It made me feel better about our case. If Great Britain was violating centuries of international law for security purposes, then maybe identifying this corpse was worth our time. It remained to be seen whether Razor Fraser agreed.
CHAPTER TEN
Fraser’s Place was a short walk from the train station on a quiet residential street. I still had a bit of a limp, and my arm was stiffening up, but a brisk walk felt good. Fraser worked in one side of a semi-detached and lived in the other. A gleaming brass plaque marked the office entrance, and as I opened the door I tried to recall the name of his receptionist. What I did remember was her manicure. She’d spent most of her time filing her nails, and I doubted she did much typing with them.
It didn’t matter. Sitting at the receptionist’s desk was Mrs. Fraser herself. Her nails weren’t as perfect as her predecessor’s, but she was actually working, typing away at a rapid pace.
“Right on time, Captain Boyle,” she said. “So nice to see you again.”
“Same to you, Mrs. Fraser. I didn’t expect to see you at work. You’re pretty fast with those keys.”
“I worked in an office before we were married,” she said. “And I got bored sitting around, doing nothing. Now Stanley and I are together all day, and we save on the expense, of course.” She smiled, queen of her domain, having vanquished the competition.
“That sounds great,” I said, wondering what Stanley thought about the staffing change. “Is he available?”
“Yes, go right in. But you’ve only got twenty minutes. We’ve got a new client coming in and you’ll have to be done by then. A local, law-abiding client, I am pleased to say.” She looked quite pleased indeed.
“They’re the best kind,” I said, and went in.
“What’s this all about?” Fraser said as I sat across from him.
“What happened to the previous receptionist? Too receptive?” I figured if he was going to give me a hard time, I’d give it right back.
“She went off with a Yank,” he said. “Dorothy and I decided to put her skills to use. It’s worked out well for us.”
“That must be dandy,” I said. Stanley Fraser was a man with too much around the middle and not enough on top, but he dressed up well. He adjusted his cuff links and straightened his tie. His suit looked expensive; he certainly wasn’t making do with worn-out clothes. “Actually, I’m here to ask for your help.”
“Do you need a lawyer, Captain Boyle? If not, then I don’t see how I can help you.”
“Listen, Mr. Fraser,” I said, hoping to score points for not calling him Razor. “Let’s start over, okay? I’m not here to cause trouble for you. I’m only seeking your assistance.”
“All right,” Fraser said, sighing and leaning back in his chair. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I’m trying to identify the body of a man about thirty years old, probably a civilian. He washed up on the beach at Slapton Sands a few days ago.”
“What makes you think I would know about a dead body?” Fraser said. “Are you accusing me?”
“No, not at all,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s imperative that we find out who this person is, in order to rule out any possibility of an enemy agent having gained access to a highly restricted area.” That got his attention.
“Did this person drown?” Fraser said.
“Murdered,” I said. “Shot.” I went over what we knew from the body and the movements of the tides.
“So if this was a German spy, the worry is that others might have been in the restricted area as well?” He leaned forward in his chair, caught up in the drama.
“Exactly. We can’t find any record of a missing person who matches his description. The problem we have is obvious, Mr. Fraser. Was this person a spy? If so, we must assume his confederates saw or learned things we don’t want the Nazis to know, especially with the invasion of France right around the corner.”
“Therefore,” Fraser said, steepling his fingers in front of him, “if he was a spy, you’ll have to put a lot of man power into the hunt for others. But if you can determine that he was something else, then that takes the heat off you.”
“It’s for the war effort, Mr. Fraser, not me. The boys who will be storming the beaches.”
“Yes, yes, quite,” Fraser said, waving away the distinction. “This is where I must say I have no idea why you’ve come to me, and that none of my clients would be involved in any sinister criminal activity.”
“Consider it said.”
“You’ve talked about wanting to identify this body,” Fraser said. “Nothing about apprehending the killer.”
“That is secondary at this point,” I said. I thought Fraser might pick up on that distinction, with his lawyer’s gift for legal nitpicking.
“Do you have reason to believe the victim was engaged in a criminal enterprise?” Fraser said.
“It’s a guess, but sure,” I said. “A civilian, in decent physical condition, not in the military. We’re fairly sure of that, since he doesn’t match any AWOL reports. I’m thinking a serious criminal conviction when he was younger.”
“Any number of medical conditions could have kept him out of the service,” Fraser said.
“Sure, but why hasn’t anyone reported him missing then? If he were involved in illegal activities, people who knew him would be less likely to report him missing. Being away for long periods would be par for the course.”
“I don’t disagree with you, Captain Boyle. It is a good guess. But what I think you are asking is quite difficult.”
“I’m not asking you to rat out a client,” I said. “All I want to know is if you’ve heard through the grapevine of anyone getting rubbed out within the past three months or so. A turf war, maybe something like that.”
“You sound like a gangster film,” Fraser said. He tapped his fingers together again and stared past me. He knew something; I could tell.
“Are you branching out into legit clients?” I asked. “Mrs. Fraser said you have an appointment with a regular citizen.”
“That would be admitting that my other clients were less than legitimate businessmen,” Fraser said.
“Hey, we’re not in court,” I said. “I’m only asking for some help here. It could save lives; British lives, American, French, I don’t know. But that’s got to count for something.”
“Even to a man like me, you mean?” He was right. I’d had to stop myself from saying it out loud.
“Especially to a man like you,” I said. It wasn’t time to soft-soap the guy. He knew it and I knew it. He got thugs and killers off the hook. This was a chance to do something decent, something that he could tell his wife in whispers; he could make her promise never to tell anyone that he’d helped catch a spy, or however he spun the story out to her. Yeah, especially to a guy like Razor Fraser.
“There may be something,” Fraser said.
“Okay,” I said, waiting for him to tell me. He fidgeted and wet his lips, as if he couldn’t get his body to go along with this new idea of helping someone in a uniform.
“We are trying to stick to the straight and narrow out here,” he said. “Dorothy wanted a change. She threatened to leave me if I didn’t get a new clientele.”
“Apparently Dorothy doesn’t understand the rules,” I said. Once you’re a shyster for the mob in any country, you don’t retire.
“No, she doesn’t. But that’s part of what I’m trying to tell you. There have been some conflicts. Two of my biggest clients have been killed.” He spoke in hushed tones-whether by habit or because his wife’s ear was at the door, I didn’t know.
“So that frees you up to be a rural attorney?”
“Almost,” Fraser said. “I must admit, it would be easier, and it would be nice not to be threatened all the time.”
“Threatened?”
“With what would happen if I lost a case,” Fraser said. My heart bled.
“Okay. Spill. What do you know?” I thought about threatening him myself, but held off. If he really liked the idea of a change, he had to see me as a safe bet, not another gangster.