“Perhaps not,” I said, “but we can sure pin a manslaughter rap. And that isn’t going to help your divorce case any.”
Sellers had been doing a lot of thinking. He nodded to Bertha. “You’re still a deputy,” he said. “Get her up out of there; let’s go before some smart lawyer gets a writ.”
Chapter 19
Headlines in the paper said:
The article went on to state that in an investigation of the death of a blackmailer, well-meaning witnesses in Colorado had thrown the police off the track by giving them the license number of a car which had later proved to have been out of the state at the time; that a character known as Tessie the Tumbler had, by a stroke of luck, picked that car for one of her fraudulent tumbling acts by which she had in the past victimized insurance companies.
In this instance it seemed that the driver of the car had preferred to make an out-of-court settlement, but under the circumstances felt no desire to prosecute “Tumbling Tess,” as she was known to the police, for obtaining money by false pretences.
The newspaper even mentioned that Frank Sellers had modestly admitted that a local firm of private detectives, Cool and Lam, had been of considerable assistance to him in clearing up the case.
The Colorado police were investigating the death of the blackmailer but it was doubtful if they would prosecute the wealthy socialite as police felt the death had been due to a “combination of circumstances.”
The woman’s husband, one of Denver’s leading and influential businessmen, had interceded on her behalf. While the couple were in the process of getting a divorce, an amicable property settlement had been worked out and there was even talk of a reconciliation.
In any event the Denver police, glad to have a puzzling death straightened out, had uncovered evidence linking the dead man to a whole series of nefarious blackmail plots.
Elsie was looking over my shoulder as we read the paper, hot off the press.
Her arms came around my neck. “Donald,” she breathed, “you’re wonderful!”
The phone rang.
Elsie picked up the instrument, said, “Mr. Lam’s office... He’s busy now... Just a moment.”
She turned to me. “Colton C. Essex,” she said.
I reached for the instrument. “Hello, Essex,” I said.
“Seen the papers?” he asked.
“Just reading them.”
“Everything under control?”
“Perfectly safe. I see the Badgers may become reconciled.”
“That’s right.”
“Where will that leave the other woman in the case?”
“She’s okay. She got a nice chunk of money for co-operating. She knows she can’t win ’em all. Anyhow, I’m keeping my eye on her — you know what I mean, looking out for her interests.”
“Yes,” I said, “I know what you mean.”
There was a moment’s silence. “You had Badger well hidden?” I asked.
Essex said, “Hell, he was in Mexico City within five hours of the time they picked you up in Colorado. What kind of a lawyer do you think I am?”
“A pretty good one,” I said, “provided you remember your comment that we weren’t working for peanuts.”
He said, “That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.
“I think Mrs. Badger may be able to beat the rap in Colorado, but she’s going to need her husband’s influence, and no more evidence against her than is, what you might say, readily available.
“Mr. Badger feels that you need a good, long vacation where you won’t be interrupted by telephone calls or people who want to talk to you about this case. I’ve been instructed to put a fifty thousand-dollar deposit into your account covering your services to date and giving you an opportunity to take a good, long vacation. You will, of course, want to have your secretary with you.”
“Where we can’t be questioned by the Colorado police?” I asked.
“I didn’t say that,” he said, hastily. “You said that.”
“Thanks a lot,” I told him.
“You should start on that vacation immediately.”
“I never was one to dilly-dally with a vacation,” I said, “but I can’t just leave all my business.”
“We didn’t expect you to,” he said. “Your secretary can handle matters which come up while you’re in Acapulco. Take her along. Be sure to take her.”
I hung up the telephone.
Elsie had been monitoring the conversation on the other phone. Her eyes were wide. “Fifty — thousand — dollars,” she said. “Good heavens, what will Bertha say when she hears about all these developments?”
I said, “I know exactly what she’ll say. She’ll say, ‘Fry me for an oyster. I never could understand this goddam sex stuff. Here we get this client out of a jam with his wife, and then he goes and gets all tangled up again. Sex doesn’t make sense.’
“That’s what Bertha will say, but right now you start looking up planes to Mexico City and Acapulco. We’ll go to Tijuana and embark from there.”
“Donald, do I... that is, am I really supposed—”
“You heard what the lawyer said,” I told her.
“It will take me a while to pack and— Oh, Donald, I feel terribly self-conscious!”
“No packing,” I said. “We go down to the parking lot, get in the car and head for Tijuana, just like that.
“We’ll let Essex break the news to Bertha after we’re safely out of the country. This is business. We have to see a client.”