Free The Name of the Game is Death by Dan Marlowe Page A

with the money to pay for it. I made notes on the edge of my newspaper while I drove around.
    I headed back to the town square when I'd accumulated half-a-dozen addresses. I parked in front of the local five-and-dime. Above it a sign fisted a real estate office. I climbed a flight of stairs with my paper under my arm. A young fellow hopped up from behind a desk as I entered. He had on a short-sleeved white shirt with a black tie. Below the executive level the short-sleeved white shirt is almost a uniform in this latitude. Nobody wears a jacket, and after lunch the ties come off. Nobody is ever in a hurry.
    "Yes, sir?" the real estate man said briskly. He had a nice smile. "Jed Raymond, sir. May I be of help?"
    "Chet Arnold," I said, and handed him one of my business cards. "I just came in to pick your brains." I looked at the notes on my paper. "There's a big white Georgian house at Sand Rock Road and Jezebel Drive." I glanced at Jed Raymond. "Odd name for a street, that."
    "Old man Landscombe named it, Mr. Arnold. They do say he had his reasons." Jed Raymond looked up from a quick inspection of my card. "You want the tree work there?" He shook his head doubtfully. "Mr. Landscombe died six months ago, and there's an unholy dustup about his will. Three sets of presumptive heirs suing each other. The estate'll probably be in probate for years." Young Mr. Raymond had a soft drawl and a mournfully humorous smile. His bright, heart-shaped face was under a ginger-colored, conservative haircut. Any woman over thirty would have taken him to raise, glad of the chance.
    "Who's the estate administrator?" I asked. "He shouldn't want the property run down."
    "I believe it's Judge Carberry." He pronounced it "Cah'bry." "If he's not he'll know who is. You could have somethin' there."
    I wrote the name down. "How about a fieldstone rancher up on University Place and Golden Hill Lane?"
    "Belongs to Mr. Craig at the bank. His daddy used to be in the lumber business. So'd Roger Craig, until he had a heart attack a while back. He came into the bank then. I guess his family owned most of it, anyway."
    I decided to skip the remainder of my list for the time being. A judge and a banker. Better still, a banker who had been in the lumber business. If I could crack either one, I was in business in Hudson, Florida. "You know your real estate," I told Jed Raymond. "Anything in the regulations says I can't buy your lunch one of these days?"
    "II there is I'll get it amended," he grinned. He tucked my business card into his shirt pocket. "I'll keep this, if you don't mind. I might hear of something for you."
    " Thanks. I'm at the Lazy Susan now. If I change, I'll let you know. D'you happen to have a detailed map of the area?"
    He reached in a counter drawer and handed me a thickly folded-over packet. "This one's even got the projected streets in the new development east of town." He waved me off when I put my hand into my pocket. "Hope you do y'self some good locally, Mr. Arnold."
    "Chet," I said.
    "Jed," he returned with another smile.
    I went back down the stairs to the street. I always carry two toolkits with me, a large one to work from and a small one for show. I got the small one out of the trunk of the Ford after tucking two double-bitted axes into the loops on either side of the chest.
    When a man formerly in the lumber business saw such a kit, I shouldn't have too much trouble getting into his office to talk to him.
     

V
    I walked back up the street to the bank which was now open.
    I was twenty-three when I killed my second man.
    Funny thing: it was in Ohio, too.
    Massillon.
    Five of us had taken the bank on the northeast corner of the main intersection, but one of the boys got trigger-happy inside. During the getaway Nig Rosen and Duke Naylor were burned down in the street before we even reached the getaway car. A mile out of town I scratched a deputy in a cruised trying to cut us off. Two days later the rest of us were flushed from a