Read Online Even the Butler Was Poor by Ron Goulart - Free Book Online
Authors: Ron Goulart
Tags: Mystery & Crime
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the night highway for a few seconds and saw her prying the section off the hollow wooden leg. "What's in there?"
She set the section of leg on the seat beside her. Nose wrinkling slightly, she lifted out something small and dark between thumb and forefinger. "This is it?"
"A roll of 35 millimeter film."
"I know but . . ." She closed her fingers slowly over the roll of film. "People are getting killed. People are getting tortured. We're being shot at. All for this?"
"Must be some important photos," he said. "And that just about proves that Rick Dell was a blackmailer."
"We don't know for certain that this contains blackmail photos." She brought her hand up nearer her face, opened it and studied the spool. "This could just as well be prints of a treasure map."
"It could be the plans for a new Disneyland in Yugoslavia," he said. "But I'm betting it's incriminating photos."
She tapped the undeveloped film on her left knee. "Darn, what an anticlimax."
"The point is, H.J., we've now found what we set out to find. It hasn't led to fame and fortune, but that's the way things go. As soon as we get home to Connecticut we'll turn this over to the police. That should get the hoods off ourâ"
"Bullshit."
"Beg pardon?"
"I'm not quitting this business until I know for sure what's on this roll of film," she told him. "If it is a map or a chart, I don't want a bunch of cops digging up my doubloons."
"So you want to get the pictures developed?"
"I surely do."
"Suppose it's thirty-six shots of a couple committing adultery in a motel? Fotomat's going to frown onâ"
"We'll have to get them developed privately, schmuck," she said. "Hey, Joe Sankowitz is an amateur photographer, isn't he? He used to be when I knew him."
"Joe has his own darkroom, sure. But do you want toâ"
"We can trust him."
"That's not it. I don't know if I want to involve a friend of mine in something crooked."
"Rick may've been crooked, Ben, but we're not."
After a few seconds he replied, "Okay, we'll stop by Joe's when we get back to Brimstone."
She dropped the roll of film into her purse, deposited Buggsy on the floor. Placing a hand on Ben's arm, she sad, "Once we get a look at these pictures, I'll quit. I promise."
Chapter 11
Â
S ankowitz, left eye narrowed, looked out at him through the narrow opening. "If you want to go running with me, you'll have to wait until. . . But, no. Nobody would want to run in a business suit," he said, opening his front door wider. "Especially a business suit that's apparently been worn wrestling alligators in a swamp."
Ben blinked, then yawned. "Can you do me a favor, Joe?"
"More than likely. What?"
He shifted on the shaggy welcome mat, fished the roll of film out of his coat pocket. "Can you develop this for us?"
His friend looked from the film to his face. "Is this another chapter in your adventures with H.J.?"
"She's waiting in the car."
"You may recall my warning you about taking up again with ladies known to have futzed up your life," Sankowitz reminded him. "This is only a hasty diagnosis, mind you, but I'd guess that your life has been futzed up considerably during the past few hours."
"Somebody did try to shoot me," admitted Ben.
"See?"
"But we got away safely, and we're on the last phase of this business. Once we see what these pictures turn out to be, H.J. is going to turn over everything to the police."
"Things are worse than I suspected, you're back to believing what she tells you. Remember the problems that she caused you during yourâ"
"Contact prints'll do," said Ben, yawning again. "I have to go into the city for that My Man Chumley job this afternoon, but do you think you can have them done by tonight?"
"I only have two finishes to do for The New Yorker and a color comp for a Westport ad agency." His friend took the film from his hand. "That's nowhere near as important as this obviously. You be home by eight?"
"I should, and if I'm not, H.J. can let you in."
"She's
She set the section of leg on the seat beside her. Nose wrinkling slightly, she lifted out something small and dark between thumb and forefinger. "This is it?"
"A roll of 35 millimeter film."
"I know but . . ." She closed her fingers slowly over the roll of film. "People are getting killed. People are getting tortured. We're being shot at. All for this?"
"Must be some important photos," he said. "And that just about proves that Rick Dell was a blackmailer."
"We don't know for certain that this contains blackmail photos." She brought her hand up nearer her face, opened it and studied the spool. "This could just as well be prints of a treasure map."
"It could be the plans for a new Disneyland in Yugoslavia," he said. "But I'm betting it's incriminating photos."
She tapped the undeveloped film on her left knee. "Darn, what an anticlimax."
"The point is, H.J., we've now found what we set out to find. It hasn't led to fame and fortune, but that's the way things go. As soon as we get home to Connecticut we'll turn this over to the police. That should get the hoods off ourâ"
"Bullshit."
"Beg pardon?"
"I'm not quitting this business until I know for sure what's on this roll of film," she told him. "If it is a map or a chart, I don't want a bunch of cops digging up my doubloons."
"So you want to get the pictures developed?"
"I surely do."
"Suppose it's thirty-six shots of a couple committing adultery in a motel? Fotomat's going to frown onâ"
"We'll have to get them developed privately, schmuck," she said. "Hey, Joe Sankowitz is an amateur photographer, isn't he? He used to be when I knew him."
"Joe has his own darkroom, sure. But do you want toâ"
"We can trust him."
"That's not it. I don't know if I want to involve a friend of mine in something crooked."
"Rick may've been crooked, Ben, but we're not."
After a few seconds he replied, "Okay, we'll stop by Joe's when we get back to Brimstone."
She dropped the roll of film into her purse, deposited Buggsy on the floor. Placing a hand on Ben's arm, she sad, "Once we get a look at these pictures, I'll quit. I promise."
Chapter 11
Â
S ankowitz, left eye narrowed, looked out at him through the narrow opening. "If you want to go running with me, you'll have to wait until. . . But, no. Nobody would want to run in a business suit," he said, opening his front door wider. "Especially a business suit that's apparently been worn wrestling alligators in a swamp."
Ben blinked, then yawned. "Can you do me a favor, Joe?"
"More than likely. What?"
He shifted on the shaggy welcome mat, fished the roll of film out of his coat pocket. "Can you develop this for us?"
His friend looked from the film to his face. "Is this another chapter in your adventures with H.J.?"
"She's waiting in the car."
"You may recall my warning you about taking up again with ladies known to have futzed up your life," Sankowitz reminded him. "This is only a hasty diagnosis, mind you, but I'd guess that your life has been futzed up considerably during the past few hours."
"Somebody did try to shoot me," admitted Ben.
"See?"
"But we got away safely, and we're on the last phase of this business. Once we see what these pictures turn out to be, H.J. is going to turn over everything to the police."
"Things are worse than I suspected, you're back to believing what she tells you. Remember the problems that she caused you during yourâ"
"Contact prints'll do," said Ben, yawning again. "I have to go into the city for that My Man Chumley job this afternoon, but do you think you can have them done by tonight?"
"I only have two finishes to do for The New Yorker and a color comp for a Westport ad agency." His friend took the film from his hand. "That's nowhere near as important as this obviously. You be home by eight?"
"I should, and if I'm not, H.J. can let you in."
"She's
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