Don't Lie to Me by Donald E. Westlake Page B

the time the Allied office was open at nine.
    I got Grazko, and he was brusque and irritable: “Where’ve you been?”
    â€œTook a trip upstate,” I said. “Up around Plattsburg.”
    â€œCome into the office at ten-thirty. We got problems.”
    â€œAll right,” I said. It didn’t occur to me, the state I was in, to ask him what kind of problems we had until I was already off the phone. Well, I’d find out when I found out. I had more coffee, left the house a little before ten, took the subway to Manhattan, and walked into the Allied office on Lexington Avenue four minutes early.
    The attorney, Goldrich, was in the office with Grazko. The two of them looked at me as I walked in as though I were a stranger to them and they had little hope of my making them cheerful. Grazko said, “You’re here at last. Sit down, sit down.”
    â€œI’m early,” I pointed out.
    He brushed it away as though it were an irritating horsefly. Grazko is six foot three and very wide; the kind of body the uniform designers had in mind. He has a square-jawed grouchy face, and gray hair that sticks up an inch long all over the top of his head. There’s no hair on the sides at all, his ears are like gnarled rafts in an ocean of milk. His head looks like a novelty item found in a cheap gift shop: a hairbrush made to look like a human head.
    But it was Goldrich who spoke next, saying as I sat down in the last remaining chair in Grazko’s small, crowded but neat office, “Things are getting much more difficult. It’s time we all put our cards on the table.”
    â€œAll right,” I said.
    Goldrich said, “Do you have anything to say to us?”
    â€œWhat about?”
    â€œIt wouldn’t leave this office,” Goldrich said.
    Grazko said, or barked, “The woman, for instance.”
    I looked at him. “The woman the police talked to me about the other night?”
    â€œWe offer our customers a guarantee,” Grazko said.
    What did they all know? What had they found out? When embarked on a lie, and when uncertain of your footing, cling to the lie no matter what. “There wasn’t any woman with me,” I said. “I can see the police thinking I might have done something like that, but you know me better.” And all the time I was saying it, I was wishing the lie wasn’t necessary. How stupid to be harboring my own little falsehood in the middle of a murder investigation!
    Goldrich said, “The woman doesn’t matter, that isn’t the point.”
    Grazko waved one of his big hands across his desk at me, saying to Goldrich, “What’s he gonna know about the other? He’s only been there three weeks.”
    â€œHe might have been approached,” Goldrich said. “He might have seen something.” He turned back to me, and said, “If you want to avoid involvement, I can understand that. But if you’re keeping something back, you’re making a big mistake. The company will be square with you, but only if you’re square with us.”
    I said, “I’m not keeping anything back.”
    Grazko, looking at his watch, said, “We have to get over there pretty soon.”
    â€œThere’s time,” Goldrich told him. He studied me broodingly for a minute, and then shook his head. “I only wish you did know something,” he said. “But I believe you don’t.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œOur asses are hanging out so far on this,” Grazko said angrily.
    â€œIt happens,” Goldrich told him. “No company has an unblemished record.”
    Grazko sighed, and got to his feet. “All right, all right. Let’s go on over.”
    I said, “You want me, too?”
    â€œSure,” he said. “What do you think we called you for?”
    â€œTo impugn my honesty,” I said.
    Grazko looked impatient, but Goldrich quickly said, “That isn’t