The Second Talmage Powell Crime MEGAPACK™: 20 More Classic Mystery Stories
- Автор: Пауэлл Тэлмидж
- Год: 2015
- Язык: английский
- Год: Wildside Press
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Second Talmage Powell Crime MEGAPACK™: 20 More Classic Mystery Stories». Краткое содержание книги:
“But of course you didn’t know,” Aunt Griselda said. “My late husband, dear.” For an instant, despite her years, her eyes were those of a coquette. “The most interesting, lovable, and charming of all my husbands.”
Terry suspected the General wasn’t long gone. “I’m sorry about your bereavement, Aunt Griselda.”
“Thank you, dear, but I’m feeling better already, being here with you and Miriam. The General and I always felt at ease with younger people. Those gouty folks in the diplomatic and banking circles weren’t our speed. Indeed not. The General and I could swim, ride, golf, fly our plane, and party with the jet set — right up to the day when the bomb killed him.”
Miriam sat straighter. “Bomb? Did you say bomb?”
“Planted in the General’s limousine by those horrid terrorists.” Aunt Griselda’s eyes fired with vengeful wrath, “The cowardly, despicable...” She drew a breath to control the direction of her feelings. “But I really didn’t intend to dampen—”
“Not at all, Aunt Griselda,” Terry said. “What happened?”
“The bomb,” Griselda mused on a past moment of horror, “killed them both. The General and Ferdie.”
“Ferdie?” Terry ventured. “Not... your son?”
Griselda returned to the present with a tender look at Terry. “No, dear. The General and I never were blessed with children. Perhaps that’s why I looked you up. My arrival wasn’t at all accidental. I have no one now but you, Terry, and lovely Miriam.” She looked fondly from one to the other. Then she gave a little sigh. “But we were talking about Ferdie. He was the most excellent of chauffeurs; the product of a fine training school in England.”
Quite naturally, Terry and Miriam slipped a look at each other.
Miriam said casually, “I imagine a chauffeur like that would be expensive.”
“Expensive?” Griselda said, a bit blankly. Then she shrugged. “I suppose so. With the General’s millions we never bothered to count trifling costs. Of course I set up a trust to take care of Ferdie’s poor parents. It was the least I could do.”
Terry was becoming itchy with interest. “It reveals but another facet of a remarkable woman. By the way, did you meet the General in Venezuela?”
“No, dear. I was on the Riviera several years ago, the ideal place, really, for one to readjust after divorcing a second husband. I met the General there.” Her eyes grew dreamy. “The man for whom I’d waited all my life; dashing, handsome, debonair. A perfect gentleman, and the lover of lovers...”
Terry held off from intruding in Aunt Griselda’s memories for a moment. “Was he in the military at the time?”
“Military?” Aunt Griselda smiled with a hint of condescension. “His title was purely honorary, dear, bestowed on him by the King of Trans-Kublait. My husband’s interest was oil. He brought in wells from the Middle East to South America. It was his last business coup that took us to Venezuela — and the dreadful bomb.”
A fluttery eagerness to please their guest had crept to life in Miriam. “Wouldn’t you like more dessert, Aunt Griselda? Coffee? An after-dinner brandy?”
Aunt Griselda smiled her pleasure. “A spot of vintage Cognac—” She caught herself. “But of course anything you have on hand will do beautifully.”
During the following week changes took place in the Bixby household. Aunt Griselda was cozily ensconced in the east corner bedroom, the largest and sunniest.
Terry hocked his golf clubs for the price of good brandy. Mornings, he and Miriam tiptoed about the house, Griselda having quietly mentioned that she did enjoy her morning naps.
After dinner one evening, Terry directed a remark concerning money at Miriam, for Aunt Griselda’s benefit.
“I’m glad you brought up the subject,” Aunt Griselda said.
Terry’s heart warmed from the way she’d risen to the bait.
“I’ve had a talk with a local attorney and broker,” she informed them. “You’ll be interested to know that I’ve transferred considerable sums from Swiss banks — and written a will most favorable to my charming family.” She reached across the table and clasped their hands.
“Why... uh... Aunt Griselda... I didn’t mean...” Terry’s soaring spirits choked off his words.
The old lady missed his real feelings. She patted his hand. “There, there, dear, I understand; and please forgive me for referring to that lurking moment in the future when we shall be parted.”
She pushed back her chair. “Miriam, I’ll have a brandy in the den, please. This American television fascinates me, especially the quaint commercials.” Griselda glided toward the den with regal imperiousness.
Miriam gave Terry her I-could-wring-your-neck look. With the old lady out of earshot, Miriam added a hiss, “You lunkhead! You let the chance to put the bite on her slip right through your fingers!”
Terry groaned. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. I spent the afternoon answering phone calls — from creditors.”
Terry shifted uneasily. “I wonder how much the old fool is worth?”
“From bits and pieces I’ve picked out of her,” Miriam said, “I’d say about five million.”
“Five...” Terry grabbed the edge of the table and hung on. “Get moving with that brandy. We can’t keep five million dollars waiting!”
Terry dreamed that night of monstrous stacks of currency mildewing in underground vaults. He woke with a drained feeling, and was thirty minutes late when he arrived at Hergeshimer & Co., Real Estate, Mortgages, Appraisals, Investments.
Terry tried to slip unobtrusively to his desk in the far corner, but Miss Buttons, the receptionist, must have been watching for him. She called his name and motioned him toward her desk.
“You’d better get into the old bear’s office right way,” she said. “He was out here asking for you.”
The corner of Terry’s mouth twitched. “Did he say what it’s about?”
“You kidding? But from the quiet, overly-polite manner he was wearing, I’d say he’s drooling with sadistic schemes inside.”
Terry forced one foot to precede the other in the direction of Hergeshimer’s office.
The old bear’s private secretary admitted Terry immediately. Hergeshimer rocked behind his desk, regarding Terry’s cowed figure with the gentlest of eyes. “Good morning, Bixby.”
“Good morning, Mr. Hergeshimer.
Mr. Hergeshimer smiled. “You’re fired, you lazy bum.”
Terry sank weakly toward a chair.
“Don’t use the furniture,” Mr. Hergeshimer said, most courteously. “You’re no longer connected with this company. You’re trespassing.”
“But, Mr. Hergeshimer—”
“No need for further talk, Bixby. Your severance pay is waiting at the cashier’s desk.”
Terry’s shaking hands wadded into limp fists. “At least you owe me an explanation.”
The old bear stopped his quiet rocking. “Owe you? If I owe you anything it’s a lawsuit to recover salary taken under false pretenses. As to my reasons for firing you, there are many. You are a prime, double-dyed example of the modern trend toward a half-day’s work for a double-day’s pay. Your sole concern is the salary and fringe benefits. The job involved is a bothersome annoyance to be shirked as easily as possible.”
The creases in Mr. Hergeshimer’s big face wreathed a pattern of raw pleasure. “In short, Bixby, you are a creep. The sword has been hanging over you for some time. Your failure with Conway yesterday cut the thread.”
“I tried to call Mr. Conway—”
“One time, Bixby. Just once. Then you were off to the country club. But Conway reached his office at three o’clock. If I hadn’t thought of giving him a ring myself, we might have lost the account.”
The old bear turned his attention to a tray of papers on his desk, blotting Terry from existence.