Dead Pigeon by William Campbell Gault

Author:William Campbell Gault [Gault, William Campbell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-7339-5
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2012-08-20T00:39:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE MORNING TIMES REPORTED that the man who had killed Barney Luplow was now in jail. Lars would not learn from Luplow where Clauss was hiding.

I thought of phoning him to tell him what young Clauss had told me yesterday, but decided not to. I was still angry about what Crystal had told me. Lars claimed he hated crooked cops. Sexual favors, apparently, did not qualify as extortion to a fornicator.

I phoned Dennis Sadler and suggested we ride together today.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at the hotel in an hour.”

I had finished breakfast and was out in front of the hotel when he drove up the driveway in a dark-yellow Chevrolet two-door sedan. The town was loaded with that model. It was the kind of inconspicuous car the smart investigators favored for shadowing or surveillance.

“How was Palm Springs?” I asked.

“Perfect! Domestic harmony has returned to our house.”

“And your mother-in-law?”

“Hopeless. Where first?”

“The Valley. Studio City.”

Traffic heading into downtown Los Angeles was heavy. It was light on our trip to the Valley. The Bentley and the yellow pickup truck were parked in front of the Gillete garage.

We drove past, made a U-turn at the nearest intersection, and parked on the far side of the road across from the house. We had a clear view of it from here, parked behind a hedge.

Dennis asked, “What makes you think Gillete could be involved in your friend’s murder?”

“Tim Tucker, Bay’s cousin. I met him first when I came here to check on Bay. But the second time I ran into him was in a small bar in Venice, a long way from here. I don’t know if he was looking for me or if it was only a coincidence. My guess is that he followed me. Then Gillete phoned me to apologize for the fuss Tim and I had at the bar. I wondered why.”

“Maybe Tucker followed you on his own because he learned you were investigating his cousin.”

I shook my head. “They’re not that close.”

“That’s a doubtful confirmation, Brock.”

“Probably. But what else do we have? I’ve been lucky before, working on instinct.”

“So have I,” he said.

He reached into the backseat and picked up a pair of binoculars. He took a notebook and a ballpoint pen out of his jacket pocket and handed them to me.

“We don’t need the binoculars,” I said. “We can see from here what’s going on down there.”

“But not the license plates of any visitors,” he explained.

It had been a long time since I had done any surveillance. I said nothing.

We sat. There was no radio in the car. We sat in silence.

About twenty minutes later he said, “That cop who came with you when you came to our office, that Hovde, he’s a real cowboy, isn’t he.”

“Yup.”

“The boss thinks he’s on the take.”

“Your boss is wrong. Lars hates crooked cops. And your boss is also dumb if he supports Turhan Bay.”

“I know. I wish he was half as generous with his help as he is with that faker.

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