I said, “There’s nothing to investigate. They’re both dead. It’s the same old suicide-pact stuff.”
“But that automobile being here. The whole thing is cockeyed. I want the straight of it.”
“If I told you all I knew about it, it would still be cockeyed.”
“Who’s your client? Who are you working for?”
I shook my head.
Sellers said, “Wait here.”
His heavy feet crunched on the gravel as he went back into the office of the auto court. He was in there about five minutes, then came out, folding a paper. He climbed into the police car, and said, “Okay, we’ll take another ride.”
This time we went to San Robles.
6285 Orange Avenue was a post-war job that had been knocked together out of such materials as were available and such labour as had been willing to work. It was a Monterey-type house, neat enough on the outside, but the builders had been up against a problem of cost per square foot and had tried to make the square feet as few as possible.
Fifteen years ago the place would have been an architect’s model, a miniature house used for an estate agent’s office or an oversized doll-house. Now it was two bedrooms and bath, twelve thousand, seven hundred and eighty-five dollars.
We went through a little gate.
Sellers rang the bell.
The woman who opened the door had been crying until she had realized crying wouldn’t do her any good. Now she was in the dazed condition of trying to adjust herself to a whole new set of circumstances on which she hadn’t figured.
“Know this man?” Sellers asked.
She shook her head.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” Sellers said, “but we want to come in.”
Mrs. Fulton stood to one side and held the door open for us.
“Where are the children?” Sellers asked.
“One of the neighbours came and took them,” she said. “I guess it’s better to have them out of the house, what with the way people have been trooping in here and everything.”
Sellers said, “I guess so. We won’t stay long.”
He settled himself in a comfortable chair, crossed his legs, pulled back his coat, shoved his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat and said, “I don’t want any run-around. You’re absolutely certain you haven’t seen this man before?”
She looked at me and shook her head.
“You didn’t hire him to shadow your husband?”
“No! Heavens sake, no! I didn’t think for a minute there was anything wrong.”
“You thought your husband was working at the office?”
“Not at the office, but out on a job somewhere.”
“Did he seem as devoted to you the last two weeks as he had before that?”
“Yes — even more so. Just a few days ago when Dover came home I was thinking how fortunate I was. He was complimenting me on the way I looked and... well... it must have been yesterday. It seems like it was ages ago.”
Sellers looked at me.
“How about the insurance?” I asked.
Sellers said to me, “What’s the idea, Master Mind?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Only you’ve been around here churning up the woman’s feelings, and I thought it might be about times you did something constructive for a change.”
“Well, I’ll do the thinking,” Sellers said
Irene Fulton said, “I had him take out insurance just a few months ago. The way the cost of living has been going up he couldn’t save anything — well, not enough. So I had him take out something that would give us protection, fifteen thousand apiece for the children, to put them through school, and ten thousand for me.”
“That’s good,” Sellers said.
“How long ago?” I asked.
“Last fall — and I called up the insurance people and they told me the policies were no good in case of suicide within one year from the date the policies were issued. I get back the first premiums and that’s all. And that’s going to be every cent I’ll have.”
“How about the house?” Sellers asked.
“We own it subject to a big mortgage. I suppose we could get something out of it for our equity. But that would take time — and I’ve got to live somewhere. And then the children…”
She stopped for a moment to appraise the situation.
There was sheer panic in her eyes. “What am I going to do now? How am I going to — good heavens, there won’t be any monthly income at all! There won’t be — there won’t...!”
“Take it easy,” Sellers said.
“Those policies,” I asked, “were they straight life insurance?”
“Yes. They provided for double indemnity in case anything happened to him. You know, in case he died in an automobile accident or anything of that sort. Until he took them out I hadn’t been able to sleep nights wondering what would happen to the children and me in case anything should — well, then it was a load off my mind — and now they won’t pay.”
“That’s right,” Sellers said, “they don’t pay off in case of suicide. Not when it’s within one year.”
There was silence for a moment, then Sellers said, “I’m awfully sorry, Mrs. Fulton, but you’re going to have to take a little ride with me. You’re going to have to go to see a person.”
“Well, if I have to, I have to,” she said. Her voice sounded as though she welcomed the chance to get away.
“You can leave the house all right?”
“Yes, I’ll just lock up. The children are over at the neighbours’.”
“Okay,” Sellers said. “Get ready and come on.”
He glared belligerently at me and said, “And I can get along without any of your comments for a while, Master Mind.”
“Okay by me,” I said. “I can tell you right now you’re going to draw a blank.”
“Never mind the comments,” he said angrily. “I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do about you. I–I wish it had been a murder, then I could have thrown you in the hoosegow.”
I didn’t say anything. Sellers wasn’t in any mood for argument.
Mrs. Fulton got her hat and coat, dashed cold water in her eyes, put on some make-up and joined us.
Sellers drove to the KOZY DELL SLUMBER COURT. The woman came out, looked at Mrs. Fulton and shook her head.
“No?” Sellers asked.
“No,” she said, “The woman who was with him was smaller, a well-formed pint-sized kid, with long hair, high cheekbones, big, darkish eyes, and very full lips.”
“You’re sure you weren’t fooled, not seeing her get out of the car?” Sellers asked.
“Not a chance in the world,” the woman said. “This woman — well, she knows her way around. She’s married. The other one was slinky, well, a little bit frightened. She’d done a little playing around, but she wasn’t accustomed to spending the night in auto camps.”
“Thought you said she was a tramp,” Sellers said.
“Well — put it this way. She was a damn little hypocrite, and she was frightened about something that was due to happen. I thought it was about maybe getting caught on an all-night party. I don’t know. It was something.”
“How do you know this woman’s married?” Sellers asked.
“I can tell ’em as far as I can see ’em. This woman’s settled down. She’s quit thinking of herself. She’s got a home, a kid, probably a couple of ’em. This little tramp last night hadn’t got her man yet and she wasn’t thinking of anybody but herself.”
Sellers said, “You talk like a mind reader.”
“I am,” the woman said. “In this business you’ve got to be.”
“How old was this girl last night?” Sellers asked.
“Younger than this woman, a lot younger.”
“Smaller?”
“Smaller.”
“Lighter?”
“A whole lot lighter.”