Girl Watcher's Funeral by Hugh Pentecost Read Free Book Online Page B

she knew it.
    â€œIt’s a dog-eat-dog world, Haskell,” she said. She sat down on the edge of the bathtub, and the pleated skirt hiked up, revealing what were not Twiggy pipestems. “There’s a hell of a lot of money going into this Lazar promotion. I am—or was—on the gravy train. Nikos liked me.”
    â€œHe had good taste,” I said.
    â€œDon’t butter me, chum,” she said. “If Lazar comes off—and with a million bucks behind him, he will, or would have—I had an exclusive beat on the whole fashion field. I was the In-kid. If the rumble that’s going on here explodes before the showing day after tomorrow, I’m dead. Lazar’s collection will be buried under a sensational murder story. I’ll still be a dusty runner-up behind the other rag-trade writers. If the roof’s caving in, my one chance to stay ahead is to report it in advance. Tell me why I shouldn’t.”
    â€œYou’ll blow it anyway,” I said. “Any good reporter would.”
    â€œYou’re right,” she said, frowning at the ash on her cigarette. “In my trade the name of the game is ‘bitchiness.’ Beat the competition no matter how—if you want to eat. But I’m a soft-hearted sucker, Haskell. Nikos was my friend. If someone knocked him off, I want his account squared before anything else.”
    I believed her, and I made up my mind. “He wasn’t poisoned,” I said.
    â€œYou sound certain.”
    â€œI know,” I said. “But—that’s a technicality.” I took a deep drag on my cigarette and I told her about the soda mints. Her eyes widened as she listened, and I was suddenly aware they were an extraordinary bright blue.
    â€œThat’s wild!” she said.
    â€œIn spades,” I said.
    The blue eyes narrowed. “You’ve thought about this from top to bottom,” she said, “and so has Chambrun. You realize there’s something awfully long-range and casual about it. When Nikos had an attack, he would die. But there was no way your pill juggler could guess when it would happen. It happened today at four-thirty in the afternoon. But it might not have happened for a week, or a month, or a year. The last one he had was in Paris about six months ago. I was there.”
    â€œSomeone who was willing to wait a reasonable length of time—to inherit,” I suggested.
    â€œOh, God,” she said, “what a line-up! Do you know how Nikos planned things for the people he cared about?”
    â€œWell in advance—with the thought of dying in mind, according to Gallivan.”
    â€œThat was Nikos,” Rosey said. “Max Lazar stood to make a fortune if this promotion worked. But if something happened to Nikos before the big play was made, there is money—like in six figures—for Max to carry on his own affairs. Tim Gallivan is one of the chief heirs in gratitude for twenty years of loyal service. Jan Morse, the current flesh in Nikos’s life, will be rich. Monica Strong, who served him well until she got a little too old, will have a wad to carry on her business. Others, in varying substantial amounts—Suzie Sands, Morrie Stein, Zach Chambers. All taken care of in case something happened.”
    â€œThe Faradays?”
    Rosey laughed. “Mike is so rich they don’t need help from anyone,” she said.
    â€œWhat about you, Rosey?”
    She put out her cigarette on the edge of the wash basin. “The last thing Nikos ever said to me—early this afternoon—was, ‘Don’t sweat, Rosey. If anything happens to me before you make it big, you’ll still eat for a while.’ I suppose he made some sort of arrangement for me—like the others.”
    â€œWhat do you mean when you call Jan ‘the current flesh’ in Nikos’s life?”
    A strange little smile moved her wide lips. “Nikos was the king of the girl