A Taste for Violence Page 4

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  “CHARLES ROCHE… murdered!” Lucy cried out.

  Shayne said, “S-h-h.” He looked around, troubled, but the noise appeared to have drowned out her words. Someone had selected a boogy-woogy record and the rasping sound filled the room. He put his mouth close to her ear and said, “I cashed his check for five grand in Miami. I wonder if it had time to clear through his bank?”

  “What?”

  “The check,” he said impatiently. “If he was killed before it went through, they won’t honor it.”

  She looked into his eyes, horrified. “Michael Shayne! You sit here worrying about a check when your client has been murdered!”

  “Somebody has to pay for this trip,” he told her harshly. “A man’s bank account is immediately frozen on his death, and you have to monkey around with court orders to get a clearance.”

  “It seems to me,” said Lucy icily, “that you wouldn’t have any right to keep it, since you got here too late to do him any good.”

  “But I’ve already cashed it,” he remonstrated in her ear.

  She drew away from him, her brown eyes misty. “I want to read about it,” she told him.

  Shayne put his arm around her. Her body stiffened.

  “Don’t be like that, Angel. Let’s read it together.”

  Lucy slowly relaxed, and they bent over the front page spread out on the table. Her left cheek rested lightly against the short sleeve of his polo shirt, and they continued the story:

  “Charles Roche’s body was discovered at 6:00 A.M. near the intersection of Twelfth Street and Magnolia Avenue by Raoul J. King, a truck farmer from Lynn Acres, who was driving into Centerville with a load of produce. The body was lying in a clump of weeds on the right-hand side of Magnolia Avenue, about a hundred feet from Twelfth Street where Mr. Roche’s car was parked.

  “‘I just happened to notice something lying there as I drove past,’ Mr. King told a Gazette reporter. ‘It was good sunup and I thinks to myself, by golly, if that don’t look like a man lying there. I stopped my truck and got out and looked, and sure enough it was. Whole back of his head was blown off and I sure knew he was dead, without touching him. I left him right like that and ran back to my truck and told the first policeman I came to. I didn’t know it was Mr. Roche till later.’

  “Officer Harold Dixon turned in the alarm and hurried to investigate. He was soon joined by Police Chief Henry Elwood and other members of Centerville’s efficient force. Chief Elwood assumed personal charge of the investigation into the murder of one of our city’s most respected citizens, and issued the following statement to the press at 10:00 o’clock this morning:

  “‘Charles Roche was shot once behind the right ear with a .44 caliber Colt’s revolver. A similar weapon was found on the ground near his body, and we are satisfied it is the death weapon. From the position of the body and evidence found on the scene of the crime, we believe Mr. Roche was walking back toward his parked car along the edge of the pavement when someone came up from behind and fired the fatal shot.

  “‘Death was practically instantaneous, states Coroner M. Peter Tombs, and probably occurred between three and five o’clock this morning. His wallet was intact with a fairly large sum of money in it, which would make it appear that robbery was not the motive. We believe we know the identity of the perpetrator of this foul deed, and expect an arrest to follow shortly.’

  “The above statement was all Chief Elwood was prepared to give out at the time, and he refused to say more when pressed by representatives of the Gazette to name his suspect.

  “From sources close to Mr. Roche, we learn that he has received several threatening letters during the past weeks, and that at least one of these communications has been turned over to the authorities by his grief-stricken wife.

  “We have also learned that the last person to have seen Mr. Roche alive was his wife. This was a little before 2:00 A.M. when Mr. Roche left his home on Mountaincrest Drive after telling Mrs. Roche he had an appointment to meet the labor agitator, George Brand, at his home at 610 Magnolia Avenue, not more than a hundred feet from the point where Roche’s body was found.

  “‘I begged him not to go see that man,’ Mrs. Roche related to a Gazette reporter between quiet sobs early this morning. ‘I warned him that it was dangerous and reminded him of the threatening letters he had recently received which I am sure were sent by Brand or some member of the subversive group who are responsible for this terrible strike.

  “‘But Charles insisted he had to go, and he scoffed at the idea of any personal danger. He was so fearless, and he had a foolish idea that if he and the labor leader could sit down together quietly, they might be able to settle the strike by compromise.

  “‘I could say nothing to dissuade him, though I pleaded with him to think of me if he refused to consider his personal safety. I think, now, that I had an awful premonition of what was to come. I remember I stood in the door and watched his car disappear down the drive until I couldn’t see for the tears. I didn’t go to bed. I stayed up all night waiting for him to come home. Somehow when the telephone rang at six-thirty, I knew before I answered it what the terrible message would be.’

  “At this point in her recital, Mrs. Elsa Roche (nee Maywell of Boston) became hysterical and her physician forbade further questioning and ordered her to bed with a sedative.

  “From another source, your reporter learns that this courageous woman did not sit idly during those long hours of waiting, and that her presentiment of danger upon her husband’s departure must have been very very real, indeed.

  “At four o’clock this morning, unable to endure the strain of anxiety longer, she aroused Mr. Seth Gerald, General Manager of Roche Mining Properties, from his sleep by a telephone call which sent him out seeking to avert the tragedy which may or may not have already occurred. Mr. Gerald’s story follows, verbatim, as given in a signed statement in Chief Elwood’s office early this morning:

  “‘It was five minutes after four when the telephone wakened me. I am a light sleeper, and I answered it at once. It was Mrs. Roche and she sounded terribly worried and distraught. She told me that Charles had left home almost two hours previously to keep a secret appointment with Brand to seek some compromise settlement of the unauthorized mine strike which George Brand has fomented here, and she begged me to see if everything was all right.

  “‘I assured her over the telephone as best I could, and promised to go to Brand’s home immediately and see whether things were all right. Frankly, I was worried myself, and I lost no time dressing and getting in my car, for I certainly wouldn’t trust George Brand any further than I would any other racketeer who seeks to overthrow the American way of life and substitute a Totalitarian rule of force.

  “‘In fact I have repeatedly warned Charles that the only way to deal with radicals like Brand is with a machine gun, but he was young and had certain idealistic beliefs which led him to assume that a rat like Brand might respond to reason and logic more quickly than to the mailed fist.

  “‘So I must admit I felt he had foolishly taken his life in his hands by going alone and unarmed to meet his most vicious enemy secretly at that hour of the morning, though I could not possibly foresee the tragic result of that unfortunate meeting.

  “‘I drove directly from my home at 1812 Hawthorne Road to the shack George Brand is known to be occupying on Magnolia Avenue. It was not yet daylight, and the house was dark. The garage door was closed and there was no automobile in sight. I don’t know what impelled me to go up to the door and knock, since everything appeared to be in order, but I did, leaving my car parked outside with the engine running.

  “‘I knocked loudly and received no response, and naturally I assumed that Brand was either absent or in such a drunken stupor that it was impossible to rouse him. There was a light across the street in Mrs. Cornell’s house and I could hear her radio. I went over to ask her if she had observed a light in Brand’s home, and she said she had not.

&nbs
p; “‘I then got in my car and drove on to the corner of Twelfth Street, and there I saw an automobile parked under a cypress at the intersection. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have paid any attention to this, but I was still worried about Charles, and I pulled up beside it to investigate. I recognized it at once as Charles’ car. There was no one in it and no key in the ignition. The motor felt cold when I put my hand on the hood, and I assumed that Charles had left it there inconspicuously when he came to keep his appointment with Brand more than two hours previously.

  “‘I looked at my watch and it was then exactly four-eighteen. I was more worried than ever, and I didn’t know what to do. I decided that Charles must have walked from his car to Brand’s house to keep his appointment and they had driven away together in Brand’s car so they would be less likely to be seen, since both of them, in a sense, must have wanted to keep their meeting a secret.

  “‘I realize now that at the very moment I stood there, undecided, Charles’ body must have been stiffening in the roadside ditch less than a hundred feet away, but I had no intimation of the fact at the time. I did consider whether I should wait for Charles to return, but after carefully studying all the factors involved, came to the conclusion that it would only be embarrassing to both of us were I to do so.

  “‘I then drove directly to the Roche home which I found brilliantly lighted and where I was met at the door by Mrs. Roche who was still fully dressed and in a state of nerves bordering on hysteria. To reassure her as much as possible, I lied by saying I had been to the Brand house and there was no sign of her husband in the vicinity, and told her I was sure Charles must have thought better of his foolhardy errand and had probably gone down to the city for a drink and had been inveigled into a late card game by some of the boys.

  “‘She was visibly calmer when I left the house a few minutes before five o’clock, and promised me faithfully that she would go to bed and try to get some rest.

  “‘I drove straight home and went to bed. At six o’clock I was awakened by the telephone, and was told the dreadful news.

  “‘In the death of Charles Roche, Centerville has lost one of its finest young citizens, and the person or persons responsible for this outrage against everything we hold dear to our hearts must be hunted down ruthlessly and exterminated without mercy, as one would grind a rattlesnake under heel. I hereby offer the authorities every facility of the Roche Mining Properties to further this crusade, and a personal reward of one thousand dollars for the arrest and conviction of Charles Roche’s murderer.

  “‘I wish to say one thing more. I realize I am under oath and I state with all solemnity and with full knowledge of the possible consequences, that in my personal opinion George Brand murdered Mr. Roche in cold blood after rejecting whatever compromise proposal for settlement of the present strike Charles offered.

  “‘I call upon all you right-thinking citizens of Centerville who have followed this man’s subversive leadership to your ruination to cast aside the shackles with which he has enslaved you, and proclaim yourselves free men again. George Brand stands before you with blood streaming from his hands. The blood of one of the kindest and fairest of employers, the son of the beloved John Roche who pioneered to build this community into what it is today, who provided jobs for you that your children might be fed and who led the fight for every labor reform which he felt would better your condition.

  “‘Call off this costly and bloody strike now! You cannot possibly win. Our company is prepared to remain shut down for years, if forced to do so to win. We will not deal with murderers and those who seek to wreck our American system. Pick up your tools and return to work, and the day our production reaches normal again, you may come to me with your grievances and they will receive my fair and impartial attention as always. Those workers who do not heed this call are openly allying themselves with traitors to our country who are leading you to your own destruction. Roche Workers… Stand up and be counted! Do you condone coldblooded murder?

  “‘If not: Return to work tomorrow.’”

  Lucy drew in a deep breath and said, “Whew!” She looked at Shayne when they reached the end of Mr. Gerald’s impassioned plea.

  Shayne’s bushy red brows were drawn low and his face was bleak. He nodded slowly and said, “This guy George Brand is drawn and quartered. I feel sorry as hell for him if he didn’t kill Roche.”

  The waiter brought their bottle of brandy, glasses, ice and soda. Shayne poured a little brandy in his glass, tasted it straight and puckered his wide mouth. He added more brandy, then ice cubes and a generous dash of soda, and fixed a glass for Lucy.

  “That letter you had from Mr. Roche, Michael,” she asked hesitantly, “does it… is there anything in it that gives you a clue?”

  “It was pretty vague. The most important thing in it was his indication that he didn’t trust someone… or anyone close to him. Let’s see what they’ve actually got on Brand.”

  He took a long sip from his glass, pulled the paper toward them, and they continued to read the story covering the entire front page of the Centerville Gazette:

  “Chief Elwood refused any direct comment at the time when Seth Gerald flatly accused George Brand of the murder. He stated, ‘We are checking up on the fellow, and if enough evidence is produced against him, you may be sure he won’t escape justice. But I intend this to be handled in a legal manner.’

  “The investigation was proceeding methodically and with a thoroughness that is characteristic of Chief Elwood. Brand had been awakened at seven o’clock and professed to be surprised at the news of Mr. Roche’s death. He emphatically denied having had an appointment with Roche, and denied having seen him for several days. He admitted, under questioning, that he was the owner of a Colt .44, but when asked to produce it, claimed that it must have been stolen from the bureau drawer where it was usually kept. He stated that he had not seen the revolver for several days, and supposed that anyone might have walked in his unlocked house and stolen it during that period.

  “Confronted with the death weapon, and under severe grilling by Chief Elwood, Brand reluctantly conceded that it might be his property, but insisted it was impossible to positively identify it.

  “Brand’s story of his movements during the night is simple, and, if verified, provides him with a foolproof alibi for the time of the crime. His verbatim statement follows, as taken down by an official stenographer at his home this morning:

  “‘I am deeply shocked by this news and make this statement of my own free will. I had met Mr. Charles Roche several times, and I feel that our cause has lost a friend. I considered him an honorable gentleman and had great hopes that when he assumed management of the Roche Mines in a few days we would be able to reach an agreement which would permit all the miners to go back to work at a living wage.

  “‘Thus, anyone with the brains of a lizard can see that my union and I stood to lose more by his death than anyone else in Centerville, and I certainly would have been the last man on earth to harm him.

  “‘We held a meeting of the Steering Committee at the Union Hall last night. This broke up about midnight, and I went down to Bert’s Place with some of the boys for a sandwich. Most of them drifted away about one o’clock, and Joseph Margule suggested that he and I go on to a friendly game at Jethro Home’s place.

  “‘We took a dozen bottles of beer with us, and drove out in my car. Home lives about three miles east, just off the highway. When we arrived at one-thirty, we found Jim Place and Dave Burroughs and Home playing pennyante in the kitchen. Place left the game soon after we arrived, and the other four of us stayed and played poker until slightly after five o’clock. I dropped Burroughs and Margule off at their houses and drove on home myself, arriving at exactly five-twenty. I know the time because it was daylight, and Mrs. Cornell, my neighbor across the street, had just stepped out on her porch. She waved to me and said something about me being out mighty late, and I looked at my watch. I told her it was just five-twenty, and asked what she was doing
up so early. She said something about having a headache and couldn’t sleep. Then I put my car in the garage and went to bed.’

  “We understand that Chief Elwood is interrogating the men whom Brand claimed as witnesses to his alibi, and no charge has been placed against him at noon today as we go to press. It is, however, worthy of note that all these men are members of Brand’s so-called ‘Union’ and thus under the domination of his absolute dictatorship. Under these circumstances one might not blame Chief Elwood if he views Brand’s ‘alibis’ with the suspicion we feel they deserve. This paper is being held for the press until the very last moment to bring its readers the latest development in the Roche case.

  “The deceased was born in Centerville, Kentucky, in 1918. He was an honor graduate of Centerville High School, and attended Duke University where he was president of the graduating class of 1940. He was commissioned as a Lieutenant in the United States Army in 1941, and served in various theatres of the war, rising to the rank of Major before being demobilized in 1945.

  “Married almost immediately thereafter to Miss Elsa Maywell of Boston, the young couple returned to Centerville after a honeymoon trip through the west, and settled in the gracious home on Mountaincrest Drive which was their wedding gift from the groom’s father and which has been a center of social life in Centerville since their occupancy.

  “Immediately after his return, Charles Roche was appointed on the Board of Directors of the Roche Mining Properties, and plunged into the serious business of learning to manage the vast interests left to him in trust upon the death of his father, John Roche, in 1943. He was to have taken over the general managership when he reached the age of thirty, at which time the trusteeship would have ended.

  “He leaves a widow, Mrs. Elsa Maywell Roche, and a brother, James L., of this city.”

  There was a puzzled frown between Lucy Hamilton’s misty brown eyes. “What a shame, Michael. If we could have been just a day earlier getting here… maybe…”