“The woods are full of contemporary American painters, and there are always new ones coming up.”
“Yes, and a lot of them are fakes and impostors. We’re dealing with one here, with this Burke Damis. I believe the name’s an alias, one he picked out of a hat.”
“What makes you think so?”
“The point is, he’s given me no reason to think otherwise. I tried to question him about his background. His answers were evasive. When I asked him where he came from, he said Guadalajara, Mexico. He’s obviously not Mexican and he admitted having been born in the States, but he wouldn’t say where. He wouldn’t tell me who his father was or what he’d done for a living or if he had any relatives extant. When I pressed him on it, he claimed to be an orphan.”
“Maybe he is. Poor boys can be sensitive, especially under cross-examination.”
“He’s no boy, and I didn’t cross-examine him, and he’s got the sensitivity of a wild pig.”
“I seem to have struck out, Colonel.”
He sat back in his chair, unsmiling, and ran his hand over his head. He was careful not to dislodge the wave in his meticulously brushed white hair.
“You make it very clear that you think I’m taking the wrong approach to this problem. I assure you I am not. I don’t know how much my wife told you, or how much of what she told you was true – objectively true. The fact remains that my daughter, whom I love dearly, is a fool about men.”
“Mrs. Blackwell did mention,” I said carefully, “that a similar situation had come up before.”
“Several times. Harriet has a great desire to get married. Unfortunately she combines it with a genius for picking the wrong man. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not opposed to marriage. I want my daughter to get married – to the right man, at the proper time. But this idea of rushing into it with a fellow she barely knows–”
“Exactly how long has she known Damis?”
“No more than a month. She picked up with him in Ajijic, on Lake Chapala. I’ve visited Mexico myself, and I know what kind of floaters you can get involved with if you’re not careful. It’s no place for an unattached young woman. I realize now I shouldn’t have let her go down there.”
“Could you have stopped her?”
A shadow stained his eyes. “The fact is I didn’t try. She’d had an unhappy winter, and I could see she needed a change. I was under the impression she would stay with her mother, my former wife, who lives in Ajijic. I should have known better than to depend on Pauline. I naturally supposed she’d surround her with the appropriate social safeguards. Instead she simply turned her loose on the town.”
“Forgive my bluntness, but you talk about your daughter as though she wasn’t responsible. She isn’t mentally retarded?”
“Far from it. Harriet is a normal young woman with more than her share of intelligence. To a great extent,” he said, as if this settled the matter, “I educated her myself. After Pauline saw fit to abandon us, I was both father and mother to my girl. It grieves me to say no to her on this marriage. She’s pinned her hopes of heaven to it. But it wouldn’t last six months.
“Or rather it would last six months – just long enough for him to get his hands on her money.” He propped his head on his fist and peered at me sideways, one of his eyes half closed by the pressure of his hand. “My wife doubtless told you that there is money involved?”
“She didn’t say how much.”
“My late sister Ada set up a half-million-dollar trust fund for Harriet. She’ll come into active control of the money on her next birthday. And she’ll have at least as much again when I – pass away.”
The thought of his own death saddened him. His sadness changed perceptibly to anger. He leaned forward and struck the top of my desk so hard that the pen-set hopped. “No thief is going to get his paws on it!”
“You’re very certain in your mind that Burke Damis is one.”
“I know men, Mr. Archer.”
“Tell me about the other men Harriet wanted to marry. It may help me to understand the pattern of her behavior.” And the pattern of her father’s.
“They’re rather painful to contemplate. However. One was a man in his forties with two wrecked marriages behind him, and several children. Then there was a person who called himself a folk singer. He was a bearded nonentity. Another was an interior decorator in Beverly Hills – a nancy-boy if I ever saw one. All of them were after her money. When I confronted them with the fact, they bowed out more or less gracefully.”
“What did Harriet do?”
“She came around. She sees them now as I saw them from the beginning. If we can keep her from doing something rash, she’ll see through Damis eventually, just as I do.”
“It must be nice to have X-ray eyes.”
He gave me a long black look from under his formidable eyebrow. “I resent that remark. You’re not only personally insulting but you seem decidedly lukewarm about my problem. Apparently my wife really got to you.”
“Your wife is a very charming woman, and possibly a wise one.”
“Possibly, in some situations. But Damis has her hoodwinked – she’s only a woman after all. I’m surprised that you should be taken in, however. I was told that you run one of the best one-man operations in Los Angeles County.”
“Who told you that?”
“Peter Colton, of the D. A.’s office. He assured me I couldn’t find a better man. But I must say you don’t exhibit much of the bloodhound spirit.”
“You may have enough of it for both of us.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve got the case all wrapped up and tied with a noose before I’ve started on it. But you haven’t given me any concrete evidence.”
“Getting the evidence is your job.”
“If it’s there. I’m not going to cook up evidence, or select it to confirm you in your prejudices. I’m willing to investigate Damis on the understanding that the chips fall where they fall.”
He threw his Roman-emperor look around my office. It bounced off the drab green filing cabinet with the dents in it, riffled the flaking slats of the Venetian blind, and found the ugly pin-ups on the wall all guilty as charged.
“You feel you can afford to lay down terms to your prospective clients?”
“Certain terms are always implied. Sometimes I have to spell them out. I have a license to lose, and a reputation.”
His face had entered the color cycle again, starting with pink. “If you consider me a threat to your reputation–”
“I didn’t say that. I said I had one. I intend to keep it.”
He tried to stare me down. He used his face like an actor, making his brow horrendous, converting his eyes into flinty arrowheads pointed at me between slitted lids. But he grew tired of the game. He wanted my help.
“Of course,” he said in a reasonable tone, “I had nothing in mind but a fair, unprejudiced investigation. If you got any other impression, you misread me. You realize my daughter is very dear to me.”
“I can use a few more facts about her. How long has she been back from Mexico?”
“Just a week.”
“This is the seventeenth of July. Does that mean she returned on the tenth?”
“Let me see. It was a Monday. Yes, she flew back on Monday, July tenth. I met them at the airport around lunchtime.”
“Damis was with her?”
“He was very much with her. It’s what all the trouble is about.”
“Just what kind of trouble has there been?”
“Nothing overt, yet. We’ve had some – ah – discussions in the family. Harriet has been quite obstinate, and Isobel, as you know, is on the side of the lovebirds.”
“You’ve talked to Damis?”
“I have, on two occasions. The three of us had lunch at the airport last Monday. He did a good deal of talking, about theories of painting and the like. Harriet sat there enthralled. I was not impressed.