Fat Chance (1971) aka Deadfall by Keith Laumer

Author:Keith Laumer [Laumer, Keith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9780450024436
Google: 9MfAAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0450024431
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1975-05-02T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Mayfair Heights looked fresh and crisp after the night’s rain. The big houses sparkled in the early sun. The black coupe was at home, looking in need of a wash. The tail end of the El Dorado showed through an open door of the garage. I parked in the drive and went across the grass to the front door and worked the bell. Yesterday I had wanted to talk to Frank Prendergast. I still did.

He opened the door himself. He was wearing a paisley dressing gown with a black satin collar, not as clean or as new as it might have been, and he hadn’t shaved. The stubble gave him a hint of the raffish look of an elderly panhandler making his first touch of the day. But his handsome head of silver hair looked as perfectly groomed as ever.

“Butler’s day off?” I said.

He said, “What?” and looked at me with blank hostility.

“Miss Ellen at home?”

“What is it you want―Shaw, isn’t it? I have no time for you today.” He started to close the door.

“I didn’t mention Thompson to the cops,” I said quickly. He went on closing the door, then opened it again.

“You said what?” His voice had gone as fiat as leftover beer.

I got out a cigarette and rolled it around between my fingers.

“If they’d asked me I would have. But they didn’t. They asked me other things. I didn’t have many answers. They weren’t too pleased with me. How’d you do?”

“Mr. Shaw, there’s been a death in this house. I’ll thank you to leave us to our grief―”

“Uh-huh. I was the one that found the body―or didn’t they tell you?”

“I asked you once what it is you want, Shaw.”

“But you didn’t wait for an answer. I was thinking we could have a little talk, Mr. Prendergast.”

“On what conceivable subject?”

“Yesterday.”

His eyes went to my bandaged ear. I said, “Why don’t we talk inside?”

He made an impatient sound and backed inside and I followed him into the library. He settled himself in a chair and motioned me to one. The leather made a soft whooshing sound; I sank down until I was looking out between my knees.

“All right―what is all this?” Uncle Frank said.

“I take it that’s Miss Mianne’s car in the garage?”

“What business is that of yours?”

“Ellen drives the little gray Jaguar. Still not home, eh?”

“My family’s activities are none of your concern!”

“The police seemed to think differently, Mr. Prendergast.”

“You keep mentioning the police. Is that supposed to secure some sort of reaction from me?”

“It does from most people. They had the idea I might know where she was.”

“What’s your interest in my niece, Shaw?”

“She came by my office yesterday. We had an interesting talk.”

“And?”

“And now she seems to have dropped out of sight. That worries me a little.”

“Haven’t you done enough snooping, Shaw? Yesterday, trespassing here―what do you think gives you the right to rummage in my dead sister-in-law’s room? I could have you arrested for that―”

“I thought they didn’t tell you I was here.”

“Well, you’re mistaken.

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