The Second Fletcher Flora Mystery MEGAPACK™: 20 Classic Mystery & Crime Stories!
- Автор: Флора Флетчер
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Wildside Press
- ISBN: 978-1479436668
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Second Fletcher Flora Mystery MEGAPACK™: 20 Classic Mystery & Crime Stories!». Краткое содержание книги:
“That depends. I’m not what you might call a blue-nose. If a man chooses to have two wives at the same time, I say, let him have them.”
“Very wise of you, Mr. Vane. You are, I see, a liberal man. And why not? Bigamy is, per se, quite harmless. It has been respectable enough in the past in certain places and is still so today. It is a felony only where the laws of the land condemn it, and it is a sin only where the mores of society make it so. I pride myself, if I may say so, on being a kind of universal man. I select my ethical standards from all societies in all places at any given time.”
“That sounds good enough, but it’s liable to land you in a mess of trouble.”
“True, true. One must have the courage of his convictions.”
“If you ask me, two wives take more courage than sense. One is bad enough.”
“Mr. Vane, you disappoint me. Marriage is, indeed, a blessed institution. It is made less than blessed only by the idiotic restrictions placed upon it. It is confused, I mean, with monogamy, which is quite another thing. It is extremely rare that a man can be fulfilled by one woman, or vice versa. Take me, for example. I rather imagine, Mr. Vane, that you think me, all things considered, a complex man. On the contrary, I am a very simple man. I have, on the one hand, very strong physical appetites that can be satisfied only by a rich and beautiful woman of a passionate nature. On the other, I have a deep and normal yearning for the stigmata of middle-class stability — a modest and comfortable home, a devoted and orderly wife who is primarily a house-keeper, a respected and undistinguished trade to engage my attention. It is surely clear that one wife could hardly satisfy my needs. And I am not, whatever you may think superficially, a libertine. I choose not to engage in philandering. Therefore, I solve my problem simply and sensibly. I take two wives, and I am fulfilled. I am, Mr. Vane, a happy man.”
“Well, as the saying goes,” said Gaspar pointedly, “every good thing must come to an end.”
“Must it?” Rudolph smiled and sipped his headless beer. “That sentiment seems to be in conflict with this interview. I understood that we were meeting to arrange conditions under which my particular good thing, as you put it, can continue.”
“As I said, I’m no bluenose. I’m prepared to be reasonable.”
“Mr. Vane, I’ve been completely candid with you. Surely you owe me the same consideration. If you wish to blackmail me, why don’t you say so?”
“Call it what you like. Whatever you call it. I know a good thing when I see it.”
“Precisely, Mr. Vane, how do you see it?”
“I see you in a trap, that’s how.”
“Quite so. A just observation. I can either pay or go to prison.”
“Not only that. Your wives would be a little upset by your shenanigans, to say the least. You’d lose them both, and that’s for sure.”
“There you touch me in my most vulnerable spot. The loss of my wives would be the crudest blow of all. I am, you see, a dedicated and loving husband.”
“I’d give a pretty penny to know how you’ve been fooling them all this time.”
“Secrets, Mr. Vane, secrets. As you said a while ago, you may ask, which is not to say I’ll answer.”
“It’s not important. What’s important is that you stand to lose them.”
“A disaster, I admit, which I should prefer to avoid at any cost. Which brings us, I believe, to another crucial point. What, Mr. Vane, will be the cost?”
“Well, I don’t want to be greedy, but at the same time I don’t want to give anything away. Besides, that weekend wife of yours is rich. You said so yourself.”
“A tactical error, perhaps. Having gone so far, however, I’ll go even farther. Angela is not only rich; she is exceedingly generous and quite incurious as to how I spend her money.”
“In that case, how does twenty-five grand sound?”
“To Rudolph La Roche, like far too much. To Roger Le Rambeau, fair enough.”
“Roger Le Rambeau’s who I’m talking to.”
“As Roger Le Rambeau, I’ll consider it.”
“What’s to consider? You pay or else.”
“Of course. That’s abundantly clear, I think. However, you must realize that I am dependent upon Angela for such an amount. In any event, I couldn’t pay until I’ve had an opportunity next weekend to make proper arrangements.”
“You think she may kick up rough about shelling out that much?” Gaspar’s brow furrowed.
“No, no. I anticipate no difficulty with Angela.”
“Just the same, you’d better think up a good reason.”
“You can safely leave that in my hands. As a matter of fact, I’ve established a reputation with Angela for being lucky. She has profited more from certain wagers of mine, wins and losses taken together, than this will cost.”
“I’ll want cash. No check.”
“I must say, Mr. Vane, that you’re a strange mixture of professional acumen and amateur naïveté. Whoever heard of paying a blackmailer by check?”
“I just wanted it understood, that’s all.”
“I believe I understand the conditions perfectly, Mr. Vane.”
“In that case all that’s left is to arrange the time and place of our next meeting.”
“I see no reason to drag this affair out. I’m sure you’re anxious to have it completed, and so am I. Shall we say next Monday evening?”
“Suits me. Where?”
“Well, the transfer of funds will, perhaps, require a bit more privacy than we have here. I suggest the back room of my shop. I close at five-thirty, as I’ve told you, and my assistant leaves promptly. A quarter to six should be about right. Drive into the alley and knock at the back door. I’ll let you in.”
“No tricks.”
“Please Mr. Vane! What kind of trick could I possibly employ? I’m realist enough to concede that I’ve been found out, and gentleman enough, I hope, to accept the consequences gracefully.”
Rudolph La Roche smiled faintly, slipped out of the booth, and repeated his odd little bow.
“Until Monday, then.”
Turning briskly, his back erect and his head high, he walked to the door and out into the street. Gaspar signaled the waitress and ordered another beer. Somehow, he did not feel as elated as a man should feel when he has hit the jackpot. What color were Rudolph’s eyes, he wondered suddenly. Blue? Green? Whatever the color, they were as cool and pale as a handful of sea water.
The alley was a littered brick lane between brick walls. Behind Rudolph’s barber shop there was an indentation which provided enough space in which to park a pair of cars. Rudolph’s car was there when Gaspar pulled his old one up alongside, and the time at that moment was exactly a quarter to six. Gaspar crawled out and banged on the rear door of the shop. He was promptly admitted by Rudolph, who must have been waiting just on the other side. The barber was still wearing his starched white tunic, uniform of his trade, and it gave him an antiseptic look that was somehow disconcerting to Gaspar, who always felt slightly soiled even when he was still dripping from the shower.
“Ah, here you are,” Rudolph said. “Right on time, I see. Come in, come in.”
Gaspar, entering, found himself in a tiny room which had been devised by the simple expedient of erecting a plywood wall toward the rear of the original, single room. There was a small table with a bundle of laundry on it. On the same table there was a coffee pot on a hot plate, which was on a square of asbestos, and beside the table were two straight chairs. For an instant Gaspar felt trapped and vulnerable, and a wave of panic swept over him. But the panic receded quickly to leave him with no more than a vague feeling of uneasiness.
“Sit down, Mr. Vane,” Rudolph said, indicating one of the straight chairs. “Shall I make coffee?”