Free The Case of the Kidnapped Angel: A Masao Masuto Mystery (Book Six) by Howard Fast Page B

“You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
    â€œI like to think so. I’m not sure.”
    â€œHow come a man like you is a small-town cop?”
    â€œWe can talk about that some other time, and Beverly Hills is not any small town. Right now we come back to Ranier. Why are you so sure he engineered the kidnapping?”
    â€œBecause poor Mike didn’t have enough brains to work it out, and the Angel has plenty of viciousness but not too many smarts.”
    â€œWhy do you think Ranier planned it? Mind you, I neither agree nor disagree. I just want to know why you think so.”
    â€œYes, I’ve been thinking. I got here about ten. I was here when you pulled that silly gardener charade—saw you through the window. Mike was in a black mood, not worried, not grief-stricken over the Angel, just mean and angry because he had been talked into doing something he didn’t want to do. Usually he’s gentle as a lamb. Or was. My God.”
    â€œEasy,” Masuto said. “Try to relax. This has been very hard, but you’re young and your whole life is ahead of you.”
    â€œYou ever been in love, Sergeant?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen don’t tell me my whole life is ahead of me. I’m all right now. I was telling you about Mike’s mood. I tried to talk to him, but that was no good. He wouldn’t talk. I think I lost my temper and said something about if the kidnapping was real, why didn’t he bring in the cops and the FBI? Then he told me to get out of the room. Ranier was there, and the way he looked at me, he could have killed me right then and there.”
    â€œYou still haven’t told me why you think Ranier planned it?”
    â€œHe was Mike’s business agent. You work in Beverly Hills, so you know what a business agent is. He takes five percent of everything Mike earned, and do you know what Mike earned? It’s only November now, and already Mike earned over three million dollars. It sounds like a lot, doesn’t it? It sounds like enough to run a small country. But look what happens to it. First of all, Ranier takes his five percent off the top. Then McCarthy takes another ten percent off the top as Mike’s agent—my God, what’s wrong with me? I keep talking about him as if he were alive.”
    â€œI thought McCarthy was Mike’s lawyer.”
    â€œHe is. But he also acts as his agent. That’s common enough. A lot of lawyers do it. He draws up the contracts with Joe Goldberg and takes his ten percent for that. Then again, as when Mike was sued by Bert Bailey, his stunt man, McCarthy defended the suit. His fee for that was seventy thousand dollars. Then the feds step in with their income tax, and every bum in town with his hand stretched out, and Mike’s family back East, and Mike never said no to anyone. I’m not saying that Mike doesn’t need a business agent. He could no more handle that kind of money than a five-year-old. But Ranier is a crook, and I bet that when it comes to probating Mike’s will, you’ll find that he doesn’t have twenty cents. Ranier’s taken care of that. That’s why Ranier rigged the kidnapping and he and Angel murdered Mike.”
    â€œTell me about Angel.”
    â€œYou don’t believe me.”
    â€œI believe that you have passionate feelings,” Masuto said. “I can’t afford to have passionate feelings. I’m a policeman. I need proof, evidence.”
    â€œHaven’t I given you enough evidence?”
    â€œNot evidence, Miss Newman. Opinions. And I respect your opinions. I need your opinions.”
    â€œYou’re the strangest cop I ever met.”
    â€œPerhaps you’ve met very few. You said Mr. Barton didn’t love Angel. Was there ever a time when he did love her?”
    â€œI suppose when he married her.”
    â€œYou suppose? Didn’t he ever talk about it?”
    â€œNo! You keep asking