Buyer beware

19

The next day I knocked again on Elizabeth Manners' door. When I got no answer I looked about and found her in the garden, with a pruning shears, working on an espaliered lemon tree. She turned, startled, as she heard my footsteps on the path.

"Mr. Nudger!" she said with what seemed to be genuine pleasure. "I hope you've returned because you've discovered something."

"Maybe a crack of light, Mrs. Manners." It was peaceful in the garden, pleasantly shaded. I hated to pull Elizabeth Manners into the subject of her husband's death.

"Gardening pacifies the soul," she said, working the red-handled shears expertly; but I could see her tenseness as she waited for what I had to say.

"Was your husband acquainted with any of these business executives?" I asked, feeling somewhat like the serpent in the garden. I read her the list of five names given to me by Alison.

Mrs. Manners continued to work the shears for a while before answering. Then she lowered them to her side and faced me. "Craig Blount. I don't think they were acquainted, but I remember the morning Robert and I were having breakfast and he read about this Blount's death in the newspaper. It seemed to disturb him, so much so that he couldn't finish his breakfast."

"Did he say what it was about Blount's death that upset him?"

"No, he tried to pretend that he wasn't upset, but I could see that he'd been thoroughly shaken. After he'd left for the office, I picked up the newspaper and read the piece on Craig Blount, but I couldn't find anything that warranted Robert's reaction."

"How long before his death was this?"

She laid the shears on the cement bench, as if they'd suddenly taken on weight. "Only about a week," she said. "That's why I remembered. Many things seemed to upset Robert during that period, but that newspaper story did particularly."

"May I use your telephone?" I asked her.

"Certainly. The door's unlocked." She bent gracefully to pick up the shears, to displace her grief again in the garden.

I phoned Alice Kramer, Manners' secretary, at Wit-low Cable and asked her if she'd heard of Craig Blount. She hadn't, and she couldn't remember Manners' mentioning even a similar name in her presence.

I left Elizabeth Manners' home with an idea, about which I had more than a few doubts. But it was the only idea I had, so I clung to it.

At a large drugstore that sold everything from cough syrup to furniture, I got a handful of change from a schoolgirlish blonde cashier behind one of the registers and made my way to the phone booths.

The booths were in a secluded spot behind men's outerwear, and I was glad for the privacy. I fed change to the hungry telephone until it was glutted, then managed to get in touch with Dale Carlon.

"What have you learned?" Carlon asked immediately in his crisp business voice.

"I've got a connection between Talbert and Gratuity and the Robert Manners who killed himself, Manners and Gratuity and somebody named Craig Blount, who was killed in a hit-and-run accident in Seattle a few weeks ago."

"There is no Gratuity Insurance, Nudger. I checked."

"So did I. That's what interests me."

"Whoever or whatever they are, do you think my daughter is mixed up with them?"

"I'm reasonably sure of it."

Carlon's exasperated outlet of breath was amplified to a drawn-out rasping in the receiver. "You're keeping things quiet, aren't you, Nudger?"

"Too quiet. The police should know what I know, Mr. Carlon. If they did, you might see an extensive and effective investigation."

"We'll decide when and what to tell the police, Nudger."

What he meant by that was he would decide, and he had fifty thousand good arguments in his favor.

"Ever heard of Business View?" I asked him. "It's a magazine."

"I have. Used to subscribe to it."

"Then I take it it's a reputable publication."

"Very much so. I think it's published in Chicago. It's one of those financial monthlies that reports on the stock market and analyzes and predicts trends."

"There's a female reporter here who works for the magazine, gathering information about Manners' death. Her name's Alison Day."

"Alison?" He sounded surprised. "I know her well, Nudger. She's dedicated and, despite her comparative youth, widely respected in her profession. I've known Alison both professionally and as a friend of the family, for years. She recommended Joan to her college sorority."

"Then you vouch for her?"

"Completely. She's a thorough professional in her field. That's not to say, Nudger, that you should confide in her. She is a reporter."

"She doesn't know who I'm working for or why," I assured Carlon.

"I think you should go to Seattle," Carlon said after a pause.

"I don't think it's necessary at this point," I told him. "If I decide to, I'll let you know."

Gently I replaced the receiver, before he could insist. I had worked for Dale Carlons before; their egos demanded that they be better than everyone at everything.

On the way out of the drugstore, I stopped at the pharmaceutical counter and bought a fresh roll of antacid tablets. My next stop was going to be the Clairbank Hotel.