Saratoga Headhunter (Charlie Bradshaw) by Stephen Dobyns

Author:Stephen Dobyns
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Mystery, Hard-Boiled, Thriller & Suspense
ISBN: 9781405529389
Publisher: Sphere
Published: 2013-08-02T04:00:00+00:00

9

“I KEEP TELLING YOU,” said Victor, “how do I know this joker was disguising his voice unless I know what his voice sounded like in the first place? Maybe he was born hoarse.”

“You said he was disguising his voice,” said Charlie.

“I said he might have been. Anyway, maybe it was Stitt who called after all. Maybe he wanted to talk to you in private, then got himself killed first. Who’s to say?”

“But if it was someone disguising his voice,” said Charlie as patiently as possible, “the reason would seem to be that he was afraid you might recognize his real voice, which would imply that person is a person you know or at least have talked to.” Charlie leaned back in his chair and looked at Victor in what he hoped was a kindly manner. It was late Sunday afternoon. Charlie had returned from seeing Artemis half an hour before and had found Victor in the office. On top of the file cabinet was a stuffed parrot, which had not been there yesterday. Charlie was certain that Victor was waiting for him to ask where the parrot had come from but he refused to rise to the bait.

Victor locked his hands behind his head and eyed Charlie with displeasure. “For Pete’s sake, Charlie, you don’t have to talk to me like I was a moron. Either it was Stitt or somebody else. If it was somebody else, then that person might or might not have been disguising his voice. If he was disguising his voice, then either he was somebody I know and was afraid I’d recognize his real voice, or he was a lunatic. Personally, I think he was a lunatic but, hey, flip a coin and I’ll go with the crowd.”

“So it could have been Leakey since he’s someone you’ve talked to before.”

It had turned out that Roy Leakey, the lawyer named by Artemis, was the same lawyer whom Victor had been bothering about some old love letters and who had punched Victor for poking through his desk.

“If Leakey turns out to be the murderer,” said Victor, “nobody will be happier than me. I’ll even write to my Congressman and ask him to bring back the chair. But if it was Leakey who called, then I didn’t recognize his voice.”

“But if he was disguising it,” suggested Charlie, “then how could you recognize it?”

Victor threw up his hands and slapped them down on the desk. “You got me. I’ve fallen prey to your spider logic once again. Okay, so it might have been Leakey, but I’ve also talked to Marotta. So maybe it was him that called.”

“Fine,” said Charlie, “but the point is you never talked to the others. You never talked to this Ralph Conrad or Reinhardt or Jespersen or Perez …”

“Hold it,” said Victor.

“What?”

“I talked to Jespersen.”

“How come?”

“He’s Moshe’s vet. Jesus, Charlie, don’t you remember anything? Remember I said his old lady wanted me to get some dirt on him and I said I couldn’t. I mean, a good vet is more important than a client.

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