The Suicide Murders

TWENTY-TWO

A few minutes later I’d been stuffed into the back seat of a green four-door sedan between the heavy with the ski-jacket and the one with the black cap. The driver was the acne-scarred figure who followed me to the hotel. There was no room in the back seat to manoeuvre. I thought that if I had to send my regrets to Bill Ward, the fastest way to leave the scene would be past the gorilla in the ski-jacket. I thought I might clear the path by stepping heavily on his recently cut foot.

Nobody spoke. The driver headed south, towards the green eye of the water tower, through the best of Mortgage Hill, along the country road that climbed the escarpment, skirted the university and continued to Mal-ham. Black cap produced a small, dark flask. He removed the top and took a long drink. The sign that followed told me it tickled all the way down. He wiped the rim of the flask and passed it to me. I shook my head, and got a jab in the ribs for my candour. I took a gulp. Rye whiskey. Straight. I wiped the rim and passed it along to the mug in the ski-jacket. He drank carelessly, letting some of the booze trickle down his chin. He too wiped the rim and passed it back to me. I tried to hand it back to the owner, but he nodded to me in a manner that strongly suggested that I’d better have another swig. I did so. Only then could I pass along the flask. Black cap had another, then it was my turn again. It didn’t seem to be in the cards that I should get to exchange seats with one of them. By the time I’d had five turns at the flask, black cap had had three and the ski-jacket only two. For an alcoholic I was in a wonderful spot. Unfortunately, I’m not.

By the time the flask was empty (I’d had seven to four and three respectively) I was ready to start singing “There’s a Long, Long Trail A-winding,” but my comparatively sober mentors simply exchanged a glance and I shut up. It was perfectly timed. The driver pulled off the main road into a long lane. I recognized the pillars on either side of the entrance. Funny. I hadn’t seen those pillars since they pulled down my old art teacher’s home to make way for the Physicians’ and Surgeons’ Building. I’d heard that they’d been taken out here, to mark the lane to the Otterpool Golf Club, because Sam Zimmerman, the junk dealer, had tried to get them to mark the entrance to his junk yard. In the 1940s it was junk. Somewhere in the 1950s it became steel. And the golf course was still a golf course.

There were a few lights on in the front of the club house, but I was taken in the back. The sulphur in the air was purer up here, and off in the distance I could hear the pounding of a drop-forge. I was half carried, half shoved, into a deserted snack-bar with a white linoleum floor. I took some courage from familiar things on the tables: ketchup bottles, salt and pepper shakers, napkin holders. I couldn’t come to a bad end among such ordinary surroundings. I was pushed into a red-bottomed chair with metal legs beside a dark window. I think I may have closed my eyes. I remember feeling wonderfully refreshed when I let my cheek lean against the cool win-dow-glass. After a few years sitting like this, I became aware that there was someone standing in my light. It was Bill Ward. I think I said, “Hi,” and went back to my serious work which was trying to catch the little motes that kept swimming up inside my eyelids. There were red ones and purple ones. Mostly they were magenta.

“Cooperman, you’re in a lot of trouble.” He sounded like a television quizmaster telling a guest he had only ten thousands points and was about to be taken out of the final round.

“I’ll shape up, you’ll see.”

“You’ve got to lay off, Cooperman. I told you once, and I’m telling you again. That’s more than fair.”

“No coaching from the studio audience. Do you know why Chester was killed?”

“Don’t start that again. Chester killed himself. He wanted to get clear of his worries, his depression. Look, I’ve told the police to go easy on you. Sergeant Harrow is all for demanding your licence after the funny games you’ve been playing. I tried to calm him down.

“Okay, okay. But give me a minute on Chester. If he was going to kill himself, would he have bought himself a ten-speed bike a couple of hours before shooting himself? You were his pal, you answer me. Is it likely?”

“That’s unsubstantiated idiocy. There are a dozen explanations, and each of them makes more sense than what you are saying.”

“Everybody says he was depressed. What was he depressed about?”

“Business pressure. He’d been expanding too quickly. Growth wasn’t keeping up. Money was getting scarce. He was two years ahead of the game, and he didn’t have the capital to wait two years.” It sounded fine, but I didn’t believe a word of it.

“Is this the first tight corner he’s been in?”

“Of course not. But this was different.”

“Tell me. Tell me when the game gets so tough that you put your brains on the rug.”

“It’s no use talking to you. I’ll speak to Harrow.”

“You do that. But since it’s settled, how about answering some of my questions?”

“I’m a reasonable man, Cooperman. I’ve never met anyone so persistent. What do you want to know? These groundless assertions of yours are a waste of valuable time.”

“I suppose you’ve never heard of Phoebe Campbell?”

“That’s right.”

“Would you be surprised to learn that she paid me two hundred dollars to plant a gun in your house on Bellevue Terrace?”

“Be serious, Cooperman.”

“I’m telling you. Phoebe Campbell paid me to enter your house on Bellevue Terrace. She gave me a package to leave in a dresser drawer. The package contained a.32 calibre hand gun. The police have it now. Maybe Sergeant Harrow forgot to mention that. Why would someone want to plant a gun at your house? Somebody doesn’t like you, Mr. Ward.”

“Let me get this straight. You actually went into that house? How did you know it was mine?”

“The police told me.”

“What do they know of this?”

“Only that there was an attempted break-in. Your office probably has a report about it.”

“What did she look like, this Phoebe Campbell.”

“Tall, good-looking, brunette, long legs, clear skin, well-spoken.”

“This is insane. I never met this woman. It’s a mistake.”

“If you didn’t tell Phoebe Campbell about this hideaway of yours, whom did you tell?”

“Nobody knew about that place. I picked it up when a business associate went under. It was business. I accepted the house and let certain charges and debts ride. I hardly ever went there. I meant to dispose of it before long.”

“Did Pauline know about it?”

“I don’t want to hear my wife’s name in your mouth, do I make myself clear? Of course, she knew nothing of it. She knows nothing of my business affairs.”

“What about your affair affairs?”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re too modest, Mr. Ward. It is well known that you break a lot of hearts in a year.”

“Stand up! Stand up and repeat that!” He looked like he was going to pop his cork. I didn’t think these fellows socked people who weren’t wearing the old school tie, so I got up, and he glared at me. I hoped he wouldn’t hit me; I was still dizzy from the car ride. I remembered seeing a fight at a party over a girl: two men in their thirties exchanged glancing blows and then both got down on their hands and knees looking for dislodged partial dentures, glasses and a contact lens. Ward still looked angry when I got him into focus, but he didn’t look like he was going to knock me down any more.

“Mr. Ward, could I have a glass of ginger ale. I don’t feel so good.”

“What …?”

“I need something to clear my head. I don’t want to get sick.” He dropped his fighting stance, threw me a contemptuous look with nothing personal in it, and went to the bar. I drifted off, after finding my chair again, to where people drift off to. In far too short a time, I saw that the bubbles tickling my nose came from a tall glass under it. Ward sat down across the table from me.

“So you think someone killed Chester and you think I had something to do with it.”

“Could be. You were thick as thieves as far back as you can go. In a business way you’ve been in bed together before this. I think Chester was holding your end while you were playing around at City Hall. I think you might make a handy sum on this Core Two project, under the table, of course, and in a way that will look kosher on paper after the fact. I think you would steal pencils from a crippled beggar if you saw some advantage in it. But I don’t give a damn about your character, Mr. Ward. I only want to find out who bumped off your pal. You’d think that as his friend you’d want to give me a hand. Instead you call Harrow. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind. I’m used to being leaned on from one direction or another. Funny thing is that he’s your pal, not mine.” I took another sip of the ginger ale.

“Look, it’s ludicrous that anyone would kill Chester. But supposing he was murdered, I still can’t think of any motive.”

“You had a lot to gain. He was in your pocket. Wouldn’t you gain the upper hand in what you were planning to split on Core Two?”

“That’s the second time you mentioned Core Two. I don’t know where you heard about it, but you’ve been misinformed. I work for the city. I’m not a cheap speculator.”

“Who said you were cheap? There’s big money riding on Core Two. And the way you’re playing it, it isn’t speculating.”

“You’re drunk, disgusting, and way beyond your depth. Core Two is a city matter. I’m just an advisor to the mayor and the council. I get paid a fixed salary.”

“Yeah, about as much as a postman, I’ve heard, with perks, of course, with perks. But something like Core Two doesn’t come along every day. And there you are with Chester ready and waiting to help you again, just like in the old days. There’d be money in it for him too, naturally.”

“This is just talk; you can’t substantiate any of this.”

“I can prove that Chester knew about Core Two. So, at the very least, you’re the best guess as to who told him about it. That’s a breach of trust, before we get to any money. I’ve got that much in Chester’s handwriting. I’ve got more. I know you were being squeezed by Zekerman. He was also interested in Core Two. Zekerman was a greedy man, Mr. Ward. He found out about it from Chester. Chester wasn’t hard the way you are. Chester could be gotten around.”

“Shut up. You don’t know anything. It’s all bluff.”

“Well, if it is, why don’t you throw me out instead of taking it out on that ball-point pen.” Ward looked down at his hands. Two halves of the pen he was holding would never fit together again. Blue ink stained the heel of his right hand. He looked at his hand like it belonged to somebody else. In a moment, he shot a look at me. He had recovered and was going to counterattack.

“You don’t know very much, do you? Not when it comes to courts of law and proof. You don’t have anything with much weight.”

“Two men are dead, that should raise some eyebrows.”

“Chester killed himself. No eyebrows are being raised on that one.”

“That leaves Zekerman. He didn’t club himself to death. The most likely murderer would come from among his patients. You were one of his patients. Did you kill him?” He shook his head, not disguising his affection for me very skilfully.

“No, I didn’t kill him. He was a greedy man, but a small one. It was easy to pay his greed out of petty cash. Why should I have dirtied my hands with Zekerman’s blood?” He gave a snort that was supposed to show contempt for my accusation and me all at once. I thought it was time to shift ground.

“Let’s change the subject. Tell me about Liz Tilford.” He blinked like I’d asked him if he’d seen any good movies lately.

“There’s nothing to tell. It was a private matter. She is an attractive, intelligent young woman. I hoped to be of help to her, getting her launched, getting her established.” He looked out of focus to me as I looked across the table at him, fuzzy at the edges, but I could see that he was directing all his attention at me. I was in focus. “What has Miss Tilford got to do with this anyway?”

“She’s disappeared, that’s all.”

“That’s a little dramatic. She left town, that’s not against the law. She’s in Toronto; I think she went to Toronto.”

“Did you have a fight?”

“You insist on implying that our relationship was of a personal nature. A man like you can’t understand …”

“Ward, it’s late, and I’m not that shockable. You’ve been seen together. It’s on the record, so include me out of your play-acting. Why did she leave town? What happened?”

“Nothing happened. She just went away.”

“You’re sure she isn’t buried out there in the sand-trap of the sixth hole, or wearing a cement overcoat at the bottom of the lake?”

“Liz? You’ve got to be joking. Why would anyone want to kill her? She didn’t know anything.”

“Interesting way to put it. Unlike the dear dead doctor. He made a business of knowing. In fact he didn’t know when to quit.”

“You’re kidding yourself if you think you can drag Zekerman into this. It won’t wash.”

“He didn’t think Chester was depressed. He was his shrink. If he was lying to me, what was his game?”

“So far you’re the one with the answers.”

“You said that you could pay off Zekerman out of petty cash. My guess is that that’s a lot of petty cash. He knew about Core Two. That’s just the start. He also knew about you and Myrna Yates.”

“You bastard!”

“Let me finish. I got to the potting shed ahead of your boys. I know about Switzerland. So don’t get your indignation in an uproar. That’s two things he knew, but there was a third. He knew about what happened at Secord University during your last year. He knew about Elizabeth Blake.”

Ward looked sunk. His mouth fell open. He didn’t shout at me, he didn’t even look angry. I could see him better now. The effects of the flask were wearing off. The fuzzy edge had been sanded away leaving an outline that was sharp enough for a portrait painter. I remembered the sandy hair from the funeral. It was the sort that turns gray without anyone noticing. His face looked boyish from a distance, but now, up close, I could see that these broad youthful lines were criss-crossed with thousands of small wrinkles. His blue eyes looked out from under heavy brows, and there were signs around the chin that collapse of the firm jawline was only a matter of hours away. A minute slipped off the table. The ginger ale stopped bubbling.

“You know all about that?” he said finally.

“It’s all there if you know where the pieces are. I’ve been up to Secord. I’ve nosed around. I know about Elizabeth Blake, and I know Corso was in on it.” Ward nodded, like he was weighing an offer to purchase City Hall. Finally, he said:

“Corso made the stuff, you know. Chester and I stayed clear of that.”

“But there was more than just making.”

“He was a good chemist. But it was all Chester and I could do to handle him.”

“Where did the Blake girl fit in?”

“She bought some of the stuff we were distributing on the campus. She got into us early. She wasn’t an addict, just interested in the experience-bending aspects of L.S.D. She wasn’t a thrill-seeker, like some of the them. She found out that Corso was making it in one of the labs. At first we thought that she wanted to shut us down. But no, she wanted to find more ways to change perceptions. I called her the Mad Redhead. She had a strange intensity. She and Corso were working on variations, and she was his eager guinea-pig. One night, something went wrong. Joe called us. It was a terrible night. A blizzard was going on outside. She didn’t come down. She raved for hours and then collapsed. At first we thought that she would come out of it. But there was something funny about her breathing. Her eyes were open. We were scared. Corso went to pieces, so Chester and I carried her back to her room through the snow. It was well past one o’clock.

“There was no one around in that weather, but if anyone saw us, it must have looked like we were helping a drunk. We tucked her into bed, and as an afterthought, I emptied a phial of sleeping pills I found on her table into my pocket and left it empty by her bed. Then we got away as quickly as we could. I figured that if she woke up, the empty pill-container wouldn’t mean anything; if she didn’t wake up, we needed a smokescreen. Nothing like this had ever happened to us before. We both came from good families. Our parents were a respected part of the community.”

“Good for you. Decent chap. Tell me, did Elizabeth Blake ever talk about her sister?”

“Seems to me she mentioned she had one. I don’t know. Yes, there was a sister who was always imitating her, couldn’t grow up fast enough. She was supposed to look a lot like Elizabeth, but I never met her.”

“That sister, Hilda Blake, is still alive. I’ve seen her name. She was one of Zekerman’s patients. I can’t guess what the good doctor was holding over her head. Can you?”

“Of course not.”

“Could it be about Corso?”

“She couldn’t know anything about that. Her sister was dead. She didn’t know us.”

“What might she have known?”

“I told you: nothing. Corso got frightened. It was too much for him. Then he missed getting a scholarship.”

“How very convenient.”

“Cooperman, I hope you’re not suggesting that I …”

“I’ll say it plainer. I’m telling you. Chester and you arranged for his taking that fall. You were both in on it. Only you as usual led the way. You went up to the lab where he was working. You got him to come out on the balcony to see something. It was then easy for you both to grab his legs and push him over the rail. I’ll bet you were back in the elevator before he hit the ground. But I don’t mean to suggest anything.”

“You can’t prove that. You haven’t a shred of evidence.”

“Right now I’m not interested in evidence. I’m just trying to focus on this. Now tell me, how did you keep Chester quiet after that? Was he trouble?”

“Chester always believed what I said and did what I told him. He was always like that, from riding school on. I was always looking out for him, one way or another. After Corso’s death, things quietened down. We took our degrees, started in business. Chester went into his father’s factory. I did some business courses in the States. We both got married. It was years ago.”

“And you all lived happily ever after until Dr. Zekerman began to show an interest.”

“I could handle him.”

“Somebody certainly has handled him.”

“Well, guess again, if you think that was me.”

“Zekerman didn’t think Chester was depressed. How did you know that Chester was on his list too?” Ward blinked his electric blue eyes.

“Andrew told me,” he said. The air was slowly leaking out of him like he was a forgotten beach ball.

“He was on the take from Harrington too. I caught up on a lot of reading at the potting shed down by the creek just before arson struck.”

“At least all the filth is gone.” He was staring at the blond fuzz on the back of his right hand.

“I suspect that I’m not the first with the news.”

“So, what? I don’t think you are going to turn me in for that.”

“Not even for trying to scare Zekerman before I ran into him the first time. Your boys did a first-rate job of frightening him, but he was so scared he decided to trust a cheap peeper like me. He needed an ally, and he couldn’t be choosy.”

“You won’t get far in his shoes, Cooperman. Not without Andrew’s files.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Look, my name’s Cooperman, not Zekerman. Maybe from your side of the table there’s not much difference in the sound. If you think all cats are alike in the dark, you’re crazy. To me, Mr. Ward, you are not the centre of the universe. I used to be able to live for hours on end without hearing your name. I liked it that way. I look forward to going back to that.”

A couple of minutes passed. Ward had got up and was facing the black window, running his fingers through his pallid hair. He went to the sort of barber who gave an English cut: no sign of clippers on the side. At length he turned to me. “Some people might not like your mixing in, Cooperman, however pure you claim your motives are. Some people might try to protect their legitimate interests. People have accidents all the time.”

“I thought you might get around to that.” I tried to muster an agreeable expression.

“Nobody knows you’re here.”

“You don’t have to convince me. But accidents can be insured. I’m a great believer in life insurance.”

“You didn’t arrange this meeting. I did.”

“Are you a card-playing man, Mr. Ward? If you are, you know that there are times when you have to put your money where your mouth is. You’re right; I didn’t expect this meeting tonight. But I expected it. When you expect something in my business, you take out insurance.”

“What kind of insurance?”

“A letter to be opened in case of my sudden death or disappearance, placed in the hands that will not ignore it.”

“I say you’re bluffing.”

“Good. It takes more opinions than one to make a poker game.”

“Supposing you walk out of here?”

“You know I’m working for Myrna Yates. If you killed Chester, watch out. I’m after you.” Ward looked like he was weighing the proposition. Far off a phone was ringing. I could hear the deep voice of one of the boys taking the call. Ward looked in the direction of the closed door. One of the other torpedoes had taken over the call. I couldn’t make out any words. There was silence for a moment, then a soft rap at the door. Ward opened it, pinning me to my chair with a look first. Whispering at the door, then Ward’s voice on the phone, affable, reasonable, a friend to all. Further whispers at the door. The eyes of his two hoods on me.

“That was a lucky call for you, Mr. Cooperman. I’m going to have to break off this discussion. I’ve got business to attend to in town.” I nodded. It seemed reasonable enough: he was going to give me a stay of execution because he had other fish to fry. But I think he’d bought my insurance story. “I’ll have one of the boys drop you at your office.” He was climbing into a Burberry raincoat while he was talking. One of the boys, the one with the acne scars, moved in my direction.

“You’re all heart, Mr. Ward,” I said. “You know what I mean? By the way, since we’re both laying our cards on the table, I have a message that Chester was writing just before he was killed. The message is in code.”

“Unless it has my name on it,” Ward said, smiling, calmly adjusting the belt of the trenchcoat, “I’m not interested. Besides, Chester and I have been exchanging ciphers since we were kids. You detectives always trip over the ordinary looking for the unusual.”

I got up and walked past Ward toward the door I’d come in. By this time the letter I called my insurance was looking pretty real, even to me.