1984 - Hit Them Where it Hurts (8 page)

‘Hi, Hank,’ I said and motioned to Bill who snatched up the extension so he could listen in.

‘You got news for me?’

‘Yeah.’ A pause, then he went on, ‘I found him, and he wants the money fast.’

‘Where did you find him, Hank?’

A long pause, then he said, ‘Never mind. When does he get the money?’

‘No problem, Hank,’ I said and grinned at Bill. ‘I’ll get it organised. I’ll call you back?’

‘What do you mean—organised?’

‘I’ll have to contact the bank and fix an appointment. Mr. Ackland who runs the bank, will need identification and time to prepare forms for Terry to sign. No problem. I’ll call you back,’ and I hung up.

‘Stinks of a con,’ Bill said as he hung up.

‘Maybe. OK, here’s what you do. Go, see that Harry Rich of the Dead End club and ask him if he will be willing to identify Terry at the bank. I think he will be there pronto, to see Terry again. You take care of that. I’ll take care of Ackland.’

Twenty minutes later, I walked into Ackland’s office. He rose from his desk, shook hands and gave me his benign bishop’s smile.

‘How do we progress, Mr. Wallace?’ he asked as we both sat down.

‘I understand that you hold a hundred thousand dollars in the favour of Terrance Thorsen or Zeigler, left him by a Miss Angus of the Breakers building.’

He stared at me.

‘That is correct, but I don’t understand, Mr. Wallace. I am in touch with a Mr. Lewis who is Miss Angus’s executor, and until he finds Mr. Thorsen, who appears to have disappeared, the money remains in the bank. What is this to do with your investigation?’

‘I am hoping that Terrance Thorsen could be helpful, Mr. Ackland. He has been told by friends that he can pick up this large sum of money, and it seems he has appeared. Up to now, he has not been in evidence, but the amount of money due to him brings him to the surface.’

‘Extraordinary,’ Ackland muttered.

‘Have you ever met Terry Thorsen?’

Ackland looked startled.

‘No. I’ve never seen him.’

‘So when a man walks into your office claiming a hundred thousand dollars you wouldn’t know if he was Terry Thorsen?’

Ackland half rose out of his chair, then sat hack.

‘You mean there could be an impostor?’

‘Well, a hundred thousand—it isn’t peanuts.’

‘Of course, I would need identification.’

‘It occurred to me, Mr. Ackland, the best identification you could have is to invite Miss Angela Thorsen to attend, and if she identifies her brother, there should be no problem.’

His fat face brightened.

‘That is a very constructive idea, Mr. Wallace.’

‘Could we set this up sometime this afternoon?’

‘Well—’ He looked at his appointment book. ‘Yes, perhaps, around three o’clock.’

‘Would you telephone Miss Thorsen to see if she will come? I expect she will be happy to see her brother again.’

‘Yes, of course. I want to do everything I can to help the Thorsen family. Let me see if I can reach her.’ He pressed a button and told Miss Kertch to connect him with Miss Angela Thorsen.

There was a good five-minute wait while I smoked a cigarette and Ackland turned papers around on his desk. When the call came through, he was all oil.

‘This is Horace Ackland of the Pacific & National Bank. I do hope I am not disturbing you.’ He listened, nodded, then went on, ‘I don’t know if you are aware that your brother, Terrance, has inherited a hundred thousand dollars.’ He listened again, then went on, ‘Yes. Mr. Wallace has been most helpful. Now, Miss Thorsen, it is necessary to make sure the man who is claiming all this money is your brother. This is, of course, red tape, but as I have never met nor seen your brother I need him to be identified. Would you be prepared to come here at three o’clock this afternoon and identify your brother for me?’

He listened nodding.

‘Yes, I can understand that. It is a long time since you have seen him. I understand that you will be pleased to see him again. Splendid! Then I will expect you at my office at three o’clock this afternoon. Thank you, Miss Thorsen,’ and he hung up.

Looking at me, he said, ‘Of course, she will be only too happy to cooperate. I see no problem.’

I felt sorry for him. Horace Ackland didn’t know Angela Thorsen as I did.

‘Fine,’ I said, and got to my feet. ‘I’ll be here at three o’clock.’

‘Do that, Mr. Wallace.’ He rose to his feet and, leaning across his desk, shook hands.

‘This should be a very interesting meeting.’

‘I guess so. See you later,’ and I left him.

At 14.45, I walked into the Pacific & National Bank and gave Miss Kertch my friendly smile, which bounced off her like a golf ball flung against a concrete wall.

‘Mr. Ackland is engaged,’ she snapped.

‘OK. Just tell him I’m here.’ I walked to a lounging chair and made myself comfortable.

I have always found banks offer a lot of interest. I watched people come and go. I watched fat old women putting money into their bags. I watched them chat up the teller, who had a fixed, kindly smile for each of the old t rout as they arrived. Banking was not for me, I decided.

Bill and I had had a scratch lunch. He had told me he had seen not only Harry Rich but also a Miss Liza Manchini, his receptionist, who had been Terry’s girlfriend at the time of his disappearance.

‘Great stuff, Bill. A really nice bit of probing, and dead on time.’

‘No problem,’ he said, chewing on his hamburger. ‘Rich wants to talk to Terry. He’s hoping he can persuade him to return to his club.

Liza is panting to get Terry back into bed. Both of them will play.’

‘Fine. Collect them, Bill, and bring them to the bank at 15.20. Not before. I want them to be a surprise.’

After a ten-minute wait Miss Kertch said, ‘Mr. Ackland is free now.’

I got up and entered Ackland’s office. As usual, he shook hands and beamed his bishop’s smile.

‘Well, Mr. Wallace, this should be most interesting,’ he said, waving me to a chair. ‘It’s not often I have an affair like this.’ He shifted in his chair. ‘I have all the necessary papers. I have spoken to Mr. Lewis. When Miss Thorsen identifies her brother the matter can be finalised.’

I lit a cigarette, then relaxed back in the chair At exactly 15.00, the buzzer on Ackland’s desk sounded.

I heard Miss Kertch’s voice squawk, ‘Mr. Terry Thorsen is here.’

‘Send him in,’ Ackland said, then beamed at me. ‘This will be more than interesting.’

‘You can say that yet again,’ I said.

The door opened, and a man around 25 or so walked in. He was wearing a white shirt, and black trousers tucked into Mexican boots. His black hair was long to his shoulders. He was thin and had a lean, rat-like face with small, black suspicious eyes.

Beaming, Ackland got to his feet.

‘Mr. Thorsen?’

‘Yeah,’ the man said, then stared at me. ‘Who’s this?’

‘I am representing your interests,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘The name’s Wallace. I am working with Mr. Solly Lewis who is the late Miss Angus’s attorney.’

His eyes shifted and he stared at Ackland.

‘Well, come on. I’m in a hurry. Where’s the money?’ His voice was harsh and his bearing hostile.

Ackland flinched.

‘Naturally, Mr. Thorsen, I will require identification before giving you the money.’ He had lost his bishop’s smile.

‘What do you mean?’ There was a snarl in the voice, then the buzzer sounded.

‘Miss Thorsen, Mr. Ackland,’ Miss Kertch squawked. ‘Your sister, Mr. Thorsen,’ Ackland said. ‘I am sure you will be glad to see her again.’

The door opened and Angela Thorsen entered. She was wearing the sweatshirt, blue jeans, the Mexican hat and the big sun goggles.

She paused in the doorway, then moved directly to the man claiming to be Terry Thorsen.

‘Terry!’ she exclaimed. ‘This is marvellous! How long it has been!’

‘Yeah,’ the man who was claiming to be Thorsen said. ‘Look, we’ll talk later. I want the money, and then let’s get the hell out of here.’

She nodded.

‘Of course, Terry.’ She turned to Ackland who was now standing and beaming. ‘This is my brother. Will you pay him, please? I want to have a long talk with him.’

‘Certainly, Miss Thorsen. You do identify him?’ Ackland said.

‘I said so, didn’t I?’ There was a hard snap in her voice. ‘I want to talk to my brother!’

Looking flustered, Ackland pushed some papers across his desk.

‘If you would sign these, Mr. Thorsen, then I will arrange immediate payment.’ Ackland was falling over himself to give Angela Thorsen service. ‘How would you like the money?’

‘In cash,’ the longhaired man snarled, snatching the pen Ackland offered, and scrawled on the lines Ackland pointed out.

While he was doing this I went to the door and looked out. I saw Bill waiting with two people who were clearly Harry Rich and Liza Manchini.

‘Mr. Rich, please,’ I said and signalled to Bill to hold back Miss Manchini. It looked like he’d have his work cut out.

Harry Rich, immaculately dressed, moved into Ackland’s office.

Ackland looked bewildered.

‘Who is this gentleman?’ he asked.

‘This is Mr. Harry Rich who owns a nightclub, Mr. Ackland,’ I said. ‘He employed Mr. Thorsen as a pianist. Mr. Thorsen was then known as Terry Zeigler. I thought it would be constructive for Mr. Rich to identify Mr. Thorsen before you parted with the money.’

‘But Miss Thorsen has already identified him!’ Ackland spluttered.

I turned to Rich.

‘Is this man Terry Zeigler?’

Rich stared hard at the longhaired man, then he shook his head.

‘He dresses the way Terry dressed, but he is not Terry. I don’t know who the hell he is, but he is not Terry Zeigler.’

‘Sure of that, Mr. Rich?’

‘Of course, I am sure. Terry worked for me for months. I paid his wages into his hand every week. I don’t know what you’re trying but you have been wasting my time, Wallace,’ and Rich walked out.

Without giving Ackland time to recover from this shock, I went to the door and signalled to Bill.

‘This is Miss Manchini,’ I said. ‘She lived with Terry Thorsen, known to her as Terry Zeigler, for quite a time.’ I turned to Liza who had swept forward, her face alight with anticipation of seeing Terry again. Then she stopped short, staring at the man with the long hair who was glaring at her.

‘Miss Manchini,’ I said, ‘is this man Terry Zeigler?’

Her frustration and disappointment were too genuine to doubt.

‘That slob! Terry! Do you imagine I wouldn’t know Terry when I see him again?’

‘You are saying this man is not Terry Zeigler?’ I said.

‘Yes! Do you think I would go to bed with a slob like this?’ Her voice became shrill. ‘God! I thought I was going to see Terry again,’ and she began to cry.

Bill, who was standing by her, took a firm grip on her arm and led her out.

There was a long pause. I looked at the man who was claiming to be Terry. Sweat was running down his face, and his eyes burned with fury. I looked at Angela Thorsen. She was motionless, hidden behind her sun goggles. I looked at Ackland who sat in a heap as if his spine was broken.

As I expected, Angela was the first to recover and take the initiative. She walked up to Ackland’s desk and stood over him.

‘Mr. Ackland,’ she said, her voice harsh, ‘I know this man is my brother. Are you going to tell me you are going to take the word of a cheap nightclub owner and a whore against mine?’

Nice work, I thought, seeing Ackland’s reaction.

‘Of course not, Miss Thorsen, but there must be some mistake,’ he mumbled.

‘There is no mistake!’ Angela snapped.

‘These two people don’t want Terry to have the money left to him! They are deliberately lying! Please arrange for my brother to be paid!’

I came to Ackland’s rescue. He looked as if he was going to have a stroke.

‘Miss Thorsen!’ I barked in my cop voice. ‘Mr. Ackland has no authority to pay out this money! I am representing Mr. Lewis who is the executor of Miss Angus’s will. I am not satisfied. You say this man is your brother. Two people, who have known your brother for some time, say this man is an impostor. Mr. Ackland will not be given the authority to payout one hundred thousand dollars until I am satisfied this man is really your brother.’

She turned. I longed to hook off her big sun goggles that completely masked her face, but I could see by her thin, trembling body how furious she was.

‘I demand my brother gets the money!’ she said, her voice low and full of hate.

‘There is really no problem,’ I said ‘Across the road is the Eden Club. Suppose we all go over there, and I will arrange with the owner, who is a friend of mine, for this guy to sit at the piano and play. If he plays as well as Fats Waller, then he gets the money. Fair enough?’

The man trying to pass himself off as Terry Zeigler suddenly went berserk.

‘I told that fucking slob it wouldn’t work!’ he yelled. ‘I told you, you stupid bitch, it wouldn’t work!’ and shoving by me, he rushed out of the office.

‘Well, Mr. Ackland, that seems to be that,’ I said, feeling sorry for him as he sat deflated, his fat face as white as a sheet.

‘When Terry Thorsen does turn up, I’ll alert you.’ I looked at Angela who was standing like a statue. ‘A good try, Miss Thorsen, but not good enough.’

She turned slowly.

‘I will make you sorry for this,’ she said, her voice a low hiss. ‘God! You will be sorry!’

The vicious menace in her voice was unmistakable.

‘Try to grow up, Miss Thorsen,’ I said quietly. ‘Money isn’t everything.’ and I left the office, feeling sorry for Ackland who now had this vicious girl to cope with.

I expected to find Bill waiting for me, but he wasn’t there. I walked to where I had parked my car. That wasn’t there either. I flagged down a cab and returned to the office.

I had quite a report to write up for the Thorsen file.

CHAPTER 5

I
was expecting to find Bill at his desk, but he wasn’t there, so I put a phone call through to Solly Lewis, Miss Angus’s executor.

He answered on the first ring and sounded like a man hopefully needing a rich client.