The April Robin Murders by Craig Rice & Ed McBain

Author:Craig Rice & Ed McBain [Rice, Craig & McBain, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: crime, humor, murder, mystery, suspense
Publisher: Dell
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

twelve

“Handsome,” Bingo said sternly, “we bought a house. We practically bought a house. It had a caretaker and the caretaker got killed. It isn’t any of our business.”

“Okay, Bingo,” Handsome said unhappily, “if you say so. Only, it reads here like she didn’t have any folks anywhere, and she should be buried nicely, and besides, nobody seems to care who murdered her, except maybe us.”

Bingo waved his newspaper at Handsome and said, “The police are working on the case.”

Handsome said nothing. He just looked worried and miserable.

“All right,” Bingo said at last. “We’ll go home and call up—” He paused. “That Hendenfelder, not Perroni. Maybe they’ve found out some more about her by now.” He jammed his cigarette viciously in his saucer and said as reassuringly as he could, “If there’s anything to find out, we’ll find it.”

He added, out in the car, “And if we spot any likely places to take pictures—”

“We’ll stop,” Handsome said.

“Just a question of finding the right place at the right time,” Bingo said with false cheerfulness. A matter that was going to involve a little more careful study of the Visitor’s Guide. He yawned. The day was half gone. They had a roof over their heads and it was a roof that could stand a little exploring. He puzzled over that thought for a moment. The house itself could stand a little exploring. It wasn’t just a matter of finding a hint as to where Julien Lattimer’s body was hidden, assuming that he had become a body. Nor of finding a little souvenir of April Robin to please Hendenfelder. It had suddenly become a matter of finding out just what had happened to Pearl Durzy, and why.

“Bingo,” Handsome said, “there’s a bunch of people in front of our house.” He slowed down the convertible.

Bingo looked. There were a few cars parked along the street, and a few dozen people arranged at the edge of the driveway. One curious observer had ventured a little way up the driveway toward the house itself.

“If one more thing has gone wrong,” Bingo said, “we’re going right back to New York.”

“It’s the newspapers,” Handsome said, as though he were personally apologizing for them. “Account of Miss Durzy—Mrs. Durzy—either dying or getting killed here and it being the house from which Mr. and Mrs. Lattimer disappeared. It gives the address of the house in the story and there’s one picture of the house, only not a very good one. I remember when a Mr. Clement Hathaway, who was a society man and rich, hanged himself from a tree in Central Park, for no reason anybody ever knew, and for weeks afterward people were coming to look at the tree and cut off little pieces of it for souvenirs.” He added, “I don’t know why people act that way, only they do.”

“I don’t even care why they act, that way,” Bingo said happily. “I’m just glad that they do.” The word “souvenirs” had not only rung a bell in his mind, but set a whole series of them ringing.

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