Recipe for Homicide, page 22
“Wait until I finish reading,” Barbara said. She went on: “It’s a funny thing, Gilmore, but it looks as if the old adage—what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander—may not apply in this case. The same set of circumstances that has crystallized
my decision to quit the Party may very well make you say, ‘This is the sort of thing that would make a Communist of anybody.’ I’ve watched the way the newspapers have been preparing a sort of moral lynching for you. Because you once had a yen for Zina, they’ll be painting you as a renegade, a rogue, a traitor, and a menace to national security. They’ll probably be after your job, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the younger patriotic bastards started throwing stones through your windows. It’s disgusting and revolting and enough to turn anybody’s stomach. But I’ve known you long enough to appreciate your ornery qualities. I know you’ll fight back. It will be nasty and discouraging, but you’ll win in the end, because this is fundamentally a decent country and most of the people in it have a deep-rooted sense of justice and fair play.
“Good luck, Gilmore, and forgive me.
“GEORGE BAYLISS”
No one spoke after Barbara had finished reading. Gilmore was blowing his nose when the phone at his bedside gave off a timid little tinkle. He picked up the instrument.
“Maternity ward,” Gilmore said. “Oh, hello, Mr. Evans. I was just going to call you to thank you for a most pleasant vacation. I’m enjoying the modern conveniences in quiet, restful surroundings with excellent recreation facilities, lots of pretty nurses, good, wholesome food—! What? … Tomorrow? … I hardly think my medical advisers would want me to cut short my vacation so soon, Mr. Evans.… Yes, I know, but things are in extremely competent hands. Miss Wall is a very able young woman, and—What? … I see. Well, I’ll speak to the doctor, and let you know tomorrow. Goodnight, Mr. Evans.”
Gilmore pointed the receiver reproachfully at Barbara before he replaced it.
“Miss Wall,” he said solemnly. “I have just been informed by Mr. Evans that you have resigned your position with the Barzac Soup Company. Is this true?”
“I forgot to tell you,” Barbara said. “I quit this afternoon.”
“Why, Miss Wall?”
“When I discovered this afternoon that I was being used to help kick you around,” Barbara said, “it suddenly occurred to me that … well, that this is fundamentally a decent country and most of the people in it have a deep-rooted sense of justice and fair play.”
“If I were a healthy man, Miss Wall,” Gilmore said, “I should leap out of bed and kiss you.”
Dr. Coffee cleared his throat. “Come on, Max. I think we’d better be going.”
“Just a minute, folks,” Gilmore said. “I’ll never sleep tonight unless you answer one question. How did you criminologists come to put the finger on Remington?”
“You tell ’em, Doc,” Ritter said. “I was just the leg man.”
“It was a fairly simple matter,” Dr. Coffee said, “as soon as I got an answer to the first question that came to mind when I discovered that Peggy Bayliss had died of arsenic poisoning. The question was: Why would anyone wishing to poison rations intended for the Army choose arsenic, which is the simplest of all poisons to detect and which can be recognized in the bodies of its victims for years after death? A few days later I added a supplementary question: Why would a conspirator against the armed forces poison only nine batches of rations, knowing that the rigid system of checks and inspections at Barzac canneries would certainly preclude repeating the process, even if he got away with it the first time?
“The answer to both questions, of course, was that the plot against the American Army was not at all the motivation for this series of crimes. The criminal did not want the poison plot to go undetected. On the contrary, he took precautions that it should not only be uncovered, but uncovered with great publicity. Miss Wall tells us that she now remembers that it was Remington who first suggested publicizing Barzac’s creation of the new rations for the Army, and that he suggested inviting the photographers to the testing sessions. Knowing the thoroughness of Barzac’s testing and tasting routines, he could be relatively sure that his scandal would break within a very short time. And knowing this, I think we can assume that he suggested to the press that reporters attend Peggy’s funeral, just to whet their curiosity further.”
“What started you thinking in this direction?” Gilmore asked.
“Rabbit,” said the pathologist. “Our lunch with Lenormand at Raoul’s on Saturday. You may remember how furious the chef was over the fuss the executives were making because Barzac shares had dropped sharply in Wall Street. He talked about the lucky break it would be for anyone with enough money to buy control of a top-flight soup-making firm for half price. That remark put me on the right track. If we could find someone who was buying heavily as the Barzac shares went down, it would indicate that the whole plot was devised to discredit Barzac, to drive the stock down until, buying on margin with comparatively little money, he could secure a controlling interest in the cannery.
“Max went to New York, canvassed the brokerage houses, and discovered that the buyer was Remington—the man who expected to make himself boss of Barzac. At the same time, Dr. Mookerji here established evidence that Froley’s body had been transported in the trunk compartment of Remington’s car.
“I doubt if Froley’s murder was part of Remington’s original plan, although the plan was undoubtedly an outgrowth of Remington’s discovery that Froley was down on Barzac’s books as a Commie. It was evidently Remington who took the F.B.I. letter from Evans’s desk to insure Froley’s usefulness for a while as a stooge in arranging the details of the arsenic, and the goat whenever detection should come. When his usefulness had ended, and there was a chance that he might try to find the identity of ‘Emile,’ he was liquidated. And the dramatic production of his body in the cannery was just another step in Remington’s campaign of unfavorable publicity for Barzac.”
“I must remind Mr. Evans,” Gilmore said, “to thank my mother for having Matilija poppies in her garden.”
“Well, goodnight,” Dr. Coffee said. “Come on, Max.”
The bedside telephone again tinkled gently. “Hello,” said Gilmore. “Oh, hello, Victoria … Fine. Fine … No, there’s not a word of truth in it. You mustn’t believe everything you hear on the radio.… Yes, I’m perfectly all right. In fact, I was just going to call you and tell you I probably wouldn’t be home tonight. … Yes, I’m thinking of making a night of it.… A friend … Sure, a girl friend … Well, it’s hard to say. She has a dual personality. When she’s good, she’s very, very good, and when she’s bad, she’s—What? … Oh, right now she’s very, very terrific. I must introduce her to you some time.… Goodnight, Victoria.”
A nurse came in, bearing a thermometer and a glass of some rose-colored liquid.
“You’ll have to go now, miss,” she said. “The doctor wants Mr. Gilmore to get some sleep. Drink this, Mr. Gilmore.”
“Never,” Gilmore protested. “You’ve put grenadine in it.”
“Dr. Green said you’re to drink it,” the nurse insisted. “It’s a sedative.”
“Well, goodnight, Gil,” Barbara said. “I’ll be in to see you tomorrow.”
“I may be in the office tomorrow,” Gilmore said, “but drop in anyway. If you’re looking for a job, why don’t you consider something like public relations for a big canned-soup company? I think I could get you an interview. And it’s fascinating work. You meet such interesting people.”
XXVIII
CHICAGO, Wednesday (A.P.)—The body of a man tentatively identified as George Bayliss, one-time left-wing journalist, was found floating in the Drainage Canal early today. He had been shot six times.
Police are withholding comment pending a positive identification of his fingerprints by the F.B.I. in Washington.
About the Author
Lawrence G. Blochman (1900–1975) was an Edgar Award–winning author of mystery novels, a prominent translator of international crime fiction, and served as the fourth president of the Mystery Writers of America. He died in New York City.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1952 by Lawrence G. Blochman
Cover design by Ian Koviak
ISBN: 978-1-0408-572-4
This edition published in 2023 by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
180 Maiden Lane
New York, NY 10038
www.openroadmedia.com
THE DR. DANIEL WEBSTER COFFEE MYSTERIES
FROM MYSTERIOUSPRESS.COM
AND OPEN ROAD MEDIA
MYSTERIOUSPRESS.COM
Otto Penzler, owner of the Mysterious Bookshop in Manhattan, founded the Mysterious Press in 1975. Penzler quickly became known for his outstanding selection of mystery, crime, and suspense books, both from his imprint and in his store. The imprint was devoted to printing the best books in these genres, using fine paper and top dust-jacket artists, as well as offering many limited, signed editions.
Now the Mysterious Press has gone digital, publishing ebooks through MysteriousPress.com.
MysteriousPress.com. offers readers essential noir and suspense fiction, hard-boiled crime novels, and the latest thrillers from both debut authors and mystery masters. Discover classics and new voices, all from one legendary source.
FIND OUT MORE AT
WWW.MYSTERIOUSPRESS.COM
FOLLOW US:
@emysteries and Facebook.com/MysteriousPressCom
MysteriousPress.com is one of a select group of publishing partners of Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
The Mysterious Bookshop, founded in 1979, is located in Manhattan’s Tribeca neighborhood. It is the oldest and largest mystery-specialty bookstore in America.
The shop stocks the finest selection of new mystery hardcovers, paperbacks, and periodicals. It also features a superb collection of signed modern first editions, rare and collectable works, and Sherlock Holmes titles. The bookshop issues a free monthly newsletter highlighting its book clubs, new releases, events, and recently acquired books.
58 Warren Street
info@mysteriousbookshop.com
(212) 587-1011
Monday through Saturday
11:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.
FIND OUT MORE AT:
www.mysteriousbookshop.com
FOLLOW US:
@TheMysterious and Facebook.com/MysteriousBookshop
SUBSCRIBE:
The Mysterious Newsletter
Find a full list of our authors and titles at www.openroadmedia.com
FOLLOW US
@ OpenRoadMedia
Lawrence G. Blochman, Recipe for Homicide
