April Evil (13 page)

She made seven pictures. The instructions were easy to follow. The pictures were nearly all the same. Binder finally let her see one. She paid no attention to what she was doing in the short sound picture. She was only interested in how she
looked, how her voice sounded, how she walked and held herself. She knew at once that she was looking at a stranger, not at the creature in the Dream. She looked at a girl with a ripe heavy body and a blank face and a thin squeaky voice and dull eyes. The Dream died there.

Binder came to the Blue Onyx once more.

“We got to fold for a while, kid. They staked the place out and they were ready to pick us up, but we got a tip. We’ll be back in business in a couple of months. I’ll look you up.”

“I guess I don’t want to do that any more.”

Binder gave her a weary look. “You might as well. I was in legitimate movies for eighteen years. I know the score, kid. For this kind of stuff, you’ve got it. You’ve got all you need. For the legitimate stuff, you haven’t got it. You don’t project. You move around like a zombie. You’re built real good, though, and that’s just about all we need. So you might as well stick with this. The money doesn’t hurt you any, does it?”

“I guess I don’t want to do it any more.”

“There’s plenty who will,” he said.

She wanted to get away from the Dream. She went to Chicago. By then she had contacts, and she got a job doing a slow strip in a cellar club. She lived with the horn player in the band. She felt half dead. Once in a while they’d let her do a vocal. She added bumps and grinds to her thin voice and put the songs over after a fashion. She met Barney Shuseck in that cellar club. He was different. By then there had been a lot of men. Violent men, petty men, discouraged men, selfish men. Barney was not like the others. She could talk to Barney. He listened to her. He understood her.

“Sure, I get it. You couldn’t make it—so you couldn’t make it. We’ll have us a movie, kid. I’m a killer and a thief and a two-time loser, and you’re my girl. Like in the movies. See?”

And that is what he was. A thief and a killer and a two-time loser. She was with him for three years, until she was twenty-four. His money bought expensive clothes. They lived well. They saw a lot of the country. He could be unexpectedly tender, and unexpectedly brutal. He broke her arm and bought
her an emerald on the same day. He bought the emerald from a fence.

He was working with Danny Riverio—not with him but for him—when he was shot and killed by a rookie patrolman. Riverio felt a certain degree of responsibility for her after she endured a full week of questioning without telling the authorities anything. He put her in the club of a friend of his in Detroit. He saw that she was set up in a fairly good apartment. Once in a while he would send friends to her to be entertained. Then he had sent her up to the lake to entertain Harry Mullin. Mullin wanted to keep her for a while. Riverio didn’t care. So she had come along. She could have avoided coming along, but it didn’t seem to make much difference one way or the other.

Mullin was a type with which she was familiar. Silent, sour, nervous, domineering. There was no tenderness in him. She accepted him, as she had accepted the others. Once the Dream died, it didn’t make much difference. Now Mullin, the Ace and Ronnie were on a job. She knew she would be frightened while it was going on. She knew she would be glad when it was over. She had no idea what would become of her when it was over. She would go out of the country with Harry, if they made a big score. That might be nice. She had never been out of the country. She wondered what it was like.

Ronnie pushed the swinging door open and came out into the kitchen. She glanced at him and then looked back at the magazine. She heard him go behind her and get a can of beer out of the refrigerator. She heard the hiss as he punched holes in the top of the can.

She stiffened as he put his fingers on the nape of her neck under her hair and caressed her.

“You shouldn’t ought to do that,” she said.

He didn’t stop. “I do lots of things I shouldn’t ought to.”

“It will make trouble.”

“Everybody’s got trouble.”

“Don’t. Please.”

He laughed softly and then he stopped. He said, “Aren’t you
maybe too much woman for that burned-out Mullin?”

She didn’t answer and he was moving toward the door when Mullin came out into the kitchen, his mouth ugly. “How long does it take you to get yourself a beer, kid?”

“I was talking to Sal here,” Ronnie said easily.

“Don’t talk to her.”

Ronnie shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He walked on into the other room and the door swung shut.

“He make a pass?”

“No, Harry. No pass, honest.”

“Tell me if he does. And if Ace does either.”

“I’ll tell you, Harry.”

“Make some sandwiches.”

She got up quickly and went to the breadbox. She imagined she could still feel the touch of Ronnie’s fingers on the nape of her neck. It gave her an odd feeling. He was a strange man. He wasn’t like all the others. There was something very different about him. Almost creepy. Maybe it was something about his eyes.

When Ben Piersall arrived at his downtown office in the Flamingo Bank and Trust Company Building at eight-thirty on Thursday morning, he noticed Dr. Tomlin’s shiny old black Packard in a parking place near the bank, with Arnold Addams in his chauffeur hat standing near it.

He thought little of it and was astonished when he found Dr. Tomlin seated in the small ante-room. Lorraine Bibbs, Ben’s middle-aged secretary, gave him a nervous smile and greeting. She was one of the local people thoroughly terrified of the austere Dr. Tomlin.

Dr. Tomlin got up as Ben came in. They greeted each other and Dr. Tomlin said, “Please forgive me for not making an appointment, Ben.”

“It isn’t necessary for you to do that at any time.”

“I like to use common courtesy. This won’t take very long. I used to impose on your father, too.”

“I don’t think he ever minded, either. Come on in, Doctor.”

They went into his private office and Ben closed the door. Dr. Tomlin seated himself across the desk, took a document from an inside pocket and handed it to Ben. “I guess you’ve never seen this. It’s my will. Your father drew it up. I asked him not to keep a copy here. Mind reading it over?”

“Not at all.” It did not take long to scan the will. It was not complicated. It established a trust fund for Dillon and Lenora Parks and it left them the house. After taxes were paid, and after a cash bequest to Arnold Addams, the remainder of the estate was to be divided equally among the medical research foundations listed.

“I assume you wish to change it.”

“I want to include Laurie Preston, Mrs. Joseph Preston. I want a trust fund to be set up for her to take effect upon my death. It should provide a life income of five hundred dollars a month. She’s the girl who is staying with me. Laurie and her husband. They’re remote relatives.”

“That can be done easily.”

“And I’d like to increase the cash bequest to Arnold.”

“In that case, Doctor, rather than adding a codicil, I think we should rewrite the whole document.”

“Can it be done quickly?”

“I can have it ready today, if you wish.”

“I would appreciate it, Ben. I … I don’t expect to die today or tomorrow or next week. As a doctor, I know I’m in better shape than I deserve. But I’ve had a feeling of impending catastrophe. Like some superstitious old lady. I’ll feel better when the new document is signed and legal.”

Ben had been observing the old man carefully. There was the inescapable feebleness of age, but the eyes, and the brain behind them, seemed as sharp as ever.

“Can I speak frankly, Doctor Tomlin?”

“Your father always did. Certainly.”

“You are an old man. A lot of the people around here consider you to be a very eccentric old man. Just to be perfectly safe about this, I’d like to make two appointments for you. I’d like to have you go to two doctors today and have them examine you and have them make a written report on you. On your sanity.”

Tomlin’s face darkened and his voice grew thick. “Absolute nonsense!” he shouted.

“Now wait a minute. You want this will to stand up.”

“Of course!”

“If anybody should want to try to break it after your death they would try to prove that you were mentally incompetent at the time you revised your will.”

Dr. Tomlin relaxed visibly. “That would be typical of the reasoning of my grand niece, Lenora.”

“I’m not naming any names. I’d feel better if those two dated medical reports were on file with the original of the will. I think you will feel better also, Doctor.”

Tomlin smiled faintly and said, “I’m sorry. For a moment my attitude wasn’t exactly professional. I’ll do what you suggest, of course.”

Ben Piersall shifted his desk chair uneasily. “There’s something else I want to ask you about, Doctor. Please understand that I’m bringing this up because I’m trying to protect your interests.”

“I understand that.”

“Last evening I had a phone call from Bud Hedges. You know him pretty well.”

“I know Benjamin. He’s a bit of an old lady. He has a shrewd eye for land values. If you want to pick up a piece of land quietly, he isn’t the man to use. He talks too much.”

“He called me last night, Doctor. At first I didn’t know what was on his mind. Then he brought the conversation around to the phone conversation he had with you yesterday afternoon.”

“I haven’t seen or spoken to Benjamin in months.”

“What!”

“That’s quite correct. I’ve had no contact with him whatsoever.”

“That’s very strange. I thought Hedges had misunderstood what you wanted him to do. He claims you called him and asked him to get prices on a lot of land on Flamingo Key. He said you spoke as though you didn’t know the causeway had been put in. He said you talked as though it was twenty-five years ago, when the key had some fishing shacks on it and nothing much else. I thought it was strange.”

Dr. Tomlin looked at him oddly. “But not too strange?”

Ben flushed. “Hedges is a gossip, but he isn’t a liar. I’ll be honest with you. I thought the call
could
have occurred.”

“And you thought I could be losing touch with reality. What do you think now?”

“I don’t know what to think, Doctor.”

Tomlin leaned back. “It puts me in an odd position. I don’t know what to think either. Professionally I could understand it. I know what age does. I’ve seen the effect of delusion, loss of memory. Benjamin would recognize my voice.”

“But you have no recollection of making any such call.”

“I am morally certain that I didn’t. I’ve been reviewing what I did yesterday. I can account for all my time. What time did I call him? Can you find out?”

Ben phoned Hedges’ office. Hedges was in. “This is Ben Piersall. Say, what time did Doctor Tomlin phone you yesterday?”

“Hold it a minute. I’ve got it right here on my pad. I mark down the time calls come in. Sometimes it’s important. Here it is. Twenty-five minutes of four. Why?”

“Thanks a lot, Bud. I appreciate it.” He hung up and said, “Twenty-five minutes of four, Doctor.”

“I took a nap in the afternoon. At about four-fifteen I went for a short drive with Laurie. Arnold drove the car. We drove south. We didn’t stop. We returned to the house at five. I was not near a phone during that time. Both Laurie and Arnold can confirm that. Where does that leave us?”

Ben Piersall was silent for several moments. He could hear the traffic sounds on Bay Avenue, hear the clack of Lorraine’s typewriter in the outer office. “Doctor, I don’t know how ethical this is, but I’m going to tell you something.”

“If you can tell me anything that will make sense of this …”

“I ran into Lenora the other day. This may hurt. She wanted me to undertake something. She wanted me to help her try to get you committed to an institution as mentally incompetent.”

He watched Dr. Tomlin closely. The old man seemed to shrink in upon himself, to grow older within the space of a few seconds. His eyes looked vague and puzzled. His voice was
weaker. “You know all along that they are greedy people. And they are selfish people. You recognize that, but you think there is some warmth there—some pride—some decency. It just seems …”

“I told her she was a fool. Apparently it was more her idea than Dil’s.”

“She is an unscrupulous girl.”

“I’m afraid so. This may be a wild guess, Doctor, but it would explain the phone call. Somebody pretending to be you. Lennie could have instigated it. You see how it would work. This call to Hedges. He’ll tell dozens of people. There’d be other calls. There probably will be. Then, with half the town talking about you, she might get some lawyer who would handle it, and there might be enough evidence to make it stick. This could be very bad, Doctor.”

“What can we do?”

“Get the will fixed up as quickly as possible. And then—”

“Wait a moment. She came to the house. She had a man with her, a man named Mooney. He apparently works for Dil. I couldn’t understand why she came to see me. Her excuse was worthless. That man could be helping her.”

“It’s possible.”

“Could you find out?”

“I don’t know. Possibly. It would be a difficult thing to check on.”

“I want you to check on it. In the meantime we will go ahead with the will, with one change. I do not wish to seem vindictive. Eliminate the trust fund for Dillon and Lenora. Change it to a cash bequest of … five hundred dollars. Leave the house to Laurie Preston. Do that first, Ben, and then investigate Lenora. If your guess is wrong, there will be time enough to make out another will, reinstating the trust fund and leaving them the house. I hope your guess is wrong. I can forgive her being so greedy as to try to have me put away. But I could not forgive her for … compounding my eccentricities.”

Strength and force had come back to the old man. Ben said, “I’ll do that, Doctor. I’m glad you came in.”

“I’m grateful to you for being frank with me.”

“Doctor, we could do this less dramatically. We could make out the new will the way you originally instructed me. Then I could tell Lenora the terms of the will and the precautions we have taken to keep it from being broken. I note here that the bank is the executor. She’s shrewd enough to recognize a stalemate. If she’s behind the Hedges phone call, she’d stop that nonsense immediately.”