1979 - You Must Be Kidding (7 page)

He had asked the car dealer where to find the branch office of the Paradise Assurance Corporation. Following the car dealer’s directions, he drove to Seaview Road, and was able to park within twenty yards of the Assurance office. The time now was 13.00. He hadn’t been sitting in the car for more than ten minutes when he saw Ken Brandon leave the office and walk over to the quick-lunch bar, across the road.

Lu immediately recognized Brandon as the man he had seen with Karen on the beach.

Check! he thought.

He then drove into the city. He found parking and bought a map of the city from a drug store. Returning to the car, he located Lotus Street. He drove there, then leaving the car at the top of the road, he walked down, passing bungalows and villas until he came to Brandon’s bungalow. Slowing, but not stopping, he regarded the bungalow with its trim garden, and he nodded to himself.

A guy who could afford a place like this, he thought, must be worth at least five thousand dollars.

Returning to his car, he drove back to Secomb, and again found parking near the Assurance office. For some minutes, he watched black people entering the office. He had to be sure that the girl who had been with Brandon was indeed Karen Sternwood. He hesitated. Would she recognize him if he walked into the office? He had trimmed his hair and beard. As she had only seen him in the moonlight, he decided it was unlikely she would recognize him. But suppose she did? Did it matter? He would have preferred the element of surprise, but it was worth the risk.

Leaving the car, he walked over to the office and entered.

Karen was talking to an anxious looking black man.

Lu paused in the doorway and looked hard at her. No doubt about it! She was the girl!

Karen glanced at the man who had come in and who was staring at her. She immediately recognized him. A little shock ran through her, but not for an instant did her expression betray her shock.

‘A few minutes,’ she said with her sexy smile.

Watching her, Lu was convinced she hadn’t recognized him. He smiled.

‘Parking problems,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right back,’ then he returned to his car.

Karen forced her mind to the problems of this worried black man who seemed so desperate to protect his brood of ten children. As she began again to explain the policy she was offering to take care of his children, she thought this man who had just come in, who had stared at her, and had now gone, meant real trouble.

three

A
n all grey-haired man walked into Police headquarters. Someone had once told him he looked like James Stewart, the movie actor, and from then on, he had aped the actor’s mannerisms. He was Pete Hamilton, crime reporter on the City’s T.V. network. As he covered scandal, society gossip as well as crime, he had a vast audience. He was regarded by the police as the original pain in the ass.

Ignoring Sergeant Tanner who was at the charge desk, he walked briskly down the corridor and swept into Beigler’s tiny office.

‘Hi, Joe!’ he said, coming to rest before Beigler’s desk. ‘Let’s have it! I’m on the air in a couple of hours.’ He pulled up a chair, sat down and took out a notebook.

‘Janie Bandler. What clues? What are you guys doing?’

Beigler sighed. He would have liked to have caught hold of Hamilton and kicked him out of his office, but no one did that to a man of Hamilton’s influence.

‘It would seem,’ Beigler said carefully, ‘we have a sex nut around. Apart from rape, there seems no other motive. We are checking. I don’t have to tell you, Pete, that finding, a sex nut is the hardest nut to crack.’

‘You’re becoming quite a wit, Joe. So, okay, what have you got so far? Any clues? Any leads? This poor girl . . .what do you know about her?’

‘No clues so far,’ Beigler said. He never gave out information unless he had to. ‘Janie asked for trouble. She was a whore. Maybe she ran into some guy, propositioned him and was unlucky.’

‘He ripped her . . . right?’

‘Sure.’

Hamilton stared at him.

‘A ripper could do it again.’

‘Yeah, but he could have been passing through the City. We don’t want to start a panic, Pete, so play that angle down.’

Hamilton’s eyes narrowed.

‘Listen, Joe, I have a sixteen year old daughter! Girls should be warned. If there is a nut around, it’s Mayor Hedley’s and your job to show the red light. I don’t give a damn about panic! Girls must be warned!’

‘I can’t stop you,’ Beigler said quietly. ‘The Chief is talking now with the Mayor.’

‘Have you talked to Chet Miscolo?’

‘We’ve talked to him.’

‘Didn’t he come up with anything?’

‘We have the names and addresses of all those in the colony last night,’ Beigler said. ‘We’re checking each and every one. It’ll take a little time. Right now as I’ve said we have nothing to go on. As soon as we have, I’ll alert you.’

Instinct told Hamilton that Beigler was holding back on him.

‘Do you want me to say the police don’t know a thing?’

Beigler gave him a sour smile.

‘You say what you like, Pete. It’s early days.’ He waved to a mass of papers littering his desk. ‘We’re checking. Just remember this girl was a whore and she asked for trouble. In spite of what she was, we will find her killer. That’s our job. If you want to be helpful, say we are doing just that.’

Hamilton got to his feet.

‘Got a photo of her, Joe?’

Beigler produced a copy of the polaroid print. Hamilton studied it, and grimaced.

‘Yeah, I see what you mean: a real toughie. Okay, I’ll play it down. After all, as you say, she was only a hooker.’

While this interview was in progress, Lepski with Jacoby was visiting the various men’s wear shops in the city.

While Lepski was driving, Jacob asked, ‘How did that car key drama with Carroll work out, Tom?’

Lepski grinned.

‘Did I get away with that! I had the goddamn keys in my pocket. I thought they were mine! When I got home last night I put them under her car mat. I got her to apologize!’ He pulled up outside Henry Levine’s tailor shop. ‘When you get married, Max, you watch it! A husband has to act smart all the time or else he’s in trouble.’

They entered the shop and asked for Mr. Levine. This was the fifth unsuccessful call on tailors they had made.

Mr. Levine, fat and aging, but prosperous, immediately identified the golf ball button.

‘Sure, Mr. Lepski,’ he said. ‘This is a speciality of mine.’

He walked to a rack and produced a blue jacket with golf hall buttons. ‘See? Nice idea, huh?’

‘We are trying to trace this button, Mr. Levine. Can you tell us who has bought one of these jackets?’

‘No problem. Just wait,’ and Levine went into his office.

While waiting, Lepski examined the rack of jackets. He located one that attracted his attention.

‘How about this, Max?’ he asked. ‘Pretty sharp, huh?’

Jacoby examined the jacket of pale yellow with broad blue stripes. He thought it was an abortion.

He made a non—committal grunting noise. Lepski continued to regard the jacket, then taking off his own jacket, he slipped on the jacket and surveyed himself in the long mirror.

‘Boy! Is this great?’

Jacoby thought Lepski looked like an escapee from a circus.

‘You could stop the traffic in that,’ he said.

Lepski looked suspiciously at him.

‘Don’t you like it?’

‘I don’t have to live with it,’ Jacoby said, ‘but would Carroll like it?’

‘Yeah.’ He again regarded himself, frowning. He realized that Carroll would create a scene if he took the jacket home.

Levine came from his office.

‘Ah, Mr. Lepski!’ he exclaimed, seeing Lepski had put on the jacket. ‘I’ve always thought you had a touch of class. Now that jacket is something very, very special. It’s an original. You won’t find a similar jacket in the city. Feel the cloth . . . wonderful! Look at yourself! It is made for you! It gives you a look of considerable distinction.’

Lepski hesitated, stroking the cloth. He again regarded himself in the mirror.

Seeing his hesitation, and because Jacoby was fond of both Lepski and Carroll, he said, ‘Carroll!’

Lepski sighed, removed the jacket and put on his own.

Looking at himself in the mirror again, he decided he looked like any other cop, and he sighed again.

‘Mrs. Lepski likes to be around when I choose clothes.’ He gave a false laugh. ‘She imagines her taste is better than mine.’

Levine who had already encountered Carroll, abandoned the sale. He handed Lepski a slip of paper.

‘Those are the names and addresses of my clients who bought the jacket: only four of them. Is something wrong, Mr. Lepski?’

‘Just routine, and thanks,’ Lepski said, and he left followed by Jacoby.

Back in their car, Lepski examined the list.

‘Ken Brandon!’ he exclaimed. ‘This button places him on the murder scene!’

‘Why say that?’ Jacoby demanded. ‘We don’t even know if he has a button missing on his jacket!’

‘I bet he has!’ Lepski got excited. ‘I bet he was with that sex chick last night in her cabin. Use your head. Brandon works all day in close contact with her. Ask yourself how you would react to be in daily contact with dynamite like her.’

‘If I were in Brandon’s place, knowing she was Sternwood’s daughter, I’d leave her strictly alone. I would think of my job first.’

Lepski looked pityingly at him.

‘You’re kidding yourself. She even turned me on, and I was with her for less than ten minutes. I bet he was with her last night!’

‘So maybe, but that doesn’t prove a thing. I know the guy, I’ve done insurance business with him. He would no more rip a hooker than I would. So okay, maybe he and the girl were screwing. Where does that get us?’

Lepski frowned, pulling at his underlip.

‘After leaving her, he could have walked right into the killer, and is too scared to explain why he was on the murder scene. Anyway, who knows what goes on in a man’s mind? He could have flipped his lid and ripped the girl.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘We’ll report to the Chief.’ Lepski was burning for action. ‘If he gives us the green light, then we talk to Brandon and take him apart.’

‘Shouldn’t we check on these other three guys who own golf ball jackets?’ Jacoby asked.

Lepski regarded him.

‘One of these days, Max, you’ll make a good cop. Do you imagine I wasn’t going to do just that thing?’

‘Who are they?’

Lepski consulted the list Levine had given him.

‘Sam Macree: the deputy commissioner of works. He’s been in New York for the past week. We can rule him out. Larry Bentley, the golf pro. We’ll check where he was last night, but it’ll be a waste of time. I know Harry: not the type. Then there’s Cyrus Gregg.’ Lepski frowned, then shook his head. ‘Didn’t he get killed in a road crash around five months ago? He was in real estate and made a load of money. We can rule him out.’ Lepski thumped the steering wheel. ‘It all points to Brandon!’

‘I remember Gregg,’ Jacoby said. ‘He was a snappy dresser. What would his wife have done with all his clothes?’

Lepski stared at him.

‘Yeah . . . a good question. I’ll check on Harry Bentley. You find out what happened to Gregg’s clothes, then we’ll talk to the Chief.’

He started the car engine.

‘I’ll walk,’ Jacoby said and got out of the car. He watched Lepski drive away, then he walked back into Levine’s shop.

‘Could you tell me when Mr. Gregg bought his jacket?’ he asked as Levine hurried forward.

‘That I do know. The poor man wore it on the day he died,’ Levine said. ‘A real tragedy! Such a nice man! It was seven months ago. He came in here and bought the jacket. The next morning as he was driving to his office, some kid in a stolen car hit him. They were both killed. A tragedy!’

Jacoby now remembered the details.

‘I was wondering what happened to the jacket,’ he said.

Levine shrugged.

‘That I don’t know. Mr. Gregg bought all his clothes from me. He had many jackets and suits. I guess Mrs. Gregg got rid of them. Now, there’s a tragedy! I tell my wife, money isn’t everything. Mr. Gregg had a great deal of money, but he had trouble with his wife and with his son.’

‘What kind of trouble?’

‘Don’t let this go further, but Mrs. Gregg is a very difficult lady. Mr. Gregg and I were friends. There were times when he confided in me. Their son meant more to Mrs. Gregg than Mr. Gregg did. It sometimes happens.’ Levine shook his head. ‘Mr. Gregg was a good man. Maybe he was too good. When the son was born, Mrs. Gregg switched all her affection to him. Mr. Gregg was a vigorous man.’ Levine grimaced. ‘No sex, you understand. I told him he should get a girl. With all his money there would have been no problem, but Mr. Gregg was a good Catholic and a good man. He suffered a lot.’

Jacoby began to wonder if he was wasting time listening to all this.

‘Tough. What does the son do?’

‘I know nothing about him. He doesn’t buy his clothes here. I have never even seen him.’

‘We want to trace this jacket. Maybe Mrs. Gregg can tell us what she did with it.’

‘Be careful with her. She is very difficult, and she has lots of money. She won’t like police officers calling on her.’

‘Where do I find her?’

‘When Mr. Gregg died, she sold the big house. She lives on Acacia Drive: a small place, but nice.’

Jacoby decided he would write a report and let Lepski handle this. He thanked Levine, then walked back to police headquarters.

* * *

Ken Brandon faced Karen, his heart pounding.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked huskily. ‘Are you quite sure?’

‘I’m sure. It was the same creep we ran into last night, he’s cut his hair and beard, but I knew him at once. He came in to check on me, and I could tell by his grin, he recognized me.’

Ken felt a wave of panic run through him.

‘What do you think he’ll do?’

Karen shrugged.

‘How do I know? I don’t think he’ll talk to the police.’

Ken took out his handkerchief and wiped his sweating hands.

‘He must be planning something! Why else should he come here?’