The guy looked like a tall Texan. He was wearing Pendleton pants and cowboy boots. He must have been well over six feet two and he had the kind of face that would break into a smile at the slightest excuse.
“How are you, Mr. Lam, how are you? It’s certainly nice of you to come out. Please sit down there.” He had a close-clipped iron-gray mustache which gave strength to his mouth.
I shook hands and told him I was glad to have an opportunity to meet him, that he had a nice-looking subdivision and it looked as though it was headed for a big success.
“Of course it is, of course it is,” Holgate said. “We have some of the finest homesites anywhere in this part of the country but we’ve got something more than that, Lam. We have an opportunity for people to make money.
“We got in on this subdivision right, and we’re selling it right. We’re splitting the potential profits with our customers.
“I don’t mind telling you I’m a fast worker. I get into a place, clean it up and get out. I don’t like these subdivisions that drag on and on and maybe a week or two will pass before there’s a sale; sometimes a month — not for me. I buy property right and then I split the potential profits with the customers so that I move the whole subdivision within a short time, then make a blanket deal with some financial company to take over what lots are left and go on to something else.
“That way I make a low margin of profit but I have a fast turnover. I— Hell’s bells, Lam, I sound like I’m trying to sell you a lot. I’m not — although if you did want to put some money into one of these lots it would be the slickest, safest method of doubling, tripling and quadrupling your money you ever saw.
“Well, here I go again, getting too enthusiastic and talking real estate. I wanted to talk to you about the accident.”
“Oh, yes,” I said.
“Would you mind telling me just what you saw, Mr. Lam?”
I said, “Well, it was about half-past three o’clock in the afternoon on the thirteenth of August.”
Holgate nodded to Lorraine Robbins. She dropped into a chair, whipped a shorthand book off the desk and her pen started flying over the pages.
“If you don’t mind,” Holgate said, “I’ll ask my secretary to take a few notes so that we can keep things straight. There’s so much going on around here I try to make notes of everything; otherwise I forget... I don’t think my memory is as good as it used to be. How’s yours?”
“Seems to be working all right,” I told him.
“Well, you’re young,” he said. “It should be. Now let’s see, where were we?”
“Three-thirty on the afternoon of August thirteenth,” Lorraine said.
“Oh, yes. Would you care to go on, Mr. Lam?”
I said, “I was walking on the west side of Main Street approaching the intersection of Seventh and Main. Over on the east side where northbound traffic was going I noticed a string of cars. I guess there were probably four or five in the string — well, probably four.
“Now, I was noticing the intersection because I intended to turn to the right and cross over to the east side of Main Street and I was wondering just how it was going to be for catching the traffic signal, so I was watching the light.
“The light changed from green to amber. The car that was nearest the intersection could have gone through all right but the driver slammed on his brakes hard. The car behind him almost hit him. The next car was driven by a young woman — very attractive— Now wait a minute. I think it was the next car. There may have been three between her and the corner but the way I see it now there were only two.”
I closed my eyes as though trying to recall the scene.
“Yes, yes, go ahead,” Holgate said.
“This car was a light car. I don’t know whether it was foreign-made or not. It was a sports car and the top was down. I remember that because I could see this girl when she got hit; that is, when the car got hit. I could see her neck snap back — I mean, her head snap back.”
“Yes, yes, go on,” Holgate said.
“It was a big car that was behind,” I said. “That is, not the biggest but a good-sized automobile, a Buick as I remember, a big one, and — well, that man simply didn’t stop in time. He’d been out in the left-hand lane, evidently trying to pass, because when I first noticed him he was swerving back to the right to get in the line of traffic and—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Holgate said. “Now, did you see that man clearly enough to recognize him?”
I shook my head. “Not then.”
He frowned slightly.
“Later on after the accident,” I said, “I saw him get out of the car.”
“You recognized him then?”
“Not at the time because I didn’t know him, but I recognize him now. You were that man.”
A big smile broke over his face. “And whose fault would you say it was?”
“Lord, there’s no question about whose fault it was,” I said. “I’m sorry to say this, Mr. Holgate, and I hate to be a witness against you, but it was your fault all the way. You slammed into the rear of the car. That is, I say you slammed into it. You started putting on your brakes hard about three or four feet before you got to the rear of the car. That cut down the impact a lot — in fact it was surprising how little noise the accident made. But nevertheless you hit that light car with sufficient force so that — well, I saw the girl’s head snap back.”
“Yes, yes, and then what happened?”
“She got out of the car, you got out of your car, you evidently showed each other your driving licenses and made notes.”
“How did the young woman act when she got out of the car?”
“Sort of dazed,” I said. “She kept putting her right hand to the back of her neck, and then when you showed her your driving license and as she made a note of the name, she kept rubbing her neck with her left hand.”
“Then what?”
“Then she got in the car and drove away.”
“Do you know the exact location of this accident?”
“Sure. It was on the east side of Main Street just before you come to the Seventh Street intersection. It was just about in front of the entrance to that motion picture theater there.”
Holgate said, “Lam, I’m going to ask you to do something.”
“What?”
“I want an affidavit from you.”
“Well, why not?” I asked.
He beamed at the secretary and said, “Draw it up, Lorraine. Use his exact words, make it verbatim.”
She nodded, got up and crossed the office.
When she had gone out I said, “There’s a remarkable young woman.”
“One of the most efficient secretaries I’ve ever had,” Holgate said. “But I have to have efficiency.”
“She’s also one of the most beautiful,” I said. “And her assistant seems to be no slouch either.”
Holgate grinned. “Window dressing, Lam. I have to have them beautiful. Did you ever buy a lot in a subdivision?”
“I don’t know that I have.”
“Well, there has to be a first time sometime, Donald. You’d better buy one in this subdivision and really make some money.
“You understand I can’t give you any money for your testimony. That would make it worthless. But I could give you the inside track on one of our lots and— How I talk. I can’t keep away from making a sales pitch. What were we talking about, Donald?”
“Secretaries.”
“Oh yes,” he said. “You know, you should see the other one. She’s a very wonderful blonde.”
“You have three?”
“Lorraine has two assistants. The other one is off today — but what I was going to say was, Donald, that if you ever bought a lot in a subdivision from a salesman and then came in to have the secretaries make out the papers and there was some crabby, hatchet-faced battle-ax on the job, you’d get out of the buying mood.