Timothy's Game by Lawrence Sanders Page A

Her mouth is working, and she’s beginning to claw at her throat.
    “You better get a drink of something,” Sally advises.
    “I think I’ll have a Grasshopper,” Dotty says faintly. “They’re really delicious. Would you like one?”
    “No, thanks. Go have your Grasshopper.”
    Sally fetches her father’s half-full tumbler of cognac from the bedroom and sets it on the end table alongside his armchair. Then she tips it over so the brandy spills on the table and drips down onto the rug. She inspects the scene, then knocks the tipped glass to the floor. Now it looks authentic: man with history of heart trouble stricken with an attack while drinking.
    Dotty comes back with her Grasshopper, looking a little perkier. Sally outlines the scenario for her, speaking slowly and distinctly.
    “My father owned this apartment, but you rented it from him. Got that? He and I came up to collect next month’s rent. He and I came here together. That’s very important. Can you remember that? We were sitting in the living room talking, and you offered us drinks. I didn’t want anything, but Jake had a glass of brandy. He took a couple of swallows and suddenly collapsed. We tried to revive him but nothing helped. Got all that?”
    Dotty nods.
    “Just keep your mouth shut,” Sally says, “and let me do the talking. Okay? You behave and there’ll be a nice piece of change in it for you. Capeesh?”
    “What?”
    “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
    “Oh, sure.”
    So Sally calls 911 and explains that her father has died unexpectedly, and since he had a history of heart trouble, she thinks it was a sudden attack.
    While they’re waiting for the paramedics and cops, she makes three more calls. The first is to Judy Bering.
    “He’s gone,” Sally says. “I may not be in for a couple of days. I’m depending on you to keep the wheels turning.”
    “Sally, I’m sorry, so sorry.”
    “I know, kiddo, and thanks. Listen, if anyone comes around asking questions, just tell them you know from nothing and refer them to me. Okay?”
    “Of course, Sal. I can keep my mouth shut.”
    “That’s the way to do it. I’ll let you know when the service is scheduled in case you and any of the guys want to come.”
    “I’ll take up a collection. For flowers.”
    “Yeah, that would be nice.”
    Her second call is to Jake’s personal physician. She explains that her father dropped dead after drinking half a glass of brandy.
    “I’m not surprised,” the doctor says. “I warned him, but he wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry, Sally.”
    “Yeah, thanks. I guess they’ll take the body to the Medical Examiner, won’t they?”
    “That’s the customary procedure if no physician was present at the time of death.”
    “Do you know anyone there? I mean, I’d like to get the body released as soon as possible.”
    “I understand. I’ll do everything I can.”
    “Thanks, doc. I knew I could count on you.”
    Finally she calls Eddie, tells him the true story of their father’s death, and what she’s doing to cover it up. Her brother starts weeping, a soft, keening sound.
    “I loved him,” he says. “I really did.”
    “I know, baby.”
    “Jesus,” Eddie says, “this will be the end of ma.”
    “Nah,” Sally says. “Becky is stronger than you think. Eddie, can you come out to Smithtown? I want you there when I tell her. Take a cab if you have to. You’ve got enough money?”
    “I can manage. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
    “Bring Paul if you like. You can stay there for a few days. Until the funeral. Plenty of room for both of you.”
    “Yeah, maybe we’ll do that. Sal, are you all right?”
    “I’m surviving.”
    “My God,” he says, “I couldn’t have done what you did. I wouldn’t have the balls for it.”
    “Sure you would,” she says.
    The paramedics and cops show up. Jake Steiner is pronounced definitely dead. Statements are taken from both Sally Steiner and Dotty Rosher. While a uniformed cop