A Room to Die In Read Online Free PDF Page A

the
infrequent occasions when it intersected with her father’s existence. “He was a
very talented chess player. Five years ago he placed second in the California
Masters Tournament. He might have done better if he had studied more.”
    Tarr turned to
the desk, moved the portable typewriter to the side. “Let’s get to work.” He
pulled up a chair for Ann; then, seating himself, he tried the drawers on the
right side of the desk. They were unlocked, and he opened them one after the
other. “Not much here.” He returned to the top drawer, brought forth a sheaf of
check-sized green papers. “Rent receipts. Eighty-five dollars a month, paid on
the”—he looked through them—“well, toward the first of the month. There’s one
reason why he liked the house. Cheap rent.”
    Ann examined the
receipts. They were standard printed forms, signed in a neat square hand Martin Jones. “The first is dated August forth
of last year—just after he and Pearl separated.” She ran through the forms, one
after the other. “The last is dated April fifth. There’s no receipt for May.”
    “Your father
didn’t pay his rent. If he had, we probably wouldn’t have found him for another
month . . . Let’s see what else we’ve got. A bankbook. Account opened March
fourth. First deposit: sixty-eight thousand five hundred and twenty-five
dollars. Nice chunk of cash. Rather unusual form for an inheritance.”
    “It might have
been a savings-and-loan account,” Ann suggested.
    “March fourth.
That would be six months after his wife died. The court apparently appointed
someone else as administrator of the estate. Otherwise he would have had
control of the money sooner.”
    “I wonder why he
didn’t pay his rent?” Ann mused. “With all that money . . .”
    “That’s when
people get tight-fisted,” said Tarr dryly. “Look here now. On March fifth, a
withdrawal: twenty thousand dollars.”
    Ann reflected. “That
would be about the time my mother visited me. Somehow she’d heard about his
coming into money.”
    “Would Mr.
Nelson be disposed to give your mother twenty thousand dollars?”
    “Not likely.”
Ann laughed. “He was an easy man to irritate—and she’s an irritating woman, to
say the least.”
    “How long did
they stay together?”
    “Off and on,
three or four years. It was never a very stable association.”
    Tarr returned to
the bankbook. “Withdrawals on the first of April and the first of May, a
thousand dollars on each occasion—which confirms the existence of blackmail. I’ll
have to inquire at the bank to see how he took the money.” He wrote in his
notebook. “A blackmailer would naturally want cash.”
    Ann snorted.
Tarr ignored her, studied the bankbook a moment longer, then laid it aside. “What
else do we have?” He sorted through the papers. “Nothing of consequence. Three
books of blank checks, no stubs. And no checkbook in current use. It wasn’t on
his person, either. Just a minute.” He jumped to his feet and left the room.
Three or four minutes later he returned, looking puzzled. “No checkbook in his
bedroom or clothes . . . Oh, well. It’ll show up. What’s that you’re looking
at?”
    “An address
book.” She handed it to him; Tan-leafed through the pages. “Hmm. Here’s a local
address: Alexander Cypriano. Thirty-two Melbourne Drive,
Inisfail.”
    “I’ve heard that
name before,” said Ann. “Something to do with chess, I think.”
    Tarr continued
to go through the book. “These all might be chess connections. There’s not
another local address.”
    “I think you’re
right. Some of the names I half recognize.”
    “You’re a chess
player, too?”
    Ann shook her
head. “But because of my father I’ve always been interested. Once when I was,
oh, eight or nine, he took me to a tournament in Long Beach. I was very much
impressed.” She looked over Tarr’s arm into the drawer. “There’s the card I
sent him last Christmas.”
    Tarr examined it.
“ ‘Merry