Part 8 (1/2)
The fragile and essentially gentle face went blank, as if he'd drawn a curtain behind it. I was used to it now. ”Maybe they'll never know,” he said, speaking to me from a great distance.
”What about insurance?” I asked. She said she didn't have any money. ”Who was the beneficiary? And was it ever paid?”
He nodded. ”Fifty thousand, or something like that. To his daughter. It was paid, or is being paid, rather, into a trust fund. She's only thirteen.”
”No other policies?”
”No. He couldn't take out any more when he remarried. He was too poor a risk, with a history of two heart attacks.”
Then, where was the woman's motive?” I asked. ”It wasn't money.”
”They don't know who the woman was.” he explained carefully and precisely from behind the drawn blinds. ”So naturally they don't know what her motive was. They don't know anything about her at all, except that she was with Strader.”
Which answered everything very neatly, I thought. It was a closed circuit, like two snakes swallowing each other: she was a tramp because she was with Strader, and she was with Strader because she was a tramp. How could you argue with that? I went out and dropped the envelope in a postbox and drove back to the motel. When I walked into the office Josie came out of the curtained doorway and said there had been a call for me some ten minutes ago.
”A woman?” I asked.
”Yes, suh. She say she would try again.”
”Thanks,” I said. ”How is Mrs. Langston?”
”She's still sleepin' quiet.”
”Good,” I said. ”You stay right here with her.”
I went across to the room and sat looking at the telephone, trying to make it ring. It was some twenty minutes before it did. When I picked it up, u feminine voice asked softly, ”Mr. Chatham?”
”That's right,” I said.
”Are you still interested in that deal?”
”Yes,” I said. ”What happened before?” I listened intently, but there was no trace of the noisy fan in the background now.
”I almost got caught and had to hang up. I'm calling from a different place. Look-it's going to cost you more. Three hundred; take it or leave it.”
”So the other call was a build-up? Don't try to con me.”
”I'm not,” she replied. ”I just told you you could take it or leave it. But if I spill anything I'm going to have to get out of here for good, and I'll need it. They'll guess who it was and I don't want any of that acid in my face.”
”What do I get for three hundred?”
”Names. The man that did the job and the one who hired him.”
”Names are no good. I need proof.”
”You'll get it. Listen-they're going to do it again. It'll be a different man, of course, but I'll give you a description of him and tell you what night. What else could you need?”
I thought about it. ”Sure, I could catch that one. But he might not talk, and I want the guy behind him.”
”Use your head,” she said impatiently. ”You'll have his name. If the police pick him up at the same time and tell tell him his boy talked, how's he gonna to know the difference? He'll crack.” him his boy talked, how's he gonna to know the difference? He'll crack.”
”He might,” I agreed. It was an old trick, but it still worked.
”Then it's a deal?”
”Okay,” I said. ”Where and how do I meet you?”
”You don't. I told you that before. I'm just as close to you right now as I want to be.”
”Then how do I get the money to you?”
”In cash. Put it in a plain Manila envelope and mail it to Gertrude Haines, care of General Delivery, Tampa.”
”H-a-i-n-e-s or H-a-y-n-e-s?”
”What difference could it possibly make?” she asked boredly. ”Send it in twenties.”
”How do I know you'll call after you get there and pick it up?”
”You don't. But if you've had a better offer, grab it.”
”I know a little about con games myself,” I said. ”And before I fork over that kind of money I want something more specific than cheap wisecracks.”
”Well, I don't know how to help you there. You either trust me or I trust you. And I don't trust anybody. So where are we?”
”Try selling it to the police. Maybe they'll make you an offer.”
”Wise guy. Well, I just thought you might be interested-”
”I am,” I said. ”And I'm not being unreasonable. If I'm willing to send you three hundred dollars, blind, I'm ent.i.tled to some a.s.surance you know what you're talking about.”
”We-ell,” she said slowly. ”The acid was the kind they use in car batteries. And it came off a hijacked truck. How about that?”
”Sounds fine,” I said. ”Except I still wouldn't know whether it's the truth or not. About the truck, I mean.”
She sighed with exasperation. ”G.o.d, you're a hard man to do business with.” She paused, and then went on, ”Well, look-I could tell you where the rest of the acid is-”
”That's better.”
”But it won't do you a bit of good by itself, because there's no connection where it is and who put it there, if you get me. It's on an old abandoned farm, and the man the farm belongs to doesn't even live here any more.”
”Never mind,” I said. ”Just tell me how to get there.”
”Not so fast. You get this straight. If it looks like somebody's following you, don't go out there. They don't think I know where that stuff is, but it could still get plenty rough when they started trying to find out who tipped you. I don't care what happens to you, but I bruise like a peach.”