Pardon My Body by Dale Bogard

Author:Dale Bogard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mills & Boon Series
Published: 2009-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

I RODE THE SUBWAY AS FAR AS Broadway. Then I got a taxi to my apartment. I managed to get into it without being seen because Bella had left her little switchboard on some errand. I stripped off, took a bath, dressed again and dialled Marty Alton’s club.

Marty said my girlfriend had left with the other gentleman. That would be Banningham. They must have thought I had given them the air. I gave myself a slug of bourbon, called up a taxi service and rode down to the Village to collect my car.

I was driving back when I looked at my wristwatch. I saw that it was only 8:30 p.m. Then I thought of something. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I left the car out front of my apartment and went up to the telephone. There was a slight delay in getting through to Long Island but I finally made it.

A woman’s voice answered. “Mrs. Louella Grierson’s home. Mrs. Grierson speaking.”

I said, “My name is Dale Bogard. I would like to come out and see you.”

“Do I know you?” The voice was a full-rounded contralto. It sounded all right. I thought the owner would be tall, a little matronly, perhaps graying slightly. Aged forty-five to fifty. Probably distinguished looking.

“No. That is my loss.”

“I think I have given interviews already to…” she began.

“Mrs. Grierson,” I said, “you may put your mind at rest. I am not a newspaper reporter, a life insurance official, a dick from the homicide bureau or a private eye. I am a very private citizen who happens to have been caught up in something which is nothing to do with him.”

“Should I be interested, Mr. Bogard?”

I drew a deep breath and let her have it.

“I sat not twenty feet from your husband the night he was killed. The man who killed your husband has since been murdered. A man who may have known too much has also been murdered. At least two gentlemen have threatened my own life. I have an idea you might be able to help solve all this.”

There was silence. Then her voice came on again. “It is all very dreadful, Mr. Bogard—but I do not see what you can expect to learn from me.”

I told her, “Maybe I’m playing it wrong—but maybe you know something about your husband’s background that would give a clue to a lot of things.”

“I see,” she said—though I didn’t think she did. Not very well.

“Do I come out?”

“Very well—if you think it will help. Where are you?”

“In New York. I’ll drive myself out.” Something struck me. “If you think this might be a new way of working a hoist you can have your servants on hand with sawn-off shotguns or call up police headquarters and have them check on me.”

A low musical laugh slid into my left ear. Pleasantly. “I’ll take a chance,” was what she said.

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