Even the Butler Was Poor Read Free Page A

mall and then visiting you."
    "Looking for what? The money your boyfriend was trying to tell you about?"
    "Must be something like that, yes. That seems logical to me anyway."
    He eyed her. "H.J., thus far we have a possible murder—By the way, on the drive over I tried all the local stations and didn't catch any news about Rick Dell's death. Fact, mostly I got enthusiastic rock music," he said. "Okay, back to the point. Murder, loan sharks, organized crime. On top of that we now have your cottage being tossed. Instead of an ex-husband, what you need is the police."
    "You don't have to get further involved in this. I only phoned you because I was upset and we'd been talking about the—"
    "Hey, I'm not trying to abandon you while you're in distress," Ben assured her. "Besides, I've got nothing better to do. Candy decided to go home right after you called."
    "I'm sorry. I don't really think, though, that my phoning you had much to do with it. She seemed pretty unsettled after crashing headlong into my innocent parked car."
    "That contributed to her depression, yes," he said. "It also turns out she's allergic to chicken."
    "With a beak like hers you'd think she . . . ah, but I shouldn't let myself get sidetracked. Really, Ben, I would like to discuss my problem with you."
    Crouching, he started gathering up the paperbacks that had been dumped on the parlor floor. "Ali, here's my Nietsche." He slipped that one into his hip pocket. "Your problem, H.J., can't be solved by civilians. I was part of a show for the Friends of the Brimstone Police a year or so ago. I know a few—"
    "No." She shook her head, bending to put a chair upright. "I want my $5,000 first. The police, if they start nosing around, are surely going to confiscate any cash they come across. Tag it 'Exhibit A' and lock it away." She retrieved a fallen Tiffany lamp, replaced it on a reading table. "Besides, Ben, so far nobody in the law and order profession connects me with Rick Dell. If I contact your cop cronies—"
    "They're not cronies. Just a couple of detectives I met, but they seem—"
    "After we figure out the dying message and find my money, then I'll talk to your buddies in blue."
    "Hum?"
    "Brimstone police uniforms are tan." He carried an armload of books over to a shelf. "I see you still haven't mastered alphabetical order." He deposited the books, arranged them haphazardly. "Do you have someplace else you can stay, at least tonight?"
    "I'm staying right here," she told him. "They've gone through the whole damn cottage, so there doesn't seem to be any reason to come back again."
    "They might want to grab you."
    "They could've done that when I came home an hour ago." She ran one hand through her long auburn hair. "Nope, the breaking and entering phase is over."
    After replacing another load of books, Ben said, "Something small."
    "What they're hunting for, you mean?"
    "Right, it has to be small enough to fit in a book, a drawer—or even inside a tube of paint."
    H.J. said, "I think squirting the paint was just for spite. I've got nearly a hundred other tubes and they only squished a half-dozen. But it probably is something not too large they're after."
    He sat on the arm of a rocker. "This doesn't sound like thousands of dollars in cash."
    "Could be a check, though, or bonds."
    Getting up, he walked over to her. "Are you sure the guy wasn't into some kind of drug dealing?"
    "Yes, Ben. This isn't 'Brimstone Vice.'"
    "Even so, going to the cops will—"
    "Listen, let's concentrate on the dying message first. Have you solved that yet?"
    "No, but I was going over it while I was driving over here and . . . and . . ."
    "And what?"
    Frowning, he answered, "Nothing actually. Well, more than nothing, but not exactly something yet. For an instant just now I had an impression I was about to remember where I heard that phrase before. Ninety-nine clop clop."
    She watched him anxiously, reached out to squeeze his arm encouragingly. "Don't give up,