April Evil (18 page)

“I was sent here to do it. That answer your questions?”

Mullin stared at him. “The Ace? Why?”

“One of the usual reasons. What difference does it make? We can handle it. The cuts will be fatter. He was about to crack up. It was nice and quiet, wasn’t it?”

Mullin stared at the body. He sounded bemused “Yes, it was quiet. It was that, all right.” Ronnie knelt and worked the
Ace’s wallet out of his hip pocket. It contained a few dollars. He felt the thick dead waist, took the bloody-bladed knife and after pulling shirt and trousers out of the way, he cut the money belt loose. Mullin counted the money.

“Twenty-two hundred,” Mullin said. “Cut it?”

“Give the girl the deuce, and it’s ten bills apiece for us, if that’s all right.”

The woman was taking great pains not to watch them or look at the body. She took the two hundred, folded it twice and put it down the front of her blouse.

“Go in with the kid,” Mullin ordered. “Take your radio along if you want to.”

The woman left the room. They discussed where to put the body. Ronnie emptied the rest of the pockets. Then he linked his arms around the big ankles, and, bending low, dragged the body out to the utility room. He worked it behind the water heater and the water softener tank. He found an old grass rug in the corner. He unrolled it and tossed it over the body and tucked it around the exposed legs. Ronnie felt very tired. It was a warm comfortable tiredness. He couldn’t stop yawning. He knew that his sleep would be deep and safe and perfect this night, like the dreamless sleep of childhood. It was always that way.

Toby was startled when the woman came in. She turned on another light. She had a small radio with her. She plugged it in and tuned it to quiet music. She stood over him, looking down at him. He looked up at her. She seemed very tall. Her face was in shadow.

She knelt beside him and put her fingertips on his forehead and smoothed his hair back. “Can you breathe okay, kid?”

He nodded. The act of casual kindness made tears come to his eyes again.

“You shouldn’t have messed around those fellas, kid. They’re too rough. I guess you know that. Your arm hurt?”

He nodded again.

“It’ll be okay. Your ma and pa are going to be awful upset
about you, but it’s going to come out all right. I won’t let them hurt you.”

She got a blanket from the closet. She folded it double on the floor and moved him over onto it. She took a pillow and got it under his head. She patted his cheek and then lay down on the bed, her head close to the radio. The music was quiet. By turning his head he could see her round arm and one upraised knee.

It hadn’t been anything like he thought it would be. They hadn’t acted the way he thought they would act. He had been scared when the big one had caught him. He had been hit and then it had been like being in a funny dream and waking up from the dream in the bright kitchen with them all looking at him.

It wasn’t at all like television. Kids never got hit on television. Something always made it come out all right. The kids could be in danger, but nothing bad ever happened. Nothing like this. Somebody always came through the door with a gun.

He had felt grown-up and responsible, watching through that window. He had felt as though he were protecting something pretty important. But in the kitchen he hadn’t been grown-up at all. He felt about six years old. Crying like a baby. If they were mad at you and hit you because they were mad, that was one thing. But these men hadn’t been mad at all. They’d just done it. They didn’t look as though they were even thinking about it.

It was Mullin all right. In the kitchen he had prayed that it wouldn’t be. But it was. And Mullin had seen him find out and had understood.

He wondered what would happen to him. He wondered what they would do at home when they started to worry. He wondered what that funny noise had been, like somebody falling, and then a lot of whispering. Why were these men down here in Flamingo? Maybe they were going to rob the bank. He knew he’d been wrong about the other two. They were as bad as Mullin. They didn’t look it until you saw them close, and then they looked even worse. He tried to get his fingers on the tape.
He couldn’t reach it. And then, with sudden knowledge, with a heartbreaking awareness of self, too adult for his years, he knew that even if he could manage to touch the tape, he would not try to unwind it. He would not try anything. Like a small wary animal, he would merely try to endure.

At five-thirty on that Thursday, Ben Piersall received a phone call in his office.

“Ben? Dave Halpern. I think I’ve got a little on that item we talked about this noon.”

“So soon? Good Lord!”

“It isn’t conclusive, but it adds up to a little. Want me to come up?”

“I’ll wait for you.”

Lorraine Bibbs said good night and left. Ben waited in the outer office, the door open. Dave Halpern came down the hall and came in, smiling. Dave was a small gray man in his late forties. He had been a detective lieutenant on the Minneapolis force and had moved to Flamingo five years before because of his wife’s poor health. He made an adequate living doing private investigation work and credit work. He was calm and experienced and reliable.

They went into the inner office. Without preamble, Halpern began his report. “J. L. Mooney sells cars for Dil Parks. Dil hired him about Christmas time. He’s a drifter. Yesterday or the day before he gave up his room in town and moved into a cabana out at South Flamingo Beach. Yesterday morning he visited Doctor Tomlin along with Lenora Parks. Today Lenora
Parks left her home before three and drove to Mooney’s cabana. I parked down the road. Mooney arrived about five minutes later. The two of them stayed in the cabana until about twenty of five. There was no time to rig a phone tap. The woman left first. Mooney left five minutes later. I let myself in. They’d been playing house. That was pretty obvious. There was a pad by the telephone. Here’s the number that was written on the pad. 8-6861. Maybe it’s nothing. I didn’t check. I didn’t hang around long. My status wasn’t exactly legal. I couldn’t find out if she’d been there yesterday at the time that call was made.”

“Let’s check it right now.”

Halpern leaned back and Ben dialed the number. A girl answered and said, “Flamingo Builder’s Supply.”

“Oh … Is Mr. Shannon in?”

“He’s just leaving. I think I can catch him.”

Ben held his hand over the mouthpiece. “Dick Shannon. It would be a good choice. Dick talks almost as much as Hedges. Hello? Hello, Dick? This is Ben Piersall. Say, I want to ask you something that may sound strange. Did you get a call from Doctor Tomlin today?”

“I sure as hell did.”

“What time did you get it?”

“I’d say about four, maybe a little later. Ben, he’s a sweet old guy, so they tell me, but they better come after him with a net.”

“What did he want?”

“Wanted a hell of a lot of native stone. Said he was going to build himself a big house way out on Richmond. That’s where his house is. I thought he was going to build another, and then he said he was going to get Tom Lowell to design it for him. Tom died back in forty-six. You know, damn it, he was talking about the house he’s already got. When I got the point I sort of kidded him along. But I’m certainly not going to order that stone.”

“Dick, this is a pretty delicate situation. I can’t explain all of it. But you would be doing me a personal favor if you mention this to nobody.”

“Why not? If the old guy is …”

“I’m morally certain that Doctor Tomlin did not make that call.”

“Listen, I know his voice over the phone.”

“Somebody was imitating him.”

There was a long silence. “You sound as if you mean it, Ben. What is it? Legal stuff?”

“I may be able to tell you later, Dick.”

“Okay. I’ll forget it happened.”

Ben Piersall hung up and nodded at Halpern. “Mooney made the call. It’s conclusive enough for me. I think that’s all we need, Dave.”

“If you want, I can go put the fear of God in Mooney. It would be a pleasure.”

“No thanks. This is enough. You’ll mail me a bill.”

Halpern got up. “Sure thing. Sorry it didn’t last longer. And I’m sorry I’m ethical too. I could stretch this one out. I could go to Parks and sell him the idea of buying a little evidence against his wife. Say, I heard you used to go with her a long time ago.”

“I nearly married her.”

“Wow! You sure landed on your feet. Give my best to Joan and the kids.”

Piersall sat alone in his office after Halpern had left. He wondered what he should do with the information. Dr. Tomlin was paying for the information and he had a right to know how it had checked out. But it was a serious responsibility to take. Tell Dr. Tomlin the story and the will would remain the way it had been signed at three o’clock that afternoon. From the icy point of view of impartial justice that was entirely correct. Lennie deserved no share of Tomlin’s wealth. But Piersall understood her. She was not thoroughly evil. She was thoughtless and greedy and ruthless—in the same way a child is. She expected her world to be sequins and bangles.

He began to realize that he could not handle it impartially. He would see Lennie. Faced with exposure, she would stop. In a few days he would tell Dr. Tomlin they could find no evidence
that Lennie had done it. Then the decision would rest with Dr. Tomlin as to whether to add a codicil reinstating the trust funds for his nearest relatives.

He phoned his home and got Sue on the line and asked to speak with Joan.

“Honey, I’ve got an errand. I’m going to be a little late. Okay?”

“It’s chops. I can put them on when you get here, dear.”

“And have a big fat dry martini in the freezer. This has been one of those days.”

“Wilco, my lamb.”

After-work traffic was thinning out as he drove out to the Parks home at Seascape Estates. The round sun was changing from yellow-white to orange as it slid toward the steel blue Gulf. The wind was from the east and the Gulf was flat calm. Dil Parks turned into the drive just ahead of him. They both got out of the cars at the same time. Dil came over, hand outstretched. “How the hell are you, Ben boy?”

As one of Lennie’s previous boy friends, Piersall had always received a shade too much cordiality from Dil. They always beamed at each other, shook hands too heartily, both aware of mutual dislike, but intent on being more than civilized. Piersal’s dislike was mixed with pity, because he, and most of the town, was aware that Dil Parks wore the most ornate set of horns in the area—large, curved, studded with brass and agleam with chrome.

They went into the house together and Lennie came in from the beach side to meet them in the living room. She wore a white sharkskin sunsuit, one cotton work glove, and she carried a red enameled pair of pruning shears. She looked industrious, plausible and glowing. Piersall found it hard to relate her to the cabana scene Halpern had indicated.

He had not counted on Dil being there. He had imagined his interview with Lennie alone. He sensed their curiosity as to why he had stopped in. They would know it wasn’t social. His social patterns were quite different. Dil went out to the kitchen to make drinks.

“What is it, Ben?” Lennie asked in a low voice.

He made his decision at that moment. He told himself that he was doing it for her own good. He told himself that his dislike for Dil had no part in his decision. “I want to talk to both of you.”

The drinks came. They sat out on the small patio. The rim of the red sun touched the edge of the Gulf. They sat in three chairs, three points of an orderly triangle.

They both looked at him expectantly. Piersall sipped his drink and looked at Lennie. “A lawyer has to do many awkward things, Lennie. This is as awkward as any of them. I’ll make it blunt. On Wednesday morning you took a man named Mooney, who works for Dil, to Doctor Tomlin’s home. Mooney met the doctor. On Wednesday afternoon sometime around three thirty, Mooney placed a call to Bud Hedges, the realtor. He placed it from a cabana he recently rented on South Flamingo Beach. You were with him when he placed the call. He imitated Doctor Tomlin and talked nonsense to Hedges. After the call Hedges started to spread the information that Tomlin was senile, had lost his memory. This afternoon around four Mooney made another call from the cabana. This one was to Dick Shannon. It was the same deal. Shannon thought it was Doctor Tomlin. You approached me early this week on the golf course and wanted to employ me to get Doctor Tomlin committed. I refused. Presumably other attorneys around town refused also. So you started this campaign to make Doctor Tomlin look ridiculous and incompetent.”

He had watched her carefully as he spoke. He did not look at Dil. In the beginning she had looked dazed, and then defiant. Toward the end her head drooped and she looked smaller in the chair, smaller and helpless.

Dil came out of his chair with bulky speed to stand over her, fists clenched. “You and Mooney. A great idea! My God, you’ve really torn it now. I told you you couldn’t work it. No. You have to be in a big hurry. Now you’ve spoiled the whole damn thing.”

Her voice like a bright sharp lash drove him back. “
I’ve
torn
it.
I’ve
ruined everything. Is Jim Stauch holding a bad check of mine? Do I owe Jim Stauch four thousand dollars?”

The anger left Dil’s stance abruptly. “How … Look, it was just a …”

“Get the hell out from in front of me. I can’t see Ben and we happen to be talking.”

Dil walked back to his chair and sat down, his mouth working. Lennie said calmly, “Does Uncle Paul know about all this?”

“He suspected it. Today I wrote a new will for him. He was examined for competence by two doctors. Their reports are on file with the original of the will. He cut both of you out of the will completely until such time as your participation in this scheme could be disproved or verified, Lennie.”

“God damn it, Lennie,” Dil rumbled.

“Shut up. Are you going to tell him, Ben?”

“That’s up to you. I think you’ve been a fool, Lennie. Conspiracy is a nasty word. The courts don’t like it. I want you to give me your solemn word of honor that you will not continue with this scheme or anything remotely resembling it.”