Read Online Ron Goulart - John Easy 03 - The Same Lie Twice by Ron Goulart - Free Book Online
Authors: Ron Goulart
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scatter of blue phone memos up off the blotter. “Jim Benning called to say nobody’s … what? What’s this word?”
“Lurking,” replied his short broad secretary. “Nobody’s lurking. He wanted you to know and he wanted to ask if we had anything more about his wife. Poor guy.”
Easy let himself down slowly into his chair. “I’m starting to feel like Typhoid Mary,” he said. “People I talk to are dying.”
“Who now?” asked Nan.
“Moseson’s sister.”
“You saw her last night, didn’t you?” asked Nan.
“Yeah, right before the hoods saw me.”
“How was she killed?”
“I just heard a short report on the news. But it sounds like the same style of killing they used on her brother.” He glanced at the second memo. “That must be what Lt. Alvin wants to see me about.”
“He told me it was only routine.”
“I don’t much like his idea of routine,” said Easy.
Hagopian bounced on the sofa a few times before settling down with his old briefcase on his knees. “You implied last night the San Ignacio cops might be in on what happened to you.”
Easy made a compact ball of the message from Lt. Alvin. “Those guys got on to me when I left Lana Moseson’s. It’s probable they were lurking around outside her cottage. Alvin knew I was heading there. Right now it seems safer not to trust him.” Easy frowned at the next phone message. “Gladys Waugh, huh?”
“She has a very mysterious voice.” Nan hurried over to make a quick delicate adjustment to the airconditioner.
“That’s because she’s a witch.”
“I drew the dollar sign next to her name because I think she wants to sell you something,” explained Nan.
Nodding, Easy said, “Yeah, I want to see her this morning. Sooner or later those goons are going to try to contact her.”
“She said she’d be available from noon on should you care to pay a call.”
Easy turned to the final message. “Ned Mowatt. Wants to see me right away. Urgent, with three exclamation points.”
“He called a few minutes ago,” said Nan. “Sounding very anxious and agitated.”
“Maybe he and his wife do know where Joanna has gotten to. I’ll head for there now.”
Hagopian held up the briefcase. “Want to take this stuff along with you?”
“What did you come up with?”
“Some background clippings on the Darlington & Sons accounting firm. They have done lots of work for outfits quite close to the San Ignacio local government, construction people, contractors and so on,” said Hagopian, rattling the briefcase. “I also packed you some material on Mayor Zibelli and his cronies. Oh, and one muckraking article on Sam Troxa, better known as Sam the Barber.”
“He used to be a barber?” asked Nan.
“He used to cut people’s throats,” said Hagopian. “There’s a strong possibility your goons are employed by Troxa. He’s a syndicate man. There have been rumors he’s tied in with most of the construction work in San Ignacio. That’s on top of gambling, loan sharking, prostitution and narcotics.”
“I’ve heard of Troxa,” said Easy.
“It looks like Troxa’s heard of you,” pointed out Hagopian. Down-turning lines formed on his wide forehead. “Maybe you ought to severely restrict the number of visits you make to San Ignacio.”
Easy lifted the briefcase from the dark writer’s hand. “I’ll take this along to San Ignacio with, me.” He tapped the forlorn Hagopian on the shoulder and went back out to his car.
XIII
J EANNIE MOWATT BENT TOWARD her husband. “Would Mr. Easy like a cup of coffee?”
“Ask him,” Ned Mowatt was a moderate-sized blonde man of thirty. He was sitting on a long low flowered sofa, surrounded by cats.
“No, thanks.” Easy leaned on the arm of a chair that matched the sofa. “Let’s get to what you wanted to talk to me about.”
Still not looking at Easy, Jeannie asked, “Maybe Mr. Easy would like a cup of tea instead?” She was wearing a short tweed skirt today and a
“Lurking,” replied his short broad secretary. “Nobody’s lurking. He wanted you to know and he wanted to ask if we had anything more about his wife. Poor guy.”
Easy let himself down slowly into his chair. “I’m starting to feel like Typhoid Mary,” he said. “People I talk to are dying.”
“Who now?” asked Nan.
“Moseson’s sister.”
“You saw her last night, didn’t you?” asked Nan.
“Yeah, right before the hoods saw me.”
“How was she killed?”
“I just heard a short report on the news. But it sounds like the same style of killing they used on her brother.” He glanced at the second memo. “That must be what Lt. Alvin wants to see me about.”
“He told me it was only routine.”
“I don’t much like his idea of routine,” said Easy.
Hagopian bounced on the sofa a few times before settling down with his old briefcase on his knees. “You implied last night the San Ignacio cops might be in on what happened to you.”
Easy made a compact ball of the message from Lt. Alvin. “Those guys got on to me when I left Lana Moseson’s. It’s probable they were lurking around outside her cottage. Alvin knew I was heading there. Right now it seems safer not to trust him.” Easy frowned at the next phone message. “Gladys Waugh, huh?”
“She has a very mysterious voice.” Nan hurried over to make a quick delicate adjustment to the airconditioner.
“That’s because she’s a witch.”
“I drew the dollar sign next to her name because I think she wants to sell you something,” explained Nan.
Nodding, Easy said, “Yeah, I want to see her this morning. Sooner or later those goons are going to try to contact her.”
“She said she’d be available from noon on should you care to pay a call.”
Easy turned to the final message. “Ned Mowatt. Wants to see me right away. Urgent, with three exclamation points.”
“He called a few minutes ago,” said Nan. “Sounding very anxious and agitated.”
“Maybe he and his wife do know where Joanna has gotten to. I’ll head for there now.”
Hagopian held up the briefcase. “Want to take this stuff along with you?”
“What did you come up with?”
“Some background clippings on the Darlington & Sons accounting firm. They have done lots of work for outfits quite close to the San Ignacio local government, construction people, contractors and so on,” said Hagopian, rattling the briefcase. “I also packed you some material on Mayor Zibelli and his cronies. Oh, and one muckraking article on Sam Troxa, better known as Sam the Barber.”
“He used to be a barber?” asked Nan.
“He used to cut people’s throats,” said Hagopian. “There’s a strong possibility your goons are employed by Troxa. He’s a syndicate man. There have been rumors he’s tied in with most of the construction work in San Ignacio. That’s on top of gambling, loan sharking, prostitution and narcotics.”
“I’ve heard of Troxa,” said Easy.
“It looks like Troxa’s heard of you,” pointed out Hagopian. Down-turning lines formed on his wide forehead. “Maybe you ought to severely restrict the number of visits you make to San Ignacio.”
Easy lifted the briefcase from the dark writer’s hand. “I’ll take this along to San Ignacio with, me.” He tapped the forlorn Hagopian on the shoulder and went back out to his car.
XIII
J EANNIE MOWATT BENT TOWARD her husband. “Would Mr. Easy like a cup of coffee?”
“Ask him,” Ned Mowatt was a moderate-sized blonde man of thirty. He was sitting on a long low flowered sofa, surrounded by cats.
“No, thanks.” Easy leaned on the arm of a chair that matched the sofa. “Let’s get to what you wanted to talk to me about.”
Still not looking at Easy, Jeannie asked, “Maybe Mr. Easy would like a cup of tea instead?” She was wearing a short tweed skirt today and a
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