ll present it to Miss Parnell. We’ll collect the rest of the cabbage and we then can forget about her.’

‘I’m not poking my snout into anything until you have talked to Terrell,’ Karsh said firmly.’ That old bull is dangerous. Once he finds out I’ve been poking around, he’ll break my neck.’

Hare reached for the telephone. A few minutes later he was speaking to Terrell.?‘Chief, I’ve had Miss Joan Parnell here,’ he said, oil in his voice. ‘She wants to hire me to find her sister’s killer.’