Others (6 page)

‘She didn’t tell me it all, did she?’ I said, and Etta was hesitant.

‘Oh, what the hell, she is a mutual client, so I think it’s okay to share a confidence with you. But it
is
in confidence, right?’

‘Hey, it’s me you’re talking to. When have I ever broken a confidence?’

‘Yes, I know, you’re a pro. And in this case, I think it might be useful for you to hear the whole story. It won’t help you find the missing child - if there is one - but you’ll at least understand why if s so important to Shelly Ripstone.’

‘So it isn’t just because she’s a lonely widow.’

‘Well, that might be part of it, but there’s also a much more material side to the whole thing.’

Becoming more interested, I leaned forward on the table.

‘Did she tell you how her husband died?’ Etta asked.

I raised my eyebrows, not an easy thing for me to do. ‘She said he’d had a heart attack.’

‘She didn’t explain the circumstances?’

I shook my head slowly, wondering.

‘No, I suppose there’s no reason why she should have.’ Etta put down the brandy and sipped coffee again. Whirling ceiling fans sent down cool, welcoming breezes. ‘It was downright embarrassing for her, in fact’

‘Come on, Etta, get to it’

‘Gerald Ripstone had a heart attack while he and his wife were, uh, well you know, Dis…’

While they were making love?’ I grinned again. ‘Not good for her, maybe, but not a bad way for him to go.’

‘He shouldn’t have been at it at all, his doctor had warned him to take things easy.’

‘I thought the heart attack was a one-off, the first and fatal one.’

‘She told you that? No, Gerald had been suffering from a heart condition for some time. He really should have been more careful. At least, he shouldn’t have used Viagra, especially combined with the drugs he was on.’

‘Well, I guess it’s natural enough for a man to want his own wife, no matter how debilitated he is. And his wife is an attractive woman.’

That’s as maybe. I’m more inclined to think that Shelly persuaded him to use the pill. As for Gerald, he was desperate for a son and heir. Needed someone to leave his business to, someone who’d carry on his name. Incidentally, you won’t know the worst part about that night. The embarrassing part, that is.’

Now I was intrigued and moved even further across the table towards Etta, my back so bent I must have resembled a turtle.

‘I’m not sure I should tell you about this, mutual client or not’ She looked down into her coffee cup, just a little flustered.

‘You can’t stop there, Etta. What’ll it take to bribe you?’

She sighed. ‘You won’t let it go anyway, will you?’

I shook my head. ‘You know you want to tell me.’

She smiled, revealing small, even teeth. ‘Yes, I do, you bastard.’ She took a nip of brandy, grimaced, and chased the taste away with coffee. ‘Okay. You’ve heard of couples becoming locked together during intercourse?’

My turn to grin again. ‘I’ve witnessed dogs in that awkward state, but I always thought it was a myth as far as we humans were concerned.’

‘No, it isn’t, actually. It’s not common, but it happens -ask any experienced doctor. Sometimes a woman might panic for some reason or other while copulating and then becomes incapable of relaxing her legs, which become locked tight.’

A young mother on the next table feeding a toddler chocolate ice-cream from a glass dish glanced over. The little boy, sporting a brown moustache and beard, smacked his lips impatiently until he caught his mother’s attention once more.

Etta lowered her voice. The abdominal muscles become locked too, as well as the muscles around the vagina.’

‘Nice,’ I commented.

‘Not really. The man’s working part is gripped so tightly he just can’t break free, no matter how he tries. And I think the blood concentration in the penis because of the Viagra Gerald was using might have made things even more difficult. Personally, I think he took more than one pill and was locked in tight as a result.’

‘Pretty humiliating when you have to call in the fire brigade.’

‘No, it requires hospital treatment’ Etta’s face was quite serious. The woman, and maybe the man too by that time, has to be given a muscle relaxant so they can be separated.’

I made an ‘ouch’ sound.

‘It can quite often happen if the male partner has a heart attack while… well, while on the job. The sexual act itself raises the blood pressure, which is dangerous for anyone with a heart condition, and the woman’s fright when she realizes her lover is dying on top of her is enough to send the relevant muscles into spasms.’

I needed a cigarette, but Etta wasn’t a smoker and I’d chosen the non-smoking area of the restaurant in deference to her. Instead, I drained my second brandy.

‘Surely the Ripstones would have been aware that the strain might be too much for Gerald,’ I said.

‘You’d have thought so, wouldn’t you? Perhaps Shelly wanted her husband even more than he wanted her that night’

‘And he couldn’t resist.’

‘Or she made it impossible for him to resist’

‘She wouldn’t have -‘ I began to protest.

‘Shelly wanted his child too. She had a special reason to.’

‘If she thought she might lose her husband at any time, I suppose it’s understandable. A child might compensate -‘

Again, Etta interrupted. ‘Without an heir, she stood to lose half Gerald’s fortune.’

I pulled back a little, one good eye staring at my companion. ‘You want to explain that for me?’

When the Ripstones were first married, Gerald made a will through our firm leaving everything - his wealth, the business - to his wife and any children they subsequently might have.’

‘Only they didn’t get to have any kids.’

‘Correct. And they were never likely to. Not together, at any rate.’

I looked askance.

‘Gerald Ripstone was sterile. He consulted a specialist after a few years of marriage and no offspring, and discovered he was incapable of siring an heir. He kept it to himself, never told his wife.’

Wait. How d’you know all this?’

‘Eventually, Gerald confided in his lawyer, the senior partner of my firm, who’d become a good personal friend over the years. Howard Benson, my boss, gave me the information when I queried a specific clause in Gerald Rip-stone’s will, the part dealing with inheritance.’

‘But why wouldn’t he tell his own wife? From the way she blubbered in my office she must have thought the world of him. Surely the fact that he was firing blanks wouldn’t have mattered to her?’

Etta shrugged. Who knows why? Pride? Embarrassment? The way you’ve just expressed it shows how the male of the species views that kind of thing. You know what men are like, Dis.’

Well no, I didn’t, not in that respect, anyway. Sexual prowess or high fertility having never been an area of contemplation for me.

The point is,’ Etta went on, ‘Shelly was never aware that she couldn’t have a child by her husband. But here’s the weird thing: Gerald loved her so much and cared about the continuance of his business enough for him not to worry by whom she had a child so long as there was someone around to take care of both after he was gone. Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough confidence in his wife’s business acumen or her ability to survive without him.’

‘I can’t decide if the guy was eccentric or admirable.’

‘Probably a bit of both. If you ask me it was his way of dealing with his own guilt and self-imposed shame.’

People are complex, right? Lord knows, I’ve dealt with enough oddballs, both professionally and personally, to be aware of how complicated we mortals are.

‘Okay,’ I admitted. ‘Curious, but it makes some kind of psychological sense. It was his way of compensating for something he deemed his fault. What I don’t understand though, is why they didn’t adopt?’

‘I think it was because he wanted the child to be part of one of them. If it couldn’t come from his loins, then at least it would be from Shelly’s womb. However, I do know they were finally looking into the matter of adoption - Gerald dearly wanted a boy - just before he died. They left it too late.’

Her coffee was almost gone and I asked if she’d like another. She declined and twirled the brandy glass around by its stem. She took a sip before placing it back on the table.

‘In his will,’ Etta said, ‘Gerald gave his blessing to any new partner that Shelly might find. All part of his guilt trip, I suppose, and his obsession for the continuation of his business, which he seemed to regard as his own epitaph.’

‘But even if she had a child soon, a baby couldn’t run a business. It doesn’t make sense.’

That’s why everything has been put into a trust for now.’

What? The money
and
the business?’

‘Yep.’

The trustee…?’

The bank that helped Gerald set up business in the first place. The one that likes to say yes unless you’re asking for overdraft facilities. He’d always maintained a good working relationship with that particular bank.’

‘I can see how Shelly would be just a little upset with that arrangement. It’s treating her like a child herself.’

‘She was more than a little upset. She yelled blue murder when the terms of the will were read out to her.’

‘So the trustee looks after the business until the child is old enough to take over.’

‘And if it’s a boy, all the better.’

I let it all sink in, drawing back from the table and staring into space. The waiters and waitresses had gathered in a clique by the bar, occasionally breaking into laughter at a shared joke. The toddler at the next table grizzled for more ice-cream, while his mother wiped the mess from his face with a napkin. The restaurant’s glass door opened and a couple of wide-eyed tourists wandered through, looking around as if not knowing what to do next; one of the waiters quickly joined them and showed the way to an empty table. A gabble of Dutch or German drifted our way.

‘So that’s why she’s so keen to find her missing son,’ I murmured at last.

‘Shelly? I would think so, although I’ve tried to convince her she’ll be well taken care of without the worry of dealing with a business she doesn’t understand. She seems to have got it into her head that she’d be better off by being independent of the bank, and in a way, I can see her point. Why should she have to be accountable for every penny she spends and every business decision she makes to some faceless wonders at head office?’

‘Wait a minute.’ A new thought had struck me. This clairvoyant thing. You knew about it, didn’t you?’

Etta nodded. ‘Yes, Shelly was very excited. That’s why she wanted the name of a reputable private investigation agency.’

‘But did she visit Louise Broomfield seeking some kind of consolation for the loss of her husband, or has she always suspected her baby had lived and wanted help in finding him?’

‘What does it matter?’

‘I’m just wondering if the clairvoyant picked up Shelly’s desperation, somehow tuned into the
thought
of a missing child. Isn’t that how this kind of thing works, by extrasensory perception? Maybe Shelly just passed the idea on to this other woman.’

‘Dis, as I said: what does it matter? Your work is done as far as this case is concerned. When you rang me earlier today you said there was no record of the baby’s birth, let alone its death. Submit your fee and forget about it.’

I wished it could be that simple. Unfortunately, something was nagging at me, something I couldn’t get a handle on. Some creepy little voice way back in the deeper recesses of my mind was telling me I was more involved that I dared to imagine.

7

‘James Stewart.’

‘You got it wrong this time. It was Gary Cooper.’

Henry shook his head vehemently. ‘No. I’m telling you it was James Stewart.’

‘You’re thinking of
Mr Smith Goes to Washington,
not
Mr Deeds Goes to Town. Deeds
was made in ‘36 and
Smith
in ‘39, same year as
Destry Rides Again.’

That gave Henry cause for pause, but not for long. ‘Henry Fonda was
Smith Goes to Washington.’

‘No, you dope. Fonda was
Young Mr Lincoln.’

‘Okay, okay. So who played
The Thin Man?’
My accountant’s eyes narrowed behind his thin glasses and he grinned with expected triumph.

‘William Powell, of course.’

‘No!
That
was James Stewart!’ He banged the desk with the flat of his hand, triumph complete as far as he was concerned.

‘Sorry, Henry, but James Stewart was in
After the Thin Man,
made two years later, and he was the villain; William Powell was still playing the thin guy, Nick Charles, and Myrna Loy was his partner, Nora. His dog was called Asta, by the way, played by Asta the dog.’ I tried not to gloat.

Henry’s mouth was open, his jaw loose. He quickly regath-ered his wits though. ‘Answer me this one, then. What Roger Corman B movie did Jack Nicholson star in?’

‘Ah, you know I don’t have a clue about modern movies,’ I returned disgustedly.

‘Modem?
Modern?
This was Sixties stuff, my friend.’

‘Yeah well, anything made after the Forties escapes me. I prefer the really old ones.’

‘God, anyone would think you were ancient’

‘I just like the black and white style. Films had class in those days. Men and women dressed right and sex was suggested and all the sexier for it, and there was no profanity then. Didn’t need it: the story was everything.’

‘It was the Edgar Allan Poe one, wasn’t it?’

We both turned to look at Ida, who was sitting in the visitors’ chair, stirring her mug of tea with a plastic spoon.

What?’ I said.

‘Directed by Roger Corman, starring Jack Nicholson. He was a soldier or something. Bit part. You know - the horror film,
The Pit and the Pendulum.’

‘Oh don’t you start!’ Henry was gritting his teeth, his fists clenched. ‘It was
The Raven. The
bloody
Raven,
okay?’

Yes, but Nicholson was in the other one, too,’ Ida offered helpfully.

‘No he bloody wasn’t!’ Henry always got wound up over movies; he considered himself the oracle as far as the silver screen was concerned.

I’m not sure if Philo was deliberately winding Henry up, but he chipped in with a grin: ‘No, Jack Nicholson was in
Fall of the House of Usher.
That was the one he had a small part in.’

‘He didn’t!
He didn’t!
He didn’t come anywhere near it!’

That was it as far as the rest of us were concerned. Ida broke into a fit of giggling first, closely followed by Philo. I was just chuckling. Henry gripped the edge of his desk, glaring at all of us, not quite sure yet if the tease was deliberate. Watching Henry, usually so calm and rational, even during his racial diatribes, lose his rag over something so trivial was always fun.

He gave up in disgust, his only way out. ‘All right, we’ve all got plenty to do today, so why don’t we just get on?’

I put my empty coffee mug down beside the plastic kettle, which resided on top of a filing cabinet (it was Philo’s job to do the washing up in the small loo just off the main office), then lumbered towards Henry’s desk. It would have been awkward for me to sit on its corner, so I leaned back against it instead, arms folded over my misshapen chest.

‘Ida, you’ve got a status report for our old client, the Ownback Catalogue company. They need to know if there’s any chance of getting their money from a customer who’s suddenly gone sour on them. Henry has the details.’

Our accountant and administrator, still miffed, handed a typewritten brief from the catalogue company to Ida, who took it and began noting the details.

‘Check with the receiver’s office if the debtor is bankrupt and the County Court Office to find out if there’s any outstanding judgements against him,’ Henry instructed her.

‘I
have
done this sort of thing before, Henry,’ Ida reminded him, still scanning the two-page letter.

‘You’ll need to pay the debtor a visit on this one,’ I advised, only because I wanted the option followed up. ‘If he’s uncooperative, talk to his neighbours - and let him know you’re prepared to do that; he might just want to save himself the embarrassment.’

Want me to pad out the report?’

‘Shouldn’t have to. By the time you’ve checked on what car or cars he runs, his personal possessions, whether he’s paying rent or mortgage on his home, if he works full-time or is he on the dole, you’ll have enough to fill a couple of pages.’ It’s a common practice in this business to make sure the client feels they’re getting value for money, even on -no,
especially
on - a negative result like a non-trace.

I shifted attention to Philo, who had one foot on the desk he shared with Ida and was polishing his already glossy black shoe with a duster. ‘Henry has an accident report for you, Beau Brummell.’

‘Stewart Granger and Elizabeth Taylor,’ Henry chipped in, anxious to regain his authority as movie-buff of the century. ‘Peter Ustinov played the Prince of Wales. Or was it Robert Morley…?’ He appeared deeply worried at this fresh uncertainty.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I growled. ‘Playtime’s over, Henry. As you said, we’ve got a busy day.’

Philo’s brown eyes, meanwhile, had lit up. Accident reports were tedious to do, but for a novice, it was a step up. This was the first one I’d allowed him to carry out on his own.

‘It’s an NOF, of course.’ Henry’s mind was back on the job, but there was a certain coolness in his voice that let our apprentice know he wasn’t yet forgiven for his part in the tease. ‘No Obvious Fault,’ he added, just in case the acronym wasn’t clear to Philo (Henry loved acronyms - they lent him authority). ‘It’s cheaper for the insurance company to use us to investigate the RTA - “Road Traffic Accident” - than loss adjusters, and it’s cheaper for us to use
you.’
The last emphasis was unnecessary, but Henry was never one to forgive easily. ‘You’re to meet our client’s driver at the scene of the accident, so take the standard interview sheet with you - that way you won’t forget to ask the right questions, will you?’

What else will you need, Philo?’ I quickly asked, more to smooth over Henry’s sarcasm than to test the kid.

‘Camera, surveyor’s tape measure, and pen and pad for sketches,’ Philo answered immediately.

‘SLR camera
and
the Polaroid, dummy,’ Henry corrected. ‘You never know, the SLR shots might not come out.’

It was a valid reminder, despite the sneer that went with it. I’d taken scene-of-accident photographs myself with no film in the main camera, and high street developing was always a risk. Three sketches at least, and let me see the report before you send it off to the client. In fact, let me sign it.’

Still pleased about the assignment, Philo nodded, a smile brightening his good-looking face.

‘Report the facts only,’ Henry warned, ‘not your opinion, or the driver’s version of what happened.’

‘Gotcha.’ Philo was already reaching into a low cupboard for the cameras and film.

‘What’re your plans for the day, Dis?’ Ida enquired as she pulled on a light summer jacket and took an umbrella - it was raining outside - from the coat stand.

‘Couple of debt negotiations this morning.’ I held a Credit Consumer’s Licence, categories D and E, which allowed me officially to come up with ways a debtor might solve their financial problems. Usually it was simply to suggest they pay off a little at a time on a regular basis, or at least by laying down a lump sum towards the whole amount Sometimes there was a more complicated process to go through, the main object being to keep the whole thing away from the courts, which was always expensive and time-consuming for all parties, including myself as far as time was concerned. I preferred counselling these people, many of them in debt through no real fault of their own - a sudden loss of earnings, a death in the family - to demanding they pay up, and category D allowed for debt adjusting as well as advising, while E was what actually empowered me to collect payment if at all possible. These jobs frequently took time and patience, but if the agency handled enough of them through the year, they were quite lucrative. Sometimes it bothered me, this chasing people for money, even though I knew that many debtors were either crooks or irresponsible, and if they fell into neither of these categories, then better to deal with me than the bailiff. Ultimately, I was there to help, not to threaten or take things away.

‘And what about our Mrs Ripstone?’ Was there just a hint of malicious glee behind Henry’s smile? ‘Are you going to keep the poor woman hanging on?’

‘No, Henry.’ I turned to face him. ‘I’m going to ring her right now and tell her there’s nothing more we can do. Unless you’d like to tell her for me?’

He shook his head slowly and deliberately. That’s what being the boss is all about,’ he said.

Thanks for reminding me.’

I went into my office and, still oddly uneasy with my decision, I picked up the phone.