‘If I were in Brandon’s place, knowing she was Sternwood’s daughter, I’d leave her strictly alone. I would think of my job first.’
Lepski looked pityingly at him.
‘You’re kidding yourself. She even turned me on, and I was with her for less than ten minutes. I bet he was with her last night!’
‘So maybe, but that doesn’t prove a thing. I know the guy, I’ve done insurance business with him. He would no more rip a hooker than I would. So okay, maybe he and the girl were screwing. Where does that get us?’
Lepski frowned, pulling at his underlip.
‘After leaving her, he could have walked right into the killer, and is too scared to explain why he was on the murder scene. Anyway, who knows what goes on in a man’s mind? He could have flipped his lid and ripped the girl.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘We’ll report to the Chief.’ Lepski was burning for action. ‘If he gives us the green light, then we talk to Brandon and take him apart.’
‘Shouldn’t we check on these other three guys who own golf ball jackets?’ Jacoby asked.
Lepski regarded him.
‘One of these days, Max, you’ll make a good cop. Do you imagine I wasn’t going to do just that thing?’
‘Who are they?’
Lepski consulted the list Levine had given him.
‘Sam Macree: the deputy commissioner of works. He’s been in New York for the past week. We can rule him out. Larry Bentley, the golf pro. We’ll check where he was last night, but it’ll be a waste of time. I know Harry: not the type. Then there’s Cyrus Gregg.’ Lepski frowned, then shook his head. ‘Didn’t he get killed in a road crash around five months ago? He was in real estate and made a load of money. We can rule him out.’ Lepski thumped the steering wheel. ‘It all points to Brandon!’
‘I remember Gregg,’ Jacoby said. ‘He was a snappy dresser. What would his wife have done with all his clothes?’
Lepski stared at him.
‘Yeah... a good question. I’ll check on Harry Bentley. You find out what happened to Gregg’s clothes, then we’ll talk to the Chief.’
He started the car engine.
‘I’ll walk,’ Jacoby said and got out of the car. He watched Lepski drive away, then he walked back into Levine’s shop.
‘Could you tell me when Mr. Gregg bought his jacket?’ he asked as Levine hurried forward.
‘That I do know. The poor man wore it on the day he died,’ Levine said. ‘A real tragedy! Such a nice man! It was seven months ago. He came in here and bought the jacket. The next morning as he was driving to his office, some kid in a stolen car hit him. They were both killed. A tragedy!’
Jacoby now remembered the details.
‘I was wondering what happened to the jacket,’ he said.
Levine shrugged.
‘That I don’t know. Mr. Gregg bought all his clothes from me. He had many jackets and suits. I guess Mrs. Gregg got rid of them. Now, there’s a tragedy! I tell my wife, money isn’t everything. Mr. Gregg had a great deal of money, but he had trouble with his wife and with his son.’
‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Don’t let this go further, but Mrs. Gregg is a very difficult lady. Mr. Gregg and I were friends. There were times when he confided in me. Their son meant more to Mrs. Gregg than Mr. Gregg did. It sometimes happens.’ Levine shook his head. ‘Mr. Gregg was a good man. Maybe he was too good. When the son was born, Mrs. Gregg switched all her affection to him. Mr. Gregg was a vigorous man.’ Levine grimaced. ‘No sex, you understand. I told him he should get a girl. With all his money there would have been no problem, but Mr. Gregg was a good Catholic and a good man. He suffered a lot.’
Jacoby began to wonder if he was wasting time listening to all this.
‘Tough. What does the son do?’
‘I know nothing about him. He doesn’t buy his clothes here. I have never even seen him.’
‘We want to trace this jacket. Maybe Mrs. Gregg can tell us what she did with it.’
‘Be careful with her. She is very difficult, and she has lots of money. She won’t like police officers calling on her.’
‘Where do I find her?’
‘When Mr. Gregg died, she sold the big house. She lives on Acacia Drive: a small place, but nice.’
Jacoby decided he would write a report and let Lepski handle this. He thanked Levine, then walked back to police headquarters.
Ken Brandon faced Karen, his heart pounding.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked huskily. ‘Are you quite sure?’
‘I’m sure. It was the same creep we ran into last night, he’s cut his hair and beard, but I knew him at once. He came in to check on me, and I could tell by his grin, he recognized me.’
Ken felt a wave of panic run through him.
‘What do you think he’ll do?’
Karen shrugged.
‘How do I know? I don’t think he’ll talk to the police.’
Ken took out his handkerchief and wiped his sweating hands.
‘He must be planning something! Why else should he come here?’
Karen stared at him. Her hard eyes showed contempt.
‘The way you are acting,’ she said, ‘you seem to imagine you are the first husband who has screwed around. It happens a thousand times an hour.’
‘You don’t seem to realize how serious this is!’ Ken exclaimed, slamming his fist on his desk. ‘If your father got to know! If my wife got to know! My life would be ruined!’
‘Shouldn’t you have thought of that before you got hot pants?’ Karen asked. ‘I have work to do,’ and turning she swish-hipped back to her desk.
Ken stared after her. What a reckless, irresponsible madman he had been! he thought. To have jeopardized his happiness with Betty and his career for a few sordid hours with this hard, self-indulgent bitch!
Then the telephone bell rang making him start.
A woman’s voice said, ‘Mr. Brandon? I’m putting you through to Mr. Sternwood.’ She sounded as if she were putting him through to the Pope.
Ken drew a deep breath, then Sternwood’s booming voice came on the line.
‘Brandon? I’ve been talking to Hyams. He tells me you are doing great! Thought I would have a word. I’m pleased.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Sternwood.’
‘Keep up the good work. Tell me, Brandon, how are you getting along with my little girl? I know she can be difficult, but don’t stand any nonsense. You’re running the office... understand? But she’s smart, isn’t she?’
Ken hesitated. Was this the moment to get Karen transferred to head office? His nerve failed.
‘She’s doing well, Mr. Sternwood.’
‘Good. Keep at it, Brandon,’ and the line went dead.
Ken sat back. He looked at his watch. The time was 17.55. In five more minutes, he could close the office. He looked at his cluttered desk. He had at least another half hour’s work to complete before he left for home.
Karen came to his office door.
‘I have a date,’ she said, and smiled at him. ‘See you tomorrow and don’t look like the prophet of doom. It doesn’t become you. Bye now,’ and she walked to the counter, lifted the flap and started for the entrance door as it swung open and Lu Boone came in.
Karen stopped short. She felt her heart skip a beat, but she switched on her sexy smile.
‘We’re closed for the day,’ she said. ‘Could you come back tomorrow?’
Lu grinned at her. Now here was a tough cookie, he told himself. He instinctively knew she recognized him.
‘It won’t wait, baby,’ he said and closed the door, then half turning, he shot the bolt. ‘Brandon here?’
‘Yes, he’s here. Did you want to see him? I don’t have your name.’