wear cord jeans and a ratty sweatshirt.”
“Haven’t seen a derby in years,” Delaney said admiringly.
“On you it looks good.”
After his hat and coat had been hung away in the hall closet, the detective was revealed in all his conservative elegance: a threepiece suit of navy flannel with muted pin-stripe, light blue shirt with starched white collar and cuffs, a richly tapestried cravat, and black shoes with a dull gloss-wingtips, of course.
“Sometimes I feel like a clown in this getup,” he said, following Delaney back to the study, “but it seems to impress the people I deal with. Beautiful home you’ve got here.”
:”Thank you.”
“You own the whole house?”
That’s right.”
If you ever want to rent out a floor, let me know. The wife and I and two kids are jammed into a West Side walk-up.”
But his comments were without bitterness, and Delaney pegged him for a cheerful, good-natured man.
” Tell me something,” he asked Pamell, “that suit fits so snugly, where do you carry your piece?”
“Here,” Daddy Warbucks said. He turned, lifted the tail of his jacket, and revealed a snub-nosed revolver in a belt holster at the small of his back. “Not so great for a quick draw, but it’s a security blanket. Do you carry?”
“Only on special occasions,” Delaney said. “Listen, can I get you anything -coffee, a cola?”
“No, but thanks. I’m up to my eyeballs in coffee this morning.”
“Well, then,” Delaney said, “why don’t you sit in that armchair and make yourself comfortable.”
“I smell cigar smoke,” Parnell said, “so I guess it’s okay if I light a cigarette.”
“Of course.”
While the detective lit up, Delaney studied the man.
Crew-cut pepper-and-salt hair. A horsey face with deep furrows and laugh crinkles at the corners of the eyes. A good set of strong choppers. A blandly innocent expression. A rugged ugliness there, but not without charm. He looked like a good man to invite to a party.
“Well …” Parnell said, leaning over to snap open his attachd case, “how do you want to do this? Want to read the stuff first or should I give you the gist of it?”
“Suppose you summarize first,” Delaney said. “Then I’ll ask questions if I’ve got any.”
“Okay,” Parnell said. “We’ll start with Doctor Julius K. Samuelson. His net worth is about one mil, give or take.
Moneywise, he’s a very cautious gentleman. CDS, Treasury nds d tax-free municipals. He owns his co-op apartment. checking account, but like I said financewise. No stocks, no tax shelters. He’s made three irrevocable charitable trustsall to hospitals with major psychiatric research departments.
Nothing unusual. Nothing exciting. Any questions?”
“I guess not,” Delaney said. “I don’t suppose you got a look at his will?”
“No, I can’t do that. I was lucky to learn about those charitable trusts. I really don’t think there’s anything in Samuelson for you, sir-lootwise. I mean, he’s not rich-rich, but he’s not hurting either.”
“You’re probably right,” Delaney said, sighing. “What about the Ellerbees?”
“Ah,” Charles Parnell said, “now it gets mildly interesting.
If you were thinking maybe the wife knocked off the husband for his assets, it just doesn’t work. He was doing okay, but she’s got megabucks of her own.”
“No kidding?” Delaney said, surprised. “How did she do that?”
“Her father died, leaving a modest pile to her mother. Two years later, her mother died. She had some money of her own as well. Diane Ellerbee inherited the whole bundle. Then, a year after that, a spinster aunt conked, and Diane really hit the jackpot-almost three mil from the aunt alone.”
“Diane was an only child?”
“She had a younger brother who got scragged in Vietnam.
He had no family of his own-no wife or kids, I mean-so she picked up all the marbles.”
“How many marbles?” Delaney asked.
“Her husband’s will hasn’t been
“Haven’t seen a derby in years,” Delaney said admiringly.
“On you it looks good.”
After his hat and coat had been hung away in the hall closet, the detective was revealed in all his conservative elegance: a threepiece suit of navy flannel with muted pin-stripe, light blue shirt with starched white collar and cuffs, a richly tapestried cravat, and black shoes with a dull gloss-wingtips, of course.
“Sometimes I feel like a clown in this getup,” he said, following Delaney back to the study, “but it seems to impress the people I deal with. Beautiful home you’ve got here.”
:”Thank you.”
“You own the whole house?”
That’s right.”
If you ever want to rent out a floor, let me know. The wife and I and two kids are jammed into a West Side walk-up.”
But his comments were without bitterness, and Delaney pegged him for a cheerful, good-natured man.
” Tell me something,” he asked Pamell, “that suit fits so snugly, where do you carry your piece?”
“Here,” Daddy Warbucks said. He turned, lifted the tail of his jacket, and revealed a snub-nosed revolver in a belt holster at the small of his back. “Not so great for a quick draw, but it’s a security blanket. Do you carry?”
“Only on special occasions,” Delaney said. “Listen, can I get you anything -coffee, a cola?”
“No, but thanks. I’m up to my eyeballs in coffee this morning.”
“Well, then,” Delaney said, “why don’t you sit in that armchair and make yourself comfortable.”
“I smell cigar smoke,” Parnell said, “so I guess it’s okay if I light a cigarette.”
“Of course.”
While the detective lit up, Delaney studied the man.
Crew-cut pepper-and-salt hair. A horsey face with deep furrows and laugh crinkles at the corners of the eyes. A good set of strong choppers. A blandly innocent expression. A rugged ugliness there, but not without charm. He looked like a good man to invite to a party.
“Well …” Parnell said, leaning over to snap open his attachd case, “how do you want to do this? Want to read the stuff first or should I give you the gist of it?”
“Suppose you summarize first,” Delaney said. “Then I’ll ask questions if I’ve got any.”
“Okay,” Parnell said. “We’ll start with Doctor Julius K. Samuelson. His net worth is about one mil, give or take.
Moneywise, he’s a very cautious gentleman. CDS, Treasury nds d tax-free municipals. He owns his co-op apartment. checking account, but like I said financewise. No stocks, no tax shelters. He’s made three irrevocable charitable trustsall to hospitals with major psychiatric research departments.
Nothing unusual. Nothing exciting. Any questions?”
“I guess not,” Delaney said. “I don’t suppose you got a look at his will?”
“No, I can’t do that. I was lucky to learn about those charitable trusts. I really don’t think there’s anything in Samuelson for you, sir-lootwise. I mean, he’s not rich-rich, but he’s not hurting either.”
“You’re probably right,” Delaney said, sighing. “What about the Ellerbees?”
“Ah,” Charles Parnell said, “now it gets mildly interesting.
If you were thinking maybe the wife knocked off the husband for his assets, it just doesn’t work. He was doing okay, but she’s got megabucks of her own.”
“No kidding?” Delaney said, surprised. “How did she do that?”
“Her father died, leaving a modest pile to her mother. Two years later, her mother died. She had some money of her own as well. Diane Ellerbee inherited the whole bundle. Then, a year after that, a spinster aunt conked, and Diane really hit the jackpot-almost three mil from the aunt alone.”
“Diane was an only child?”
“She had a younger brother who got scragged in Vietnam.
He had no family of his own-no wife or kids, I mean-so she picked up all the marbles.”
“How many marbles?” Delaney asked.
“Her husband’s will hasn’t been
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