42 Days For Murder

Chapter Eleven

Wendel had a long night letter waiting for me the next morning and I found out later he hadn’t waited to wire New York but had called them on the phone. It said that his New York lawyers had advised him to consult Amos Mard, and that he was wiring Mard that I’d call to see him. That Mard and I should talk the situation over and decide what was best. And that I should keep in touch with him. I got on the phone, got Mard, and made an appointment for an hour from then, which barely left me time to dress and eat. Lester said, as I started out:

“I’d advise you to make sure Mard and Crandall aren’t too friendly. They might work together on this.”

I had a headache and a hangover and I snapped back: “You should tell me my business.”

He grinned and said: “Okey, Shean,” and I apologized for the temper and left.

Amos Mard was a young fellow, barely thirty. Or so I thought. We talked for a bit, with me being careful not to say anything that might carry to the enemy camp, until finally he said:

“You know, Mr. Connell, this is a bit unusual. Your coming to me like this. Frankly, there’s something wrong with the case, though I don’t know what it is. I sense that. If it wasn’t that I have personal reasons, I’d turn it down.”

“Does that mean you don’t like Crandall?”

He shrugged and didn’t answer but he’d said plenty. Unless Crandall threw things his way, Crandall would naturally be tough competition and a bad enemy for a young lawyer starting a practice. And Crandall didn’t look to be the type to throw anything anybody’s way unless there was more thrown back to him.

I said: “Okey, Mard, I guess I can let down my hair. Suppose we get down to cases. You’ll be bucking Crandall and Gino Rucci and Christ knows who else. There’s something screwy about the thing; there has been, right from the first.”

“Why do you think Rucci is interested?”

“He’s either a good enough friend of Crandall’s to take up the hatchet for him, or he’s getting a cut. I’d say the last; money’s a better reason for him being in this than anything else. The case is built on money, as I see it.”

“Why?”

He was doing the lawyer trick; sitting back and letting me do the talking. He was a shrewd-looking young buck, though, and I thought he’d be a good man to have on our side. I said:

“The woman’s going to sue for a settlement and plenty of alimony. Naturally Crandall will get a big fee or a cut on the settlement some way. He isn’t working for nothing. That’s undoubtedly why they wouldn’t let her husband talk to her; they were afraid they’d get the thing straightened out and the divorce idea would be dropped. No divorce; no fee. No fee; no percentage for Crandall. They’ve probably got that poor gal’s head so filled with ideas about her old man that it’s spinning.”

He said thoughtfully: “You’d think she’d know him well enough not to believe lies about him. That is, if they’re lies. Maybe she really has grounds for action.”

I said: “Now look! You may know the law but you don’t know a hell of a lot about women. They’d rather believe the worst about a man than the best. That’s always good. That’s true with all of them. They never forget a thing he’s ever done, if it’s something he shouldn’t have done. Their memory isn’t so good the other way; they can forget the nice things he’s done plenty easy.”

He grinned and said: “Hah! A philosopher.”

I grinned back and said: “Hell no. A guy with experience, God help me.”

I told him what had happened, right from the start, and when I got to the place where I’d met the Chief and about the warning the Chief had given me he sat up straight in his chair. He said:

“Lord, man, d’ya realize what this means?”

“Sure,” I said. “It means you’ve got a chief here that knows what it’s all about. That’s all. Every town is the same. He’s playing practical politics, which is something that takes a sense of humor and a strong stomach. He’s right; this is a tight little town and he runs it right. A chump in that seat would have this place a mad house in twenty-four hours. Can’t you see that?”

“But it means he’s working with Crandall.”

“It means he’s steering a middle course; trying to satisfy Crandall and the other wolves, and trying to do a job for the town at the same time. A bloody reformer in there would raise hell. I tell you; I’ve seen the same set-up before.”

He said he didn’t agree and I went on with the yarn. When I came to the place where the man had taken the two pot shots at me he sat up again. He said:

“There’s a point right there, Connell. Why would you lose your job right at that time? Why would Crandall try and force the Chief to run you out of town? Why would this attempt be made on your life?”

I laughed and said I guessed somebody didn’t like me and didn’t want me around.

He said: “It’s the time element, man. I’m no detective, but that means something.”

“I’m a detective,” I said. “And I think you’re right. It means something. But I’ll be a dirty name if I know what.”

I told him what I’d done the night before and about the brawl at the road-house. And about Rucci calling and having me put on the spot. I finished with: “That’s how I know Rucci is mixed in the deal some way. That proves it.”

“It seems funny to me, Connell, that he’d hire you like that and then fire you. It doesn’t seem a reasonable thing to do.”

I said: “Well, you’ve got the picture, now. Suppose you make a date with Crandall and you and I talk with him. As Wendel’s lawyer, you’re entitled to try and arrange some sort of amicable settlement, at least. Crandall can’t refuse that. Maybe we can find out something we can use.”

He looked discouraged. “Crandall’s too cagy to give out anything he doesn’t want us to know, Connell. You might as well know, the man’s got one of the finest legal brains I’ve ever known.”

“He’s stuck you, hunh?”

He said honestly: “I’ve never beaten him once. I’ve tried in seven cases.”

“Maybe this will be the time.”

“Maybe,” he said, and didn’t sound hopeful.

He called Crandall’s office then and we got an appointment in the next hour. Mard looked a little startled at this action; he acted as though God had condescended to reach down and pat him on the shoulder.

I wasn’t startled one bit. I told Mard:

“Hell, guy, I told you there was dough in this case. That fat wolf will talk about dough any hour of the day or night. This kind of dough, anyway.”

Mard said he thought I might be right.

Crandall had a honey of an office. Just the best. A dignified young kid bowed at us when we went in, offered to take our hats, and said:

“Mr. Crandall is expecting you gentlemen. I will tell him you’re here.”

Mard said: “Thank you!”

I said: “And tell the son-of-a-bitch to take that knife out from behind his back. We know him.”

The kid looked shocked and left. He came back and led us into a room that matched the reception room for class. Heavy rugs. Big chairs and an Oriental looking affair that was supposed to be a couch. Both the chairs and the couch were decorated with some wild looking covering. Bookcases were recessed into the walls, around three sides, and the fourth looked out on the street. The desk that Crandall sat behind was at least ten feet long and five wide and the top of it looked a foot thick. It was absolutely bare.

The place didn’t look like an office, in spite of the bookcases and desk, and it took me a minute to understand why it didn’t. It was simple. Instead of law books, with their uniform size and binding, the bookcase section held regular books instead of legal stuff. Crandall saw me eyeing this and grinned at me and said: “That’s right, Connell! It’s a fake office; just for atmosphere. But I’ve got a law library as well; Amos here, can tell you that.”

I said: “It’s swell atmosphere,” taking the cue from him. The minute I’d gotten over my mad the night before, I’d been sorry I’d picked him in the Three C Club. Of course he’d made the — trouble for me and knew I knew it, but things like that do no good and sometimes harm. They give bystanders the wrong impression.

Amos Mard said: “I’m representing Wendel, Crandall.”

Crandall raised his eyebrows and looked as though he was enjoying himself. He repeated: “Wendel?” as though it was a question he was asking.

Mard tossed the wire Wendel had sent him in front of Crandall. I’d read it; it only gave Mard authority to represent him. He’d sent another, right along with it, telling Mard to expect me and work with me. I gave Wendel credit for brains on this. Crandall picked up the wire, read it through, and handed it back to Mard. He said, grinning:

“Well that’s fine now, Amos. I’m always glad to see a brother in the profession do well. But why do you show this to me?”

“I wanted to talk to you about a settlement. That is, if Mrs. Wendel decides to go through with her action and we decide not to oppose it.”

Crandall kept his grin. “Mrs. Wendell isn’t a citizen of this state, Amos. She won’t be for another month. Naturally she can’t sue now. For that matter, she may never sue. She may change her mind; it’s a woman’s privilege, I’ve always heard.”

Mard started to get red in the face, which was something I’d been afraid of. The trouble with a young man, going up against an old-timer, is that losing temper business and I’d warned him. I broke in with:

“Now look, Crandall. There’s no sense or reason in this screwing around. Wendel, naturally, doesn’t want his wife to divorce him. That’s understood. But if that’s what she insists on doing, I don’t think he’ll fight it. There’s no reason for you two to put on this snarling dog business for my benefit. If she divorces him he’ll provide for her as a matter of course. Whatever’s right. All we’d like to know is what’s your idea of right.”

Mard turned and frowned at me. After all, he was the lawyer and supposed to be doing the bargaining. But I frowned back and kept on at Crandall with:

“Let’s get down to earth on this. What’s it going to cost Wendel if it goes through? If it’s too steep he’ll fight it. He can afford to fight if it will mean a reduced settlement and alimony payments. So let’s keep it clean.”

Crandall kept that irritating grin. “Now how would I know what Mrs. Wendel wants? What her idea of fair and reasonable is? After all, Wendel is wealthy, or so I understand.”

I said to Mard: “He won’t talk. Let’s go. We’re wasting time.”

Crandall held up his hand and said: “I just wanted to see if I could take you over the hurdles a bit, Connell. You’ve got that flary Irish temper and I always enjoy seeing a man lose control of himself. I’ll tell you approximately what Mrs. Wendel thinks is fair. Understand, this is tentative; it will bear discussion.”

I’d lost my temper and was sore at myself for doing it. He acted on me that way, as he did on Mard. I’ve always hated the fat, smooth toad type and he was the perfect example. He knew he could drive me crazy mad and gloried in the knowledge and I gritted my teeth and got a bit of control on the ball. I said: “Okey! What’s the bad news?”

He said: “She wants to be fair. Wendel is worth, at a conservative estimate, two million dollars. Of course that isn’t in cash. We think this kind of settlement would be easy on him; one hundred thousand dollars at once, and fifty thousand dollars a year for three years. This, you will understand, will give Mr. Wendel a chance to raise the money without bleeding his business. And it will make income tax payments easier for Mrs. Wendel. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in all. With interest, of course, on the delayed payments.”

I said, and tried to keep from choking on the words: “Is that all?” All I wanted to do was get my hands around the fat yegg’s throat and be left alone for three minutes.

He grinned back at me and said: “Well, of course that’s only the cash settlement. Mrs. Wendel naturally feels she’s entitled to alimony as well. But we’ll make that a nominal sum.”

Mard was as mad as I was. He asked: “Such as?”

“Let us say thirty-six thousand a year. Three thousand a month, though there will be no objection as to how payment is made. Any time convenient with Mr. Wendel will be all right with her I’m sure. She doesn’t want to work a hardship on Mr. Wendel; that is why she’s asking for such a ridiculously low settlement.”

I said: “I think it’s mighty white of her to only ask for chicken feed like that. Of course you know and I know that Wendel hasn’t two million dollars. What he has is tied up in property. Foreign property and a steamship line and both are nothing that he can take around the corner to Uncle Benny. He can’t hock that kind of stuff every day in the week. The guy can’t pay anything like that and you know damned well he can’t.”

Crandall shrugged and grinned. “Well, of course, we can leave it up to the judge. You can trust him to be fair, you know.”

“Sure. To Mrs. Wendel.”

Mard said: “That isn’t fair, Connell. The judge is all right. He’ll be fair if he knows the facts.”

Crandall made a steeple of his fingers and looked over them at us. “Do you gentlemen know that Mr. Wendel spent three days in our little town a short time ago?”

I said: “Sure. He told me about it.”

“Did he tell you what he did?”

“Yes, you bet. He got chased out of town.”

“Do you know why?”

“Sure. You put the bee on him.”

Crandall shook his head sorrowfully. “That’s hardly right. I advised the father of the girl to make no charges. A scandal would only hurt the girl. But he’s very bitter about the matter and may change his mind and press the matter. If he does, it will naturally influence the judge. That is only natural. The girl’s a Reno girl and the judge has known her all her life. We respect women in this state; I can’t understand Wendel’s action. You understand, Amos, the position your client is in.”

Mard mumbled something and I said: “Cut out the crap, Crandall. What’s the frame?”

“Frame!”

“What’s this business about a Reno girl and her father?”

He opened his eyes wide, shook his head at me in a pitying way. “I might have known, Connell, you wouldn’t have worked for him if you’d known of it. You seem a decent sort. It’s merely this. He assaulted a sixteen-year-old girl during the time he was here. Her father, on my advice, didn’t press charges. The police rushed him out of town; if the local people had heard of it they possibly would have lynched him. As I said, we respect women in this state.”

I said: “Let’s go, Mard. This will bear a bit of thinking over.”

Mard mumbled something and turned and followed me to the door. Crandall got from behind the desk, came to the door and held it open, then said apologetically:

“I’m sorry about it, Connell, but I thought you knew of the assault. If I’d realized you didn’t; that you were here and working for Wendel in good faith, I wouldn’t have advised my clients as I did this morning.”

“Now what’s this?”

“I have three clients. Tony Marsello, Tommy Ryan, and Walter Rans. They happened to be the three men you assaulted last night at the Three C Club. Thinking you were here in an effort to whitewash Wendel on this assault matter, I advised them to file charges against you. Naturally I had no sympathy for you. I’m really sorry about it now.”

I said: “This is getting better and better. What charges did they file?”

“Assault with a deadly weapon, I’m afraid.”

He was wearing his Cheshire Cat grin and he was just the right distance away. I clipped him on the chin with all I had and he went sailing back and landed all at the same time. Feet, back end, and back of head. He was out colder than any man I ever saw. I said to Mard:

“Well, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Mard said: “My God, man! They’ll hang you for this.”

“Nuts!” I said. “He’ll probably claim I hit him with a piece of lead pipe, expect that in this town. Too much is too much.”

We sailed out past his flunkey in the front office and I said: “The mister, he wants to be alone. Get it?”

He opened his mouth and gawked and said: “The mister?”

I said: “Yeah! Mr. Bastard!” and jerked my thumb back over my shoulder toward the inside office and Crandall.