Authors: Frances Lockridge

Curtain for a Jester (31 page)

Forbes Ingraham was representing Halpern. He had men going into it. Heâ

“Wait a minute,” Weigand said. “Why Ingraham? It's out of his line. Didn't you know that?”

Halpern had not, he said, known anything about Forbes Ingraham, one way or anotherânot at first. Ingraham had got in touch with him, indirectly. “First I thought he was just a shyster. Kind of ambulance chaser, like the fellow says.” But he had asked around; learned of the status of Schaeffer, Ingraham and Webb, gone to see Ingraham.

“Figured when I saw the setup it was way out of line for us. Where'd we get that kind of money?”

But he had talked to Forbes Ingraham. And, he had been told to forget about the fee.

“Seems like he just didn't like rats,” Halpern said. “Said New York was his town and he didn't want rats taking it over, and you had to start somewhere. Funny sort of guy, wasn't he?”

“No fee at all?”

“That was his idea. I couldn't see it that way, so he says, all right, we could make it a hundred bucks.”

“He was getting places?”

But Matthew Halpern shook his big, gray head at that. He said, “Nope,” to that.

“You mean he wasn't?”

“What I mean, captainâwhy tell you if he was? See what I mean? These guys are in the rackets. So, they got protection. I don't say anything about youâfar's I know you're an honest cop. Butâyou see how it is. If we got anything, we wouldn't want to tip anybody, would we?”

“I think you're making a mistake, Mr. Halpern.”

“Maybe.”

“Mr. Ingraham's dead.”

“Yeah. The firm ain't, is it? I don't know where I stand, but could be we can pick up the pieces.”

“If the pieces are around, these ârats' you think killed Ingraham didn't get anywhere, did they?”

“Listen,” Halpern said. “I don't know who killed Ingraham. Maybe some babe got jealous. All I know is what I was doing there. That's what you wanted to know, ain't it.”

“Right,” Bill said.

“O.K. I got there about eleven, maybe a few minutes after. This dame went in to tell Ingraham I was there and comes running out, saying he's hurt. I left. I wasn't out of that place you wait in.”

“Not then,” Bill said.

Halpern looked at him.

“Mr. Ingraham probably was dead when you went in,” Bill Weigand told him. “Probably had been for fifteen minutes or so.”

Halpern stood up behind the desk. He was a very big man; he had been a powerful one. He still was powerful enough.

“You getting at something?” he asked, and the rasp was rougher in his voice.

“There is another way into the offices,” Weigand said. “You didn't know that, Mr. Halpern?”

“Through theâ” Halpern began, and stopped.

“Right,” Bill said. “Through the other office-the one Mr. Schaeffer occupied before his death. You did know about that, apparently.”

“All right,” Halpern said. “Sure. We went back there one eveningâIngraham and meâto look at some stuff I'dâto look at some stuff. He took me in what he called the back way.” The stub of the cigar moved in powerful teeth. “So what?” Halpern asked.

Bill Weigand stood up then. He said he didn't know what. Except what was obvious. He supposed obvious to Mr. Halpern. Whoever killed Forbes Ingraham could have got to him through the other office. Soâbeing in the reception room when his body was found didn't mean anything.

“You want to pin this on me?”

“On whoever did it, Mr. Halpern.”

Halpern glared at him, and was advised to take it easy.

“You got it wrong,” Halpern said. “Maybe that's the way you want to get it? Maybe these rats are pals of yours?”

“No,” Bill said. “Not of mine, Mr. Halpern. No killer is.”

“O.K.,” Halpern said. “That sounds swell, captain. Why'd I want to knock Ingraham off? We was working together to get these rats. Soâhow do you figure?”

“I don't,” Bill said. “Not yet. But I don't know what he found out, do I?”

Halpern waited. His face was very red, angry.

“It could be,” Bill Weigand said, “that he found out the wrong thing. Not what he was supposed to find out. Since he was your attorney, it would have been confidential, under the rules. But you didn't know him very well, you say. Maybeâ”

“Listen,” Halpern said, and spoke very loudly. “You going to take me in?”

Weigand shook his head.

“Then suppose you get the hell out of here,” Halpern said.

The office was Halpern's. Weigand left him in it.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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ISBN: 978-1-5040-3138-7

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