'All right,' he said, 'I realize what you are implying. You feel that if Martin Reape told the truth and had evidence to upset the will of Sol Kipper, then an investigation into Kipper's suicide would be justified.'
'The alleged suicide,' I said. 'Yes, sir, that's the way I feel.'
'Very well,' he said. 'You may conduct a discreet inquiry. I repeat, a discreet inquiry. To avoid prejudicing your investigation, I will not disclose to you at this time the principal beneficiaries of Sol Kipper's estate.'
'As you wish, sir,' I said. 'But it would help a great deal if you would give me some background on the man and his family. You mentioned that he had been a personal friend of yours for fifty-five years.'
'Yes,' he said. 'We were classmates at CCNY together. I went on to law school and Sol went into his father's textile business. But we kept in touch and saw each other frequently. He was best man at my wedding, and I at his. Our wives were good friends. That was Sol's first wife. She died six years ago and Sol remarried.'
Did I detect a note of disapproval in his voice?
'Sol was an enormously successful businessman. After his father's death, he became president of Kipmar Textiles, and expanded to include knitting mills in New England, South Carolina, Spain, and Israel. They went public ten years ago, and Sol became a wealthy man. He had three sons and one daughter by his first wife. All his children are grown now, of course, and married. Sol had eleven grandchildren. Shortly after his second marriage, he semi- retired and turned over the day-to-day operations of Kipmar Textiles to two of his sons. The third son is a doctor in Los Angeles. His daughter lives in Boca Raton, Florida. What else would you care to know?'
'The second wife, sir — what can you tell me about her?'
'She is younger than Sol was — considerably younger. I believe she was on the stage. Briefly. Her name is Tippi.'
Now I was certain I heard that note of disapproval in his voice.
'Yes, sir. And now the man himself. What was he like?'
'Sol Kipper was one of the dearest, sweetest men it has ever been my good fortune to know. He was generous to a fault. A fine, loving husband and an understanding father and grandfather. His children worshipped him. They took his death very hard.'
'Why did he commit suicide, sir — if he did? Was there any reason for it?'
Tabatchnick wagged his big head sadly. 'Sol was the worst hypochondriac I've ever known or heard about. He was continually running to doctors with imaginary physical ailments. It was a joke to his family and friends, but we could never convince him that he was in excellent health, even when doctor after doctor told him the same thing. He had only to read a medical article on some obscure illness and he was certain he had the symptoms.
He dosed himself with all kinds of nostrums and, to my personal knowledge, swallowed more than fifty vitamin pills and mineral capsules a day. He was like that when he was young, and it worsened as he grew older, sometimes resulting in extreme depression. I assume he committed suicide while in that condition.'
'After making an appointment with you to execute a new will?'
'That's the way it happened,' Mr Tabatchnick said crossly.
'I think that's about all, sir,' I said, standing. 'I'll report to you if there is anything you should know.'
'By all means,' he said. 'If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know. You may call me at home, should that become necessary. I am in the book. I am depending on you, Mr Bigg, to conduct your investigation quietly and diplomatically.'
'Yes. sir, I understand. I'd like to start by talking to that officer who investigated Mr Kipper's death. Do you happen to recall his name?'
'Not offhand, but Miss Potts has his name and phone number. I'll instruct her to give them to you.'
'Mr Tabatchnick, the detective will probably want to know the reason for our interest. May I tell him about Martin Reape?'
He pondered that for a while.
'No,' he said finally, 'I'd prefer you didn't. If nothing comes of this, the role of Reape will be of no significance, and I don't wish anyone else to know of our willingness to deal with him. If the detective asks the reason for our interest, tell him merely that it concerns the estate and insurance. I am sure that will satisfy him. You might take him to lunch or dinner. I suspect he may be more forthcoming over a few drinks and a good meal. I will approve any expense vouchers. Any reasonable expense vouchers.'
Detective second-grade Percy Stilton was the cop on the Kipper case. I got his number from Thelma Potts. I called him the moment I returned to my office, but the man who answered said Detective Stilton would not come on duty until 4.00 p.m. I said I'd call him then.
I started typing notes of my conversation with Mr Tabatchnick, leaving out all mention of Marty Reape.
When I had done that I phoned the Stonehouse apartment; a very throaty voice answered. I assumed that it was the maid, Olga Eklund. Mrs Stonehouse came on in that trilly voice. I asked her questions about her husband's health.
He had been well at the time of his disappearance but had recently been ill.
'It started late in the summer,' she said. 'But it got progressively worse. October and November were very bad. But then he just snapped out of it. He was a Scorpio, you know.'
'October and November?' I repeated. Then he must have recovered about a month prior to his disappearance.
'What was the nature of his illness, Mrs Stonehouse?'
'Oh, I don't really know,' she said blithely. 'My husband was so tight-lipped about things like that. The flu, I suppose, or a virus that just hung on. He simply refused to go to a doctor, but then he got so weak and miserable he finally had to go. Went several times, as a matter of fact, and the doctor did all kinds of tests. He must have discovered what it was, because Yale recovered very quickly.'
'Could you tell me the doctor's name, Mrs Stonehouse?'
'His name?' she said. 'Now what is his name? Morton, I think, or something like that.'
I heard her call, 'Olga!' and there was confused talking in the distance. Then Mrs Stonehouse came back on the phone. 'Stolowitz,' she said. 'Dr Morris Stolowitz.'
I looked up the phone number of Dr Morris Stolowitz.
He was on West 74th Street, within easy walking distance of the Stonehouse apartment. I called, and a woman's voice answered: 'Doctor's office.' Doctor was busy with a patient. I left my name and number and asked that he get back to me.
I had my doubts that Dr Stolowitz would ever return my call. I was debating the wisdom of asking Mrs Stonehouse to intercede for me, when Hamish Hooter came barging into my office and threw my pay envelope on to the desk.
'See here,' he said.
'What is it now, Hooter?'
'I've been trying to tell you in a nice way,' he said, sucking his teeth noisily. 'But apparently you're not catching on. Yetta Apatoff and I are an item. I want you to stop bothering her.'
'If I am bothering her,' I said, 'which I sincerely doubt, let the lady tell me herself.'
He muttered something threatening and rushed from my office, banging the door.
So, of course, I had to call Yetta immediately.
'Hi, it's Josh,' I said, wondering why my speech became so throaty and — well, intimate, when I spoke to her.
'Hi, Josh,' she said in her breathy, little girl's voice.
'Long time no see.'
Now did that sound like a woman I was bothering?
'How about lunch today?' I suggested. 'Just to celebrate payday?'
'Ooh, marvy!' she said. 'Let's go to the Chink place on Third.'
When I went out to her reception desk at noon, she was waiting for me, her coat on her arm, a fluffy powder-blue beret perched enchantingly on her blonde ringlets. She was wearing a tightly fitted knitted suit of a slightly darker blue, and when I saw that divine topography, I felt the familiar constriction of my breathing and my knee joints seemed excessively oiled.
While we walked over to Third Avenue, she took my arm, chatting innocently, apparently unaware of what her soft grip was doing to my heartbeat and respiration. As always when I was with her, I was blind and deaf to our surroundings. All my senses were zeroed in on her, and once, when she shivered with cold, said, 'Brrr!' and hugged
