Read Online The Sixth Commandment by Lawrence Sanders - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lawrence Sanders
Tags: Suspense
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Thorndecker, please. Samuel Todd calling.”
“Just a moment, please.”
Click, click, click.
“Lab.”
“Dr. Thorndecker, please. Samuel Todd calling.”
No clicks this time; just, “Hang on.”
“Mr. Todd?”
“Yes, Dr. Thorndecker?”
“No. I’m sorry, Mr. Todd, but Dr. Thorndecker can’t come to the phone at the moment. I’m Dr. Kenneth Draper, Dr. Thorndecker’s assistant. How are you, sir?”
It was a postnasal-drip kind of voice: stuffed, whiny, without resonance.
“If I felt any better I’d be unconscious, thank you. I have a message to call Dr. Thorndecker.”
“I know, sir. He’s been trying to reach you all afternoon, but at the moment he’s involved in a critical experiment.”
I was trying to take my socks off with my toes.
“So am I,” I said.
“Pardon, sir?”
“Childish humor. Forget it.”
“Dr. Thorndecker asks if you can join the family for dinner tonight. Here at Crittenden Hall. Cocktails at six, dinner at seven.”
“Be delighted,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Do you know how to get here, Mr. Todd? You drive east on Main Street, then—”
“I’ll find it,” I said hastily. “See you tonight. Thank you, Dr. Draper.”
I hung up, and took off my socks the conventional way. I lay back on the bed, figuring to grab a nap for an hour or so, then get up and shower, shave, dress. But sleep wouldn’t come. My mind was churning.
You’ve probably heard the following exchange on a TV detective drama, or read it in a detective novel:
Police Sergeant: “That guy is guilty as hell.”
Police Officer: “Why do you say that?”
Police Sergeant: “Gut instinct.”
Sometimes the sergeant says, “Gut feeling” or “A hunch.” But the implication is that he’s had an intuitive feeling, almost a subconscious inspiration, that has revealed the truth.
I asked an old precinct dick about this, and he said: “Bullshit.”
Then he said: “Look, I don’t deny that you get a gut feeling or a hunch about some cases, but it doesn’t just appear out of nowhere. You get a hunch, and if you sit down and analyze it, you discover that what it is, is a logical deduction based on things you know, things you’ve heard, things you’ve seen. I mean that ‘gut feeling’ they’re always talking about is really based on hard evidence. Instinct has got nothing to do with it.”
I didn’t have a gut feeling or a hunch about this Thorndecker investigation. What I had was more like a vague unease. So I started to analyze it, trying to discover what hard evidence had triggered it, and why it was spoiling my nap. My list went like this:
1. When a poor wife is killed accidentally, people cluck twice and say, “What a shame.” When a rich wife is killed accidentally, people cluck once, say, “What a shame,” and raise an eyebrow. Thorndecker’s first wife left him a mil and turned his life around.
2. Thorndecker had released the story of his application for a Bingham Foundation grant to the local press. It wasn’t unethical, but it was certainly unusual. I didn’t buy Constable Goodfellow’s story that it was impossible to keep a secret like that in a small town. Thorndecker could have prepared the application himself, or with the help of a single discreet aide, and no one in Coburn would have known a thing about it. So he had a motive for giving the story to the Coburn Sentinel. To rally the town on his side, knowing there’d be a field investigation?
3. Someone dispatched an armed cop to welcome me to Coburn. That was a dumb thing to do. Why not greet me in person or send an assistant? I didn’t understand Goodfellow’s role at all.
4. Al Coburn might have been an “old fart” to Agatha Binder, but I thought he was a crusty old geezer with all his marbles. So why had he said, “You watch your step, Sam Todd?” Watch my step for what? And what the hell was that “devil’s work” he claimed they were doing in the research lab?
5. Agatha Binder had called
“Just a moment, please.”
Click, click, click.
“Lab.”
“Dr. Thorndecker, please. Samuel Todd calling.”
No clicks this time; just, “Hang on.”
“Mr. Todd?”
“Yes, Dr. Thorndecker?”
“No. I’m sorry, Mr. Todd, but Dr. Thorndecker can’t come to the phone at the moment. I’m Dr. Kenneth Draper, Dr. Thorndecker’s assistant. How are you, sir?”
It was a postnasal-drip kind of voice: stuffed, whiny, without resonance.
“If I felt any better I’d be unconscious, thank you. I have a message to call Dr. Thorndecker.”
“I know, sir. He’s been trying to reach you all afternoon, but at the moment he’s involved in a critical experiment.”
I was trying to take my socks off with my toes.
“So am I,” I said.
“Pardon, sir?”
“Childish humor. Forget it.”
“Dr. Thorndecker asks if you can join the family for dinner tonight. Here at Crittenden Hall. Cocktails at six, dinner at seven.”
“Be delighted,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Do you know how to get here, Mr. Todd? You drive east on Main Street, then—”
“I’ll find it,” I said hastily. “See you tonight. Thank you, Dr. Draper.”
I hung up, and took off my socks the conventional way. I lay back on the bed, figuring to grab a nap for an hour or so, then get up and shower, shave, dress. But sleep wouldn’t come. My mind was churning.
You’ve probably heard the following exchange on a TV detective drama, or read it in a detective novel:
Police Sergeant: “That guy is guilty as hell.”
Police Officer: “Why do you say that?”
Police Sergeant: “Gut instinct.”
Sometimes the sergeant says, “Gut feeling” or “A hunch.” But the implication is that he’s had an intuitive feeling, almost a subconscious inspiration, that has revealed the truth.
I asked an old precinct dick about this, and he said: “Bullshit.”
Then he said: “Look, I don’t deny that you get a gut feeling or a hunch about some cases, but it doesn’t just appear out of nowhere. You get a hunch, and if you sit down and analyze it, you discover that what it is, is a logical deduction based on things you know, things you’ve heard, things you’ve seen. I mean that ‘gut feeling’ they’re always talking about is really based on hard evidence. Instinct has got nothing to do with it.”
I didn’t have a gut feeling or a hunch about this Thorndecker investigation. What I had was more like a vague unease. So I started to analyze it, trying to discover what hard evidence had triggered it, and why it was spoiling my nap. My list went like this:
1. When a poor wife is killed accidentally, people cluck twice and say, “What a shame.” When a rich wife is killed accidentally, people cluck once, say, “What a shame,” and raise an eyebrow. Thorndecker’s first wife left him a mil and turned his life around.
2. Thorndecker had released the story of his application for a Bingham Foundation grant to the local press. It wasn’t unethical, but it was certainly unusual. I didn’t buy Constable Goodfellow’s story that it was impossible to keep a secret like that in a small town. Thorndecker could have prepared the application himself, or with the help of a single discreet aide, and no one in Coburn would have known a thing about it. So he had a motive for giving the story to the Coburn Sentinel. To rally the town on his side, knowing there’d be a field investigation?
3. Someone dispatched an armed cop to welcome me to Coburn. That was a dumb thing to do. Why not greet me in person or send an assistant? I didn’t understand Goodfellow’s role at all.
4. Al Coburn might have been an “old fart” to Agatha Binder, but I thought he was a crusty old geezer with all his marbles. So why had he said, “You watch your step, Sam Todd?” Watch my step for what? And what the hell was that “devil’s work” he claimed they were doing in the research lab?
5. Agatha Binder had called
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