“However, the ineffectual clown must have his say. If I impressed you none whatever in life, I shall do so in death.
“You believe you are married to respectable, moral women of great character. But the fact is I’ve been loved by the wife of one of you. I discovered a kind and degree of passion in her you never dreamed existed. On many occasions — at my whim and desire — she has come to me.
“So, friends, while there was an element of condescension in your friendship for me, I must assure you it was ill-founded. I cannot depart permanently as nothing more than the buffoon who was tolerated around the clubhouse and at the cocktail gathering.
“Instead, I prefer to die knowing I have assumed an importance in your lives and an image in your minds it was never my privilege to enjoy during a lifetime that, I must confess, was most lonely, though not altogether frustrating.
“Most Sincerely,
Hadley Lawrence dropped the letter to his desktop. An absolute silence held the three men as they stared at the letter.
Clary’s face grew redder with each passing second. His upper and lower teeth made contact through his cigar. Ames lost all appearance of being the medical harbinger of hope.
Lawrence began trembling. “I know one thing — it couldn’t have been Lucille he was talking about!”
Ames jerked his eyes up to glare at the lawyer. “Are you implying that Doris...”
“Or Maureen?” Clary demanded. He reached across the desk and grabbed Lawrence by the lapel. With an angry sound, Lawrence pulled away.
Lawrence stood at bay before the two men a moment. Nineteenth-hole jocularity might never have transpired between the three men. They stood with hackles up, memory of friendship growing dim.
“I’m not implying a thing,” Lawrence said finally, straightening his jacket. “He referred to someone other than Lucille, that’s all.”
“I won’t stand here and listen...” Clay began.
Ames reached and stopped Clary’s fresh movement toward Lawrence.
“I suggest we be as objective about this as we can,” Ames said.
“You’re a doctor,” Clary said. “You know how to be clinical. But I...”
“A man who runs an important newspaper should have the same sort of self control,” Ames said. “So should a prominent attorney. Now — let’s not play right into his hands.”
A faint relaxation came to Lawrence’s narrow shoulders. “Of course, you’re right, Mal. Nicky hoped we’d react in just this way.”
“Certainly. No doubt he visualized the scene and got some satisfaction from it.”
“A shoddy way to die, if you ask me,” Clary said.
Lawrence reseated himself. “Shoddy, yes. But I suppose you can’t go through an entire lifetime, carrying the things Nicholas Colgren had inside of him, without it affecting you.”
“The point is,” Ames said, “what are we going to do about it?”
“Destroy the letter,” Lawrence said.
“You can burn the paper,” Clary said, “but you’ll never destroy the content of the letter. It’ll be with us forever; we can’t escape that.”
Lawrence put his head in his hands and groaned. Clary lit a fresh cigar and went over and dropped into a chair. Ames stood disconsolate in the middle of the room, looking from one to the other of them.
He leaned across the desk, grasped Lawrence’s shoulder, and shook it.
“Hadley... get a grip on yourself, man! And you too, Ronald. Get on your feet. On your feet, I said!”
When he had their full attention, Ames said, “We must face and accept this thing squarely, you know. We have no other choice. And then... then we must never speak of it again. What has happened in this office tonight must never go beyond it.”
“You mean we let Nicky get away with it?” Clary demanded.
“What would you suggest doing to him?” Ames said.
“The rotten coward!” Lawrence’s voice shuddered. “Knowing he would be out of our reach, beyond harm...”
“Mal,” Clary said, “are you suggesting I look at my wife for the rest of my life without ever really knowing the truth?”
“It isn’t what Nicky anticipated,” Ames said. “It’s the only way we can cross him.”
Ames let his words sink in. Then he went on: “We all know the women in question, and we know that Nicky did have a certain boyish appeal, a unique charm. We can assume that he deliberately used every means at his disposal to cultivate the affair. And he had many years in which to do it. It made for a situation which in all probability will never recur. It’s more than possible that the woman in question will never step out of line again, with Nicky gone.”
“I’ve got to know!” Clary said. “I can’t stand...”
He broke off. He stared at the other two men. His face colored. “Don’t get me wrong! I know damn well my wife isn’t the woman!”
“Then you just hang onto that belief,” Ames said. “Nicky has given each of us the power to destroy himself. You remember it. It was what Nicky wanted.”
Clary and Lawrence breathed heavily in the silence.
“You’re right, of course,” Clary said grudgingly.
“But it’s going to be hard,” Lawrence said, “looking at her across the breakfast table, seeing her before her mirror combing her hair out...”
“Regard it,” Ames advised, “as the penance we must make for the faulty friendship we gave Nicky.”
His words seemed to bring a feeling of finality into the office. The three became stiff and awkward as they regarded one another.
Ames turned abruptly and started toward the door. He paused, looked over his shoulder. “Meet you at the. club usual time Sunday?”
Clary busied himself relighting his cigar. “As a matter of fact, I won’t be able to play golf this weekend. My wife... There’s an antique show she mentioned wanting to see.”
Lawrence’s hands moved about rapidly, doing nothing with the items on his desktop. “Been neglecting the roses,” he murmured. “Guess I’d better do some cutting and spraying Sunday, and water the lawn:”
Ames nodded, more to himself than to them. There was a brief glint of regret and loss in his eyes. Then he went quickly from the office.
His footsteps echoed as he left the deserted building.
As he got into his car, he thought that it was too bad Clary and Lawrence had been involved. It had all been between him and Nicky, really, from the evening he’d returned early from the medical convention and followed Doris secretly to a certain motel.
The Lure and the Clue
by Edwin P. Hicks
Once a cop, always a cop, is a truism that may snap one out of the lethargy of retirement, and turn him into a conquering hero.
Turning my boat around to head out of the cove, I saw the other boat bearing down and headed straight for me. It came with a rush, under the full power of a 40-horse outboard motor and never slackened speed until at the last second the big guy in the stern cut the motor completely. The waves raced in great rolls, and Lucy, that’s the name of my boat, rocked wildly. If it had happened in the streets in the old days I’d have given the fellow a ticket for reckless driving.
It was my fishing cabin neighbor, Bill White, whom I’d met the day before, and two companions. White, who was around 60 and who claimed to be an Oklahoma City oil man, was dressed like a dandy — red coat, red cap, and khakis. The man in the bow, medium sized and roughly dressed, was about 45. He held a pair of field glasses and grinned insolently at me, getting a kick out of the way my boat was rocking. My ex-police sense told me this gentleman was a cop-hater and dangerous.