'None,' Horvell said quickly. 'The only friends we really had in common were from the office, and Vic seemed to lose interest in them entirely after he was let go. He formed new friendships somewhere. I don't know what he did while I was working; one reason we shared the apartment was because of my long working hours. We knew we'd seldom get in each other's way.'
'You remember him or this Joan Clark mentioning any names?'
Horvell bit his lower lip and thought hard. I expected him to pace to the window, but he didn't. 'One,' he said finally. 'Somebody or something named Con-gram. I remember because Vic mentioned the name once and Joan seemed to get angry.'
'That's all-Congram?'
'That's all he said. I don't even remember in what context.'
'All the time he was living with you, was Talbert trying to land another job?'
The stuttering laugh came again. 'At first he was. Executives like Vic can't, or won't, take just any job. And as scarce as middle management positions are, his back was to the wall. Oh, he had some menial jobs offered to him, but it isn't in Vic's nature to take a step backward.'
'How did you come to have Talbert's phone number, Mr. Horvell?'
'About a month ago Vic dropped by here. He said he was going away-wouldn't say where. But he left me his number for a sort of touchstone. He told me he was going to live under the name of David Branly, and he might phone me if he needed anyone, in case of trouble.'
'What kind of trouble?'
'I tried to get him to tell me, but he wouldn't. He was frightened, though. I could tell that. It was the first time I'd ever seen him scared. Vic Talbert is the sort of man who exudes confidence.'
'What about the girl?' I asked in a throwaway voice.
'Vic said Joan Clark would be with him. And he mentioned something about her little girl.'
'Have you talked to him since then?'
'No. When I asked him what I was supposed to do if he phoned, he said 'maybe nothing,' that he'd let me know if the time came.'
Horvell walked over to a small portable bar set up in a corner.
'Can I get you something?' he asked.
I told him no thanks and watched him pour himself two fingers of good Scotch. His hands trembled slightly, and the neck of the bottle clinked on the glass and seemed to embarrass him. He knocked down half the drink in one loud gulp. I couldn't be sure that he was uncomfortable because he was hiding something; he was a human nerve.
'I'd like to ask a favor of you, Nudger,' he said in an unsteady nasal whine. 'When you go to High Grade Hardware, try to leave my name out of it. I just can't afford to be messed up in my career.'
'I don't know if that will be possible, Mr. Horvell. Victor Talbert is dead.'
I thought he was actually going to drop the glass. It slipped an abrupt inch in his hand, and he staggered to a chair and sat down. 'Dead?… How did it happen? Was it the trouble Vic talked about?…'
'Maybe. He was murdered, Mr. Horvell.'
'Murdered! Christ! Is that what you're investigating?'
'No, the police are investigating that, and when they get around to you, I advise you to tell them what you told me. Unless you have something to add.'
He shook his head absently. 'Murdered…' he said unbelievingly to himself.
I thanked him for talking to me and stood to leave. Instead of showing me out he continued sitting and tossed down the rest of his drink. His myopic eyes were desperate. I could almost see his agitated brain writhing like a mass of worms.
'Nudger!' The imploring nasal voice stopped me when my hand touched the doorknob.
I turned and waited for Horvell to wring out whatever he had to say. His mouth worked before any sound came put, as if the air in the apartment had suddenly become too thin to carry sound.
'Do you promise to leave my name out of it, if possible, at High Grade?'
'If possible,' I told him.
He stared hard at me and seemed to find me trustworthy, but then, he wanted to so badly.
'Vic was seeing another woman at the same time as Joan Clark,' he said, as if we'd struck a deal. 'Her name was Belle Dee.'
'Do you know where I can find her?'
'I have her address. Vic had me pick him up there one evening,' He got up and walked to a small desk near the entrance to the dining room. With a bit of rummaging about in one of the drawers, he found what he was looking for, copied it on another piece of paper and handed it to me.
'Remember about leaving me out of it,' he said.
'I'll do what I can,' I told him, opening the door.
'Vic, dead…' he murmured again unbelievingly, running his hand through his imaginary hair.
'Dead… dead… dead…' I repeated to myself, walking down the long carpeted hall to the elevator, as if that would help to exorcise the growing, twisting sensation of fear in my chest and stomach.
It didn't help.
11
After leaving Horvell's apartment I took a cab to claim my luggage. Then I rented a car-knowing I'd be in town for a while-this time a full-size sedan.
I checked in at the TraveLodge Motel, on South Michigan Avenue, not too far from the headquarters of High Grade Hardware. I made a few phone calls, had dinner and a few drinks to untie my knots, and slept almost as deeply as Victor Talbert.
High Grade Hardware's corporate headquarters turned out to be a tall, square building of what looked to be burnished copper glinting in the bright morning sun. Outside the imposing entrance was a tall aluminum flagpole, and beneath the American flag flew the company's smaller flag, a black crossed hammer and wrench insignia on a field of white.
The reception area inside the entrance was also done up in black and white. I walked over to an astoundingly beautiful blonde seated behind a wide, bare desk and told her who I was and that I had an appointment with T. J. Harper, the personnel manager.
Harper saw me immediately, which surprised the blonde. She didn't know that after a Dale Carlon phone call the president of High Grade Hardware had passed down the word to cooperate with me. I was beginning to experience occasional exhilarating delusions of power, but I knew that I'd still bleed.
T. J. Harper's office continued the black and white motif, with a large plaque with High Grade's hammer and wrench insignia mounted on the wall behind his desk. An affable-looking man with an air of efficiency, Harper was wearing a blue pinstriped suit and a semi-military haircut that was gray wire at the temples. He smiled a nice smile and motioned for me to sit down, then sat down himself and laced his fingers on his desk top. I felt somewhat like a job applicant.
I told him I appreciated his taking the time to see me and that I wanted information about a former employee at High Grade. He didn't seem surprised when I told him the name of that former employee.
'Victor Talbert was a fine young man,' he said, 'an ideal employee. It was regrettable that we no longer had a niche in which to fit him. Under present conditions it simply doesn't pay to do some of the things you'd like to do.'
'Did Talbert get along all right with the other employees?'
'Certainly,' Harper said, as if I'd been indelicate to ask. 'He had no enemies here except within the framework of honest competition. If it were possible for Victor Talbert to walk in here today, and an opening suited his qualifications, I'd rehire him without a qualm. He was strictly the victim of declining sales, and job training that became obsolete practically overnight. That sort of thing happens frequently.'
'How did he take his dismissal?'
