I looked at her for a moment, then suddenly jerked her up out of the chair, put my arms around her and started dancing around the office.
“Donald!” she exclaimed. “What in the world are you doing?”
“Sweetheart,” I said, “I love you. I—”
“Oh, Donald!”
“Why in hell didn’t you take a chair and club me over the head when you saw me pulling a bonehead like that?”
“A bonehead like what?”
“Taking one case and not asking if there were any more. Quick, Elsie, what’s the other one?”
“This one was written up as kind of a gag,” she said. “It doesn’t amount to much but it was a hit-and-run and—”
“Where is it, where is it?” I asked. “Come on, quick. Give.”
She said, “This, of all things, is the chief of police of Colinda. Someone sideswiped his car, knocked it into the ditch and then kept right on going.”
“The chief of police of Colinda,” I said. “How nice. What’s his name?”
“Let’s see,” she said. “It’s a funny name for a police officer. I’ll look it up. It’s more like the name of a movie star. It’s— Wait a minute, it’s Montague A. Dale. You understand, Donald, it wasn’t his private car, it was the city’s car, the one they furnish the chief and — well, it seems that the thing happened so suddenly Chief Dale was busy trying to keep his car from upsetting and didn’t get a good look at the car that went past other than it was a big car, and I believe he said he thought it was a Buick. But he didn’t get the license number, and the city council were inclined to be a little sarcastic about—”
“Darling,” I said, “never mind any more. Did that happen on the thirteenth?”
“On the thirteenth,” she said.
“And at what time?”
“At five-thirty.”
I pulled her to me and kissed her. “Elsie,” I said, “you’re a dear. You’re a lifesaver. You’re the sweetest thing ever invented. You’re a combination of molasses, sugar, saccharin and honey. If anybody wants me, tell them to go to hell.”
I went tearing out of the office.
Chapter Thirteen
I got in touch with Montague Dale just as he was closing up his office for the evening, and he wasn’t in too good a mood.
“It’ll have to be brief, Lam,” he said when I gave him my card. “I’m late now. I’ve been working in connection with that Holgate case, and my wife is having some friends in for cocktails and dinner. I’m late and you know what happens when a man’s late for a shindig of that sort.
“Moreover, I understand from the sheriff’s office and the Los Angeles police that you’re mixed up in this Holgate case in a big way and I guess it’s my duty to warn you that anything you say can be used against you. Now, I don’t have any personal hard feelings. Thank heavens, the Holgate case is out of my jurisdiction because it’s beyond the city limits of Colinda. It’s in the hands of the sheriff and the metropolitan police in Los Angeles. On account of the conditions under which the body was found — apparently nobody knows just where the guy was murdered.
“Now then, what’s on your mind?”
I said, “This doesn’t have anything to do with the Holgate case — at least, not directly.”
“All right, what is it?”
I said, “Your car was sideswiped a while back and you were run into the ditch and—”
His face suddenly purpled. He said, “Now look, Lam, I’ve discussed that all I want to, and there’s no need trying to needle me...”
“I think I can perhaps help you solve that accident,” I said.
He stared at me. “You think you can find who did it?”
“I think you can find who did it,” I said. “I give you a clue.”
His face suddenly relaxed. He went over to his office desk, picked up the phone, dialed a number and said, “Hello, darling. An emergency has just come up... Yes, yes, I know... You carry on. I may be just a little bit late... All right, honey, that’s the way it goes.”
He hung up the telephone, gestured toward a chair and said, “Sit down, Lam. Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Now tell me about it.”
I said, “I’m going to put the cards right on the table with you, Chief.”
“That’s the best way to do. Go ahead.”
I said, “I have an idea about what happened on the thirteenth of August. I’ve tried to sell that idea to the Los Angeles police. Sergeant Sellers investigated it with me and we thought we’d struck pay dirt. Then the thing blew up in our faces and he’s off me. He’s off the whole theory.”
“Well, if it blew up in his face, you can’t blame him.”
I said, “Only one phase of it did. We got hold of the wrong phase. We took the wrong turn in the road.”
“All right, what’s the right turn in the road?”
“You are.”
He said, “Don’t talk in circles, Lam. Put it on the table.”
I said, “All right. Holgate had an automobile accident on the thirteenth of August. He reported to the insurance company that he had collided with the rear of an automobile driven by Vivian Deshler who lives at the Miramar Apartments and that the accident was his fault. The front end of his car was caved in, not so bad that he couldn’t drive it, but nevertheless caved in, and the injuries to Vivian Deshler’s car were rather slight.”
Chief Dale’s eyes narrowed. “Go on,” he said.
I said, “Vivian Deshler said she had sustained a whiplash injury and made a claim against the insurance company. From the way the claim was prepared the insurance company felt there was a professional hand somewhere in the background.”
“A shrewd lawyer?”
“Could have been.”
“Go on, Lam.”
“Well, the funny thing is that there were no witnesses to the accident, that the front end of Holgate’s automobile was pretty badly caved in, but the back of Vivian Deshler’s car, which was a light car and should have been the one that sustained the most damage, was only slightly injured.
“There were some other things about the accident that began to look a little peculiar. Then I found out that Holgate’s car apparently was in good condition at four-thirty on the afternoon of the thirteenth; yet the accident was supposed to have taken place about three-thirty. I guess there’s no question that Vivian Deshler’s automobile was damaged by three-thirty in the afternoon. Doris Ashley, her friend, saw the car at that time and the tail end had been crumpled — not too bad but enough to notice.”
“Go on,” Dale said.
I said, “The records show that nobody said anything about any accident taking place at the location given in Colinda until the next day.
“Now then, under all the circumstances it occurred to me that perhaps Holgate had been mixed up in a hit-and-run accident that happened sometime in the evening, that he was in a quandary as to what to do; that he told his girl friend, Vivian Deshler, about it, and Vivian Deshler said, ‘Well, my car was damaged this afternoon. Why don’t we claim that the damage to your car was done when it hit my car and report it as an automobile accident?’
“ ‘That would account for the damages to your car. You could take it right in and have it fixed. You could report an accident to the insurance company. They’d have an appraiser come and take a look at your car and then the claim agent would come and talk with me and I’d tell him my story. That would account for the damages to your car and let you out of the hit-and-run deal.’ ”
A smile began to spread across the chief’s face. “You got anything that’ll support this except theory?” he asked.