There was a knock at the door. Clark stood there. “Excuse me, Judge Stanford. A letter arrived for you.”
Probably from Keith Percy, congratulating me. “Thank you, Clark.” He took the envelope. It had a Kansas City return address. He stared at it a moment, puzzled, then opened it and began to read the letter.
Dear Judge Stanford:
I think you should know that you have a half sister named Julia. She is the daughter of Rosemary Nelson and your father. She lives here in Kansas City. Her address is 1425 Metcalf Avenue, Apartment 3B, Kansas City, Kansas.
I’m sure Julia would be most happy to hear from you.
Sincerely,
A Friend
Tyler stared at the letter disbelievingly, and he felt a cold chill. “No!” he cried aloud. “No!” I won’t have it! Not now! Maybe she’s a fake. But he had a terrible feeling that this Julia was genuine. And now the bitch is coming forward to claim her share of the estate! My share. Tyler corrected himself. It doesn’t belong to her. I can’t let her come here. It would ruin everything. I would have to explain the other Julia, and…He shuddered. “No!” I have to have her taken care of. Fast.
He reached for the telephone and dialed Hal Baker’s number.
Chapter Twenty-two
The dermatologist shook his head. “I’ve seen cases similar to yours, but never one this bad.”
Hal Baker scratched his hand and nodded.
“You see, Mr. Baker, we were confronted with three possibilities. Your itching could have been caused by a fungus, an allergy, or it could be neurodermatitis. The skin scraping I took from your hand and put under the microscope showed me that it wasn’t a fungus. And you said you didn’t handle chemicals on the job…”
“That’s right.”
“So, we’ve narrowed it down. What you have is lichen simplex chronicus, or localized neurodermatitis.”
“That sounds awful. Is there something you can do about it?”
“Fortunately, there is.” The doctor took a tube from a cabinet in a corner of the office and opened it. “Is your hand itching now?”
Hal Baker scratched again. “Yes. It feels like it’s on fire.”
“I want you to rub some of this cream on your hand.” Hal Baker squeezed out some of the cream and began to rub it into his hand. It was like a miracle. “The itching has stopped!” Baker said. “Good. Use that, and you won’t have any more problems.” “Thank you, Doctor. I can’t tell you what a relief this is.” “I’ll give you a prescription. You can take the tube with you.”
“Thank you.”
Driving home, Hal Baker was singing aloud. It was the first time since he had met Judge Tyler Stanford that his hand had not itched. It was a wonderful feeling of freedom. Still whistling, he pulled into the garage and walked into the kitchen. Helen was waiting for him.
“You had a telephone call,” she said. “A Mr. Jones. He said it was urgent.”
His hand began itching.
He had hurt some people, but he had done it for the love of his kids. He had committed some crimes, but it was for the family. Hal Baker did not believe he really had been at fault. This was different. This was a cold-blooded murder.
When he had returned the phone call, he had protested. “I can’t do that, Judge. You’ll have to find someone else.”
There had been a silence. And then, “How’s the family?”
The flight to Kansas City was uneventful. Judge Stanford had given him detailed instructions. “Her name is Julia Stanford. You have her address and apartment number. She won’t be expecting you. All you have to do is go there and handle her.”
He took a taxi from the Kansas City Downtown Airport to downtown Kansas City.
“Beautiful day,” the taxi driver said.
“Yep.”
“Where did you come in from?”
“New York. I live here.”
“Nice place to live.”
“Sure is. I have a little repair work to do around the house. Would you drop me off at a hardware store?”
“Right.”
Five minutes later, Hal Baker was saying to a clerk in the store, “I need a hunting knife.”
“We have just the thing, sir. Would you come this way, please?”