More Tales of the Black Widowers (16 page)

Evans looked surprised and said hastily, “As a matter of fact, Dr. Drake did get some ashes in his soup—”

“And I noticed it too,” said Trumbull. “What are the proper conditions for you to study your victim?”

“The conditions I have standardized over the years. The person to be interviewed enters my office alone. He sits in a certain chair under a certain light. He is under a certain tension I do nothing to relieve. I take some time to choose what it is I will observe in detail, and then we start.”

“What if you don't find anything you can observe? What if he's a complete blank?” asked Gonzalo.

“That never happens. Something always shows up.”

Gonzalo said, “Did something show up when you interviewed me?”

Evans shook his head. “I never discuss that sort of thing with the individuals involved, but I can tell you this. There was a mirror in the room.”

Gonzalo bore up under the general laughter and said, “A handsome man has his problems.”

Trumbull said, “Someone must have told you that. —Mr. Evans, could you get to the crux of your story: your embarrassment.”

Evans nodded and looked unhappy. He turned slightly and said to Henry, “I wonder if I might have another cup of coffee.”

“Certainly, sir,” said Henry.

Evans sipped at it and said thoughtfully, “The trouble is, you see, that I have watched smoking so meticulously on so many occasions that I have developed a dislike for smokers; a prejudice, if you will; even though I smoke myself on occasion. It is not nearly as strong as yours, Mr. Trumbull, but on occasion it explodes and it did so to my own hurt on one occasion.

“The story concerns two men who had worked in a branch office of ours; we can call them—uh, Williams and Adams.”

Avalon cleared his throat and said, “If I were you, Mr. Evans, I would use their real names. In the course of telling the story, you are very likely to do so anyway. Remember that you speak here in confidence.”

Evans said, “I will attempt the substitution in any case. The two men were quite different in appearance. Williams was a large, bulky man with something of a stoop and with a slow way of talking. Adams was smaller, straighter, and could be very eloquent indeed.

“Both were of an age, both in their early thirties; both were equally competent, it appeared, and had fulfilled their jobs with equal satisfaction; both seemed to be qualified to fill a key opening that had become available in the home office. Both were bachelors, both rather withdrawn. Both led quiet lives and did not seem to show elements of instability in their socializing—”

Halsted interrupted. “What does that mean? Instability?”

Evans said, “Neither gambled to a dangerous extent. Neither exhibited sexual or personal habits so at variance with their social surroundings as to make them unduly conspicuous. Neither exhibited strong likes or dislikes that might twist them into unexpected actions. They had come to be friendly in a mild sort of way while working in the same office, but it was symptomatic of the lack of intensity of emotion in both men that, although it was the closest friendship either had, as far as we knew, it was merely a casual relationship.”

Rubin, leaning back in his chair, said, “Well, that churns up ray writer's soul. Here we have two mild buddies, going down life's pathway in parallel paths, both quiet milksops— and now they find that they are competing for the same job, a job with more money and more prestige, and suddenly the
lambs become lions and turn on each other—”

“Nothing of the kind,” said Evans impatiently. “There was competition between the two, of course. That couldn't be helped. But neither before nor after was there any sign that this rivalry would find a release in violence.

“Both had taken advantage of the company's policy of encouraging further education and had been involved in courses in computer technology which we supervised. Both had done very well. It was hard to choose between them. All the data we had indicated, rather surprisingly, that Williams —slow, bumbling Williams—was actually a trifle the more intelligent of the two. Yet there was hesitation; he somehow didn't seem more intelligent than the quick and articulate Adams. So they left it up to me, with their usual confidence in my methods—”

Trumbull said, “Do you mean to tell us that your company knew you judged men by how they fiddled with paper clips and so on?”

“They knew this,” said Evans a little defensively, “but they also knew that my recommendations were invariably proven accurate in the aftermath. What more could they ask?”

He finished his coffee and went on. “I saw Williams first, since I rather had the suspicion that he might be the man. I would not turn down the better-qualified man simply because he was slow-spoken. I suppose,” and he sighed, “everything would have been entirely different if 1 had seen Adams first, but we can't adjust past circumstances to suit our convenience, can we?

“Williams seemed distinctly nervous, but that was certainly not unusual. I asked some routine questions while I studied his behavior. I noticed that his right forefinger moved on the desk as though it were writing words, but that stopped when he caught me looking at his hand; I should have been more careful there. In fact I had not really settled on what I was to study, when he reached for the cigarettes and matches.”

“What cigarettes?” asked Rubin.

“I keep an unopened pack of cigarettes on the desk, together with a matchbook, some paper clips, a ball-point pen, and other small objects within easy reach of the person being interviewed. There is a great tendency to handle them and that can be useful to me. The pack of cigarettes is often played with, for instance, but it is rarely opened.

“Williams, however, opened the pack and that caught me rather by surprise, I must confess. His dossier had not mentioned him to be a heavy smoker, and for someone to help himself to the interviewer's cigarettes without asking permission would require a strong addiction.”

Evans closed his eyes as though he were reproducing the scene upon the inner surface of his eyelids and said, “I can see it now. I became aware of an incongruity in the proceedings when he placed a cigarette between his lips with an attempt at simulating self-possession that utterly failed. It was then that I began to watch, since the incompatibility of the arrogance that led him to take a cigarette without permission and the timorousness with which he handled the cigarette caught my attention.

“His lips were dry, so that he had to remove the cigarette briefly, and wet his lips with his tongue. He then put it back between his lips and held it there as though he were afraid it would fall out. He seemed more and more nervous and I was now watching nothing else, only his hand and his cigarette. I was sure they would tell me all I wanted to know. I heard him scratch a match to life and, still holding onto the cigarette, he lit it with the match in his left hand.

“He seemed to hesitate, taking one or two shallow puffs while I watched and then, as though somehow aware I was not impressed by his performance, he inhaled deeply, and instantly went into a prolonged and apparently dangerous fit of coughing. —It turned out that he didn't smoke.”

Evans opened his eyes. “That came out at once, of course. Apparently, he felt that by smoking he would impress me as a suave and competent fellow. He knew that he had a bumbling appearance and wanted to counteract it. It did quite the reverse. It was an attempt to use me, to make a fool of me, and I was furious. I tried not to show it but I knew at once that under no circumstances would I recommend Williams for the job.

“And that was disastrous, of course. Had I seen Adams first, I would surely have interviewed him in my most meticulous fashion. As it was, with Williams out, I am afraid I treated Adams casually. I recommended him after the barest interaction. Do you wonder that my prejudice against smoking has intensified and that I am more inclined now than I was before to sympathize with your views, Mr. Trumbull?”

Trumbull said, “I take it that Mr. Adams proved incompetent at the job.”

“Not at all,” said Evans. “For two years he filled it in the fashion that I had predicted in my report after my inadequate examination of him. In fact, he was brilliant. In a number of cases he made decisions that showed real courage and that proved, in the aftermath, to have been correct.

“He was, in fact, in line for another promotion when one day he disappeared, and with him over a million dollars in company assets. When the situation was studied, it seemed that he had been intelligent enough and daring enough to play successful games with a computer, and his courageous decisions, which we had all applauded, had been part of the game. You see, had I examined him as thoroughly as I should have done, I would not have missed that streak of cunning and of patience. It was obvious he had been planning the job for years and had studied computer technology with that thought in mind and with the object of qualifying himself for the promotion which he finally gained. —Quite disastrous, quite disastrous.”

Drake said, “Over a million is quite disastrous all right.”

“No, no,” said Evans. “I mean the blow to my pride and to my standing in the company. Financially, it is no great blow. We were insured and we may even get the stolen items back someday. In fact, justice has been done in a crude sort of way. Adams did not get away with it; in fact, he's dead.” Evans shook his head and looked depressed.

“Rather brutally, too, I'm afraid,” he went on. “He had lost himself, quite deliberately and successfully, in one of the rabbit warrens of the city, disguised himself more by a new way of life than by anything physical, lived on his savings and didn't touch his stealings, and waited patiently for time to bring him relative safety. But he got into a fight somehow and was knifed. He was taken to the morgue and his fingerprints identified him. That was about six months ago.”

“Who killed him?” asked Gonzalo.

“That's not known. The police theory is this— The privacy index of a slum is low and somehow the fact that Adams had something hidden must have gotten around. Perhaps he drank a bit to forget the rather miserable life he was leading while waiting to be safely rich, and perhaps he talked a bit too much. Someone tried to cut himself in on the loot; Adams resisted; and Adams died.”

“And did whoever killed him take the loot?”

Evans said, “The police think not. None of the stolen items have surfaced in the six months since Adams' murder. Adams might have the patience to sit on a fortune and lie in hiding, but the average thief would not. So the police think the hoard is still wherever Adams kept it.”

Halsted made his characteristic brushing gesture up along his high forehead, as though checking to see if the hairline had yet come down to its original place, and said thoughtfully, “Could you check on the company's knowledge of the details of Adams' life and personality and work out a kind of psychological profile that would tell where the stolen goods would have been placed?”

“I tried that myself,” said Evans, “but the answer we came up with is that a man like Adams would hide it most ingeniously. And that does us no good.”

Avalon said with a sudden slap of his hand on the table, “I have an idea. Where is Williams? The other man, the one who lost out, I mean?”

Evans said, “He's still at his old job, and doing well enough.”

Avalon said, “Well, you might consult him. They were friends. He might know something the company doesn't; something vital that he himself wouldn't dream is vital.”

“Yes,” said Evans dryly. “That occurred to us and he was interviewed. It was useless. You see, the friendship between the two men had been mild enough to begin with, but it had ceased completely after the incident of the interviews.

“Apparently Adams had, in apparent friendliness, advised Williams to practice smoking in order to demonstrate self-possession and nonchalance. Adams had often told the large, slow-speaking Williams that he made an unfortunate first impression and that he should do something about it.

“Adams' often-repeated advice had its effect at precisely the wrong moment for Williams. Sitting in my office and keenly aware that he made a poor appearance, he could not resist reaching for the cigarettes—with disastrous results. The poor man blamed Adams for what happened, although the action was his own and he must bear the responsibility himself. Still, it ended the friendship and we could learn nothing useful from Williams.”

Gonzalo interrupted excitedly, “Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Couldn't Adams have deliberately set it up that way; sort of hypnotized Williams into the act? Couldn't he have arranged it so that Williams was sure to reach for a cigarette at some crucial point? The interview would be the crucial point; Williams would be eliminated; Adams would get the job.”

Evans said, “I don't accept such Machiavellianism. How would Adams know that there would be cigarettes at hand on just that occasion? Too unlikely.”

“Besides,” said Avalon, “that sort of Iago-like manipulation of human beings works on the stage but not in real life.”

There was a silence after that and then Trumbull said, “So that's it, I suppose. One crook, now a dead man, and one bundle of stolen goods, hidden somewhere. Nothing much we can do with that. I don't think that even Henry could do anything with that.” He looked toward Henry, who was standing by the sideboard patiently. “Henry! Could you tell us, by chance, where the hiding place of the ill-gotten pelf might be?”