Gold Comes in Bricks by A. A. Fair (Erle Stanley Gardner) Read Free Book Online Page B

that?”
    “Murdered!”
    “That’s right.”
    “Good Heavens, who killed him?”
    “We don’t know.”
    “When was he killed?”
    “Right around eleven o’clock tonight.”
    Bob said, “This is a terrible shock to me. I didn’t know the man intimately, but he was a business associate. Parker Stold and I were talking about him—it must have been right around the time he was killed.”
    “Who’s Parker Stold?”
    “One of my associates.”
    “Where were you when you were doing this talking?”
    “At our office. Stold and I were there chatting and making some sales plans.”
    “All right, what enemies did this man have?”
    “I’m sure I know but very little about him,” Tindle said. “My work deals mostly with matters of policy. The personnel is handled by Mr. Bernard Carter.”
    They fooled around and asked a few more questions, then left. I saw that Alta was tiptoeing out of her room. I pushed her back in. “It’s okay,” I said. “Go to sleep. They wanted to see Bob.”
    “What about?”
    “Seems Ringold was working for Bob.”
    “But why did they want to see Bob about that?”
    I figured it was time to hand it to her. I said, “Somebody killed Ringold.”
    She stood staring at me without speech, without expression, almost without breath. She had removed her makeup, and I saw her lips grow pale.
    “You!” she said. “Good God, Donald, not you! You didn’t-”
    I shook my head.
    “You must have. Otherwise, you couldn’t have got that—”
    “Shut up,” I said.
    She came walking toward me as though she had been walking in her sleep. Her fingers touched the back of my hand. They were cold. “What did you think he was to me?” she asked.
    “I didn’t think.”
    “But why did you—why did you—”
    I said, “Listen, dopey, I kept your name out of it. Do you get me? Where would you have been if that had been found?”
    I could see she was thinking that over.
    “Go back to bed,” I said. “No, wait a minute. Go on downstairs. Ask what’s happened, and what all the noise is about. They’ll tell you. They’re pretty much up in the air now. They won’t notice your expressions, what you say, or what you do. Tomorrow, they’ll be more alert. Does anyone know that you knew him?”
    “No.”
    “Anyone know that you were seeing him?”
    “No.”
    “If they ask you,” I said, “avoid the question. Understand? Don’t lie—not yet.”
    “But how can I avoid it—if they ask me?”
    I said, “Keep asking questions. That’s the best way to avoid answering them. Ask your stepbrother why they were calling on him at this hour of the night. Ask anybody anything, but don’t put your neck in a noose. Do you understand?”
    She nodded.
    I pushed her toward the stairs. “Go on down and don’t let anyone know you’ve seen me. I’m going back to bed.” I went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I heard people talking downstairs, heard steps on the stairs, low voices in the corridor. Someone walked down the corridor to the door of my room, paused there, tense and listening. I didn’t know who it was. I hadn’t locked the door. There was just enough vague light in the room so I could make out the door. I waited for it to open.
    It didn’t.
    After a while it got daylight. Then, for the first time, I felt sleepy. I wanted to relax. My feet had been cold ever since I’d walked out into the corridor. Now they got warm, and a heavy drowsiness came over me.
    The butler knocked on my door. It was time for me to go and give Henry C. Ashbury his physical culture lesson.
    Down in the gymnasium Ashbury didn’t even take off his heavy woolen bathrobe. “Hear the commotion last night?” he asked.
    “What commotion?”
    “One of the men who’s been working for Robert’s company was killed.”
    “Killed?”
    “Yes.”
    “Auto accident or what?”
    “Or what,” he said, and then after a moment added, “Three shots with a thirty-eight-caliber revolver.”
    I looked at him steadily.