Murder in the Gunroom

I

It was hard to judge Jeff Rand’s age from his appearance; he was certainly over thirty and considerably under fifty. He looked hard and fit, like a man who could be a serviceable friend or a particularly unpleasant enemy. Women instinctively suspected that he would make a most satisfying lover. One might have taken him for a successful lawyer (he had studied law, years ago), or a military officer in mufti (he still had a Reserve colonelcy, and used the title occasionally, to impress people who he thought needed impressing), or a prosperous businessman, as he usually thought of himself. Most of all, he looked like King Charles II of England anachronistically clad in a Brooks Brothers suit.

At the moment, he was looking rather like King Charles II being bothered by one of his mistresses who wanted a peerage for her husband.

“But, Mrs. Fleming,” he was expostulating. “There surely must be somebody else. … After all, you’ll have to admit that this isn’t the sort of work this agency handles.”

The would-be client released a series of smoke-rings and watched them float up toward the air-outlet at the office ceiling. It spoke well for Rand’s ability to subordinate esthetic to business considerations that he was trying to give her a courteous and humane brush-off. She made even the Petty and Varga girls seem credible. Her color-scheme was blue and gold; blue eyes, and a blue tailored outfit that would have looked severe on a less curvate figure, and a charmingly absurd little blue hat perched on a mass of golden hair. If Rand had been Charles II, she could have walked out of there with a duchess’s coronet, and Nell Gwyn would have been back selling oranges.

“Why isn’t it?” she countered. “Your door’s marked Tri-State Detective Agency, Jefferson Davis Rand, Investigation and Protection. Well, I want to know how much the collection’s worth, and who’ll pay the closest to it. That’s investigation, isn’t it? And I want protection from being swindled. And don’t tell me you can’t do it. You’re a pistol-collector, yourself; you have one of the best small collections in the state. And you’re a recognized authority on early pistols; I’ve read some of your articles in the Rifleman. If you can’t handle this, I don’t know who can.”