A Ladder of Death
by
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"Well, hell," Bob said, "he was damned near killed with that nasty fall down the stairs in the Denning case, and in our last case that son-of-a-bitch, Major Sanders, planted an ice pick in the old boy's back not once, but twice. It's a miracle he’s survived. What do you want?" "The old Simon back," I insisted. Bob removed his unlit cigar from his mouth, stared at the ceiling a moment, and said: "Well, damn it then, we will do something about it." For ten minutes he sat frozen, his cigar clutched between his fingers, his mind munching along in its fashion. Then, he smiled, and reached for the phone. "Bill Gregg, please," he intoned, when the call had been answered. "Billy? Bob Campbell here. Ah, good. Fine, thanks. No. Things are very quiet in Ben Nevis. Don't knock it Billy. I'm grateful. Murder's no ball game! What I was wondering was whether you’ve made any progress on the Maryann Morley case? "No? Still a dead end? Yeah. Three consecutive wealthy husbands down the tubes, or rather, off the same damned cliff, does give one something to think about. Oh, yeah. Quite probably it’s a sociopath and a repeater, no doubt about it. "Listen, Billy, I’ve got a friend, a really sharp guy, with time on his hands. He'd be just the man for the Morley case. His name is Simon Fraser. Oh, good! You’ve heard of him then? Fine. Listen, I'm going to hook him into this thing for you. "No! No trouble at all! It’ll give the old man something to do. Boredom's killing him at the moment. Yeah. "Does Maryann still stay at the Cliffhanger Hotel at Christmas? Good! No. Leave that to me. I’ll set it up somehow. You can depend on it. Yeah! You’ll hear." He replaced the telephone on the receiver, tapped his fingers a few moments longer and winked at me. "How to get him there?" he said. "That’s the problem. How to get him moving? The old man hates vacations and travel. We’ll need somebody he’ll listen to. Somebody with the guts to order the old boy around. Now then, who's got that kind of raw nerve?" "Mrs. Zacharias," I suggested without even blinking. Bob shook his head. "No. It’s going to take even more than the Mighty Millicent to pull this one off." His cigar traveled left, then right, then left, and finally right again. "Ah. Yes," he nodded more to himself than to me, "that’s the way. It’ll cost, but it’s worth it." He picked up the telephone and asked for the overseas operator. "Yes, operator. I want to make a person-to-person call to the Contessa Maria Sophia Dellarova in Rome. Yes, I have the number. Yes, I’ll wait." *** It had been an unremarkable day, though dinner had been particularly tasty. Simon had adjourned to the study for an evening of reading. I left a corrected manuscript on his desk and was actually idle, when Bob arrived, cigar planted firmly left in his mouth. He removed a damp raincoat, tossed it over the back of his favorite chair, and seated himself with an audible rumble. "Something's wrong?" Simon inquired. "Yeah. Very!" "What?" "Maryann Morley’s getting married again." Simon moved forward in his chair. "Indeed! When?" "Immediately after the Christmas holiday. Billy Gregg phoned. It’s worrying him." "At the Cliffhanger?" "Yeah. She and her sister have the best suite for the full season, until mid January. The wedding’s to be the day after the New Year." "Another millionaire?" "No! An attorney, the fellow who helped her settle the estates in the other three cases. Longtime family friend. He’s comfortably fixed but not wealthy." "Name?" "John Woodward. Nice looking fellow they say." "Well, hope does sometimes triumph over experience in matters of love." "Nuts." "So! It’s a good thing Thomas made our reservations. The Contessa is turning into something of a predictive medium. Either that, or she’s in cahoots with Millicent Zacharias. That wouldn’t surprise me either. I smell conspiracies all about me. But it’s time to get acquainted with Maryann, that fatal young lady, and her proposed young man." "Good." "You and the wife will join us of course." "Nope. Can’t. Son's coming home for Christmas." "Mmmm. Well, Bender and family and the Smiths." "Okay." Campbell rose, rolled his cigar in a circle, donned his rain-coat, shrugged his shoulders, and said: "Bill Gregg is expecting you. All very discreet, you understand." "Of course." "Best keep in touch Simon. Gregg’s a good man, but he’s young and this is his first murder case. Anything procedural you might need help on, let me know." "I will." With that Bob was gone, leaving Simon with his fingers together, his eyes shut and his breathing rhythmic. "Maybe soon," I observed, "I’ll earn my keep again." "Oh, you will," he said grimly, "you will." *** The Contessa Maria Sophia Dellarova had arrived, spectacularly, an hour before our adjournment to the Cliffhanger’s balcony. She had required two limousines, one for herself and an attractive young woman in her late twenties, and the other for several dozen pieces of luggage. The young woman, an assistant apparently, managed the business of bellhops and room arrangements while the Contessa, tiny, gray-haired and elegant, sought us out, kissed Simon affectionately on the cheek, announced there would be a special Christmas dinner in one of the private dining rooms, commented rather acidly on the condition of American air transport, and departed. We were midway into our second martinis when the Contessa rejoined us. As was her custom, she was dressed in a simple but plainly expensive black frock, and her only jewelry consisted of a diamond as big as my thumb hanging from a fine gold chain around her neck. Charlie and Ginny Smith and the Contessa's attractive assistant also appeared but, noting the limits of our table, seated themselves nearby and were engaged in cheerful conversation. "You are looking well," Maria Sophia observed, her dark eyes subjecting Simon to careful examination. "I’m feeling well Maria," he responded. "Am I to understand you are in the middle of another investigation?" she asked, an eyebrow arched in clear disapproval. "Perhaps. In any event, it is you who hav
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About the Book
Pity the valiant but luckless Maryann Morley. Three times she marries men of wealth. Three times her husbands, shortly after, fall from the very same trail on a Big Sur cliff to the rocks below. All the falls are fatal. Three times Maryann’s wealth increases astronomically. Suspicious? Of course. Villainy at work? Probably. Anything provable? Unfortunately not. With a fourth wedding in the offing, can the timely arrival on the scene of Professor Simon Fraser, his young assistant, Tom McElrath and that mighty seer and medium, Millicent Zacharias prevent another fatal descent on the part of the fourth husband-to-be, or will John Woodward prove luckless too? Will the arrival of Contessa Maria Dellarova and her new young aide, Carrie Dubois, ultimately reveal a dark secret and tragedy from Simon’s past? Perhaps. And why has the mercurial Lucian Angelos appeared on the scene again after so long an absence? Who is he? Or deeper yet, what is he? Possibly Millicent Zacharias can provide an answer with her Tarot cards and crystal ball. But then, maybe not.
About the Author
I rather think the publishing of five mysteries in one year is quite sufficient. It’s the sort of thing that happens when you find yourself retired and turn your attention to that book you were always going to write if the exigencies of the college classroom and teaching for over half a century hadn’t been the most important work at hand. Once having created an imaginary world of fictional people, one is loath to give them up and bid them permanent farewell. The old standbys were created in The Borgia Blade and, quite naturally, have insisted on reappearing in A Little Pinch of Death, The Seven Keys of Sara Seldon, The Detective Club, and now, A Ladder of Death. That really ought to do it, but the aging Professor Simon Fraser, his impertinent young assistant Tom McElrath, and the good Lieutenant Campbell of the Ben Nevis Homicide Department have their work cut out for them. Or rather, they seem to have my work cut out for me. There will be another tale of mayhem and murder yet to come. In any event, everyone eventually has to surrender to the redoubtable Millicent Zacharias with her Tarot cards and crystal ball. As she would say: "Let’s get on with it!" Ed Laurie