Beware the Curves

Chapter 14

Mayor Taber was a man in his middle fifties with heavy jowls, thick lips, cold gray eyes, and a habit of talking in rapid spurts making the words sound like bursts of machine-gun fire.

Cooper Hale was short, fat and quiet. He looked me over, then turned his eyes away, then looked me over, then turned his eyes away.

Bertha performed the introductions, and both men shook hands. Taber did the talking.

“Very unfortunate publicity, very unfortunate indeed! It seems to have emanated from this office. Now I don’t know what your sources of information are, Lam, and I don’t give a damn. All I can say is that it has been insinuated the city government of Citrus Grove has been asleep at the switch, that we’ve let some stupid zoning ordinance stand in the way of development.”

He stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, went on rattling out the words. “I don’t like it. That’s not the way to fight. If you have any legitimate grievance against the city, come down to Citrus Grove and tell us about it. I don’t know what you’re trying to do. I do know you’re mixed in this Endicott murder case, and while I’m not prepared to make any direct accusations in public — as yet — I can’t get it out of my mind that there must be a tie-in.”

“Meaning the information I had is false?” I asked.

“Of course it’s false.”

“What about Crosset’s campaign fund?” I asked.

“Well now there is a matter which is rather unfortunate. I’m very friendly with Crosset, and I respect and admire the man enormously. He’s a man of upright integrity. He has such rigid principles, such high standards of honor that anything that would cast the faintest smirch on his character would be magnified in his mind. I’m terribly sorry it happened.”

“So is Crosset,” I said.

“He’s entitled to accept campaign contributions provided he acts in good faith.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, then why bring the matter up?”

“He resigned, didn’t he?”

“He resigned.”

“Why?”

“Because, as I have explained to you, his standards of honor are so high that he would lean over backwards.”

“What about the others?”

“What others?”

“The others who had two thousand dollars donated to their campaign funds.”

”Do you know that any of the others did?”

“I understand one of the others stated a similar contribution had been made.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why bring it up?”

“I didn’t.”

“You asked the question.”

“I was trying to familiarize myself with the situation.”

Hale shifted his position, raised his eyes to look at me. “After all,” he said, “you may not be in an invulnerable position yourself, Lam.”

“In what way?”

“Many ways.”

“Name them.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Name one.”

“I’m simply making a statement.”

“All right. You’ve made it. Now back it up.”

“We didn’t come here to fight,” Taber said.

“What did you come here for?”

“We’d like to have the co-operation of your firm.”

“In what way?”

“You have been talking with the press.”

“Any objection?”

“We feel some of the statements that have been made to the press are irresponsible.”

“Would you like to see Santa Ana get a big factory away from Citrus Grove?”

“Certainly not. And, for your information, there’s no likelihood anything of that sort can happen.”

“Want to bet?”

“I am not a betting man. I am, however, a businessman.”

“You’re a politician?”

“I have been in politics.”

“And you expect to be in politics?”

“Possibly.”

I said, “This company wants to come to Citrus Grove. It has its location picked out. It wants a reasonable amount of co-operation from the city government. Now of course I don’t know anything about what the newspapers are going to say. I do know that one of the reporters has an idea.”

“What?”

“The idea that some person with powerful political connections who owns land in Citrus Grove wants to change the location of this factory and is stalling around over a zoning ordinance change hoping he can learn the identity of the manufacturer and steal the deal.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous! That’s absurd! That’s utterly false!” Hale said.

“I was merely commenting about an idea one of the reporters has,” I told him.

“If you can tell me which one, I’ll punch his nose.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because there’s nothing to it.”

“Then why should you punch his nose? What’s it to you?”

Hale said nothing.

Taber said, “What Mr. Hale means is that a publication of that sort of a story, accompanied by a lot of innuendoes might reflect upon him personally.”

“You mean he has property in Citrus Grove?”

“I have always been a strong believer in the future of Citrus Grove,” Hale said unctuously. “I have made money by a series of fortunate real estate investments, which have backed my faith in the growth of the community. I have made considerable personal sacrifices to help this community.”

“That’s the spirit!” I said.

“It is indeed,” Taber agreed.

“All right,” Bertha said, “this crap isn’t getting us anywhere. What do you want?”

“Mr. Nickerson is a witness in the Endicott murder case,” Taber said.

I said nothing.

“So is Mr. Hale,” Taber went on.

“Well?” I asked.

“And you are interested in the Endicott murder case,” Taber said.

“We’re working on it,” I told him.

“Ansel doesn’t stand a chance! Not a single chance in the world! The case against him is dead open-and-shut.”

“Doubtless the district attorney thinks it is,” I said. “Mr. Quinn, who is the attorney for the defense, has other ideas.”

“It is a case where the citizens of the community feel greatly incensed,” Taber said. “That community spirit will manifest itself throughout the trial. In fact, some of the jurors will undoubtedly be from the vicinity of Citrus Grove. The district attorney will demand the death penalty and I don’t think there is the slightest chance but what Ansel will be sent to the gas chamber.”

I said nothing.

“Now,” Taber went on, “we are prepared to co-operate. If, as I rather suspect, much of the motivation back of these rumors which have been appearing in the press is due to a desire to distract attention from the Endicott case and involve certain witnesses, it might be that you are resorting to the wrong tactics. You might make more actual progress by trying to co-operate instead of trying to tear down.”

“In what way?”

“The district attorney is not an unreasonable man. As it happens he is a friend of mine. I feel certain that he would be amenable to reason.”

“In what way?”

“I feel quite certain that if Ansel should plead guilty the district attorney would take into consideration the fact that a great deal of expense had been saved the county and no attempt would be made to try to get the judge to impose the death penalty. In fact, it might well be that the district attorney himself would ask for a life sentence. I am not in a position to state. I don’t represent the district attorney. I am only exploring the situation.”

“I see.”

“It might even be that Ansel could plead guilty to second-degree murder or manslaughter.”

I said, “I don’t think Mr. Quinn would be interested in such a deal. It is Mr. Quinn’s position that John Ansel is absolutely innocent.”

“That’s a completely cockeyed assumption. It disregards the cold, hard, evidentiary facts.”

“I’m not as yet too familiar with the facts,” I said. “We’re working on the case”

“Well, when you get familiar with the facts,” Taber said, getting to his feet, “you can get in touch with me. You can always find me in my office at Citrus Grove. And I may state that I’m always glad to do anything which will advance the economic interests of my fair city.”

“Then you’d better get busy with that zoning ordinance,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“If five members of the Trustees got two thousand dollars apiece from Drude Nickerson,” I said, “it’s rather remarkable that someone would be that interested.

“Now,” I went on, “I have a personal theory. My theory is that members of the Trustees each received two thousand dollars as a contribution to their campaign fund, but they didn’t receive it with the understanding that they were going to vote in favor of changing a zoning ordinance. I think they received the money with the understanding that Mr. Nickerson would be very, very happy to see the zoning ordinance remain unchanged so that the location of the new factory could be diverted to some property held by a friend of his.

“I can’t give you all the names as yet, but I hope to have them by this time tomorrow.”

“You’re working on this?” Taber asked.

“Certainly I’m working on it.”

“Professionally?”

I said, “I hope I’m not doing it amateurishly.”

“You could get into trouble over this thing, you know.”

“Sure, I could. So could a lot of other people. I wonder if Mr. Crosset reported the two thousand dollars that he received on his income tax.”

“You don’t have to report contributions made for campaign expenditures,” Taber said.

I grinned at him.

“At least, I don’t think you do,” he amended.

I kept on grinning.

Hale said, “We’ve done everything we can do here; Charles. We’ve offered to co-operate. The district attorney is my friend. I’m willing to do what I can, but I want people to meet me halfway.”

Taber nodded. “All right,” he said, “we just dropped in for a visit to get acquainted. We thought you should appreciate our position.”

“I’m damn certain you should appreciate ours,” I told him.

“You’ll hear from us again,” he said, and both men walked out without shaking hands.

When the door had closed, Bertha’s eyes were snapping cold light like the diamonds on her fingers.

“Donald,” she said, “what the hell are you trying to do? You’ve insulted those men. You’ve virtually made accusations of double-dealing.”

“Did it impress you that way?” I asked.

“It certainly did.”

“Then in all likelihood it impressed them the same way.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re talking about in this case?”

“Sure I do. Nickerson got fifteen grand from a Stella Karis. She wanted some zoning ordinances changed because there was a factory that wanted to locate on some of her land.

“Nickerson found out about it. Hale knew about it. Hale had some land that he wanted to lease to the factory. He didn’t want Stella Karis in the picture.

“So Hale decided to bribe the councilmen to sit tight and not change the zoning ordinance. However, Hale was constitutionally opposed to putting up any money, so he and Nickerson worked out a swell double cross by which they got Stella Karis to put up the money ostensibly for the purpose of influencing the council to grant the zoning ordinance, but Nickerson used that money as a bribe to get the city councilmen to leave the zoning ordinance the way it was.

“By the time the people of Citrus Grove get the idea that a big factory offering employment to thousands of men went elsewhere simply because some politician wanted to get in on the ground floor, it’s going to make quite a little—”

Bertha interrupted to say, “I hope the hell you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I,” I told her. “Public opinion is quite a thing when it gets aroused.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell arousing it. They say that people are gathered in little knots down in Citrus Grove, and aren’t talking about anything else — just the murder and the automobile factory.”

At three-thirty-five o’clock that afternoon the city council of Citrus Grove met in a special session and took steps to change the zoning ordinance so that the property belonging to Stella Karis was zoned for a manufacturing district.

With the passing of the ordinance, the Citrus Grove Clarion assured its readers that the industrial expansion for which the farsighted officials had been quietly campaigning during the last few weeks was assured.

Drude Nickerson remained “unavailable” for questioning.

Stella Karis telephoned twice while I was out. She left a message with Elsie Brand. Elsie Brand took it down in her shorthand book and relayed it to me when I came in. It was to the effect that Miss Karis had said she would like to see me, that she “simply couldn’t express her gratitude in words.”

I let it go at that.