Cool & Lam 15 - Beware the Curves

Amazon jungle several years ago, never let it be known that he was alive?“
    “You’ll have to ask Quinn about that.”
    “Why did he keep under cover?”
    “I don’t know. He may have been investigating something on his own. You’ll have to ask Quinn.”
    “Is it true that Mrs. Endicott knew Ansel was alive before her husband was killed?”
    I said, “Look, boys, you’re wasting a lot of time. You’ve got a dam good story. Why don’t you go out and put it in the papers? You know damn well we can’t tell you anything about what any of the principals in the case are going to do. The only person who could make any announcement of that sort would be Barney Quinn.
    “As it is, I’ve stuck my neck out. We’re working on this Endicott case. You wanted a story. I’ve given you a brand new angle.”
    They exchanged glances and nodded. The photographer took a picture of me sitting on the edge of Bertha’s desk. He took a picture of Bertha and me “conferring.” He took a picture of Bertha and me shaking hands. They shook hands with us and left.
    “You little bastard!” Bertha said. “They’ll crucify you for that!”
    “For what?”
    “For all that cockeyed information.”
    “Wait and see,” I told her.

CHAPTER 12 …

    The story made headlines in the afternoon papers. The evening edition of the Citrus Grove Clarion contained a statement from Bailey Crosset , one of the city trustees of Citrus Grove.
    Crosset denied unequivocally the slanderous accusation made by an “irresponsible Los Angeles detective” to the effect that any member or members of the city council of Citrus Grove had had their hands out or were standing in the path of progress.
    There had, he admitted, been some off-the-record discussion concerning changing of a zoning ordinance in connection with a tract of land. The city council had the matter under informal advisement.
    Crosset stated that he had at no time received any money or ever expected to receive any money for any matter in connection with his duties as city councilman. He was, however, in politics, and as a politician he was entitled to accept campaign contributions. He had accepted a campaign contribution from Drude Nickerson. The amount had been two thousand dollars. At the time Nickerson had given him the money, he had understood there were no strings attached to it, but he was going to call for an investigation. If it should appear that Nickerson was in any way interested in this zoning matter, it was all news to Crosset , and, as a matter of principle, Crosset intended to vote against any change in the zoning ordinance so that there could be no question of any money being paid to him in connection with any pending ordinance.
    The newspaper account went on to state that Drude Nickerson, who had been named by Crosset as having made a campaign contribution in an amount of two thousand dollars, was the same Drude Nickerson who was a witness in the Endicott murder case and, because of developments in the murder case, was at the moment unavailable for questioning.
    The Santa Ana papers carried the story about a big eastern manufacturer looking for a suitable location and stated that, while it was rumored Citrus Grove had been tentatively chosen by the manufacturer, there were now indications that property adjacent to Santa Ana was being considered for this big industrial expansion.
    Stella Karis called me on the phone. She was so mad she could hardly talk. “What in hell have you done to me?” she asked. “Why, you double-crossing rat! You— !“
    “Pipe down,” I said. “I told you that any information you gave me wasn’t confidential.”
    “Those may have been your words, but the way you told me you... you—”
    “Listen,” I said. “Keep your shirt on! The last time I saw you they were trying to put the squeeze on you for ten grand in addition to the fifteen you’ve already paid. You haven’t heard any more about that additional squeeze, have you?”
    “No,” she admitted.
    “You won’t,” I told her. “Sit tight. Don’t be a damn fool. Go to a bank. Turn your property over to the bank for management and start painting nudes.”
    I hung up.
    Another call came through. The voice was suave, polished.
    “ Mr. Lam?”
    “Right.”
    “I am Homer Garfield, President of the Citrus Grove Chamber of Commerce.”
    “How are you, Mr. Garfield?”
    “Very well, thank you, Mr. Lam. I have read various statements in the public press concerning a