Fletch(63)
“Alan Stanwyk is a decent man. A man of principle and profound loyalty. A strong man. An ambitious man.
“Everything in his life is intelligible and consistent—with one exception.
“I do not understand his relationship with his parents.
“He didn’t invite his parents to his wedding. He hasn’t told them they have a five- or six-year-old granddaughter.
“Yet he visits them across country every six weeks.
“The answer has to be that his relationship is not with his parents, but with Nonheagan, Pennsylvania.”
Fletch turned off the tape recorder and went into the bedroom to use the phone.
It was four-thirty, Wednesday.
28
“Mr. Stanwyk? Believe it or not, this is Sidney James of Casewell Insurers again.”
“I thought you’d call again. Once you long-distance dialers learn a telephone number, you’re apt to ring it a lot.”
“I expect this will be the last time I bother you, sir.”
“That’s all right, son. I hope it isn’t. I bought some more telephone stock yesterday.”
“The hardware store must be doing pretty well.”
“It’s doing all right. Ever since the price of labor went sky-high, people have been rushing to the hardware store to buy the wrong equipment for jobs around the house they never intend to do anyway. You’ve heard of selling used equipment? I bet half the stuff I sell never gets used in the first place.”
“I thought you said the telephone company is the only business making money these days.”
“The hardware business is doing pretty good, too. Although I’d only admit it long-distance to California.”
“You seem to have things pretty well figured out, sir.”
“How are you figuring these days? You picking up that Bronze Star?”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“That’s good, son. That’s fine. Can we keep it for you?”
“I noticed a space in the back of my sock drawer where I think it would fit.”
“I thought you’d make the right decision. There never was a country that didn’t need to decorate people.”
“Thanks for the offer, anyway. How’s Mrs. Stanwyk?”
“Oh, I forgot: you’re a pulse-taker. When I was home for lunch, Mrs. Stanwyk was still ticking over nicely. The older models are the best, you know. Better built, and they use less fuel.”
“Say, Mr. Stanwyk, the last time we talked you said your son, Alan, gave up boxing, refused to go to the nationals after winning the state’s Golden Gloves, because of girls.”
“Yes, I did say that.”
“Is that what you meant?”
“Well, son, I believe a man of my age has sufficient motor memory to mean approximately the same thing when he says ‘girls’ as a young buck of your age. If I remember rightly, girls have a couple of legs under them, a hank o’ hair up top, and a couple of protuberances about grab height. That about right?”
“That’s about right, sir.”
“I thought so.”
“What I mean is, did you mean girls, or girl?”
“I’m in the hardware business, son. I’m apt to speak in gross lots.”
“Did you mean any girl in particular? Was there any one particular girl who was the cause of Alan’s giving up boxing?”
“There certainly was.”
“Who was she?”
“You insurance men ask some funny questions.”
“We’ll be through with this case very soon, sir. We’ll stop bothering you.”
“Mr. James, you sound more like a private investigator or somethin’ than an insurance man.”
“Going over this policy, Mr. Stanwyk, we noticed a small bequest we don’t understand. We have to check out whether the person is a relative or not, whether or not she is still alive, the current address, etc.”
“I should think all that would be up to Alan, the insured.”
“Your son’s a very busy man, Mr. Stanwyk. You’d be surprised how people fail to maintain the proper information on policies of this sort.”
“I suppose I would.”
“They experience the death of a friend, or get a postcard saying a friend’s address has changed, and it never occurs to them to update such a thing in an insurance file.”
“I guess I understand. But if you hadn’t won a Bronze Star, Mr. James, I think I’d be inclined to tell you to go leap into the Pacific Ocean. Are you near the Pacific Ocean out there?”
“I can see it through my window, Mr. Stanwyk. Who is the girl?”
“Sally Ann Cushing. Or, as she is now known, Sally Ann Cushing Cavanaugh.”
“Alan and she were in love?”