Imagine how he felt when he found out he'd invested in poison gas.'
'According to the reports I had, that land was clean,' said Dwight. 'There was no way to know.'
'Stop chattering,' said Souza furiously. 'There's no need to defend yourself.'
'No, there wasn't any way to know,' commiserated Milo. 'Like I said, bad luck. And if Jamey hadn't found an old diary of your dad's, no one would have known. But he did, and he told Chancellor. Who put the squeeze on.'
Dwight gave an embittered laugh.
'So that's what it was,' he said. 'A diary. I never knew Father kept one.'
'Where did Chancellor say he got the information?'
'He-'
'Oh, for God's sake,' said Souza disgustedly.
Dwight regarded the attorney with a jaundiced eye. Played with his glasses and said:
'He said he'd got hold of some old business records Wouldn't say how, but I suspected Jamey, because he was a rag picker - always poking around where he shouldn't have. When I asked Dig for proof, he handed me a Xerox of Father's description of the gas storage. Then he demanded I buy back his bonds at a premium. I told him he was crazy. He threatened to go public if I refused,
promised me he'd bring down the company. I tried to bluff him, said he'd never do that because it would break him, too, but he said he'd sue for fraud and win. That he'd enlist Jamey as a co-complainant and the court would dissolve the corporation and award them the assets. Them, as if they were married. He was a ruthless, perverted bastard.'
'Who else knew about the squeeze?' asked Milo.
Dwight looked sharply at Souza.
'Horace did. I went to him for advice on how to handle it. Told him we hadn't started digging yet and there was time to pull out.'
'What did he advise you?'
'That pulling out would damage the company permanently. He said to go ahead as if nothing had happened. That he'd find a way out, but I should start paying in the meantime.'
'Did you?'
'Yes.'
'For how long?'
'About a year.'
'How frequent were the payoffs?'
'Nothing regular. Dig called and we traded.'
'Cash for bonds?'
'That's right.'
'How'd the transactions take place?'
'I kept several accounts at his bank. We met in his office, I signed a withdrawal slip, and he took it from there.'
' What about the bonds?'
'They found their way into my safe-deposit box.'
'Must have hurt,' said Milo.
Dwight winced.
'Toward the end it got worse,' he said. 'He kept demanding I buy more and more.'
'Who knew about it besides Souza?'
'No one.'
'Nobody in the corporation?'
'No. It was a personal account.'
'How about your wife?'
'No.'
'Big thing like that and you didn't discuss it with her?'
'I handle the finances in the family. We never talk about business.'
'When did you decide to get rid of Chancellor?'
Dwight shot out of his chair. 'I don't know a damned thing about that!'
He backed away from the table, knocking his tumbler over in the process. Standing pressed against the panelled wall, he turned his head from side to side, as if searching for an escape route. Cash looked meaningfully at Milo, who gave his head a brief shake. The Beverly Hills detective stayed in his place, but his eyes were vigilant.
'Why don't you sit down?' suggested Milo.
'All I did was give in to blackmail,' said Dwight. 'I was exploited. I had nothing to do with anything else.'
'Two people threaten to ruin your life. All of a sudden one's dead and the other's locked away in the booby hatch. Pretty convenient.'
Dwight was silent for a moment. Then he gave an odd smile and said:
'I figured I was entitled to a stroke of good luck.'
Milo looked at him, then shrugged.
'Hell,' he said, 'if you can live with it, I can.' Pulling a tape recorder out of the briefcase, he set it on the table. The flick of a switch evoked a hiss of white noise and over it the sound of a phone ringing. On the third ring the phone was answered.
'Hello,' said a familiar voice.
'It's Tully, Mr. Souza.'
'Hello, Tully.'
'Just called to tell you everything went perfect.'
'I'm glad to hear that.'
'Yeah, two birds with one stone. The broad - Vann -was shacking up with Mainwaring. We took care of both of them - '
'No need to go into detail, Tully.'
'Okay, Mr. Souza. Just wanted you to know it was clean - bare hands, no weapo- '
'That's enough,' snapped Souza.
Silence.
'Thank you for calling, Tully. You did well.'
'Anything else you want me to do, Mr. Souza?'
'Not at the moment. Why don't you take a couple of days off? Relax, rest up.'
'I could use some rest, Mr. Souza. My knuckles are real sore.' Phlegmy laughter.
'I'm sure they are, my boy. I'm sure they are.'
'Bye, Mr. Souza.'
'Good-bye.'
Milo turned off the recorder.
'You goddamned bastard,' said Dwight, and he began moving toward Souza. Cash sprang up, took him by the arms, and held him back.
'Settle down,' he said, and steered Dwight to the far side of the table, near the video screen. With a firm hand on a heaving shoulder, he pressed him into a chair. Staying on his feet, he took a watchful position behind the enraged man.
Dwight brandished a fist at Souza and said, 'Bastard.'
Souza gazed at him, bemused.
'Any comments now?' Milo asked the attorney.
Souza shook his head.
'Would you like a lawyer before we go any further?'
'Not at all. However, I could use a martini. May I fix one?'
'Suit yourself,' said Milo.
'Would anyone else care for a drink?' asked Souza.
