When Graveyards Yawn by G. Wells Taylor (good books for high schoolers .TXT) 📕

The setting was everything I could have wanted it to be. My little lamp cut a yellow circle out of my desk blotter. The ashtray was the perfect distance from my hand. A cigarette smoked in my fist and my .38 snub-nose nestled snugly in my right boot where it crossed my left calf. Elmo was in the waiting room having a coffee and keeping an eye out for Inspector Cane. Elmo also had a gun, and he wasn’t supposed to. Everything was perfect.

I heard a rap at the outer door, then heard Elmo shuffle his way toward it. I listened as Inspector Cane grunted something nasty. He crossed the waiting room then entered my office. I smiled. I believe his face was incapable of such sentiment. He walked up to the desk, grinning as he chewed his brass toothpick.

“Let’s hear it, Wildclown. I don’t have all night.” I could see a double reflection of my lamp, ashtray and hand in his glasses.

“Want to sit? It might take a while.”

“No.” His eyes were fixed on the back wall of the inside of my skull.

“Okay.” I gestured with the whiskey I had close at hand. He didn’t surprise me when he turned it down. That was fine, I didn’t want to drink with him anyway. I poured myself a large one. Client confidentiality got complicated here. If I kept quiet, then Adrian could have me killed and Billings disappear which would be bad or Billings could have Adrian killed which would make me an accessory that was better, but still bad. I didn’t have a choice. Talking gave me a better chance of survival.

“On Saturday, March 2 a lawyer, Conrad Billings came to my office. He had been murdered. It happened at the Morocco Hotel. You may remember that.” Cane nodded. “He requested that I find his murderer. I went to the scene. During my investigation some arsonists torched the hotel taking all of my evidence with it. Except for this…” I set the cigar butt on the desk blotter. Cane picked it up and sniffed it. “Don’t worry, that comes in later. To be honest, there was not a lot of evidence in the first place. I think Adrian paid to have the place torched. I was lucky enough to be there when it happened. I believe Authority investigated both the murder and the fire.” Again Cane nodded, then set the cigar down on the desk.

“Mr. Billings’ massage therapist disappeared the night he was murdered. It’s my theory that she was working with whoever wanted Billings dead. An accessory, to be certain. I acted on a lead from the night clerk: A Mr. Douglas Willieboy—I have his address written here…” I tossed him a card. “On that tip, I arranged to meet a man who had been in communication with Jan Van Reydner on the night of the murder, and her disappearance.

“The man I talked to was Mr. Richard Adrian, president of Simpson’s Skin Tanning and Preservation for the Deceased. During the weeks prior to Conrad Billings’ death, he communicated with Van Reydner at the Morocco under the pseudonym ‘Simon.’ That cigar butt is the same brand that Adrian smokes and I found that butt in an ashtray at the Morocco. When I met with him, Adrian admitted his involvement and knowledge of Ms. Van Reydner, though not of her whereabouts. My theory is that he and Van Reydner had been playing a nasty game. Seems Van Reydner would work the old sex magic on the boys for a while, gaining their trust. Then, on a signal from Adrian she would make sure they had a nice gin party to make everybody real sleepy. In the middle of the night Adrian would sneak in and off the poor mark in his sleep. It makes sense that Adrian would do it himself. He looks tough enough, and it’s always better to use people you trust.” I paused a moment, looked into my glass. “This time something went wrong. Billings woke up. He said he heard a baby. Whatever he heard, it got him out of bed just in time to hear Adrian come in. He was murdered in the living room—shot in the back of the head, which is the first indication that something went wrong. I’m pretty sure the marks would normally be poisoned, or killed in some fashion that could be passed off as natural causes to avoid the inclusion of Authority. I have a feeling something went wrong again, because Billings was allowed to come out of Blacktime on his own. I’m certain that if things had gone right, Van Reydner’s big breasts would have been resting on him when he came to. She would have steered him toward Simpson’s Skin Tanning and Preservation for the Deceased before he had time to get his bearings. This time though, Billings was allowed to get to Authority and the outside world before Simpson’s got him.

“Anyway, back to Adrian’s office, he told me that he was involved and promptly thereafter, I was ambushed and taken to the Landfill where Mr. Adrian had asked his men to, and I quote ‘Leave him, piece by piece in the Landfill.’ Now, I’m completely aware of the power a man like Mr. Adrian wields, and the negative result charges against him would get me; but I had to tell someone. Authority was my first choice.

“If because of lack of evidence you can’t prosecute Adrian for the murder at the Morocco, I am willing to charge him with my attempted murder. I can take you to the scene anytime you’re willing. It’s an Authority Internment Facility. I suggest the sooner, the better for both. The evidence will be fresh, and the bodies might not have crawled too far off. There were three: two living, killed by their accomplice, and the accomplice, a dead man I was forced to shoot it out with.”

“And Van Reydner?” Cane’s face was inscrutable.

“Gone, for the moment.” I lit another cigarette. “I have the feeling she is gone for good. The fact that Adrian didn’t know where she was tells me she might have double-crossed him. He had no reason to lie. He thought I was a dead man—landfill.”

“Leave it with me, Wildclown.” Cane walked to the window, peered out through the blinds. “It’s not what I’d call an iron-clad case. Christ, all you have is a cigar butt for physical evidence. I’d think long and hard before you charge Mr. Adrian with anything. He’s connected. Everything else you’ve told me is circumstantial and hearsay. And I’ll bet that whatever happened at the Internment Facility will be nicely cleaned up when we arrive. Keep everything between you and me. What was the location of the internment center?” He took out a notebook. I told him where: he wrote it down. He grinned around his toothpick. “If this is the best you can do, get out of the business, Wildclown.”

I ignored his sally, then climbed to my feet. “I’ve got to tell my client. He’ll want to know.” I was still a little leery. I had no reason to trust Cane. Who paid for his vacations? Also, with Conrad Billings aware, he might be able to use his talents as a lawyer to put the right amount of pressure on the right people. Hell, he might know a judge or two. I definitely needed more power working for me.

Cane stared at me for a moment. “Just a matter of money, eh?” His sneer was unmistakable.

“I told you I’d press charges.” I stared back, then shrugged. “I’ve got to eat. Besides, he’s the only reason I know about any of this in the first place. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is anger a man with power. I mind my own business.”

“Okay, tell your client. But leave Adrian and Van Reydner to me. If I’m going to make these charges stick, I don’t need you poking your silly face into things.”

“Of course,” I said, smiling.

Cane started for the door, then stopped. “Oh, Wildclown. This doesn’t have anything to do with that stupid baby case. I guess you were just clusterfucking us around before.”

“It’s related,” I said, mainly for a reaction. What should he care?

Cane’s face was grim. “Hell of a thing to joke about.”

“By the way,” I rose from my chair. My head throbbed ever so slightly. “Who’s Inspector Borden?”

Cane’s face turned uglier for a second then went blank. “Why?”

“My client said Borden gave him my name.”

“Did he say any more? Just Borden?” I couldn’t read the look that played about his toad features.

“Just Borden,” I said absently, intent upon Cane.

“Then your client has hearing problems. I never heard of a Borden. And I’ve been in Authority for forty years.”

He adjusted his hat, licked his lips and left.

I walked to the blinds and peered out. Cane’s hunched form climbed into an armored Authority transport that waited. “More’s the pity,” I whispered.

I walked out to the waiting room and met Elmo coming in. “Elmo, I’ve got to make another call; but I think you’d better pack. It might be wise for us to take a trip for a few days—to keep out of Adrian’s way. He may still want to settle with me, and I don’t trust Cane.”

Elmo nodded like a good partner. He didn’t know what I was talking about but he nodded anyway. I had to get out of town before I gave Tommy his body back. I stretched. Damn it. If only I had Van Reydner.