"Do you know where I can find her?"
"I have her address. Vic had me pick him up there one evening," He got up and walked to a small desk near the entrance to the dining room. With a bit of rummaging about in one of the drawers, he found what he was looking for, copied it on another piece of paper and handed it to me.
"Remember about leaving me out of it," he said.
"I'll do what I can," I told him, opening the door.
"Vic, dead…" he murmured again unbelievingly, running his hand through his imaginary hair.
"Dead… dead… dead…" I repeated to myself, walking down the long carpeted hall to the elevator, as if that would help to exorcise the growing, twisting sensation of fear in my chest and stomach.
It didn't help.
11
After leaving Horvell's apartment I took a cab to claim my luggage. Then I rented a car-knowing I'd be in town for a while-this time a full-size sedan.
I checked in at the TraveLodge Motel, on South Michigan Avenue, not too far from the headquarters of High Grade Hardware. I made a few phone calls, had dinner and a few drinks to untie my knots, and slept almost as deeply as Victor Talbert.
High Grade Hardware's corporate headquarters turned out to be a tall, square building of what looked to be burnished copper glinting in the bright morning sun. Outside the imposing entrance was a tall aluminum flagpole, and beneath the American flag flew the company's smaller flag, a black crossed hammer and wrench insignia on a field of white.
The reception area inside the entrance was also done up in black and white. I walked over to an astoundingly beautiful blonde seated behind a wide, bare desk and told her who I was and that I had an appointment with T. J. Harper, the personnel manager.
Harper saw me immediately, which surprised the blonde. She didn't know that after a Dale Carlon phone call the president of High Grade Hardware had passed down the word to cooperate with me. I was beginning to experience occasional exhilarating delusions of power, but I knew that I'd still bleed.
T. J. Harper's office continued the black and white motif, with a large plaque with High Grade's hammer and wrench insignia mounted on the wall behind his desk. An affable-looking man with an air of efficiency, Harper was wearing a blue pinstriped suit and a semi-military haircut that was gray wire at the temples. He smiled a nice smile and motioned for me to sit down, then sat down himself and laced his fingers on his desk top. I felt somewhat like a job applicant.
I told him I appreciated his taking the time to see me and that I wanted information about a former employee at High Grade. He didn't seem surprised when I told him the name of that former employee.
"Victor Talbert was a fine young man," he said, "an ideal employee. It was regrettable that we no longer had a niche in which to fit him. Under present conditions it simply doesn't pay to do some of the things you'd like to do."
"Did Talbert get along all right with the other employees?"
"Certainly," Harper said, as if I'd been indelicate to ask. "He had no enemies here except within the framework of honest competition. If it were possible for Victor Talbert to walk in here today, and an opening suited his qualifications, I'd rehire him without a qualm. He was strictly the victim of declining sales, and job training that became obsolete practically overnight. That sort of thing happens frequently."
"How did he take his dismissal?"
Harper unlaced his fingers and dropped his hands out of sight beneath the desk. There were faint damp spots on the polished wood where his hands had rested. "He was disappointed," Harper said, "but I explained the situation and he understood. At least he said he did."
"Did he mention what he planned to do when he left High Grade? Or have any of his prospective employers contacted you for a reference?"
Harper stood and walked to a file cabinet. He pulled open a long drawer and withdrew a thick file folder as if he'd known exactly where to reach. Seated back at his desk, he flipped the folder open and leafed through the contents.
"It's a fine record," he said. "High scores on every sort of test, several commendations from superiors. Here's what I want-yes, a bank, First Security Trust, called on the thirteenth of last month in regard to a loan application Victor Talbert had submitted to them. They learned nothing here that would discourage them from granting him the loan."
"Loan for what?"
"That I couldn't tell you. Banks don't go into detail on such matters." Teeth flashed in a confidential smile. "Usually we here at High Grade don't reveal anything we might consider personal about present or past employees. If it weren't for the extenuating circumstances in Victor's case, you wouldn't have gotten in to see me."
I'd been put in my place. Outside Harper's window I could see the corner of the white company flag cracking in the breeze.
"Of course, you found that out earlier," Harper said, still smiling.
The office was suddenly cold. "Earlier?"
Now the smile faded. "Yes, didn't you phone yesterday morning for an appointment?"
"This appointment was arranged for me."
"But I thought… Well, someone called here yesterday and requested to see me regarding Victor Talbert. The caller was informed that High Grade Hardware has a policy that forbids giving out any unauthorized personnel information."
"Did the caller leave a name?"
"No, that's why I thought you'd called." The intercom buzzed and a female voice informed Harper that someone named Mr. Sathers wanted to see him at his earliest convenience. That seemed to put Harper on edge. "Mr. Sathers is the top man," he explained.
I took my cue to get to the essentials. "Mr. Harper, did you know anything about Victor Talbert's social life, what he did after hours?"
He drummed his fingertips, thinking. "No… not really. He attended all the company functions, handled himself quite well. He was well mannered, didn't drink to excess and possessed an admirable sense of tact. I'd be very surprised if there was anything… irregular about Victor."
"He was earmarked for bigger things here, wasn't he, until the presence of a favorite nephew eased him out?"
Harper's expression didn't change but his color darkened and a vein throbbed briefly at his graying temple. "I don't know who you've been talking to," he said, "but that's hardly an accurate way of describing the situation. Sheer economics dictated that someone had to go. Victor's job specialty was no longer needed, and to utilize his talents anywhere else would have meant a costly retraining and breaking-in period."
"And the nephew had this training?"
"Precisely." He leaned back, laced his fingers again. "Mr. Nudger, at Victor Talbert's level, potential isn't enough."
I nodded. Harper couldn't tell me flatly that Talbert had potentially been the superior of the two employees.
"Not that it matters now," he said.
"It might matter," I told him, "only not to Victor Talbert."
"I understand he's been murdered. Any ideas as to who and why?"
Carlon must have had to divulge the fact of Talbert's murder to get my appointment with Harper. "None here," I said. "That's more in the police department's line."
Harper shifted in his chair and licked his lips. I could see he wanted to say more but knew he shouldn't.
"Do you have any past or present employees named Congram?" I asked.
Harper pressed his intercom button and repeated my question to his secretary in the outer office.
Within a minute she buzzed him back with a negative answer.
It had been a blind stab anyway. "What's the nephew's name?" I asked.
"Paul Madden."
"Is he in the building now?"
"Probably."
"I'd like to talk to him. And I'd like to talk to whoever was Victor Talbert's direct supervisor."
"They're busy," Harper said, "but I'll arrange it." He punched a burton on his desk phone for an inside line and cleared the way for me. I thanked him, shook hands with him and left his black and white office.