The Suspect - L R Wright by L. R. Wright Page B

Is that what you've got written on that
envelope?" said George irritably. "You got a list of his
assets there, or what?"
    " And then of course there's the house,” said
Alberg. "It's mortgage free. All paid for."
    " Huh," said George. "So's mine.”
    "He didn't leave much actual cash," said
Alberg regretfully.
    " But there are some Canada Savings Bonds, a few
stocks—about twenty-five thousand dollars' worth, all told."
    " Christ," said George. "Spare me."
    Alberg put the envelope back in his pocket. "He
left it all to you," he said.
    For a second George's expression didn't change. Then
the sneer slipped away, and his mouth fell slightly open. He leaned
forward and cocked his head, looking intently at the tobacco stand
next to the chair in which Alberg was sitting, as though it were that
which had spoken. "What?" he said, staring at the tobacco
stand.
    "You get it all, George," said Alberg. "The
whole shebang.”
    And he watched, bemused, as George collapsed in a fit
of laughter which Alberg briefly thought might choke him.
    " You all right now, George?" he asked
softly, when the old man's wheezing had subsided. "Because we've
got a lot to talk about, you and I. And there are a couple of things
we should get straight, before we go on.
    "First of all," he said, leaning forward,
"I don't want to waste any more of my time with this
cantankerous-old-man act you have so much fun with. And second of
all, I know Carlyle Burke was your brother-in-law."
    He sat back. "So let's get on with it, shall we,
George? Tell me why you didn't get along so well with old Carlyle.
And tell me what your fingerprints were doing not just on the phone
but all over the damn kitchen. And then tell me why he left
everything he owned to you, this fellow you didn't care for. Okay,
George? Start talking."
 
    CHAPTER 11
    Alberg, sitting in the worn leather chair, fingered
the stuffing which oozed from a crack in the seam of the right arm
and kept his eyes on George Wilcox.
    After a minute, George settled back and folded his
arms.
    "My fingerprints are all over his kitchen
because, I don't mind saying it, I was—I was somewhat
discombobulated," he said, "seeing him lying there. I
grabbed at things to hold me up, on the way to the phone. I grabbed
at the wall, I grabbed at the sink .... ” He lifted his shoulders,
let them drop.
    The late-afternoon sun struck into the room at a
steep angle; the windows were marked by the rains of spring and
probably winter, as well. Tumbleweeds of dust lay in the corners of
the floor.
    George sighed. "I met Carlyle a few years after
the war," he said. "Must have been '48, '49. Myra and I
wandered out here from the prairies. Saskatoon." His folded
hands rested comfortably in his lap. "I was born out here. Went
to Saskatchewan about 1930. A bad time to head out there, as it
happened, but we survived. I even went to school, eventually, got to
be a teacher. Met Myra, got married, et cetera, et cetera." He
shrugged. "Anyway, we got tired of the cold, that's what it was.
Myra's people had retired out here. I didn't have any family left by
then, except my sister, Audrey. She lived with us." He shifted a
little in his chair. His feet were flat on the floor, toes pointed
outward, heels about eight inches apart.
    "Myra's people lived in the Fraser Valley, "
he went on. "She wanted me to get a job out there. But I
considered myself a city person. There were lots of jobs, back then.
I could take my pick, pretty well. I picked Vancouver. " He
tipped his head at Alberg. "Are you a city man, Staff Sergeant?"
He leaned toward him. "Is that what I call you? Staff Sergeant?"
    Alberg nodded.
    George sat back, slowly. "You don't want my life
history. I got a job in a high school, teaching history. Carlyle was
on the staff. That's how I met him." He turned his head to look
out the window. "He taught music."
    " And?” said Alberg, after a couple of minutes.
    "And what?"
    " Come on, George.”
    " You're calling me George now? Have you got