Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 21, No. 4, September 1967

The Small House by Norman Daniels

Every man has his price, he knew. But — what was his?

Ellen Waring wiped her forehead with her forearm because her hands were too dusty. Taking apart a household her father had built and in which she had lived all of her twenty-eight years was not only a heartbreaking task, but a muscle-wrenching one as well.

Philip Waring came down the stairs in his tuxedo and she saw how much weight he’d lost since the last time he’d worn it. Still, he was a handsome man, with black hair and dark eyes and a firm, resolute manner.

It was difficult to remember that he was sick, trying to adjust to a radical change in his way of life. Philip’s career had been meteoric. Six months after he was out of law school and two months after he was married, he’d been elected district attorney. He’d served three two-year terms, easily winning each time, and then that heart muscle gave warning it was still weak after a rheumatic fever attack during his boyhood years.

He resented very much his inability to even help with the, moving, but more than that, he resented what he called a financial and professional disaster.

He was cheerful tonight however, and at the bottom of the steps he regarded her critically. “Don’t come too close, madam. You’re dusty.”

“I hear,” she said, “there’s going to be one of those enormous cakes with a dancing girl inside.”

“Bosh,” he said, “the bar association wouldn’t dare.” She straightened his tie while he continued speaking. “You know, there’s little reason to hurry. The new owners don’t take possession for five more days. We can leave any time. The doll house in Clearwater is waiting for us.”

“Doll house,” she said slowly and nodded in agreement. “That’s a very good word for it,”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate that it’s a cute, adorable place,” he said grimly. “I referred only to its size. Three rooms. Not even a garage.”

Ellen was glad that the big, sleek car pulled up in front of the house before he let his anger become too strong. She opened the door for him, kissed him on the cheek again and sent him on his way. Then she put on her glasses as she watched him get in beside the driver. The car moved from the curb.

Philip looked at the white-haired, handsome man who was driving.

“I don’t seem to know you,” he said,

“You don’t, Mr. Waring.”

Philip Waring settled back and wished the whole thing were over. He’d have to listen to a dozen speeches. There’d be jokes about how happy the local bar was, now that they once again had a chance to keep a client out of prison. They’d give him a present, maybe a watch. The committee never had shown much originality. He’d have to stand up and tell them good-by, with a speech long enough to have meaning and short enough not to be boring. Then there’d be a hundred good-bys — as if he were headed for oblivion, with no chance to return.

Phil Waring had never before thought how efficiently a farewell banquet cut off a man’s career. At his age of thirty-one, it was actually alarming.

The driver of the car suddenly made a turn on to a quiet residential street, pulled to the curb and shut off the motor and lights. Philip was startled enough to become apprehensive.

The driver said, “Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Waring. I stopped here so we wouldn’t be observed. I’m going to be extremely blunt. The bar committee didn’t send this car. It’s my own. I picked you up because it’s essential that I talk to you.”

“Well, it seems there’s not much I can do to stop you,” Waring said, “except to get out and walk and, frankly, I don’t feel like it.”

“I’m about to offer you a bribe, Mr. Waring,” the driver said.

Philip shook his head. “You’ve got the wrong man. I’m retiring tomorrow. I couldn’t fix a case even if I were so inclined.”

“This one is to be tried tomorrow,” the man said. “My name is John Selwyn.”

“Selwyn?” Philip Waring tested the name on his memory. “I don’t seem to remember—”

“You see how unimportant the case is?” Selwyn said. “My son Steve was arrested two months ago. You must understand about Steve—”

“A knifing,” Philip said. “At the country club, of all places. I’m not too familiar with the case, Mr. Selwyn, but I do seem to tie it in with the very prominent Selwyn family. Are you—”

“Yes,” Selwyn said. “I’m a pronounced success in everything I’ve done — except raising my son.”

“You must be desperate to resort to a thing like this,” Philip Waring said. “I can’t help you. I’m not even going to try the case. One of my assistants—”

“Waring,” Selwyn said, and there was an edge of panic in his voice, “please listen to me.”

“Don’t make an offer, Mr. Selwyn. I’ll be compelled to have you arrested, and I’d hate that. You may be acting in what you think are your best interests, but, believe me, bribery is one of the lowest forms of chicanery.”

“I realize that,” Selwyn said. “I hate what I’m doing. Waring, my wife died when Steve was three. I’m not young now. I wasn’t young then, but she asked me to promise I’d take care of the boy.

“I made my mistakes with him early. By the time he was twelve, he was a first class little stinker and he grew steadily worse until that country club fiasco. Actually, it didn’t amount to much. Steve and another boy got into a fight over a girl. Somebody had a knife and in the scuffle, the other boy was stabbed. Not badly. He never was in any danger.”

Philip glanced at his watch. “I haven’t much time, but I’ll say this, Mr. Selwyn. If my staff is going ahead with the prosecution of your son, they believe he should be punished and I will not interfere. I think that’s about all, isn’t it?”

“Steve has changed. Being arrested shocked all the deviltry out of him. I can handle him now. He’ll become an asset to the community if he stays out of jail. The boy will—” Selwyn shook his head slowly. “I’m not being truthful. I think he’ll be fine even if he does go to jail, but it’s my own pride that compels me to do this.

“Perhaps also, a very fierce loyalty and devotion to a beautiful woman who has been dead a long time, but still lives with me as though she had never left my side. In short, I don’t want her son to be castigated with such a thing as jail.”

Phil Waring said, “I’d better get out and walk, Mr. Selwyn. So far, you’ve made no concrete offer and technically, the law hasn’t been violated. We’ll let it go at that.”

“I’ll violate it now. I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars to let my son off. The amount is of little consequence. I could make it more—”

Philip sighed deeply. “My Selwyn, I’m not in the best of health, and I don’t want to walk very far, so I’ll ask your indulgence. Please drive me to a taxi stand, or even a bus stop. But let me out of this car as soon as you can.”

Selwyn didn’t touch the starter key. “You’ve been an excellent public official, Mr. Waring, elected every two years no matter which ticket won. A fine record, a glorious one, but short and it paid so little. Now you’re ill, a condition that requires rest and results in a severe curtailment of income. A condition brought on, let me point out, by your work in the last campaign and your devotion to your job. You’re broke. What have you gained by wrecking your health?”

“A conscience that’s unimpaired,” Philip said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Selwyn. I’ll do only one thing for you. I’ll make no report of what’s happened if you stop this nonsense and take me to the hotel where the banquet is being held.”

Selwyn started the car. “Thank you for listening, at any rate,” he said. “I doubted I’d reach you. In a way, I’m glad I didn’t. However, the offer remains open.”

Philip settled back in quiet anger. No matter how the evening turned out now, it was spoiled from the start. The car slid to the curb in front of the hotel and the doorman opened the door.

Selwyn placed a hand on Phil Waring’s arm. “Please remember I’m just a father, trying to do what he thinks is best for his son.”

Philip got out and walked into the hotel without looking back. When he reached the Mirador Room, set aside for the banquet, he took a great deal of back-slapping, much ribbing and he made up his mind to enjoy himself.

A lot of hair was let down before the evening ended. Phil Waring wasn’t sure whether he was angry or amused. He did appreciate the set of matched luggage. His own was beaten up, more from disuse than actual usage, and he could never have afforded anything as fine as this.

When he got home, Ellen was entranced with it. “Oh my! Isn’t that beautiful! Darling, we needed those bags so.”

“You should have heard the fool speeches,” he said, and she noticed the hint of bitterness in his voice. “You’d think they were turning a chief justice out to pasture.”

“You’re tired,” Ellen said. “Come sit down a moment.”

He loosened his tie and collar while she moved things and found a place for him to sit on the divan.

“I was offered a bribe tonight,” he said, half angrily.

Ellen frowned for a moment. “That car! It wasn’t the one from the committee, was it? The real one arrived five minutes later. I wondered.”

“John Selwyn drove me, in his ten thousand dollar car. His son is being tried for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon tomorrow. He offered me fifty thousand to let the boy off.”

“Piker,” she said lightly. “I remember that — what was he, a gangster? — who offered you twice as much.”

He nodded, the memory still fresh. “This is different. Except for the actual bribe, the man’s attitude has some merit. The boy’s mother died when he was a tot. Selwyn raised him on gold and platinum. The poor kid never had to worry about a thing. Also, as I recall it, the case isn’t very serious.”

Ellen looked startled. “Philip, you didn’t accept?”

“No,” he shook his head. “But I admit I thought about it later. There wouldn’t be the slightest repercussion; nobody would be hurt. The boy might even be benefited, and we’d have enough money.”

Ellen knew him so well. “Ordinarily, you wouldn’t even bother with the details. You’re angry about something, Philip.”

“Yes,” he said. “I admit I am. I sat at the head of the table tonight while they told me what a great guy I was. Ellen, I worked harder than any of those men and my income couldn’t begin to compare with theirs.

“Remember that manslaughter case last month? The rich widow who drank too much and killed a man with her car? I fought her up and down the line because she was breaking her back, trying to get out of it. I got a conviction — her lawyer lost the case — and he got ten thousand dollars as his fee. Time and again, that cropped up tonight. How much they’d made, even when I defeated them in court. It just isn’t right, Ellen.”

“You began thinking of the bribe,” she said. “It’s only natural. But, Phil, they’re trying to do the right thing for us. The special pension will be forty-five hundred a year. We can live on that. Not extravagantly, but then we never have lived that way, so what’s the loss? The main thing is you’ll get better and we’re going to be very happy.”

Philip reached over to the side table and picked up two photos. One was of the house they’d bought. The little, brown-colored studio, one story place that didn’t even have a porch or a garage, The other was the picture of a larger house, of eight rooms, with a green, level lawn, palm trees and an orange tree.

It was on a beautiful street and the property ran right down to the blue water of the Gulf of Mexico. The private beach looked sandy and white and there was even a small dock. The real estate agent clearly had little idea of what a public official made.

“This,” Philip said with a note of longing, “is what we should have bought.”

“Eight rooms?” Ellen sniffed contemptuously. “You see here, Mr. D.A., I’m retiring too, after a fashion. All my life I’ve raffled around this great big house and I’m looking forward to three rooms. Small ones.”

“They’ll be small all right.” He threw the pictures back on the table, and looked up at her. “I’m done in, sweet. I don’t want to talk about small houses, or big houses, or anything else, if you don’t mind.”

He didn’t sleep much, though, and Ellen knew he was thinking of that bribe. She was too. She had to admit it, the whole thing sounded so easy and safe, and they needed that kind of money so much. Illness could erase a bank account with alarming swiftness and the sickeningly small pension Philip had been promised was almost an insult.

When he finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep, she relaxed and thought about the wonderful life they’d had so far and the great and bright promise of much, much more. She didn’t think about the bribe again until the following afternoon.

Philip Waring sent for the Selwyn file as soon as he reached the office. There wasn’t a great mass of evidence. Even the witnesses for the State were none too strong. The boy who’d been cut had no desire to send the Selwyn kid to jail.

Perhaps there’d been some pressure exerted. The probation report didn’t show it. Fifty thousand dollars, just to make a weak presentation of a case already so doubtful that no one in his right mind would be suspicious. Waring closed the file slowly and put his hand on it.

When his first assistant, Bob Manning, came into the office, he told him he was going to try the case.

“That stinker?” Manning asked in surprise. “Hostile witnesses, battery of defense lawyers, all the money in the world—”

“I know,” Waring said. “Maybe I’ll go out in a blaze of minor glory. I want to handle it, Bob. Keep me from moping around. And I expect you and Carol to drop in tonight. Okay?”

They were old friends. Bob Manning knew how he felt and so did Carol. They’d help speed the evening. Philip picked up the file, tucked it under his arm and walked out of the office. Halfway along the corridor to the courtroom, he saw John Selwyn standing alone, near one of the massive pillars. He looked small and unimportant and, most of all, forlorn. His eyes followed Phil Waring all the way to the courtroom door. Philip never glanced at the man.

By the middle of the afternoon he was finished and he’d made up his mind not to linger for any final farewells. He merely slipped out a side door and drove straight home.

Ellen was sputtering with indignation. “Sixty dollars. Two bedroom sets, most of the living room, and that wonderful old dining room set. Sixty dollars! Oh Phil, that’s robbery. But the second hand dealer said it’s old-fashioned and hard to sell.”

They ate standing up in the kitchen, because the table and chairs had been sold and all they had was soup and some prepared biscuits, heated in the oven. Then there was ice cream and they made a great to-do about throwing the old dishes away, instead of washing them.

There was little left to be done. They’d started the work a month ago. Now that the second hand dealer had carted away most of the furniture, the house looked dull and depressing. The divan was a rundown, practically worthless item which they intended to discard. They had that to sit on, and a couple of wooden chairs, if Bob and Carol popped in, as they had promised.

The doorbell rang at seven. Ellen, still in her old housedress, gave a small cry of anguish, but she went to the door anyway. She returned in a moment and Phil, looking over the old books, glanced up inquiringly.

“Nobody there,” she said. “But the bell did ring.”

Philip slowly put down one of the books. “Yes,” he said. “The bell rang.”

He crossed the room and opened the door again. The package was against the wall, just outside the door. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with ordinary string. He carried it into the living room and put it on the table, littered with more books, a disreputable looking brief case which was headed for the trash can, and two half packed cartons.

Ellen came to look over his shoulder. “Ah,” she said, “more presents. From whom, Phil?”

He snapped the string easily and unwound the paper. There was no box, nothing except the neat stacks of currency, all in tens and twenties. Ellen stared at the money, looked up at him, and he nodded.

“The bribe,” he said. “I handled the case in court and I lost.”

“Oh, Phil,” she cried out. “No... no, darling.”

He took her hands tightly and led her to the divan. “Ellen, the case was weak to begin with, and there wasn’t a friendly witness in the lot of them. Now hold on — don’t say it, because what you’re thinking isn’t true. Darling, I never tried so hard, in my career, to convict anyone.”

“But the Selwyn boy went free?”

“Yes. Ellen, it’s very important that you believe me.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Oh, I do, Phil. Of course I do. But Mr. Selwyn evidently thinks you lost the case purposely and — he’s paid off as he promised.”

“That’s about it.”

“What are we going to do now?” she asked. “Fifty thousand dollars!”

“It’s not a bribe, not the way I construe it. I never earned it, but there it is, all ours. Selwyn won’t even miss it.”

“He’s committed a very serious crime,” she said.

“What crime? Bribery for what? I worked like a dog to convict that boy. I didn’t pull a punch or refrain from using a single trick.”

She said, “Are you, by any chance, setting up arguments as to why we should keep this money?”

“Certainly not,” he said quickly. “You stated Selwyn had committed a crime. I said he had not, in the truest sense of the word.”

“So long as Mr. Selwyn believes he had to pay off, then it’s bribery,” she insisted, with a tinge of anger.

“All right,” his voice rose. “All right, Ellen. Let’s not make a case out of it. But I’m going to say here and now — that’s fifty thousand dollars without a string attached to it. Not one! We need that money so badly I can’t begin to express it in words. This money, as it lies on that table now, belongs to us.”

“Are you going to keep it?” she asked mildly, and he knew this kind of mildness in her. It was deceiving and it could break out in a rash of angry words without further warning.

“I don’t know,” he said, smarting under the sarcasm he felt she was mentally showering upon him, irate at the meagre and unfair pension, at the lawyers who lost cases and got rich, while he won them and got poorer.

Then the doorbell rang and they knew it must be Bob and Carol. Ellen reached the table in four or five swift steps. She scooped up the money, wrapping the paper about it carelessly, and she stood for a moment, frantically looking for a place to hide it.

She had turned toward the wall where the table with the deep drawer, had been. The table was gone, of course. She put the money down, tilted a carton, spilling the books out of it. Then she placed the hastily wrapped package inside and covered the books.

“Let them in,” she was breathing heavily. “It’s all right to let them in now, Phil.”

He gave her a curious look as he passed by. Carol and Bob came in and ribbed them about the appearance of the place and Ellen’s bad housekeeping. They talked more than an hour. Once, there was an embarrassed moment when Carol picked up the picture of the larger house.

“Bob,” she exclaimed, “look at this! Oh, Ellen, it’s perfect. A beach, a private beach, and a dock—”

“Say,” Manning looked up, “riparian rights must go with this property.”

Ellen Waring showed them the other picture. “This is the one we bought, silly. The other costs thirty thousand dollars.”

Carol covered up her mistake as well as she could, and they switched the talk to winter vacations and how Bob and Carol would be down. They left shortly after nine. Philip and Ellen went to the door with them. Ellen kissed Carol; Philip and Bob shook hands.

Bob Manning said, “I’m sorry you didn’t win that case today, Phil. You certainly tried hard enough, and that impassioned summing up for the judge made you sound as if you were addressing a jury.”

“You know how it is.” Philip opened the door for them. “I thought I’d bow out with flying colors.”

“Nobody could have won that case,” Manning said.

Ellen went back inside. Waring watched them drive off. He felt a porch board sag slightly underfoot and made a mental note to put a couple of nails in it — until he remembered the house was no longer his. He felt a bit sad about it. The times he’d blessed it as a home, far outnumbered the times he’d cursed it as a back breaking monster that demanded all his spare time.

Ellen was seated on the divan when he went inside. He stood looking down at her. She reached for his hand, touched it to her cheek. “Phil, I never doubted you tried to win. Please believe that.”

“I do,” he said, “but I’m also very happy that Bob brought it up.”

“Philip, what are we going to do?” she asked. “I’m afraid. We need the money and, as you say, there are no strings attached.”

“A while ago, you were mighty vehement against my wanting to keep it,” he reminded her.

She got up and went to him quickly. “I know, darling, I know. But when Bob and Carol rang the bell, did you see me frantically hide the money? Oh, Phil, I want to keep it too. The way I acted proves it.”

They sat down and, for a moment, neither spoke. Then Waring, choosing his words carefully, said, “I’m retired, for three or four years at least, according to the doctor, and the fault is not mine. I caught that initial cold, campaigning during last election. I went out on one wet, cold night after another, and I talked to thousands of people on every street corner in every large town. I wasn’t campaigning only for myself. They called me a vote-getter. I went after votes for the whole ticket. And I won. For myself and the party.

“What have I got now, after all that work and sacrifice? Nothing! A junior lawyer in a big firm made more than I ever did, for only a fraction of the work. Now we’ve got fifty thousand. We need the money. When you think of that miserly pension, I feel we’ve been cheated, after a fashion. Every single argument is in favor of our keeping the money.”

“But what a way to end a brilliant career, Phil.”

“Maybe it’s a brilliant way to end a dull career, Ellen. Maybe we’re looking at it from the wrong angle.”

“I still remember those nights when you campaigned. I sat alone, half the time, not even knowing when you’d get back. Nobody, darling, ever worked so hard to put over an election.”

“I never lost an election. I gave my office everything I had. Everything—” He stopped, thought about it a moment. Then he took both her hands in his. “Ellen, something just occurred to me. Before I tell you, I want your permission to send the money back.”

She smiled and nodded. “That’s what I really want you to do, my dear. I want it so much.”

“It came to me, as I sat there belly-aching about all the work I did as D.A., that it was work I enjoyed. I wouldn’t have traded it for any other, regardless of the pay. And this getting elected business — okay, I worked hard there too, but the voters never asked me to. I did the begging. I argued and implored them to elect me, because being elected was important to me.

“I wanted to be district attorney more than anything else in the world. And I won! They listened to me, voted me in. The State, the city, and the voters owe me nothing. It’s the other way around. I owe them everything. So what’s the big beef? Do you see what I mean?”

“I do see,” she said, and followed him to the table. She took the money out of the box and neatly rewrapped it. Philip picked up the phone and asked information for Selwyn’s home number. One look around the room and he knew it was useless to try to find the phone book.

When Selwyn was on the other end of the wire, he said, “Mr. Selwyn, this is Philip Waring. A short time ago, someone delivered a package to me by mistake. It’s on my front porch, where it was left, and I’d appreciate it if the package was picked up immediately.”

“Very well,” Selwyn said tightly.

“The fact is, Mr. Selwyn, I think a term in jail would help your son, and I did my level best to send him there. However, the case was weak and I lost it but, I assure you, not through any effort on my part. I wanted to win that case because I classed it as the most important one in my career. Do you follow me?”

“I admire you,” Selwyn said. “I’ve been sitting here, calling myself a fool. I not only tried to interfere with justice, but I foolishly did my best to wreck a man’s life. I’m genuinely sorry, Mr. Waring.”

“Just pick up the package,” Waring said. “Good-by, sir.”

Ellen finished tying the last knot and he placed the package outside the door where it had been left. Ellen waited in the hall and he took her in his arms.

“Riparian rights,” she sniffed. “There are miles and miles of fine public beaches.” She leaned back, while he held her, and smiled at him. “I bought a new bathing suit. Phil, if you don’t whistle—”

He was very sure he would.