Part 4 (2/2)
”h.e.l.lo, Mr. Stinson. Won't you come in?”
”I'm in,” the commissioner shrugged. ”Landlord let me wait here. It's chilly outside. Do you want the preliminaries, or should we have the main bout?”
”It's about Spencer, isn't it?” Tom built himself a long drink. ”I heard about it on the 'copter radio, flying in. Too bad. He was a nice guy; I never met his wife.”
”But you knew him, right? In fact, you and the sergeant did a lot of business together?”
”Look, Mr. Stinson. You know what kind of job I'm trying to do. It's no secret. Spencer's story happened to gear in nicely with our public relations effort. And that's all.”
”Maybe it is.” The commissioner's eyes hardened. ”Only some of us aren't satisfied. Some of us are kinda restless about the coroner's verdict.”
”What?”
”You heard me. It's fishy, you know? Nice young couple buys a new house, then turns on the gas. Leave behind a couple of kids, too. Boys, nice boys.”
”I couldn't feel worse about it,” Tom said glumly. ”In a way, I can almost feel responsible ...”
”How?”
”I dunno. They were perfectly willing to release that story about their first-born. But maybe when they actually saw it in print, they couldn't stand the spotlight--”
”And that's your theory?”
”Yes. But I hope I'm wrong, Mr. Stinson. For my own sake.”
The commissioner drew a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket.
”Let me read you something. This hasn't been released to the press, and maybe it won't be. Interested?”
”Of course.”
”It's a letter. A letter that was never mailed. It's addressed to Tom Blacker, care of Homelovers, Incorporated, 320 Fifth-Madison, New York.”
”What?” Tom reached for it.
”Uh-uh. It was never mailed, so it's not your property. But I'll read it to you.” He slipped on a pair of bifocals.
_Dear Mr. Blacker. I've been trying to reach you all week, but you've been out of town. Laura and I have just seen the first news story about our baby, and we're just sick about it. Why didn't you tell us about that photograph you were going to print? If we had known about that, we never would have consented to doing what you wanted. My wife never gave birth to that d.a.m.ned thing, and I don't care who knows it. I've called Mr. Andrusco to tell him that we don't want any part of this business any more. I'd send you back every penny of the five thousand dollars, only we've already spent half of it. I'm going to call the newspapers and tell them everything ..._
The commissioner paused. ”It goes on for another half page. But no use reading any more. I'd like a reaction, Mr. Blacker. Got one handy?”
Tom was on his feet.
”I don't believe it!” His fist thudded into his palm. ”The letter's a fake!”
”That's easy to prove, Mr. Blacker.”
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