Deadfall(10)

“Did you tell Leonard all this when he came in?”

“Of course.”

“How did he take it?”

“He said the man must have been a crank. He said Kenneth’s death had been an accident, there was no question of that.” Washburn’s mouth quirked bitterly. “The same things the police said. But Leonard was as upset as I was. I knew him so well—I could always tell when he was upset. He and his brother were very close; he just hadn’t been himself since Kenneth’s death. If there was even a remote chance Kenneth’s fall wasn’t an accident, Leonard would have pursued it.”

“Did the man call again?”

“Not as far as I know. But I’m convinced he contacted Leonard later on, at his office.”

“Even though Leonard didn’t mention it to you?”

Washburn nodded emphatically.

“What makes you so sure?” I asked.

“The missing money. Two thousand dollars from the house safe.”

“Two thousand cash?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a lot of money to keep around the house.”

“I suppose so,” he said. “But the safe is hidden in the master bathroom; Leonard had it specially built. No one could find it if he didn’t know it was there.”

I had heard that one before; professional burglars fell all over themselves laughing when they heard it. But all I said was, “Why did the two of you need that much cash on hand?”

“Grocery money. Mad money. Spur-of-the-moment trips to Nevada. Emergencies. All sorts of reasons. We each put in a percentage of our income every month.”

I said, “Nevada?”

“Leonard liked to gamble. Poker, blackjack, roulette. Nothing compulsive; he only went three or four times a year. I usually went with him. And he won more than he lost, so I didn’t mind. Gambling was his only bad habit.”

“When did you find the two thousand missing?”

“The day after the … after Leonard’s death. The police asked me to make an inventory to find out if anything was missing.”

“Was anything missing, other than the cash?”

“No. The safe hadn’t been touched; there was still five hundred dollars left in it. No one but Leonard and I had the combination. No one but Leonard could have taken the money.”

“And you think he took it to pay this mysterious caller. For the name of the person who allegedly murdered his brother.”

“Yes,” Washburn said. “He had absolutely no other reason to take that much cash out of the safe.”

“What about for gambling purposes?”

“That’s what the police think. Leonard sometimes gambled here in the city—just poker—but he never used house money unless he asked me first, and then only if it was for a Nevada trip. Besides, the most he ever risked at one sitting was two hundred dollars. He had an ironclad rule about that.”

“Did he tell you when he took house money for other reasons?”

“Usually.”

“Why not this time? Why would he buy information that way without confiding in you?”

“You’d have to have known Leonard,” Washburn said, and there was something different in his voice now: a kind of sadness seasoned with hurt and a touch of bitterness. “He was a very private man. We loved each other, and yet when it came to his family and his business, he … well, sometimes he shut me out. Particularly where his brother was concerned.”

“Why is that?”

“Kenneth didn’t like me, didn’t like anyone who wasn’t straight. He told Leonard once that he didn’t want anything to do with his faggot boyfriend, and Leonard didn’t stand up to him. It was as if, underneath, he … he was ashamed of me.” Washburn looked away, over at Eberhardt’s empty desk. He seemed very small, sitting there—and very alone. “Anyhow,” he said after a time, “that was why I wasn’t invited to the party the night Kenneth died.”

“Was Leonard invited?”

“Oh yes. And he went, even though he knew it hurt me.”

I was beginning to get a picture of what kind of man Leonard Purcell had been. And I didn’t particularly like what I saw. I watched Washburn finish what was left in his cup, put the cup down carefully on the edge of my desk. Watched him hunch a little inside his jacket. Damn Sam Crawford and his mandates about the heat.

I said, “More coffee, Mr. Washburn?”

“No, thank you. It’s a bit too strong for me.”

“I can add some water …”

“No, really, I’m fine.”

I got up and poured another half-cup for myself. When I sat down again I said, “About Kenneth. How did he feel about Leonard being gay?”