The April Robin Murders

ten

“And I never saw these guys before in my life, either,” the man who wasn’t Courtney Budlong said. “What’s more, I don’t care if I never see either of them again.”

“All right, but you don’t need to be nasty about it,” Bingo said. “You aren’t Courtney Budlong, anyway.”

“I never said I was Courtney Budlong,” Chester Baxter said. “I never heard of a Courtney Budlong.”

“Sure you haven’t,” Perroni said. “Because Courtney Budlong doesn’t exist.”

Chester Baxter looked from one to the other, both indignant and bewildered. “What is this?” he said at last. “First you say that I’m Courtney Budlong. Then this guy says that I’m not Courtney Budlong. And now you say there isn’t any Courtney Budlong. Somebody’s wrong somewhere, and this time, it looks like it’s the cops.”

Perroni growled in his throat.

“And anyway,” Chester Baxter said, “I was in San Diego up to ten o’clock last night, and I can prove it with a phone call.”

Hendenfelder said mildly, “Just what were you doing in San Diego, Chester?”

“That’s my business,” Chester Baxter said.

“Oil stocks, or uranium?” Perroni said.

Chester Baxter told him to go to hell.

“Now, now,” Hendenfelder said in gentle reproof. “Talk like that won’t get you anywhere, Chester. What was the name of the lady you were with?”

“Mrs. Hodgkins,” Chester Baxter said. “Mrs. Verna Hodgkins.” He paused. “How did you know it was a lady I was with?”

“Same way I know she’s probably a widow and has money,” Perroni said. “Modus operandi. Well, we’ll check. What’s her telephone number?”

Chester Baxter said, “Now wait a minute.” The truculence had gone suddenly out of him. “This lady’s my fiancée. I don’t want you calling her and saying you’re the cops checking my alibi.” He became plaintive. “Give a guy a break. Just when I see a chance to settle down and lead a nice respectable life, don’t go and mess it up for me.”

“We’ll be tactful,” Hendenfelder said. “I suppose you were talking over business deals with this fiancée.”

“That’s none of your business either.”

“Watch it, Chester,” Hendenfelder said. “The last one of your business deals got you five years.”

“I told you,” the little man wailed, “this is all different.”

“Shut up,” Perroni said, “or I’ll hold you on a vag charge, anyway.” He turned to Bingo. “Use your phone?” Bingo nodded, and the sad-faced detective headed for the kitchen, Chester Baxter trailing along and making imploring remarks about the necessity for using tact.

Hendenfelder shook his head gravely. “So many crooks and con men in this world!” he observed. He sighed. “If more dames knew the dangers rich widows are exposed to there wouldn’t be so many of them killing their husbands!”

Bingo was silent, wondering if the observation covered Mrs. Julien Lattimer; if, that is, she was a widow.

Hendenfelder had evidently been having the same thoughts. “Speaking of widows,” he said suddenly. “That Mrs. Lattimer—” He paused. “Did you guys get you a good lawyer?”

“The best,” Bingo assured him.

“Good thing,” Hendenfelder said. “Because when Perroni does find Lattimer’s body—” He paused again. “When Perroni sets out to do a thing, regardless of how long it takes him, he gets it done.” Bingo inferred that even if it were a matter of Mr. Lattimer’s still being alive and eventually dying somewhere of old age, Perroni would find the body. “When he finds the body and then finds Mrs. Lattimer, well, then you will really have to have yourself a good lawyer. Because then who is going to finish selling you the house?”

“It’s complicated,” Bingo admitted.

“Of course, maybe when he finds Mrs. Lattimer, a jury’s going to say she didn’t kill him,” Hendenfelder went on. “You never can tell, with juries. Then you can do business right with Mrs. Lattimer.”

If she wanted to sell the house, and if there was any money to buy it with, Bingo thought.

“Or maybe the jury will find her guilty, and then she won’t inherit the house, and then,” he said, “then things will really be in a sad mess!” He smiled at them encouragingly. “But that’s what lawyers are for. I’m glad you got a good one.”

It occurred to Bingo that in addition to looking for Julien Lattimer’s body, looking for the missing Mrs. Lattimer might be a sound procedure. He said casually, “She just up and disappeared and never was heard from again?”

“Oh,” Hendenfelder said, “she’s been heard from plenty of times. Less’n a year ago, she cashed a bad check in El Paso, but she got away. She’s been reported from all over. Perroni’ll find her.”

Or, Bingo told himself, we will.

“’Course,” Hendenfelder said, “Perroni’s got to find the body, first.”

“But those signatures,” Bingo said. “Mr. Lattimer’s.”

“Still can be forged,” Hendenfelder said. “But you should worry, you got a lawyer.”

Arthur Schlee was really going to earn that retainer, Bingo reflected.

Perroni came back with a pleased-looking Chester Baxter.

“All right,” Perroni was saying. “All right. It checks. And these two gentlemen say you’re not their Courtney Budlong.”

“I’m not anybody’s Courtney Budlong,” Chester Baxter said. “Never was.”

“All right,” Perroni said. “Beat it. But watch yourself, Chester, watch yourself.”

They watched as Chester Baxter scuttled through the doorway without a backward glance.

“Funny,” Hendenfelder said, “it really seemed like we had the guy.” He added, “Wonder if we ought to tip off that widow in San Diego?”

“None of our business,” Perroni said gloomily. He looked at Bingo and Handsome. “You watch out for reporters, now. There’s a story already printed about that Durzy woman dying here. A little story. We haven’t said yet she was murdered. But if they come around asking questions—”

“You don’t need to worry,” Bingo said coolly. “We know how to handle the press.” He added, “My partner used to be a newspaper photographer himself. Long ago, of course.”

“Well!” Hendenfelder said. “Used to think I might like to be one.”

They went away. Bingo sank down on the nearest sofa. Before he could speak or, indeed, think of anything to say, the door opened noiselessly and Chester Baxter’s voice said softly, “Hey, you fellas!”

“Please,” Bingo said. “The last thing in the world we want right now is to buy oil well stock.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” their visitor said. “You just got a bad impression of me, that’s all. I’m your friend. I came back to help you out.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Bingo said. “But—”

Chester Baxter sat down and said, “I heard all about this con this Courtney Budlong pulled on you, and I must say, it wasn’t very friendly of him.”

“Look here,” Bingo said, “we’d just as soon that story didn’t get around. Not until they really find Courtney Budlong.” He only hoped the man who wasn’t Courtney Budlong didn’t have a touch of blackmail in mind.

“Naturally,” Chester Baxter said. “Naturally. And that’s where I come in.”

Handsome took a step forward, not a threatening one, but a cautious one.

“How?” Bingo asked suspiciously.

“Well,” the visitor asked, “would you like me to find Courtney Budlong for you?”

Bingo eyed him thoughtfully. “For how much?”

“Please!” Chester Baxter raised a protesting hand. “We’ll talk of that aspect later. Though, if I succeed in getting your money back for you — and after all, I will have expenses — naturally, I think a small cut—”

“How small?” Bingo asked. And then, “Do you know where this guy is?”

“Frankly, no. Not right now. But I think — I hazard a guess — I’ll do better at finding him than you will, or than the police will.” He smiled. “You might say that we both travel in the same line, though not for the same company.” It seemed to Bingo that there was a certain fine logic in what he said. He nodded thoughtfully.

“Furthermore,” Chester Baxter said, “I have a certain amount of personal interest. This man didn’t use my name, but he used my initials. Practically the same.”

“All right,” Bingo said, “but how much of a cut?”

The subject seemed to be not only sordid but downright distasteful, but it did get discussed. Chester Baxter thought half would be just fine — half of what was recovered, in case some of it had been spent in the meantime. Bingo said that the whole idea was ridiculous and to forget about it. Chester Baxter pointed out that keeping quiet about the whole affair was part of the deal, and how about a quarter?

Bingo said that sounded like blackmail to him, and threatened to call Perroni.

They finally agreed amiably on ten percent. Then Chester Baxter said, “—And in the meantime, if you could advance me a little for expenses — carfare, telephone calls—”

That called for more discussion. Bingo did some rapid mental figuring and reluctantly handed over a ten.

“Okay,” Chester Baxter said, pocketing it, “I’ll find your damned Courtney Budlong for you. And I’ll find him for myself. I don’t mind his using my initials so much, or using my modus operandi, or even looking a little like me. But this caper of his nearly gummed up this very nice little deal I’ve been working up to a successful conclusion down in San Diego.” He grinned, a definitely nasty and wolflike grin. “After I get your dough back for you, I’ll settle a few personal matters with him myself. Then if the cops still want him, he’s theirs.”

After he had gone, Handsome said thoughtfully, “It shouldn’t be so hard to find a guy with the initials C.B. who looks like our Mr. Courtney Budlong looked.”

“True,” Bingo said. “But we don’t have time to tend to it ourselves right now. Now, let’s go take pictures.”