Up for Grabs

Chapter 12

We pulled up in front of the Bulwin Apartments.

Bertha looked the place over, said, “Pretty classy dump for a couple of working gals, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you,” I said. “I brought you.”

Bertha heaved herself out of the car and we walked into place and went up to Apartment 283.

Luck was with us. Josephine Edgar was home.

“Why, hello, Donald,” she said with syrup dripping from her voice and then turned to look at Bertha.

I said, “Miss Edgar, I want to present Bertha Cool. She’s my partner. She wants to talk with you.”

Bertha didn’t say a word. She just pushed forward, and Josephine gave ground in order to keep from being trampled.

Bertha barged on into the room, looked around and then turned to me. “What about it?” she asked me.

I said, “I want to find out about Melita Doon.”

Josephine said with something of a panic in her voice, “I told you everything I knew this morning, Donald.

“As far as I know, Melita Doon is a perfectly respectable young woman. She’s working hard trying to support her invalid mother, and I resent having you come barging into the apartment this way.”

“Resent and be damned,” Bertha said, “but if you think you’re going to pull that line of stuff with a professional investigator, you’re crazy as hell.”

“What do you mean?” Josephine asked.

“This business about the poor little girl supporting her mother and trying to get along as best she can,” Bertha said. “Take a look at this dump, it costs money. No two girls can afford this on the type of money you make — particularly if they’re supporting invalid mothers.

“Where the hell is Melita’s bedroom?”

Josephine was speechless, she simply gestured toward a door.

“Then this one must be yours?” Bertha said.

“That’s right.”

Bertha started walking toward Josephine’s bedroom.

“Here, you, come out of there!” Josephine said.

Bertha kept right on walking.

Josephine ran and grabbed Bertha and tugged.

Bertha gave a sidearm swipe and sent Josephine spinning across the apartment.

Bertha walked in through the open door, started looking through closets.

“Who do these men’s clothes belong to?” Bertha asked.

“You... you... you get out of here I’m going to call the police.”

Bertha tossed a couple of men’s suits out on the bed, looked in the inside breast pockets for a tailor’s label, picked a shirt from a drawer and noted the neat letter C embroidered on the breast pocket.

“You must think a lot of that guy,” Bertha said.

“That’s my cousin,” Josephine said defiantly. “He left some things here while he was gone on a trip.”

Bertha Cool prowled around the bedroom, then walked back into the living room, went into the other bedroom, prowled around, came back and said, “What the hell’s the idea?”

“What idea?”

“Stealing X-rays.”

“She wasn’t stealing X-rays!” Josephine said. “I tell you it’s that supervisor.”

“This Doon girl got a boy friend?” Bertha asked.

“No, absolutely not!”

“Baloney,” Bertha said.

She came walking back and said to me, “She’s being subsidized in a big way.”

Josephine said, “I don’t know what redress I have in a matter of this kind, but I’m certainly going to see my lawyer. I think I can have your license revoked. You have no right to come in here and make an unauthorized search.”

Bertha said, “That’s right, dearie. You go ahead and complain to the authorities and will find out who this mysterious cousin of yours is and— Let’s see if he has a wife.”

Bertha walked over to the bed and began an expert appraisal of the suits of clothes.

“Here’s a cleaning tag,” she said. “Donald, take this number down. C436128.

“Well,” Bertha said, turning toward the door, “I guess that’s all we can do here. These babes are pretty well set up.”

Josephine started to cry.

“You can’t use that evidence,” she said. “You simply can’t. That cleaning tag, that—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Bertha said soothingly, “your cousin— Well, we won’t make any fuss about things unless you start making a fuss.”

Bertha pushed her way over to the door.

I followed her out.

In the hall, I said, “Good heavens, Bertha, you took chances that time. You had no right going into that bedroom.”

“Forget it,” Bertha said. “These women hypnotize you. I can tell a phony as far as I can see one.”

“Phonies are sometimes the ones that file the big lawsuits,” I said,

“I know,” Bertha said, “but those girls are vulnerable. They’ve got a racket. What kind of a babe is this Melita Doon?”

We crowded into the elevator and I said, “She’s rather a subdued choir girl who doesn’t use any sex.”

“Baloney,” Bertha said. “She either uses sex or she’s selling X-ray pictures like mad. Her clothes may look simple and virtuous to you, but those were pretty damned good rags hanging in that closet.

“And don’t think for a minute that Josephine is calling on her boyfriend to support a double apartment that will keep Melita in style just because she likes company.”

We rattled down to the ground floor. Bertha pounded her way out to the car, squeezed in, slammed the door shut so that it all but broke the glass and said, “My God, Donald, you shouldn’t have wasted all my time. You should have been able to spot that setup as phoney the minute you saw it.

“Sick mother!

“Sick mother, my fanny!”

I drove Bertha to her apartment, then went on out to Breckinridge’s house.

I parked the car in the wide driveway, leaving room for other cars to get past, and went up the steps to the front door.

Breckinridge had the door open before I had a chance to get my finger on the bell button.

“Come in, Donald,” he said cordially. “I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon.”

“So I understood,” I said, “but I thought you had relieved us of all responsibility in the case, so I didn’t bother to check—”

“I made a big mistake, Donald,” he said, “and I’m going to be the first to acknowledge it.”

I followed him into the living room. “All right,” I said, “what’s cooking?”

“I have received a report from Arizona,” he said.

“You sent an agent down?” I asked.

“I didn’t,” he said. “I received a telephone call and as a result of that call I felt certain that it would be worse than useless to send any agent out to try and effect a settlement at this time.”

“How come?”

“Well, to begin with I am afraid that after a person works a clever scheme once or twice it doesn’t pay to try to work it after that.”

I waited for him to go on.

“Sit down, Lam. Make yourself comfortable. Would you care for a little Scotch and soda, or a little bourbon and Seven-up?”

“I’m fine,” I told him. “We may not have much time to talk frankly, so we’d better go into things while the going is good.”

“Yes, indeed,” Breckinridge said, “that’s very good logic.

“Well, here’s the situation, Lam. This idea of a fake contest has worked like a charm in two cases that have gone to court and in three cases that we settled. It didn’t work quite as well when our operatives became intimate— I told you about that.

“But it was a fine idea. We let the claimant feel that he had won a contest which entitled him to two weeks’ free vacation at the Butte Valley Guest Ranch. He would go there and when he saw the setup, he would start entering into the life. As you know, life at a guest ranch is hardly conducive to the type of rest an invalid would need.

“In no time at all, we’d have pictures of the claimant swinging golf clubs, diving into the pool, making eyes at some of the impressionable young women who were always around, and sometimes our representative there, Dolores Ferrol, would have him so completely gaga that he would be trying to stand on his head if she even indicated she’d like to see him try.

“But those cases that went to court betrayed us. Melvin evidently found out about our fake contest, our connection at the Butte Valley Guest Ranch and all the rest of it.

“So A. B. Melvin shows up all loaded for bear.”

“When?”

“This morning. But I think that he had been planning to trap us. I think Bruno and he have been working hand and glove all the time.”

“So what’s the score now?”

“Melvin is at the guest ranch. He’s found out about the murder charge against Foley Chester.”

“How did that happen?”

“Simplest thing in the world,” Breckinridge said. “When Melvin got in on the case, he wanted to get a line on Chester. He knew, of course, he was dealing with an insurance company but he wanted to find out about Chester.

“He evidently got in touch with the detective agency here that handles his business. They started looking up Chester and in no time at all found out there was a police stakeout on the apartment and then got the whole story.

“That was all Melvin needed. The cat’s out of the bag now. Melvin is in the saddle and he knows it. Heaven knows what kind of a settlement we’ll have to make with him.”

“Well, why didn’t you send the insurance adjuster down to investigate the case and make the payment — if it’s a fair question?” I asked.

“It’s very fair,” he said, “but the answer is embarrassing. Melvin had met our adjuster on a previous case, and the adjuster was no match for the attorney.”

“So now what?”

“I want you to go down there. I’ve secured four cashier’s checks payable to Helmann Bruno and A. B. Melvin in amounts of twenty-five thousand dollars. That’s one hundred thousand dollars in cash. I think you can settle it for that.”

“You’re willing to go that high?”

“I’m willing to go that high if you have to — and I think you will.”

I said, “This man, Melvin, has won cases through sharp practice?”

“He’s clever, he’s sharp, yes.”

“And you think he’s used faked X-ray pictures?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“And you still want to pay him a fancy sum to settle?”

“I want to get rid of this case. When your insured going to be indicted for murder, it puts the insurance company in an absolutely impossible position.”

“And if your trained insurance adjuster couldn’t handle Melvin, what makes you think I can?”

“Because,” Breckinridge said, “I made it a point to find out about you, Lam.”

“How did you do it?”

“I took your secretary out this afternoon and had a long talk with her. You’ll find out about it sooner or later so I may as well tell you right now.

“Despite the fact I was a little abrupt last night and ordered you off the case, I understand you continued to investigate on your own.

“She tells me that you have a crooked nurse who has been stealing X-ray photographs and that you are getting a lot of material collected on her.

“I don’t need to tell you, Donald, if we could get Melvin in a position where we could prove he had cut corners or used falsified photographs or anything of that sort, we’d give you the damnedest, sweetest bonus you ever had in your life — I say we would — I mean every insurance company operating in this part of the country would get together and give you a handsome bonus and throw you all the business your agency could possibly handle.

“I was absolutely astounded at some of the things Miss Brand told me; things about cases you’ve handled which demonstrate your very remarkable ability. I—”

The door of the living room opened and Mrs. Breckinridge came striding in.

I jumped to my feet. “Good evening, Mrs. Breckinridge.”

“How do you do, Mr. Lam,” she said. Then looking around the room, “Where’s your secretary?”

I registered polite surprise at the question, and said, “Probably at home. I have my own car tonight. She had met me at the airport when I flew in from Texas.”

“I see,” she said, smiling, “and how’s the case going?”

I smiled. “I’ll have to let Mr. Breckinridge answer that. He’s the general, I’m only the private.”

“You’re a colonel,” Breckinridge said promptly, “and you’re doing a wonderful job.

“Here is the envelope with the papers I spoke about. There’s also a complete release in there. Now, I’d like to have you get on the first plane in the morning and go back — you understand, go back and handle this thing.”

“Back where?” Mrs. Breckinridge asked.

“Dallas,” I said, casually.

“You have enough money for expenses?” Breckinridge asked.

“Sure.”

“Well, go ahead and use your judgment. The sky’s the limit.”

“And I can go up to this amount that you mentioned by way of settlement?”

“You can go beyond it if you feel the situation justifies it.”

“I’ll take a plane that will get me in there early so I can get to work,” I told him.

“And you’ll keep me posted?”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

Breckinridge shook hands.

Mrs. Breckinridge gave me a cordial smile. “I’m afraid my husband is working you at pretty late hours, Mr. Lam.”

“Oh, it’s all in the game,” I told her.

“You work by yourself, or do you have a partner?”

“I have a partner,” I said, “in the agency business.”

“It’s Cool and Lam,” Breckinridge said hastily.

“And who is Mr. Cool?” she asked.

“It’s Mrs. Cool.”

Instantly her lips clamped together in a firm, thin line.

“Bertha Cool, I explained, “is in her sixties. She weighs around a hundred and sixty odd and she reminds me of a spool of barbwire. She’s hard and she’s tough. For the most part she handles the office end of the business and I’m out on the firing line.”

Mrs. Breckinridge was smiling once more. “That must make for a very efficient partnership,” she said.

“It does,” I told her. Sometimes when the female sirens try to pull the wool over my eyes, Bertha steps into the picture and what she can do to one of those come-on cuties in about ten seconds is really something.”

Mrs. Breckinridge was positively beaming “I think that’s a splendid arrangement. I’m very please my husband is employing your firm.

“The average man has absolutely no idea of these little vampires no idea how a woman can twist him around her fingers who flaunt their physical charms to get what they want.

“From time to time, I try to warn my husband against some of the people who would take advantage of him. I know that he thinks I’m unduly suspicious.”

“Not at all, my dear,” Breckinridge hastened to say.

“I think it would be simply wonderful to have your Bertha Cool turned loose on some of these people sometimes,” she said to me.

“It’s really a great experience to watch her work,” I said.

“What does she do?”

“Oh,” I said, “Bertha is pretty rough and at times rather profane. She tells these women that there dealing with another woman now; that tears and nylon will mean absolutely nothing. Then she proceeds to take them apart and if they want to get rough about it, Bertha can shake them until their teeth rattle. Bertha isn’t a lady when she starts taking one of these vampires to pieces. Her language would shock you, Mrs. Breckinridge.”

Mrs. Breckinridge’s eyes were glittering, “Homer,” she said, reproachfully, “you didn’t tell me anything about this delightful character. How long have you been using this firm of detectives?”

“This is the first case,” Breckinridge said. “We’re just getting acquainted, so to speak.”

“Well, I think it’s wonder,” Mrs. Breckinridge said. “It sounds like a very fine combination... Well I mustn’t interfere with your business conversation. I’ll be running along.”

She gave me her hand and a cordial smile and left the room.

Breckinridge looked at me and said “I guess Elsie Brand was right, Donald.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re one damned smart individual,” he said. “Now, get hell down there and settle that Bruno case and get it out g of my hair. Make the best settlement you can, but get it settled.”

“On my way,” I told him.