1979 - You Must Be Kidding (8 page)

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.’

‘Call me Lu,’ Boone said, lounging forward. ‘I want to see him and you. Did he give you a good lay last night, baby?’

Sitting at his desk, listening to this conversation, Ken turned cold and sick with panic, then with an effort, he pulled himself together. Moving swiftly, he opened a desk drawer, switched on the tape recorder he used when talking to clients, then half closed the drawer. He got to his feet and walked to the door.

‘Here is Mr. Brandon,’ Karen said. She turned and looked at Ken. ‘This is Lu. He wants to talk to us.’

‘Hi, bud!’ Lu said, and grinned. ‘Did she give out last night?’

Ken said huskily, ‘I don’t know what you are talking about. What do you want?’

‘Don’t feed me that crap,’ Lu said, his voice toughening. ‘You know. What do I want? Let’s all sit down and talk.’

Ken moved back into his office and Lu followed him.

Karen remained at the doorway.

Lu looked around.

‘Not much of a dump, but I like your home, bud . . .real nice.’ He sat down on one of the upright chairs. ‘Come in, baby. Let’s all be sociable.’

Ken moved around his desk and sat down. Karen, looking relaxed, moved into the office and leaned against a filing cabinet.

‘Is this a hold-up?’ she asked. ‘Or are you high?’

‘Don’t act too smart, baby,’ Lu said. ‘I know all about you. I’ve been asking around. I know all about you, bud.’

He grinned at Ken, then at Karen. ‘Last night, a hooker got killed right by your love nest, baby. I was looking for Paddler’s Creek, and you two directed me. I have a good memory for faces. I know you two didn’t kill this hooker, but I do know you were screwing in that cabin. This morning the fuzz talked to me. I don’t dig the heat. It seems the fink who killed this hooker got blood all over his clothes so the fuzz went through my things. I don’t dig that either. They can’t pin the killing on me, so they are looking elsewhere. They wanted to know if I had seen anyone at the time of the killing as I was walking to the camp.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t give information to the fuzz. I told them I hadn’t seen anyone.’ Again he grinned. ‘I guess I did you two a big favour. If I had told them I had seen you, you would have them around you like flies, and the word would have got out that you two had been screwing. I didn’t tell them, so you owe me for a favour.’ He paused, looking first at Karen and then at Ken. ‘I do something for you, you do something for me . . . right?’

Neither Karen nor Ken said anything.

‘That’s the way I see it,’ Lu said, after a long pause. ‘I’ve been bumming around, living rough, for some time. I’m changing my lifestyle. I want money. Now you, bud, have a nice wife. I know all about her, working for this guy who fixes abortions. You, baby, have a rich pa. I know all about him. I guess between us three, we can work out a deal that would put me on easy street, and save you two problems. You with me so far?’

So it was to be blackmail, Ken thought. He glanced down at the half open drawer. He could see the spools of the recorder revolving and was thankful he had had the presence of mind to have switched on the recorder. He looked at Karen who appeared to be completely relaxed.

She shrugged.

‘Well now,’ Lu went on, ‘I decided I wouldn’t talk to the fuzz. Now, just suppose, you two tell me to jump in a lake? Maybe, I told myself, you two could be dopey enough not to want to return favour for favour. You two have a lot to lose, so here’s my proposition. Give me ten thousand dollars and I leave the scene. No problems for you: no problems for me. Do we have a deal?’

‘You get no money from us, you stinking creep!’ Karen said before Ken could say anything.

‘Sure I reckoned you would act stupid. So okay, I put on the pressure.’ He took from his shirt pocket two slips of paper. ‘What do you think of this?’ He leaned forward and put one of the slips on Ken’s desk, then getting to his feet, he gave Karen the other slip.

Ken read what was written on his slip.

Mrs. Brandon,

Ask your husband what he was doing on the night of the
22nd with Karen Sternwood in her cabin at Paddler’s
Creek.

From a well-wisher who doesn’t believe in adultery.

Karen’s slip read:

Mr. Jefferson Sternwood,

Ask your daughter what she was doing on the night of
the 22nd with your employee, Ken Brandon in her cabin
at Paddler’s
Creek.

From a well-wisher who doesn’t believe in adultery.

He began to drift to the door.

‘I think you two will want to talk this over together,’ he said. ‘I’ll contact you in three days. Have the money here: ten thousand bucks. If you are stupid, I mail the letters.’

He grinned, nodded, then walked away.

Neither Ken nor Karen moved until they heard the front door slam. Then Ken, white faced, pressed the stop button on the recorder.

‘It’s his word against ours,’ Karen said. ‘You’ve recorded what he said?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. We’ll fix this creep. Give me the tape and I’ll go to the police.’

‘What are you saying?’ Ken exclaimed. ‘They’ll charge him with blackmail, and he will talk. You and I will become Miss X and Mr. X, but everyone will know!’

Karen cocked her head on one side as she stared at him.

‘Are you saying we are going to pay this creep ten thousand dollars?’

‘I haven’t ten thousand dollars!’

‘Nor have I, so we don’t pay him. Let him send the letters! My drag of a father will flip his lid, but he’s always flipping his lid. I can handle him. He won’t want to believe you screwed me, so I can convince him.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’m late for my date. You fix your end. Your wife won’t want to believe this either, will she? So it’s up to you to convince her. See you tomorrow,’ and with a wave of her hand, she left him.

Convince Betty? Ken thought. That would mean lying to her. When she got the letter, she would show it to him.

Ken knew he could never lie convincingly to her. He had never lied to her in their four years of happy marriage.

He began to pace around his desk. What a mad fool he had been! Remorse, panic, self-disgust tore at him. Then he pulled himself together. What was done, was done!

There was only one decent thing to do. He must tell her before the letter arrived. He must hope that her love for him would survive the shock. But suppose it didn’t? Suppose she was so shocked, her love for him died? He couldn’t bear to think of that possibility. He tried to assure himself that they were too close, but he did realize that their future relationship might never be the same. The thought sickened him, but whatever happened, he told himself, he must tell her: rather than lie to her.

He looked at his watch. The time was 18.30. She would be home now. He would go home at once and tell her.

He locked the office, got in his car and edged into the home-going traffic. The drive back to his house seemed endless. It was stop-start all the way.

Sitting in the air conditioned car, he tried to think what he would say to her: how best to soften his confession?

What words did a man use to tell his wife that he had been unfaithful to her?

He was still undecided when he drove into his garage.

Betty’s car was there.

Bracing himself, he walked into the lobby.

‘Ken?’ Betty appeared in the doorway of their bedroom.

‘Oh, darling! I’m so glad you are back! I was just going to call you.’

He could see she was pale and her eyes anxious.

God! he thought. Has that creep been to see her? His heart began to hammer.

‘What is it, honey? Something wrong?’

‘Mother’s just called. Dad has had a heart attack. She wants me.’

Betty’s parents lived in Atlanta. Her father was a successful attorney, and Ken was fond of him. This news gave him a jolt. His own problem was forgotten.

‘Is he bad?’

Betty fought back tears.

‘I’m afraid so. Will you drive me to the airport? There’s a plane leaving in an hour. I must catch it.’

‘Of course . . . I’m terribly sorry.’

‘I’m all packed. Let’s go!’

He took a suitcase she handed to him.

‘Are you all right for money?’

‘Yes . . . yes. Let’s go!’

As they drove fast to the airport, Betty said, ‘I hate leaving you, Ken. I don’t know how long I’ll be away. Do you think you can manage? There’s plenty of food in the freezer.’

‘Of course. No problem. I wish I could come with you.’

He put his hand on her. ‘Not to worry, honey.’

Betty dissolved into tears.

He drove on. His mind switched to his own problem. It was unthinkable to tell her now. If she stayed away a week or so, then when the letter arrived, he would destroy it!

He had a reprieve!

* * *

Chief of police Terrell, sitting behind his desk, smoking his pipe, listened to Lepski’s report.

‘Harry Bentley is in the clear,’ Lepski concluded. ‘He was at the club house all the evening. I’ve seen his jacket, no buttons missing. So that leaves Brandon and Gregg. It’s my guess Brandon was with the Sternwood girl, and after screwing her, he came on the body. He could have seen the killer. He could even have killed her. So what do I do? Do I put pressure on him?’

‘Check his jacket,’ Terrell said. ‘Find out what he says he was doing at the time of the killing. I don’t see a man like Brandon being a sex ripper. It’s none of our business what Sternwood’s daughter does. We have to tread carefully, Tom.’

Lepski shrugged.

‘Gregg is dead, but he had a lot of clothes. What happened to them? If his wife gave them away, the jacket could have been worn by the killer. From what I hear, Mrs. Gregg is tricky.’

‘You can say that again, but talk to her. Handle her with kid gloves. She has money and influence, but talk to her.’

The time now was 20.15. Lepski decided that Brandon would be home, so with Jacoby at his side, he drove to Brandon’s bungalow.

Back from the airport, Ken was trying to relax. He didn’t feel like getting himself a meal. He pushed Lu Boone out of his mind and was thinking of Betty’s father when his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door bell.

Getting to his feet, hoping it wasn’t a neighbour dropping in, he opened the front door.

The sight of Lepski and Jacoby shocked him. He stepped back, his heart beginning to pound, knowing his face had turned white.

Lepski noted the signs of panic, and in his cop voice, said, ‘Mr. Brandon? Detective Lepski. Detective Jacoby. We want to talk to you.’

Ken struggled to control himself. He stood back and said huskily, ‘Come on in. What is it?’

Lepski and Jacoby followed him into the lounge. Lepski looked around, approving the comfort of the room.

‘What is it?’ Ken repeated.

Lepski believed in the slow approach. He saw that Brandon was already unnerved: no harm in turning the screw.

‘Nice place you have here, Mr. Brandon.’

Ken didn’t say anything. He stood motionless, looking from Lepski to Jacoby and back to Lepski. He felt a trickle of cold sweat down the side of his face.

Lepski let the silence prolong.

Finally, Ken said, ‘What is it?’

‘We are investigating a murder, Mr. Brandon.’ Lepski took from his jacket the golf ball button. ‘This yours?’

Ken stared at the button lying on Lepski’s open palm will felt a rush of cold blood up his spine.

‘Is this yours?’ Lepski repeated sharply.

‘I - I don’t think so,’ Ken said, almost sick with panic.