The Howard Hughes Affair: A Toby Peters Mystery (Book Four) by Stuart M. Kaminsky Read Free Book Online Page B

paisley cushion, and Gurstwald sat across from me in its twin with his hands gently clasping his knees. The muscleman stood behind me. I did not feel comfortable in Mirador. I felt as if I had driven into a foreign country when I left the Pacific Coast Highway, and I wanted to leave that country with everything I had entered with. I decided to be careful and discreet. Sometimes being indiscreet can get a lot done, but the wear and tear on the human body is enormous.
    “I’m an investigator working for Mr. Hughes,” I said, trying to include the silent muscleman in the conversation but finding it impossible with him at my back. I gave up and concentrated on Gurstwald. “He was hoping you could help us with a problem. When you were at Mr. Hughes’ home last week for dinner, did you notice any unusual behavior by any of the guests or servants?”
    Gurstwald looked puzzled.
    “Unusual?”
    “I’ll spell it out, Mr. Gurstwald,” I said leaning forward to show how I was taking him into my confidence. “Mr. Hughes has reason to believe someone in the house that night may have stolen some valuable plans and …”
    Gurstwald’s face turned a bright crimson and he rose slightly from his chair, glancing at the blond behind me.
    “You don’t mean to accuse me of …”
    “No,” I said quickly, having no intention of accusing a man with a bodyguard in the middle of nowhere. “We don’t suspect you of anything. We simply want your help in trying to find the guilty party.”
    Gurstwald calmed slightly and sat down again. He straightened his scarf, took a deep breath and asked if I wanted something to drink. I said I’d like a Pepsi. Gurstwald nodded and the blond disappeared.
    “Mr. Peters,” Gurstwald said, “you’ve been frank with me. I’ll be frank with you. What has Mr. Hughes told you of me?”
    “Nothing,” I said, which was true.
    Gurstwald touched his lower lip with the fingers of his right hand, nodded to himself and spoke, choosing his words carefully.
    “I am in a difficult position, Mr. Peters. My family has been in the munitions business in Germany for almost 100 years. For political reasons, which must be quite obvious to any intelligent man, I broke with my family and moved much of my operation to Mexico about five years ago. The financial loss was tremendous for me, but I could not exist under the Third Reich. There are still many in your government who have difficulty accepting me and my wife, though I have offered to work with your military people in developing certain operations.”
    “For a price,” I added, a bit more confident without Adonis in the room.
    “Yes,” Gurstwald said, loosening his scarf. “For a price. I am a businessman. So is Mr. Hughes. He was interested that we might form some kind of cooperative venture when the war begins. I must admit that, though I do not approve of what is happening in my country, I have certain misgivings about actually contributing arms to the United States in case of war. My position, you understand, is quite delicate.”
    “Certainly,” I said, accepting a large glass of cola from Adonis. The ice cubes crackled and I took a gulp. It was Royal Crown, but I didn’t complain. “You live out here because you don’t want to attract attention.”
    “Precisely,” he sighed, pleased that I understood. “Various countries and corporations try to get me to cooperate with them, but my position is quite delicate, as I said, so I try to keep to myself, protected to a degree.”
    “Including a payoff to the Mirador cops to discourage strangers,” I tried, gurgling RC.
    “You had an encounter with our police,” he sighed. “I’m so sorry, but you understand.”
    “Clearly,” I said. “Now, what did you see, if anything, at Hughes’ last week?”
    Gurstwald clasped his hands, bit gently into his lower lip and said, “Nothing. Precisely nothing except that Mr. Hughes seemed particularly disturbed after dinner. Everyone else was