The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK™: 23 Classic Mystery Stories
- Автор: Деминг Ричард
- Год: 2016
- Язык: английский
- Год: Wildside Press
- ISBN: 9781479423507
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK™: 23 Classic Mystery Stories». Краткое содержание книги:
“Oh,” I said. The explanation was that simple.
After a moment of thought, I said, “I guess that clears it up. I may as well see Paul Manners while I’m here, though. How do I find him?”
“You don’t. He and his wife are in Florida for the winter.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Do people from around here ordinarily vacation in Florida?”
He grinned. “Only Paul. He hit a windfall by becoming an insurance broker, because this is virgin territory. A lot of the townspeople have carried insurance for years, of course, but I doubt that any of the people back in the hills have ever before been approached by an insurance salesman. They wouldn’t have bought from a stranger anyway. Paul was born and grew up in this area, and knows everybody in the county, so they trust him. I guess his commissions financed his Florida vacation.”
“Well, I suppose it isn’t really necessary to see him,” I said. “Everything seems to be on the up-and-up.”
“You may as well complete your investigation while you’re here,” Dr. Parks said. “It would be too bad if your superiors weren’t satisfied, and sent you all the way back to dig some more. I have to make a call near the Potter place. Suppose you ride along and talk to the father of the Potter boy?”
Ed Morgan liked investigations to be thorough, and I thought I should interview at least one of the five beneficiaries to make sure the doctor was telling me the truth as to why all the checks had been endorsed to him.
“All right,” I agreed.
Dr. Parks had to make a call at a farm a few miles out Ridge Road, where a child was in bed with measles. I waited in the car while he was inside. Afterward we drove about four miles farther on, to a well-kept farmhouse.
A tall, knobby-jointed man of about forty-five came from the barn when the doctor drove into the yard. I could also see a woman peeking through the curtains of a kitchen window, but she must have been too shy to come outside, because she stood there without moving all the time we were in the yard.
Dr. Parks introduced the man as Sidney Potter. He shook hands with me diffidently, obviously ill at ease in the presence of a city man.
“Mr. Quinn is an insurance investigator, Sid,” the doctor explained. “He wants to ask some questions about young Herman.”
Sidney Potter’s expression became sad. “The boy was only eighteen, Mr. Quinn. I only took out the insurance on him to save money for him to buy his own farm some day. I got another boy twenty, and I couldn’t leave them both this farm. Doc advised me as how insurance was a way to save, not just get death benefits. I bought it for that, not to make a profit on my own boy’s death.”
“I understand,” I said.
“We all tooken sick, but the Lord chose to save me and Minnie and our older boy, and just took Herman. Doc says the fever was from the well. He had me put some stuff in it, and we ain’t had no trouble since.”
“All the others were traceable to well water too,” Dr. Parks said to me. “I’ve had them all treated and have been regularly testing the water, as well as the water from other wells all over the county. I’m county health officer, among my other duties.”
I wanted to nail things down completely, since I had gone this far. I said, “You got your ten-thousand-dollar insurance payment all right, didn’t you, Mr. Potter?”
The man gave me a suspicious look.
“Mr. Quinn works for the insurance company which sent you the money,” Dr. Parks explained, not quite accurately. “He merely wants to make sure you got the check.” He turned to me. “We don’t have much theft around here, but naturally no one advertises keeping a lot of money around the place. No one aside from me knows Sid was paid an insurance claim. He’s naturally a little hesitant about admitting it to strangers.”
“I see. I won’t tell anyone but my office, Mr. Potter. You did receive the check then?”
“Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “Ten thousand dollars, for which I thank you kindly. I had Doc cash it for me over to Holoyke. It’s hid real good, so you don’t have to worry about nobody but me and Minnie ever finding it.”
“That’s all I wanted to know,” I told him. “I guess that winds up my investigation, Doctor.”
As we drove away, the woman was still peering through the kitchen curtains. Glancing back, I saw a boy of about twenty emerge from the barn, from where he apparently had been watching us all the time we were in the yard. When I called him to the doctor’s attention, he glanced over his shoulder.
“That’s Sid Junior,” he said. “The older boy. He’s as shy of outsiders as his mother. You noticed her standing in the kitchen window, I suppose.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “I can understand how an insurance salesman from outside wouldn’t stand a chance in these parts.”
It was time for lunch when we got back to town. The doctor invited me to lunch with him and took me to a coffee shop on the square, presumably the same one where the sheriff had been when I visited the courthouse.
Dr. Parks knew every customer there, and introduced me to all of them. I met the sheriff, a fat, elderly man named Tom Gaines, District Attorney Charles Hayes, who was a middle-aged balding man, and an assortment of fanners and merchants. We sat at a table with the sheriff and the D.A.
Emma Pruett came in as we were ordering. “Hi, boss,” she said to Dr. Parks, then smiled at the district attorney. “Hi, boss.”
We all rose and the sheriff pulled up a chair for her to join us.
“Sheriff Gaines is about the only person at the courthouse who isn’t my boss,” she said to me. “I’m everybody’s secretary or assistant.”
“That’s right, you do work for Dr. Parks, don’t you?” I said. “You told me you were secretary to the coroner, among your other duties.”
“Plus secretary to the county health officer and the county clerk,” she said. “He’s all three.”
“You’re county clerk?” I asked the doctor in surprise.
“We all wear multiple hats around here,” he said with a grin. “County clerk is quite an important job. It pays a hundred and twenty dollars a year.”
“Doc is also postmaster,” District Attorney Hayes said. “He practically runs the county.”
I gave the doctor another surprised look.
“That’s a tough job too,” he said. “The mail truck from Holoyke arrives at ten each morning. Sometimes there are as many as a dozen letters and packages. I sort the mail from about ten to ten-fifteen, and an old fellow named Joe Husbands delivers it. Joe’s on duty at the post office, except when he’s delivering the mail, to weigh packages and sell stamps. He gets maybe six customers a day.”
“This is a real active place,” Sheriff Gaines said sardonically. “I made eight arrests last year, all either for public drunkenness or disturbing the peace.”
After lunch Dr. Parks drove me back to his house, where I picked up my car. I was entering the square, with the intention of driving around it and continuing on out of town, when I suddenly remembered a remark Sidney Potter had made, and also a comment the doctor had made while we were at the farm. A fantastic thought occurred to me. Changing my mind, I parked in front of the courthouse.
This time Sheriff Gaines was in his office. He gave me a smile of welcome.
“Sheriff, do you know Paul Manners?” I asked.
He looked blank. “Manners? No, I don’t believe so.”
“He’s an insurance broker. Lives out on R.D. 1, or so I was told.”
He gave his head a puzzled shake. “Only one I know around here who sells insurance is Doc Parks. He even sold me my policy.”