Read Online The Long Lavender Look by John D. MacDonald - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John D. MacDonald
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Private Investigators, Hard-Boiled, Fort Lauderdale (Fla.), McGee; Travis (Fictitious character)
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people would be swarming all over you. I wouldn't want that to happen because I wouldn't want you to look foolish. I wouldn't want one of those hard-case types the Miami Herald would send over here asking you, for the record, if you were so sure Baither was in on the money-truck job, why you didn't have him under twenty-four-hour surveillance. They wouldn't understand your reasoning, and they might use some rude head such as: HICK SHERIFF BLOWS BIG CASE." He shrugged and, turning, managed to wink at me--a combination wink and frown.
I caught on and grabbed my cue. "Lennie, look. It isn't that important I get home. I'm perfectly willing to hang around if Sheriff Hyzer wants me to. But I haven't even got enough cash to take care of the car. If you could . . ."
"Any time at all, pal," Lennie said, and produced the platinum money clip with the emeralds, the one given him in gratitude by the Other Woman after he had secured an acquittal for the heir to a pulp mill and timberlands fortune who had shot and killed what he thought was a prowler, but who had turned out to be his insomniac wife.
Counting off money for me would not have been consistent with Lennie Sibelius's lifestyle. He slipped the cash out of the clip, took off a couple of fifties for himself, put them back in the clip, and handed me the rest of it.
"I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. McGee," Hyzer said. "Let me know where you will be staying."
Meyer and I collected the rest of our gear. Laundry and dry cleaning courtesy of Cypress County. A form of apology. We put the small amount of luggage into the white Buick convertible Lennie had rented. I could see them off and bring it back into town from the airstrip, and either turn it in or keep it. I sat in the back. It was impossible to talk with the top down and with Lennie pretending he was being challenged for the lead in the Daytona 500. The strip was about five miles east of the city limits. He drove past the hangar and on out onto the hard pan and stopped next to his Apache, all chocked and tied down to eyebolts.
"You can get a very nice room at the White Ibis Motor Inn," Lennie said. "You go back through town-"
"I saw it when they were taking us in."
"But don't eat there. Eat right in town at Mrs. Teffer's Live Oak Lodge and Dining Room.
Exceptional!"
"Now hold it a minute, Lennie. I picked up your cue. But it would be very comforting to know what the hell is going on."
Meyer said, "Nine hundred thousand dollars is going on." His voice was slightly blurred by the mouth damage.
"So don't be in too big a hurry to leave," Lennie said.
"This is one of my stupid days," I told them. "Draw me some pictures."
"I like Norm's thinking. It all seems to fit together. And I think that sooner or later he's going to pick somebody up for it."
"Wouldn't they be long gone?"
Lennie smiled. "By God, it is one of your stupid days. If they were long gone, there would be very little point in going to the trouble of planting that envelope. One or more of the people involved have to be right here in the area, tied to it in such a way that the act of leaving would blow the whistle. When Norm grabs somebody, they are going to need the best legal talent they can find. And they should be able to afford me."
"I can have a sandwich sign made and walk back and forth in front of the jail?"
"The Association would frown on that. Hell, they even frown on my little decorations on the airplane and the cruiser."
He pointed and I stepped up and took a closer look. They were small decals, hardly bigger than Page 26
a postage stamp. A stylized gallows in black on a white background with a black border, and with an X in red canceling out the gallows. The custom decals were on the cowling under the pilot's window. Almost three rows. Twenty-eight of them.
"All this trouble to plant a shill in the area?"
"Trav, pal, I had the idea you might stir around a little. A catalytic agent, bringing the brew to a nice simmer. Then Norm might be
I caught on and grabbed my cue. "Lennie, look. It isn't that important I get home. I'm perfectly willing to hang around if Sheriff Hyzer wants me to. But I haven't even got enough cash to take care of the car. If you could . . ."
"Any time at all, pal," Lennie said, and produced the platinum money clip with the emeralds, the one given him in gratitude by the Other Woman after he had secured an acquittal for the heir to a pulp mill and timberlands fortune who had shot and killed what he thought was a prowler, but who had turned out to be his insomniac wife.
Counting off money for me would not have been consistent with Lennie Sibelius's lifestyle. He slipped the cash out of the clip, took off a couple of fifties for himself, put them back in the clip, and handed me the rest of it.
"I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. McGee," Hyzer said. "Let me know where you will be staying."
Meyer and I collected the rest of our gear. Laundry and dry cleaning courtesy of Cypress County. A form of apology. We put the small amount of luggage into the white Buick convertible Lennie had rented. I could see them off and bring it back into town from the airstrip, and either turn it in or keep it. I sat in the back. It was impossible to talk with the top down and with Lennie pretending he was being challenged for the lead in the Daytona 500. The strip was about five miles east of the city limits. He drove past the hangar and on out onto the hard pan and stopped next to his Apache, all chocked and tied down to eyebolts.
"You can get a very nice room at the White Ibis Motor Inn," Lennie said. "You go back through town-"
"I saw it when they were taking us in."
"But don't eat there. Eat right in town at Mrs. Teffer's Live Oak Lodge and Dining Room.
Exceptional!"
"Now hold it a minute, Lennie. I picked up your cue. But it would be very comforting to know what the hell is going on."
Meyer said, "Nine hundred thousand dollars is going on." His voice was slightly blurred by the mouth damage.
"So don't be in too big a hurry to leave," Lennie said.
"This is one of my stupid days," I told them. "Draw me some pictures."
"I like Norm's thinking. It all seems to fit together. And I think that sooner or later he's going to pick somebody up for it."
"Wouldn't they be long gone?"
Lennie smiled. "By God, it is one of your stupid days. If they were long gone, there would be very little point in going to the trouble of planting that envelope. One or more of the people involved have to be right here in the area, tied to it in such a way that the act of leaving would blow the whistle. When Norm grabs somebody, they are going to need the best legal talent they can find. And they should be able to afford me."
"I can have a sandwich sign made and walk back and forth in front of the jail?"
"The Association would frown on that. Hell, they even frown on my little decorations on the airplane and the cruiser."
He pointed and I stepped up and took a closer look. They were small decals, hardly bigger than Page 26
a postage stamp. A stylized gallows in black on a white background with a black border, and with an X in red canceling out the gallows. The custom decals were on the cowling under the pilot's window. Almost three rows. Twenty-eight of them.
"All this trouble to plant a shill in the area?"
"Trav, pal, I had the idea you might stir around a little. A catalytic agent, bringing the brew to a nice simmer. Then Norm might be
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