Read Online The Avenger 9 - Tuned for Murder by Kenneth Robeson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kenneth Robeson
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Men following me, watching me. At least I think they have. Maybe I’m getting a persecution complex. But—no, I’m sure I’ve been observed.”
They went out to a small, exclusive restaurant near the building, and over a women’s meal she talked freely on the subject.
“It’s all due to that silly invention of my husband’s. You knew my husband was the Cranlowe? Jesse Cranlowe, the inventor?”
Nellie made polite sounds indicating that she was surprised and impressed.
“Well, Jesse, my husband, recently invented some kind of war thing. I don’t know what it is. I’ve never been much interested in his work. But this, it seems, is quite important. After he had invented it, he gave an announcement to the newspapers. It was an absurd thing to do. He said he had the most deadly weapon yet invented and would give it to any small nation for defense in the event that it is attacked by any larger nation. Going to stop war, and all that. But perhaps you read about it.”
“A little,” Nellie murmured. “Not a great deal.”
“Well, of course the minute such an announcement came out, it meant that all sorts of terrible people would try to get the weapon from Jesse. So he had to take necessary precautions. That’s why I’m living here, in town, instead of out at Cranlowe Heights with him. Though I have always spent a great deal of time in town.”
She waved a smooth, white hand.
“Our country home has been turned into an armed camp.” she said distastefully. “Guards and dogs, and all the trees cut down because otherwise people might hide behind them. It is very uncomfortable out there, so I live here.”
Nellie recalled her to her former subject.
“And you really think people have been following you around since that newspaper announcement? Because of your husband’s invention?”
“It must be because of the invention,” said Mrs. Cranlowe, nodding wisely. “Because no one ever followed me around before.”
“But why do you suppose they annoy you? You haven’t anything to do with his invention. Or—have you?”
“Not one single thing,” said Mrs. Cranlowe. “So, you see, it is all very stupid.”
Nellie didn’t say anything for a moment. But she was thinking. Not so stupid, perhaps. This woman didn’t have anything to do with Cranlowe’s work. But she had a great deal to do with the man, himself. Presumably she was adored. If she were kidnaped, and then threats made—
“Have you ever seen the people you think are following you? Ever had a good look at them?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Cranlowe. “There is one man I have seen so often that I’m sure he is following me. That is a young chap who doesn’t, somehow, look young, though you know he is. If you get what I mean.”
Nellie did get what she meant, having seen the same man herself.
“The other I’ve seen several times. He is a very fat man, not tall, who looks extremely good-natured. And yet I would hate to meet him on a dark street with money in my bag.”
Nellie marked those descriptions down graphically in her memory. She was getting, she thought, information more valuable than she had dared hope for.
The meal was about over. Mrs. Cranlowe kept looking at a tiny jeweled watch on her wrist.
“My son is coming for me very shortly,” she explained, at last. “Rather, Mr. Cranlowe’s son. He’s really my stepson, though neither of us ever think of that.”
“You mean the young man who came up to you in the lobby just after we’d met over the run in my stocking?” said Nellie, pretending she didn’t already know all about young Robert Cranlowe.
“Yes, that’s the man— Here he is now.”
A very good-looking young chap was coming in the restaurant door. He was tall and slim and dark-haired, with engaging blue eyes. Almost too engaging, Nellie thought. He was one of these young fellows whom everyone describes as “his own worst enemy.” The kind everyone liked but no one trusted in important matters.
He came
They went out to a small, exclusive restaurant near the building, and over a women’s meal she talked freely on the subject.
“It’s all due to that silly invention of my husband’s. You knew my husband was the Cranlowe? Jesse Cranlowe, the inventor?”
Nellie made polite sounds indicating that she was surprised and impressed.
“Well, Jesse, my husband, recently invented some kind of war thing. I don’t know what it is. I’ve never been much interested in his work. But this, it seems, is quite important. After he had invented it, he gave an announcement to the newspapers. It was an absurd thing to do. He said he had the most deadly weapon yet invented and would give it to any small nation for defense in the event that it is attacked by any larger nation. Going to stop war, and all that. But perhaps you read about it.”
“A little,” Nellie murmured. “Not a great deal.”
“Well, of course the minute such an announcement came out, it meant that all sorts of terrible people would try to get the weapon from Jesse. So he had to take necessary precautions. That’s why I’m living here, in town, instead of out at Cranlowe Heights with him. Though I have always spent a great deal of time in town.”
She waved a smooth, white hand.
“Our country home has been turned into an armed camp.” she said distastefully. “Guards and dogs, and all the trees cut down because otherwise people might hide behind them. It is very uncomfortable out there, so I live here.”
Nellie recalled her to her former subject.
“And you really think people have been following you around since that newspaper announcement? Because of your husband’s invention?”
“It must be because of the invention,” said Mrs. Cranlowe, nodding wisely. “Because no one ever followed me around before.”
“But why do you suppose they annoy you? You haven’t anything to do with his invention. Or—have you?”
“Not one single thing,” said Mrs. Cranlowe. “So, you see, it is all very stupid.”
Nellie didn’t say anything for a moment. But she was thinking. Not so stupid, perhaps. This woman didn’t have anything to do with Cranlowe’s work. But she had a great deal to do with the man, himself. Presumably she was adored. If she were kidnaped, and then threats made—
“Have you ever seen the people you think are following you? Ever had a good look at them?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Cranlowe. “There is one man I have seen so often that I’m sure he is following me. That is a young chap who doesn’t, somehow, look young, though you know he is. If you get what I mean.”
Nellie did get what she meant, having seen the same man herself.
“The other I’ve seen several times. He is a very fat man, not tall, who looks extremely good-natured. And yet I would hate to meet him on a dark street with money in my bag.”
Nellie marked those descriptions down graphically in her memory. She was getting, she thought, information more valuable than she had dared hope for.
The meal was about over. Mrs. Cranlowe kept looking at a tiny jeweled watch on her wrist.
“My son is coming for me very shortly,” she explained, at last. “Rather, Mr. Cranlowe’s son. He’s really my stepson, though neither of us ever think of that.”
“You mean the young man who came up to you in the lobby just after we’d met over the run in my stocking?” said Nellie, pretending she didn’t already know all about young Robert Cranlowe.
“Yes, that’s the man— Here he is now.”
A very good-looking young chap was coming in the restaurant door. He was tall and slim and dark-haired, with engaging blue eyes. Almost too engaging, Nellie thought. He was one of these young fellows whom everyone describes as “his own worst enemy.” The kind everyone liked but no one trusted in important matters.
He came
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