Reason for Murder Page 2

  CHAPTER 2

  THE plane slid through the air almost noiselessly. There was the steady whine of the engines, but the sound seemed far away. Pelchek looked down at the sleeping girl. Latin women should never close their eyes, he thought irrelevantly. Elena’s head rested on his shoulder, one small hand by her side, the other curled in her lap. Full breasts caused the light blouse to rise and fall evenly with her breathing. His eyes fell to the open collar, pulled apart and down by her position, exposing two expanses of creamy, satin-like skin and the dark valley between. For a small girl she was all there, he decided. Annoyed by a vague feeling of guilt, he pulled his eyes away and glanced about the cabin.

  Most of the passengers were asleep as the huge airliner droned its way over the plains of the Southwest. He looked at the girl again, gently shook her shoulder. Her eyes opened immediately, startled, then focused on him.

  “Oh! How long have I been asleep?”

  “About two hours.”

  “I’m sorry, Steven, but I just couldn’t stay awake any longer.” She yawned, moved to a more erect position and straightened her clothing. “Where are we?” she asked, looking out the window.

  “The stewardess says we’re about fifteen minutes out.” He flicked his cigarette lighter, held the flame over his watch. “Almost five A.M. If it hadn’t been for that weather stop in Chicago we’d have been in hours ago.” He took a cigarette from a crumpled pack and lit it. “Do you remember what you’re to do?”

  “Yes, Steven.” The girl stretched, let her arms fall to her sides. She clasped her hands in her lap. “I take a bus to Las Milpas and go back to the hospital. If anyone asks me where I’ve been I tell them the truth. That I went to Milwaukee and found one of Cal’s service friends who would help.” She looked up at him. “Shall I mention your name?”

  “Sure. It can’t hurt anything.” He peered outside. “Looks as if we’re getting into a landing pattern.”

  Soon the big plane began to lose altitude and speed. The familiar whine of the lowering landing gear, more loss of speed as the tabs came down, then the sound of wheels on a concrete runway.

  “It may be a couple of days before you hear from me,” Pelchek said.

  “Two days!” Elena sat up abruptly. “But there’s so little time, Steven!”

  Pelchek turned halfway in his seat as the plane taxied toward the administration buildings, faced the girl. “I know time is rushing now. But I’m not sure of what I’ll be getting into, kid. Maybe I won’t be able to do anything at all this late in the case. It sounds too open-and-shut to me. Anyway, whatever happens, I’ll do all I can. And as fast as possible. However, you know how these things are.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “You’re sure you’ve told me everything?”

  “Everything. I’ve racked my brain trying to think of anything I may have missed, but… no, I’ve told you everything I know.”

  The plane stopped moving and stairs were wheeled to the opened door. Pelchek rose, helped the girl into the narrow aisle. He lifted their coats from the overhead rack and tossed them over one arm.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  The man pursed his lips, looked across the desk. “What did you find out?”

  “I drove up there and checked the bus station. Gave ’em her description. They sold her a ticket to Milwaukee.”

  “For the same day?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. She’ll have to come back. When she does, I want her covered the minute she gets here.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “See that you do it better than last time. Did you check on the man in the hills?”

  “I had to farm that one out. I told—”

  “No names in here,” the man interrupted quickly. “I know who went.” He paused, then continued abruptly. “Be sure to see the girl as soon as you can. Find out what she’s been up to.”

  “Right.”

  “You’d better leave now. Use the side door.”

  The man waited until he was alone, then picked up the phone and dialed a number. It was answered at once. “Allen?”

  “Speaking. Who is it?” The voice was surly.

  “Did you take a ride yesterday?” the man asked quietly. There was a short pause, then Allen Baker said thickly:

  “Sure. He’s still out there.”

  “More sober than you, I trust?”

  “Never mind about me. He’s out there and he’s sober. That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it?”

  “We won’t argue about it,” the man said acidly. “There is something else. The girl has been to Milwaukee.”

  “Milwaukee?”

  “Yes. Who does he know up there?”

  “How in hell do I know? And what’s the difference? The whole stinking thing will be over Monday. Don’t worry about—”

  “Shut up! And listen to me. You find out who he knows up there. And quick! It may be a business acquaintance or perhaps one of his army friends. Anyway, find out. Do you understand me?”

  “Yeah, I understand.”

  “Good. I dislike arguments. I’ll call you later in the day,” the man said evenly. He replaced the phone, sat very still in the chair. For a long time.

  The sign on the door read DAVID G. ELMAN, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Pelchek entered and walked across the small reception room to stand in front of a waist-high railing. It separated an office desk and chair from the two occasional pieces and small library table that furnished the waiting area. A neat room, air-conditioned. New furniture, with everything placed for utility’s sake. A partly opened door beyond the railing allowed the murmur of voices to filter into the room.

  The door was pulled open wide and a young woman appeared in the entry. “May I help you, sir?”

  “My name is Steve Pelchek. I want to see Mr. Elman.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No appointment.”

  “May I ask the nature of your business?”

  “I’d rather not say. Just tell Elman it’s urgent.”

  “Very well, Mr. Pelchek.” The woman studied him for a moment, “if you’ll be seated I’ll see if Mr. Elman can see you.” She re-entered the door marked Private, closed it behind her.

  Pelchek picked up a magazine from the table, began leafing through it. In a short time, the girl returned.

  “Mr. Elman will see you, sir.” She pulled open the short swinging door bisecting the railing, indicated he was to go into the private office.

  “Mr. Pelchek?” The man behind the desk rose, came around to offer Pelchek his hand. “My secretary says you wish to see me on urgent business.” He motioned to a chair by the side of the desk, resumed his seat.

  “I’m here about the Baker case,” Pelchek informed him bluntly. He watched the attorney digest this information.

  Elman leaned back in his chair, lips pursed. A small, dark young man, with brilliant eyes.

  “I see,” he said. “And whom do you represent?”

  “Cal Baker.”

  “In what capacity, sir?”

  “As a friend.”

  “Are you a resident here, Mr. Pelchek?”

  “No, I’m not. I live in Milwaukee. What the hell difference can it make where I live? What I want to know is what—”

  “Just a minute!” Elman interrupted, leaning forward in his chair. “I don’t know you, Mr. Pelchek. You walk in here and say you’re representing a client of mine who is under sentence of death. I don’t know you, and you’ve made no effort to establish your identity. You’ll have to do better than that before I’ll even discuss the matter.”

  Pelchek glared at the little lawyer for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, Elman. You’re right. Here it is as fast as I can give it to you.” He briefly sketched the girl’s visit, his decision to fly down. “… so you see, with time running out, I want to get something started right away.”

  The attorney had listened attentively. When Pelchek finished, Elman asked quietly
, “You believe Baker did it?”

  Pelchek shrugged. “Probably. The whole damned system of courts can’t be wrong all the way.”

  “On occasion they’ve all been wrong in the past,” the attorney said.

  “Let’s hope they are, then,” Pelchek said. “I want Baker out.”

  Elman pushed a box of cigarettes in front of his visitor, taking one for himself. When both men had lit up, he spoke: “All right. What do you want to know?”

  Pelchek leaned back in his chair, a faint smile on his lips. “You play ’em pretty close to your vest, counselor.”

  “That I do.” Elman smiled back. “Now, what can I tell you?”

  “First, how do you feel about the case?”

  “It was an ordinary murder case, Pelchek. Too ordinary for a man like Baker,” the attorney said pensively. “They couldn’t call it a killing for profit or gain, so they said it was a crime of passion. For want of a better name. Also, it was almost purely circumstantial. I have my own opinion of circumstantial evidence in a murder trial.”

  “I understand you appealed it?”

  “All the way to the top. After we left the state appellate court the Baker girl—that’s Elena Baker—ran out of money. I took it to the higher courts on my own.” He shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “Why?”

  “No new evidence to offer and no error in the record. I’d stake a good deal that this man’s not guilty. But that won’t get him a new trial or a reversal. I need new evidence, and there isn’t time to get it. Besides,” he added, “my efforts to uncover information in Las Milpas were something less than sensational.”

  “They withheld evidence?”

  “Not that I could prove. You see, in most murder cases there’s something to fight. Something definite. With this one it was like pinching a pillow. No overly hostile witnesses. No nothing. Just a witness Baker claimed, that we couldn’t produce. And believe me, I looked.”

  “Did anyone try to get to you?”

  “No. Nothing that strong. It was more a lack of cooperation on nearly everyone’s part down there. The authorities did their job and not one bit more. The private citizens just backed off. It was as if someone had put out the word.”

  “Any idea who that could be?”

  “Oh, I have lots of ideas. You know, of course, that Baker made a lot of enemies in Las Milpas. Inactive enemies.”

  “His wife told me.”

  “So, that opens the field wide. Maybe McCreery used his weight around town. He followed Walker in as general manager of Baker Land and Mining. He bucked a housing deal Cal had set up with all he had. They had a thing about that, he and Baker. I even thought one of the family may have tried to sink him. Elena tell you about them?” the lawyer asked.

  “Yeah. They sound like a pair.”

  “They are that,” Elman said. “Of course, the sister left Las Milpas shortly after Cal married the Aguilar girl. She hasn’t been in a position to do anything for or against him.”

  “How about the brother?”

  “Allen? Horrified at anything that could hurt the family prestige or pocketbook. He’s hit the bottle heavily since the trouble. During the trial he was no help at all.”

  “This is his brother, Elman! What the hell kind of people are these?”

  “No different from a great many sick people, Pelchek.” Elman leaned back in his chair. “Pride… economics… prejudice. All of those things. Baker severed a lot of ties when he married Elena Aguilar. I know, I know”—he held up a hand—“she’s a fine, decent girl and since the war, things aren’t as bad as they used to be in this part of the country. Nevertheless, she was far enough removed from Baker’s environment for a good many people to resent her. Particularly since she’s a lady and a registered nurse. They would have forgiven him a mindless little tart.”

  “Fulfilling their expectations, huh?”

  “Exactly.” Elman looked at Pelchek sharply. “A tart they could understand, but a person like Elena scares ’em. Makes ’em see the handwriting on the wall. Then, because she’s a Mexican, it was easy for them to figure she influenced Baker in his attempt to clean up the housing. That might hurt someone financially, and you know how that is.”

  “Yeah,” Pelchek said. He stood up and walked to the window, looked out over the city. “Would it make you mad if we brought another lawyer into the case?” He turned, faced Elman.

  “Not in the least. There may be something I’ve overlooked and if so, we can—”

  “That’s not it,” Pelchek broke in. “It’s obvious we can’t do very much in four days. We need a postponement—a stay of execution. Who’s big enough to get us one?”

  Elman rubbed his thumb against his chin reflectively.

  “Bartlett,” he said positively. “Ernest Bartlett. He’ll cost, though.”

  “How much?”

  “In a case this far gone… let’s see… he’d probably take a five-thousand-dollar retainer. That is, if he’d take the case at all.”

  “Why wouldn’t he take it?” Pelchek asked.

  “Professional reputation. I’ll have to convince him we have a good chance of producing new evidence. Perhaps the witness Baker claims he saw at the scene of the murder. If I can do that, he may feel justified in trying for a stay.”

  “Was there a witness?”

  “Baker says so, but it was never proven. The local police couldn’t come up with anything, and there wasn’t enough money for private investigation. If I can convince Bartlett that we might find this person, plus the guarantee that you’ll underwrite the cost of further investigation, he may go to the trial judge.”

  “Do you think the judge will buy it?”

  “Maybe. With Bartlett’s prestige and reputation the judge might grant a stay. He’ll at least listen.”

  “All right, get him. He can have the retainer any time he wants. But I want him to start now. Today.” Pelchek opened his wallet and withdrew some cards. “Here’s some identification. If you or Bartlett want to check my credit you can call my bank in Milwaukee. These cards show some of my business associates. You can call any or all of them.” He handed the cards to Elman, who put them in the breast pocket of his coat. Pelchek resumed his seat.

  “He has offices in the building,” the attorney said. He picked up the desk phone. “Barbara? Call Ernest Bartlett’s office and see if you can speak to him personally. If you get him, tell him I’ll be down in half an hour.”

  “How much weight does this guy have?” Pelchek asked.

  “He’s close to being the biggest attorney in the city,” Elman answered, replacing the phone. “Used to be state senator and now heads the largest law firm in this part of the country. Don’t get it wrong, Pelchek. This man is no fixer. He’s big and has an unimpeachable background. Also, he’ll earn his fee. His whole staff will work on this thing if necessary, and we can use all the help we can get.”

  “I’m convinced. Now I’d like to see Baker. Can you arrange it?”

  “Of course. I’ll call the prison and have it set up. When do you want to go?”

  “This afternoon, if possible. I understand it’s only an hour’s drive from here.”

  “A little more. What about transportation?”

  “I thought I’d rent a car,” Pelchek replied.

  “Where are you stopping?”

  “The Copper House.”

  “Good. There’s a Hertz agency directly across the street from your hotel. On Madrone Avenue. If you like, I’ll have my secretary call and have a car ready for you.” Elman made a note. “Business coupé okay?”

  “Fine,” Pelchek said. He took a checkbook from his pocket and, using the top of Elman’s desk, made out a check. “Here’s a check for five hundred dollars,” he said, handing Elman the slip of paper. “You can consider it as part of your fee. As far as I’m concerned you’re still the attorney of record in the case.”

  Elman placed the check in a top desk drawer, stood up. He went to the door and opened it. “Barbara, wi
ll you come in, please?”

  The girl entered the office and stood waiting.

  “We’re trying to reopen the Baker case,” Elman said to her. “Mr. Pelchek will be in contact with this office and I want all of his calls expedited.”

  “Yes, sir.” She smiled at Pelchek.

  “In the meantime,” Elman went on, “call Hertz and rent a business coupé in Mr. Pelchek’s name. Have them charge it to us.” He turned to Pelchek. “You can settle with us later. And, Barbara, call the prison and set up an interview with Baker for Mr. Pelchek. I won’t be there. Will one-thirty this afternoon be all right?” he asked, facing Pelchek again.

  “That should be okay.” Pelchek glanced at his watch as the secretary left the room. “I’d better get moving if I expect to be there by one-thirty. When you check things through and get Bartlett lined up will you call me at the hotel?”

  “As soon as I know anything,” the attorney promised.

  “Also, if you have a copy of the trial transcript I’d like to look it over. The newspaper clippings of the case, too, if you’ve saved them.”

  “I’ll have the girl leave them at the hotel for you.”

  The two men shook hands and Pelchek started for the door.

  “Pelchek!”

  He turned and saw that Elman had leaned against the side of the desk and, with folded arms, was watching him. “Yes?”

  “This is going to be expensive if we open it up. And for some reason I have a feeling it might even be dangerous. How far are you prepared to go?”

  Pelchek paused, hand on the doorknob. He looked at the lawyer, face tightening.

  “All the way,” he said and left the office.

  The tall Mexican picked up the ringing phone. “Mazatlan,” he said.

  “This is Allen Baker. Is that new girl still working?”

  “Yeah, she’s still here.” The Mexican sighed resignedly.

  “Well, send her over.”

  “This time of the morning?”

  “It doesn’t make any difference what time of the morning it is.” Baker sounded angry. “Just send her over. Now.”