The Best People to Know

By EG WILSON

In 1958, the Royce-Butler Detective Agency is engaged to find a missing college student in the city of Parkville. Their investigation leads them down a trail of lies, false clues and murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365456985

Book preview

The Best People to Know

The Best People to Know

E.G. WILSON

In the end, they are the best people to know

Anonymous

For Robin

1

In the town of Parkville, everybody plays an angle. There doesn’t seem to be a single soul in the city that isn’t trying to get an advantage, hide something, or maneuver into a position that gives them some edge.                                                                      

For Paul Butler, co-founder and lead detective of the Royce-Butler Detective Agency, this state of affairs was par for the course.  As a native, former homicide detective, and now private eye, Butler was never surprised by anything that took place in his hometown. In any event, the goings on in Parkville kept him and his Agency in business, and always managed to make life interesting. 

Sitting behind his huge oak desk in the Agency’s main office, Butler, on this early summer day in 1958, sipped his morning coffee and scanned that day’s early edition of the Sentinel, Parkville’s leading newspaper. After glancing at the usual national and international news items, he read a local article written by Sentinel reporter William Barr. Barr’s story concerned the upcoming 1958 election, in which Mayor Hudson Reeves would be running for another term as the city’s leader. The Mayor, though a remarkably un-charming public figure, seemed a shoo-in to be returned to office. He had, Barr noted, only token opposition, and could count on the corrupt city machine to deliver a landslide. Butler, who neither liked nor trusted the Mayor or his administration, wondered why the Sentinel bothered to waste paper on such a foregone conclusion.  Anyway, he had other things to worry about. 

He put his newspaper down, lit one of his Chesterfield Kings, and buzzed for secretary and Girl Friday Page Turner, who as always seemed to float into the main office.                                                                   Boss, what’s shaking she asked.                                                                      I wanted to go over this schedule you put on the desk for just a second.                                                                    Sure, go ahead.                                                                     First, Tom is coming in at ten to talk about the Davis case, correct?                                                                   That’s right. He says he’s got some new leads he wants to tell you about. Then Mr. Royce is coming in before lunch.                                                                     Okay, but if there’s nothing else, I really feel like taking the afternoon off.                                                              You’re not under the weather I hope, Boss?                                                                            No Page. And I don’t want to play golf today either. I want to go to the matinee at the BALA. They’re showing that new war movie The Young Lions.                                                                     Page, without thinking, asked, Boss, how come you never go to the movies at night?                                                          Butler, divorced for five years, answered, I don’t like going then, Page.  There’s mostly a bunch of couples there at night, and I don’t want to be there alone.                                                                     Page said, Sorry, Boss, I didn’t mean it that way.                                                                       That’s fine, talk to you later.                                                                     Page left in a huff, almost falling through the door going backwards. Butler then sat back again, ready for whatever would come his way. Like everybody else in town, he too had an angle to play.

..

As expected, Tom Savakis, the youngest of Butler’s three detectives, came in at ten on the dot. Page Turner greeted him with, So Tom, what’s cooking with the Davis case?                                                                                     I might be close to getting a break on it, Page. That’s what I want to see the Chief about.                                                     Right in there Tom, he’s on tender hooks!                                                                     Savakis went in and Butler motioned him to sit down. Tom. What’s going on with the wonderful Davis family?                                                                    This, chief, I finally found out the name of the guy we think Mrs. Davis is cheating on Mr. Davis with.                                                                      And you’re going to see this clown and warn him away from Mrs. Davis?                                                                                 It seems the best approach to take. I don’t think Mr. Davis wants us to confront his wife directly.                                                                  But what kind of leverage would you have with this guy?                                                                       Well, not much, except the threats from Mr. Davis to rearrange his face if he doesn’t leave his missus alone. I don’t know how much credibility these threats would have but that’s all we can go with, chief.                                                                     All right Tom, Butler said. Go at it this way. Gently but firmly let this joker know that Mr. Davis wants this affair ended pronto, and it would be in everybody’s interest if it was.                                                                       Okay, chief.  I’ll be seeing the joker in question tomorrow night.                                                                     Fine, give me a call in about two days. Then we’ll see where it’s going.                                                                   Savakis got up, said sayonara to Butler, and walked out. As the only one of the operatives who was married, he didn’t bother flirting with Page Turner, instead quickly saying goodbye and going out the door. Page shrugged it off, knowing her rapport with the Agency’s other two gumshoes, Mike Hollister and Angelo Ricci, was a lot warmer.                                                                     Butler now had to wait forty-five minutes or so for the arrival of Peter Royce, the Agency’s owner and Butler’s long-time friend.  Royce, as always, was in and out of the Richmond Street office in Midtown that served as headquarters.  Butler wasn’t sure what his senior partner was coming in to talk about, but always tried to clear an hour in the schedule for him.

But as he waited, he heard the telephone in Page’s office ring. About two minutes later she tapped gently on the door before floating in to say, Boss, there’s someone on the phone who says she has to see us today. I need to know if you’re still taking the afternoon off.                                                                       Butler usually gave Page some leeway in making appointments and such, so instead of telling the caller he couldn’t be there that day, she came back to check.  Then, on a whim, he said, Fine Page, you know duty calls.  Tell this person I’ll see them around one, okay?                                                                      Got it Boss, she said as she floated back into her own office to complete the call.  A minute later she came back to tell the Chief, By the way, the caller was a young woman with a very interesting sounding name.                                                                      What is it, Page?                                                                      It’s Maggie Deveraux. Sort of sounds almost musical, doesn’t it?

…

Peter Royce, as punctual as Savakis, arrived at exactly eleven. Royce’s main reason for being at headquarters this morning was to discuss with Butler the matter of hiring additional operatives. The Agency was doing fine from a financial point of view, and it was feasible that they could take on at least one, possibly two more private eyes. Sometimes Royce and Butler’s men did in fact get a little overstretched and adding backup was advisable.                                                                  But there was a catch to this. In the early days of the Agency, all of the detectives, Savakis, Hollister, Ricci and the now departed Jim Feeney, had betrayed their lack of experience and maturity in ways that were almost dangerous, on one occasion nearly fatal. Because of this Butler, more than Royce wanted to hold off bringing new guys in.                                                                         They argued back and forth before Royce finally said, Look Paul, if you feel that strongly about it, then I’ll defer to you on this, for now.                                                                       Fine Pete, we can always go back to this discussion sometime in the future.                                                                    Royce then got ready to leave but asked his partner what else was up.                                                               Butler said, Tom is closing in on a possible solution to the Davis case. It looks like we may be able to wrap it up in a few days. Ang and Mike just finished their most recent assignments and are idle at the moment.                                                                    For the moment meaning we have something on the burner.                                                                                                                                    I don’t know yet. Page got a call about an hour ago from a worried sounding young woman who needs to see us today, after lunch.                                                                     All right, let me know what it’s about when you know. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days, unless something big comes up.

Royce then left, telling Page Turner on the way out, You know Page you’re up for a raise soon.                                                                      Page feigned surprise. Well, Mr. Royce, I could always use a little more silver in my purse.                       Doesn’t that disc jockey you’re dating treat you to things?                                                                    He does sir, sometimes. But a girl needs to be financially independent, know what I mean?                       I know, the owner chuckled as he went out the door. I married one of those.

After Royce’s departure, Page went to lunch, leaving Butler alone in the main office. He now had to wait almost an hour before the arrival of Miss Maggie Deveraux. Page had given him only a few details about this visitor, and Butler had to go into the interview cold. But this was usually the case anyway. The Agency’s approach was to not scare away potential clients when they first called by asking for too much personal information. So all he had to go on was the name Maggie Deveraux, that she was twenty-one years old, and a resident of Parkville. That would do for now.

Butler lit another of his Chesterfields and in order to kill the time turned on his PHILCO table radio, set to station WPAR, to hear some music. But the station played back-to-back those two songs that kept infiltrating hos brain over and over again. First was that instrumental Tequila followed by that Italian-language song Volare. It seemed everywhere he went the last two weeks he heard these two aggravating records. Not wanting to hear a third, he switched the radio off. Once again he picked up his copy of the Sentinel. He turned, just for fun, to the Society Page and the column written by Franklin Moore, which for some reason fascinated him. By an eerie coincidence, there were mentions of two prominent citizens of Parkville who happened to be former clients of the Royce-Butler Agency. One of them was Mrs. Holly Emerson Abbott, who along with her husband, the esteemed attorney Wallace Abbott, were celebrating their fifteenth wedding anniversary with a big party at the Emerson estate in Brockton. Butler wondered if Peter Royce and his wife Helen would be invited to this affair. He knew he wouldn’t be.                                                                                                                    The other Agency connection cited in Moore’s column was the builder Brett Marshall, who, in addition to his latest project, was in the news due to being seen out with Rhonda King, a wealthy socialite and member of the Emerson-Abbott set. Marshall had begun dating Miss King only recently.                                                                   Butler put his newspaper down, checked the wall clock, and hoped that Miss Maggie Deveraux, whoever she was, would show up on time.  Despite giving up his afternoon movie, he was anticipating her arrival. Like he told Page, duty always called.

2

Miss Maggie Deveraux appeared at the Agency at ten minutes to one, just after Page Turner returned from lunch. Page offered her coffee, which she refused with the cryptic comment, I drink enough of that all night as it is.                                                                          Page then escorted her into the main office, announcing, Mr. Butler, Miss Deveraux.                         Butler stood up and said, Nice to meet you, Miss Deveraux, please have a seat.                                         The young girl sitting across from the detective was very pretty, with dark brown hair hanging over her forehead, and what looked like hazel eyes. She was dressed in a gray sweater, a little unseasonable, with black slacks. She also appeared to be more than a little hung over from a big night of drinking.                                                                   Butler had asked Page if they had ever had a client this young. No Boss, she replied, there all in your age bracket!                                                                             He then began; Miss Deveraux, you seemed to be saying on the phone that this was urgent.                                                                                                   What did you want to see us about?