The Case of the One-Penny Orange: A Masao Masuto Mystery (Book Two) by Howard Fast Read Free Book Online Page B

records of Nazi officials are not dependable. There was just too much confusion and chaos at the end of the war. We would very much like to lay hands on Captain Gaylord Schwartzman, preferably alive, but if it is so, then dead. My government would like to know for certain.”
    â€œI don’t see what I can do for you,” Wainwright said.
    â€œI saw Schwartzman once.”
    â€œYou saw him?”
    â€œHe killed me.” Both policemen stared at him. He did not appear insane, Masuto thought — no indeed, very sane. Kolan said softly, “Eight of us were condemned to death at Buchenwald. I was fifteen then. He commanded the firing squad. I was hit in the shoulder, low, under the bone. Then Schwartzman drew his pistol and administered the coup de grace .” He pointed to a pale scar on his temple. “He was careless. I was thrown into an open mass grave that they dug outside the walls. Hours later, I regained consciousness. I crawled out of the grave and made my way to a farm. They sheltered me. Not all Germans were Nazis. But I think I would recognize Schwartzman — even today, so many years later, even dead.”
    For a while after he finished speaking, the two policemen were silent. Then Wainwright said, “If you would please wait outside for a few minutes, Mr. Kolan?”
    Kolan nodded and left. Wainwright stared at his hands for a moment or two, then said to Masuto, softly and ominously, “I don’t like to be played for a horse’s ass, Masao. How did you know the safe had been opened?”
    â€œI didn’t know. I made an educated guess. There’s a family named Briggs on Camden Drive …”
    â€œI know about the Briggs case. Nothing was taken.”
    â€œGaycheck on the same day. Nothing is taken. Then Haber — and from the look of it, nothing was taken except whatever bills he had in his wallet.”
    â€œWhoever murdered Gaycheck didn’t take his money.”
    â€œSomeone else. The robbery crew was moving systematically. First Briggs, then Haber. They took the key to the store from Haber. You saw the store.”
    â€œI saw it.”
    â€œI guessed. It wasn’t a brilliant guess — just a guess.”
    â€œAnd can you guess who murdered Gaycheck?”
    â€œI might. But that would be the wildest guess of all — with nothing to support it.”
    â€œAnd Haber?”
    â€œI couldn’t even guess,” Masuto said. “Maybe later. What do you want to do about Kolan?”
    â€œThe body’s at Cleary’s Mortuary. Take him over there and let him have a look. It’s the least we can do.”
    Driving to the mortuary, Masuto explained to Kolan that Beverly Hills was too small and too peaceful to have a police morgue.
    â€œPeaceful?”
    â€œMost of the time. So we have a contract arrangement with several funeral homes. It suffices.”
    â€œYou’re Japanese, aren’t you, Sergeant?”
    â€œYes. Nisei. That means born in America of Japanese parents.”
    â€œHave you ever been to Israel?”
    â€œOn a policeman’s pay?” Masuto laughed. “I’d like to go. Someday — who knows? But I’ve never even been to Japan.”
    â€œYou’ll find it interesting.”
    There was a funeral in progress at Cleary’s, and a tall, skinny man in striped pants and a frock coat whispered them into a back room. In front of the coffin, in what he called their “holding room,” he explained that there had been an autopsy and that they had been given no instructions for embalming. “It will be messy,” he apologized.
    â€œHis face?” Kolan asked.
    â€œVery nice — very nice indeed.” Then he opened the coffin, and for a few minutes Kolan stared at the chalk-white face of what had once been Ivan Gaycheck, né Gaylord Schwartzman.
    Then he turned away and nodded.
    â€œSchwartzman?” Masuto asked.
    â€œIt’s Schwartzman