Free One Grave Too Many by Ron Goulart Page B

gatehouse for a half minute Easy walked on by. Dry leaves were spinning over the vast green lawns, lifted by the warm wind and then dropped.
    No one showed on all the Goffman acres. No one hailed Easy.
    He went up to the front door, pushed the bell button. A portion of Greensleeves played inside the big house. No one came to open the door.
    “You can leave it around in back.”
    Easy turned to see an old man standing down on the gravel path. “Nobody home?”
    “Nope.” The old man wore a soft-brimmed gray hat and a shaggy green sweater. He had on a pair of spectacles with the tortoise-shell frames patched in three places with flesh-colored Band-Aids. “You ain’t the boy from the liquor store, though, are you?”
    Shaking his head, Easy went down to the old man. “Who are you?”
    “My status, you mean? I’m the head gardener,” he replied. “Also caretaker at times like now.”
    “I’d like to get in touch with Mrs. Goffman.”
    The old man reached into a lumpy pocket of his sweater. “Lots of fellows your age would, I imagine.” His freckled hand emerged with an assortment of objects on its palm. “Had some sugarless gum here somewheres.” He plucked a book of matches from his hand, returned it to the lumpy pocket.
    “Can you tell me where she’s gone?”
    “Nope.” He took a spool of fishing line off. “Sugarless gum tastes about one notch better than buffalo dung, but I got to watch my carbohydrates.”
    “I’m a private investigator. My name is John Easy,” said Easy.
    “You must be the fellow who coldcocked Ennis.” His stiff old fingers located the pack of gum. “There you are, you little booger.”
    “It’s important I talk to Mrs. Goffman,” Easy said. “Maybe it’ll save her from having to talk to the cops.”
    “Don’t much like Ennis myself.” The old gardener began to chew a stick of gum. “I’ll tell you now, Easy, I got no idea where exactly they took her.”
    “Somebody took her away from here?”
    “Bright and early this morning. Usually she ain’t up before midway through the day. But this morning she was, looking a little rumpled, though as pretty as ever. They stuck her in the limo—and woosh. ”
    “Who?”
    “Ennis and Hoffine,” said the old man. “Hoffine’s the big clod who calls himself the second gardener.”
    “She didn’t want to go?”
    “Didn’t seem any too happy about it. She wasn’t screaming and kicking, but she was calling this one an SOB and that one a bastard pretty fast and furious.”
    “Ennis and Hoffine, they took her away on orders from the old man?”
    “Oh, sure. He was in the doorway right up there, wearing one of his fancy Italian silk robes.”
    “Has this kind of thing happened before?”
    “Yep, once in a while the old boy decides she needs a rest.”
    “Where do they usually take her?”
    “Well sir, usually they took her to a place the old boy’s got up around Russian River,” said the gardener. “Big hunting lodge sort of place, as I’ve heard tell.”
    “But you don’t think they took her there this time?”
    “Couldn’t very well. Place burned down about a month ago in one of them runaway forest fires.”
    “Any idea where else she could be?”
    “Nope. Sooner or later I usually find out, but right this minute I ain’t yet.”
    “Okay,” said Easy. “What about Goffman himself?”
    “Business trip, least that’s what he told everybody. Couple of days up north somewheres, Frisco or someplace like that.”
    “You don’t think he really went there?”
    “Hard to say.”
    “You saw him this morning. Do you know if he spent the night here?”
    The gardener chewed his gum for a few seconds. “Now that’s funny,” he said finally. “Matter of fact, the old boy came sneaking home about seven this morning. Might just be he’s got a little something going on the side, too.”
    “Goffman got here at seven,” said Easy. “And what time did they haul Danny Goffman off?”
    “Hour or so later,”