a serious pass at her, just a friendly pat on the rump now and then. When I saw it wasn’t getting me anywhere, I quit it. What the hell does that have to do with the murder?”
“Nothing, now that you’ve explained it.”
“Another thing—I know Farini has his stooges. Let me tell you, mister, that Cyrus has his own rough boys. I saw a couple of them at his stone hideaway when Joan and I would visit. I never learned their names. Stock manipulations were the least of that bastard’s crimes.”
“My thought exactly,” I lied. “I think Vogel and his buddies are heading up a dead-end trail.”
“You would be doing me a favor by telling them that. They sure hate Farini, don’t they?”
“So did Luther.”
“I know. And I know why. But our noble guardians of the law were involved in that, too, weren’t they?”
“That’s what Luther claimed. Well, I won’t hold you up any longer. Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime,” he said.
I would call him anytime I wanted more bull. What a liar! I should have taken a course on it from him. He could have earned my five grand.
As a connoisseur of the art, however, I felt that line—“I never learned their names”—was below his usual standard. If he could invent fictitious Allingham thugs, he should have been able to come up with believable fictitious names. They would have kept the trail just as blind. Despite Duane Detterwald’s scorn, I considered myself rather clever at names.
I went back to the weights and my ruminations. I had to keep revising my scenarios. Most cases stay truer to form, the good guys in the white hats, the bad guys in the black hats. All the principals in this case wore black hats.
I had a hazy theory, but it might develop into another errant scenario. It would be wise to let it simmer for a while. I went out for a short jog, came home and swam ten lengths of the pool.
Half an hour later, while I was still searching out the soft spots in my new theory, Corey rang our doorbell. He looked worried.
“You’ve been fired,” I guessed.
“No. But I didn’t work today, and Max Kronen came to the house to lecture me.”
“Come in,” I said. “A lecture from Max should be interesting. We’ll interpret it over a cup of coffee. Somehow, I have never thought of Max as a father figure.”
Over coffee in our cool den, Corey said, “The way he explained it, Baker was tied up with Joe Farini. He said he, too, had been working for Farini, but his ethics wouldn’t permit him to continue once he learned that Farini was involved in a criminal activity.”
I smiled. “Did you ask him what the criminal activity was?”
Corey nodded. “But he explained that it would be unethical for him to reveal privileged information.”
“Did you point out that it would be unethical for him to hide criminal activity that he was aware of from the police?”
“I didn’t think of that. He did tell me he was thinking of taking it to the police.”
“Not in this town, he wouldn’t. They don’t pay enough. And then, I suppose, he went on to lecture you?”
“Oh, yes. Heavy stuff! How a young man starting out in a profession with a long tradition had to be careful to establish a reputation for integrity if he hoped to build a solid clientele.”
“Corey, I hope you didn’t believe any of that bilge.”
“A little. He was very persuasive.”
“The man has switched sides! He was trying to get you off the case. I wonder how much Allingham paid him to switch?”
Corey stared at me. “That son of a bitch! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You’re still in the learning stage. Did he tell you he was going back to Los Angeles?”
Corey nodded.
“Let’s check him out,” I said, and picked up the phone.
Information gave me the number and I dialed it. A woman’s voice said, “Kronen Investigative Services.”
“This is Bertrand Ehrlich,” I told her. “Is Mr. Kronen available?”
“Judge Bertrand Ehrlich?” she asked.
“That’s
“Nothing, now that you’ve explained it.”
“Another thing—I know Farini has his stooges. Let me tell you, mister, that Cyrus has his own rough boys. I saw a couple of them at his stone hideaway when Joan and I would visit. I never learned their names. Stock manipulations were the least of that bastard’s crimes.”
“My thought exactly,” I lied. “I think Vogel and his buddies are heading up a dead-end trail.”
“You would be doing me a favor by telling them that. They sure hate Farini, don’t they?”
“So did Luther.”
“I know. And I know why. But our noble guardians of the law were involved in that, too, weren’t they?”
“That’s what Luther claimed. Well, I won’t hold you up any longer. Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime,” he said.
I would call him anytime I wanted more bull. What a liar! I should have taken a course on it from him. He could have earned my five grand.
As a connoisseur of the art, however, I felt that line—“I never learned their names”—was below his usual standard. If he could invent fictitious Allingham thugs, he should have been able to come up with believable fictitious names. They would have kept the trail just as blind. Despite Duane Detterwald’s scorn, I considered myself rather clever at names.
I went back to the weights and my ruminations. I had to keep revising my scenarios. Most cases stay truer to form, the good guys in the white hats, the bad guys in the black hats. All the principals in this case wore black hats.
I had a hazy theory, but it might develop into another errant scenario. It would be wise to let it simmer for a while. I went out for a short jog, came home and swam ten lengths of the pool.
Half an hour later, while I was still searching out the soft spots in my new theory, Corey rang our doorbell. He looked worried.
“You’ve been fired,” I guessed.
“No. But I didn’t work today, and Max Kronen came to the house to lecture me.”
“Come in,” I said. “A lecture from Max should be interesting. We’ll interpret it over a cup of coffee. Somehow, I have never thought of Max as a father figure.”
Over coffee in our cool den, Corey said, “The way he explained it, Baker was tied up with Joe Farini. He said he, too, had been working for Farini, but his ethics wouldn’t permit him to continue once he learned that Farini was involved in a criminal activity.”
I smiled. “Did you ask him what the criminal activity was?”
Corey nodded. “But he explained that it would be unethical for him to reveal privileged information.”
“Did you point out that it would be unethical for him to hide criminal activity that he was aware of from the police?”
“I didn’t think of that. He did tell me he was thinking of taking it to the police.”
“Not in this town, he wouldn’t. They don’t pay enough. And then, I suppose, he went on to lecture you?”
“Oh, yes. Heavy stuff! How a young man starting out in a profession with a long tradition had to be careful to establish a reputation for integrity if he hoped to build a solid clientele.”
“Corey, I hope you didn’t believe any of that bilge.”
“A little. He was very persuasive.”
“The man has switched sides! He was trying to get you off the case. I wonder how much Allingham paid him to switch?”
Corey stared at me. “That son of a bitch! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You’re still in the learning stage. Did he tell you he was going back to Los Angeles?”
Corey nodded.
“Let’s check him out,” I said, and picked up the phone.
Information gave me the number and I dialed it. A woman’s voice said, “Kronen Investigative Services.”
“This is Bertrand Ehrlich,” I told her. “Is Mr. Kronen available?”
“Judge Bertrand Ehrlich?” she asked.
“That’s
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