Page 90 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Cat’s Paw

“Umm, yeah. She has given me—that is, my employer, Mallard
Books—permission to look for a specific document. I don’t know
what else I can legally do for you, Mr. Goode.”
There was a pause, then: “Please try to understand my situation,
Mr. O’Bleakley. I went out on a limb to get that policy for Mr. Lesley.
Without divulging any truly confidential information, let me just say
that he was not the best risk in the world. I mean, for a man in his
age group, he came up actuarially sound in most areas: weight, blood
pressure, medical history in general. But his life style was, shall we
say, highly unorthodox. A little red flag went up, but I had personally
dealt with the man and found him to be quite sensible and goal-
oriented. Maybe I was wrong; we do have sales quotas, you know.”
I had no life insurance and found the subject distasteful. But the
guy was opening himself up to a complete stranger. He had to be
desperate. “I get your drift. You want me to keep an eye out for a
suicide note, and if I find it then maybe accidentally drop it into my
pocket while Mrs. Lesley isn’t watching.”
“Oh, ah, I didn’t say that, did I?”
“No, of course not.” I sighed. “Listen, what makes you think he
killed himself? Didn’t he bang his head on something and pass out?
That was accidental. Garage door wouldn’t open, right? Unlikely
chain of events leading to disaster, the old failsafe failure.”
“As I mentioned,” he replied cautiously, “the authorities ruled the
circumstances exactly as you describe. But he was alone in there with
the doors locked.”
“Seems to me I would have done it differently if I were going to
poison myself with carbon monoxide. Why suffer the bump on the
noggin?”
“Ah, there you have it, Mr. O’Bleakley. A man in his right mind
sees things quite differently than one who is in an agitated state. You
may think I am grasping at straws, but my position at Cornish Rock
is in jeopardy. Will you lend me your assistance? My gratitude, if you
are successful, will be manifest in a more tangible form.”
“Sure, sure, I’ll make a note of it. You can rest assured I’ll leave no
six-foot tall pile of old papers unturned.”
“Ha-ha.” His laugh was forced. “Yes, I know what you mean. I’ve
seen the inside of his house. Well, thank you, sir, and you have my
number.”

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