The Lofty Perch: Poached Parody, page 8
“Hi, Doc, are you free? This is Lucius Anoraq.”
“If you’re asking if I’m done for the day, the answer is yes. I was just about to head home. Is there something wrong?”
“Just a bit. I’ve got a black swan in my apartment who’s in a dead faint. The faint isn’t bothering me, but what might happen after she comes out of it sets my teeth on edge. Would you mind stopping by and have a look at her?”
“Certainly. If she comes around before I get there, don’t give her any alcohol.”
“Sure thing, Doc.”
I gave him my address, hung up, and headed back to see to Julie Fellows. Her eyes were open, and her breathing regular.
“Hi there, remember me? The fluffy dog who asks too many questions. Do you mind if I pick you up and put you on the davenport?”
She nodded, and using care, I did just that. Her body stiffened in the process, but she didn’t move otherwise. The hat she’d been wearing was smashed, and I did my best to straighten it and set it aside.
“Have you called the police yet?”
“No, not yet.”
A look of disappointment crossed her face, and she closed her eyes. When she did, I put her gun back in her bag and used the opportunity to check its contents. The package of five-hundred dollars in used small bills came with a receipt for, payment on account, Monel would never get a chance to sign.
The package I put in my pocket and closed the purse. Julie Fellows was gazing up at the ceiling, so I got a blanket from the bedroom and tucked it around her. Once done, I headed to the kitchen for another drink and waited for the doctor.
CHAPTER 28
When the doctor bustled into my apartment, he wore a handlebar mustache so long it looked glued under his nose. The chubby old wolf looked around, tossed his hat and coat over a chair, and waddled over to look down at the black swan still lying on the davenport.
“Are you here to arrest me?” she asked.
“No, I’m a doctor.”
“Am I sick?”
“Good question. Let’s take a look.” The wolf checked her vitals, asked her name, and all the other relevant stuff doctors ask their patients before giving her a pill. After that, he excused himself, and we both stepped into the kitchen.
The doctor kept his voice down while glancing toward the living room. “Let’s hear it.”
“Julie Fellows is the secretary to a client over in Pasadena. A Mrs. Lidia Hopkins-Sayers. The emu’s a bigger thug than most criminals I know. Apparently, eight years ago the first husband to Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers made an unwanted pass at the bird. What actually happened, I don’t know, but it left an effect on the swan. She won’t let a male touch her, even a casual touch gets her back up.”
“What species was the male?”
“Emu, why?”
The old wolf frowned before shaking his head and waving his hand through the air as if to wave off the question. “Nothing, I was just thinking of ducks. But I’m surprised the male was an emu. The few males I’ve met were all dominated by their wives. Made poker night a royal mess.”
“I see.” I didn’t see, but neither did I want to get caught up in one of his lectures on the sexual habits of various species. “Well sometime, and I don’t know how long, after the bungled pass, Mr. Hopkins falls from a very high perch. As in, right out his office window. Officially he jumped, but I have a feeling she thinks he either fell or was pushed.”
“And she thinks she had something to do with it?”
“You’d have to ask her that question. Mrs. Hopkins married a second time to a male named Sayers, and now that husband is dead. Through it all, she kept Julie on, but the female’s beastly to her, but the swan worships the old bird.”
The wolf pursed his lips in thought to the point he pulled at the curl of his mustache. “I’m no psychologist, but that does sound like someone is taking advantage of a neurotic.”
“I’m not going to get a lecture, am I?”
“I don’t lecture, I inform. If you want a short layman’s explanation, your bird in there has and is being abused. Mentally and emotionally at least. In some cases, the victim thinks they deserve it. It’s hard for the rational mind to understand, but I’ve seen cases where the victim will both curse and praise their abuser in the same breath. Very sad.” The doctor stopped talking and asked, “Why did she think I was here to arrest her?”
“Because of a pronghorn named, Monel. She came here after seeing him. The male’s a blackmailer, and from what little I could get out of her; I’m guessing someone killed him. The swan thinks she shot him, but the gun she’s carrying hasn’t been fired and is filled with blanks.”
“You can still hurt someone with blanks. Just ask a doctor who works on one of the Hollywood sets. It’s amazing the damage a bit of wadding or arrant piece of debris in the barrel will cause. What are you going to do now?”
“Check out the pronghorn’s place. Only for that I need someone to stay with her. Someone female. Can you call a nurse in for a day or two until I can make arrangements to get her back to her parents? They live in Wichita.”
“You don’t want her to go back to this, Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers.” The wolf shook his head. “That might be a hard sell.”
“Her father is a surgeon, if he knows what’s going on, maybe he can get her the help she needs.”
“I never took you for a knight in shining armor, saving damsels in distress. A knave perhaps, but not a damsel. Just don’t be surprised if you’re tilting at windmills. Where’s your phone? I’ll call a nurse.”
While the doctor used the phone, I checked on the swan. She looked groggy but not particularly relaxed.
“The doctor is calling a nurse to look after you for tonight. You can stay here and rest while I take care of everything, okay?”
“Will I go to jail?”
“Don’t you worry about that tonight.”
I got her wrapped up again and left her in the doctor’s care while I headed off to check on the pronghorn. When I stepped out of the elevator, I remembered her saying she’d driven, but there were no keys in her purse. The car was crookedly parked two feet from the curb with the keys still in the ignition. The Mercury convertible made for a smooth ride.
CHAPTER 29
The house at the end of Escamillo Drive sat dark and lonely, a nice place for a tryst, but a bad setup for a blackmailer. Once I had the car turned around, I parked it at the end of the block and walked back to the house.
The doorbell made a lonely sound, but no one came to the door. A quick search of the grounds offered little more than a car parked in the garage and iron porch chairs on a small patio. I walked back to the front door where, like Julie Fellows said, the key was left in the lock. It could stay there for all I cared, I needed to see inside and walked in.
I found the light switch, turned it on, and looked for the floor lamp the swan described. Once I had that back on, I turned off the wall switch. The large room ran from the front of the house to the back. A curtained archway led into a dining room off to the right while a fireplace set the stage on the left. Comfortable furniture filled the room, and on one piece sat the pronghorn in his pajamas with his feet propped up on an ottoman.
There was no missing the smell of blood, cordite, and perfume in the air.
The way Monel’s head tilted with its glassy eyed stare, he certainly looked like he was leering. One hand rested in his lap while the other hung over the side of the chair. A .32 revolver lay on the floor beneath his hand. The handle of which had a chunk out of it. The setup looked like a suicide, but Monel was a blackmailer. An unlikely profession for a person with such tendencies.
The waste basket didn’t have much in it, but the ashtray on the table held plenty of ash and butts. Three of which had bright red lipstick on them. Next to the ashtray was a half-finished glass of whiskey.
A search of the rest of the house didn’t turn up anything other than a sink full of bottles. If I reported the situation to the authorities, me finding body number three wasn’t going to go down well with the police. The doctor might be willing to protect Julie Fellows on medical grounds, but my tail was swinging in the wind.
Sniffing at the body didn’t give much more than I already knew, but when I grabbed hold of a horn to get a better view of the damage the bullet caused, the body was in full rigor. The overstuffed chair had soaked up most of the blood, and I released the horn to wipe off my hand on the carpet. In leaning down, I spotted the picture that had fallen from the wall, landing on the floor near an end table.
Always curious, I picked it up. The glass had broken, but the picture looked like a colorized print of some play where the costumed rabbit leaned out a window to address an unseen someone below. None of the other pictures on the walls were remotely similar. They were all landscapes.
The brief tickle in the back of my mind of another window and another person leaning out of a high perch had me turning the framed photo over. Written on the cardboard backing was a list of dates and amounts ranging from five hundred to one thousand dollars. Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers must have been one hell of a negotiator to have only paid a little over eleven thousand in eight years.
When I pulled off the backing, an envelope was tucked inside containing two identical photographs and a negative. The faces of the two people were fuzzy. The female was behind the male, and the male looked angry, shouting at someone on the street below. On closer inspection, I realized the emu wasn’t shouting, but screaming in fear. His feathery hands were stretched open below the windowsill. The flightless bird was falling.
The envelope, photos, negatives, and cardboard backing, I stuck in my pocket while the picture, glass, and frame I hid in the linen closet underneath a stack of towels.
When a car stopped outside, and I heard footsteps coming up the walkway, I ducked through the curtained archway.
CHAPTER 30
The front door opened and closed, but I couldn’t hear a footstep on the thick carpeting of the house. The anguished scream was another story. It hurt my ears and set my teeth on edge.
“Nice, real nice. Would you like to try again?” The voice of Mike Deter was unmistakable, but it took me a minute to recognize his wife’s.
“He’s dead, Mike. You’ve got to do something.”
“Do something? What I should do is roast your rear. We haven’t been married a year, and you’re having an affair with this piece of trash.”
“Really, Mike.”
“Don’t really, Mike, me. You’ve been followed. Sam saw you handing a package to that mole that got bumped off. Hell, even if Sam hadn’t followed you, it’s not like you two were careful. Sam reported everything to me. I should have never married a bird like you.”
Listening in to the pair’s conversation was easy. I could have been hiding in a closet upstairs and still heard every word, they were shouting so loud.
The ostrich let out a wail, but the turkey was having none of it. “Knock it off, Mary. You’re not fooling anybody. Remember, I’ve been in the movie business, I know acting when I see it. Besides, you were here last night drinking and those cigarette butts in the ashtray are yours. Don’t deny it. They’ve got your lipstick all over them. What did you do? Sit on the arm of the chair massaging his temples before putting a slug in his head?”
“Oh, Mike, darling—”
“I said knock it off. Why do you think we’re here? Did you have the brains to wipe off the gun after you killed him?”
Another heart wrenching wail was followed up by the sound of a blow after which came a harsh laugh.
“Yes, I wiped off the gun.”
“And the glass?”
“Yes, I even put his prints on the gun.” Sarcasm dripped from the female’s words.
“Not very well probably.”
The ostrich walked past the opening in the curtain, and I caught a glimpse of her lime green pantsuit and matching turban. Taking a chance, I shifted so that I could peer through the opening and see what they were doing.
“Pick up the gun and show me what you did,” said Mike Deter. When she didn’t respond, he yelled again. “I said pick it up.”
The ostrich picked up the gun, pointed it at the turkey, but didn’t pull the trigger. Her hand shook too much to aim properly, and she let the thing drop to the floor. “I should kill you, but I can’t. I’m no murderer.”
Deter pushed the tall bird out of the way so hard she fell on the floor, legs splayed. Handkerchief in hand, he picked up the gun and opened the cylinder. From his pocket he pulled several bullets and loaded the gun.
“Even if you’d tried sweetheart, the only thing in this gun was a spent cartridge. Now it’s loaded and everything is in place. Thanks for making sure your prints are all over the gun.” The turkey replaced the cylinder and set the gun on the floor.
“I don’t understand,” said the ostrich as she picked herself up off the floor.
“Simple. You’re going down for murder, and I’m making sure you do. I was here earlier today and saw what you did. Figured you’d wipe the gun, so I wanted to make sure. You’ll go down, and people will feel sorry for me. It’ll be better than having them laugh at me, and it won’t hurt my business. Problem solved.”
“So you’re going to turn me in?”
“Why not? I haven’t got any other use for you.”
“What about motive?”
The turkey sneered at the other bird. “Who cares if it was a lovers quarrel or a drunken brawl as long as you’re out of my feathers. Now let’s go.”
“And if I don’t go through with it?”
“You will, and with your looks you’ll probably get away with it.”
The ostrich stuck her beak in the air and sailed past the turkey. He followed, and I soon heard the front door open and close, followed by the sound of a car engine.
CHAPTER 31
I stood in my hiding place for some time thinking before moving. Deter had gotten it wrong, but if the turkey knew he got it wrong, he certainly didn’t care. He was too dead set on revenge for the betrayal.
The first thing I did was wipe the gun clean of any prints. The second, was to pick out all the lipstick covered cigarettes and flush them down the toilet. When I couldn’t find a second glass of whisky, I took the one sitting by the dead pronghorn and washed it out. That left the most grizzly task for last.
The act of putting fingerprints on a gun when the hand you’re trying to do it with is stiffer than a board, is difficult at best. The prints wouldn’t be good, but they’d have to do because they wouldn’t be Mary Deter’s. I didn’t have to worry about the checked rubber grip because the rough surface wouldn’t hold viable prints. An index print on the barrel, two on the trigger guard, and one clear thumbprint on the flat part behind the chamber. It was good enough, and I left the gun on the floor beside the body.
With one more look around the room, I turned the lamp on low and wiped the door handles off on my way out, including the key left in the lock.
The drive back to Hollywood was uneventful until after I parked the Mercury. Halfway back to my apartment someone called my name.
Sam Prune sat in his car with his one good eye fixed on me. “Hello, shamus.”
“Hello, Prune. Mind telling me who really dropped that dental bill? If it really had been Monel, you would have handed it right back to him.”
“Don’t tell me that you didn’t find Dr. Jacobs interesting.”
“Very, and in the same building as Josef Gatwick. Interesting enough for someone to hire a mole like Sidney Ingram.”
The corners of the chameleon’s mouth turned up in a smile. “Did you at least find out what the supplies were for?”
“Yeah, albastone for making molds of teeth, and crystobolite to cook out the wax in a mold. The process is very similar to how old gold coins were made. I spent two hours with a chatty dentist this morning who told me more than I ever wanted to hear about teeth and gold inlays.”
“Then I guess you figured out everything.”
“It’s always better to have too much information than not enough.”
Prune didn’t bite but started his car and drove off.
No one else stopped me, and when I reached the apartment door, I knocked first before opening. An otter in a nurse’s uniform with a white cap studied me as I closed the door. “Hello, I’m Lucius Anoraq. This is my apartment.”
“Yes, the doctor told me about you. Julie’s asleep at the moment and just fine. I take it she’s had quite a shock.”
“Yes, she found a murder victim. Any chance I can gather a few things? I’ll be staying at a hotel.”
“If you’re quiet about it, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“There’s not much in my cupboards. You might have to call out for something.”
As I pulled money from my wallet, the nurse said, “We should be fine for the morning. I’ve already checked your supplies and think we can make do.”
I left the money on the table and nodded. “Hopefully, I’ll be able to take her back to Wichita soon. That’ll depend on when the doctor clears her for travel.”
The swan still woke up, no matter how hard I tried not to disturb her when gathering my things. They’d dressed her in a pair of my pajamas, and with the sleeves rolled up she looked like a gosling. I held up my suitcase. “Just gathering a few things. I didn’t mean to disturb you. How are you feeling?”
“All right, I guess.” Feathered fingers picked at the sheet and her eyes lowered. “This is your bed, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you can have it for now, I’m making other arrangements, and the nurse will look after everything. There’s nothing to fear.”
“I’m not afraid. I don’t think any female can be afraid of you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The swan’s bill moved before any words came out. “I lied about, earlier.”
“I know you didn’t murder him, but it must have been quite a shock. Don’t think about it.”
“People always say to forget bad things, but you never do. Will the police come?”
