A Taste for Violence

11

Michael Shayne was silent for two full minutes digesting this startling bit of information. “I noticed that discrepancy in the newspaper story this morning,” he said finally, “but I thought it was bad reporting. Or, that you were so upset over the news of your husband’s death that you forgot to mention the phone call and Gerald’s visit.”

“I didn’t know. I hadn’t decided then what I was going to say. You see, I didn’t promise Seth. I was all mixed up at first. All I could think of was that Charles was dead and Seth was… somehow… responsible.”

“You haven’t told this to anyone else?” Shayne asked harshly.

“No. I read Seth’s statement in the paper before I’d decided what I was going to do. Then it seemed too late. Would anyone believe me? Like my story about the strike agreement… it sounds like something I might make up to help George, and if talk got around about me going out with him, don’t you see how it would look?”

“What did happen last night?”

“I went to sleep, as I said. The doorbell wakened me about four-thirty, I guess. I didn’t look at the time. I’d been sound asleep and it startled me. First, I thought Charles must have forgotten his key, and I put on a robe to let him in. But it was Seth. He looked worried and talked fast, and said I had to do something for him and it was terribly important. He said if anyone asked me, I was to say that I’d got worried about Charles meeting Brand and called him at four o’clock. Just as he told the reporters. I asked him what had happened and whether he knew where Charles was, but he insisted that Charles was all right and for me to go back to bed and not worry, but not to forget that I had phoned him.

“He tried to make me promise, but I wouldn’t. I was sleepy and I hardly understood what he was talking about. All I could think was that Seth had got mixed up with some married woman or something and wanted me to make up a story to help him out. Then he went away, and I went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep after that. I did begin to worry about Charles. Not because he’d gone to see George, but an accident… or something like that. Then when I got the telephone message… I couldn’t think straight. I knew it must have something to do with Seth coming and wanting me to say I’d phoned him, but I didn’t know what. When the reporter came, I just didn’t say anything one way or the other. I’ve been so damned worried and frightened.”

She began sobbing jerkily, staring straight ahead at the mist shrouding the windshield. “I don’t know what to think. There wasn’t anyone I could talk to. My thoughts ran around and around like rats in a trap. I started drinking early this afternoon, but whiskey didn’t help any.”

Shayne put his arm around her shaking shoulders. “That’s all over now,” he soothed her. “You’ve been in a hell of a spot and you’ve done about the best you could. No real damage has been done by your keeping still. From what I’ve seen in Centerville, you wouldn’t have helped George Brand any by speaking up earlier.”

She relaxed against his arm, choking back her sobs. “Do you think Seth… don’t you see what it means? He must have known something was wrong when he came and woke me up that way. He must have known something had happened to Charles and was fixing up a story.”

“Could be,” he agreed. “It could be that he had a premonition that something was wrong when he reached Brand’s house and found it empty… if that’s what he did find.” He paused a moment, then went on reflectively, “He must be telling the truth about that. He went across the street to ask Mrs. Cornell if she’d seen Brand or Roche, then drove up to the intersection and found your husband’s empty car parked there. Is this the car, by the way?”

“Yes. I have a roadster, but it’s in the garage for repairs.”

“Finding Charles’ car there at that hour of the morning,” Shayne went on slowly, “must have been something of a shock to him. Enough, perhaps, to make him realize he might need an explanation for his presence there at that time. We’ve got to remember that he had already announced himself to Mrs. Cornell, so we can’t be sure Gerald knew that something had happened to Charles when he came to your house and woke you up. We can assume he had reason to suspect something was in the wind.”

Elsa Roche had stopped sobbing, and now her breathing was deep and exhaled with long sighs. She said, “I’m sure of it. He acted so worried. I was too sleepy to pay much attention then, but thinking back, I never saw Seth so excited and upset.”

“The question is, how did he come to go to Brand’s house at that time? His asking you to cover up for him proves that he can’t afford to have the real truth known.”

“I thought of that, too,” she murmured. “He says he was awakened by an anonymous telephone call, and that’s one of the reasons why he was worried when he found Charles’ car there. Whoever called him, he says, hinted that Charles and George had had a fight, but he didn’t want to worry me about that, not knowing which one was hurt, or if it was even true. And he realized that his story of an anonymous call would sound weak and suspicious if he couldn’t prove who had called him. That’s why he wanted me to lie about it.”

“It all adds up neatly,” Shayne conceded. “Let’s face it. The anonymous caller could have been the murderer who took that method of getting Gerald on the spot to throw suspicion on him. And Seth Gerald was smart enough to circumvent the plan by using you as a valid excuse for having gone there.”

Elsa Roche’s body stiffened. She raised her head from his arm and said fiercely, “You’re thinking it was George, aren’t you?”

Shayne sighed and let his arm drop to his side. “I’m not thinking very clearly right now. He would fit the bill if he had shot your husband. Getting Gerald involved in the crime would be his best bet.”

“That’s exactly what Seth and Jimmy say. In fact, Seth swears that if I don’t back up his story he’ll come right out and say he recognized George’s voice over the telephone.”

“I’ve been wondering,” said Shayne quietly, “why he didn’t think of that at once. It was the obvious thing.”

“It was because he knew it couldn’t have been George,” she said angrily, “and that he’d be proved a liar for saying so by the men who were playing poker with him. But now that all three of them have gone back on their alibis he could say it was George’s voice and no one could prove differently.”

“And use that point about Brand’s alibi to his own advantage,” Shayne filled in for her. “It would be psychologically correct for him to maintain that he didn’t recognize Brand’s voice at first because the three witnesses proved it couldn’t have been Brand. But now that they’ve repudiated their story, he is sure that’s who it was.”

Elsa Roche slumped again, as though exhausted. She took a pack of cigarettes from her purse, put one between her lips, and Shayne struck a match for her.

He asked, “Does anyone know you came to the jail to see me?”

“No. I pretended to go to bed and they all left before I began telephoning around trying to find you.”

“They will know about it,” Shayne warned her grimly, “if they don’t already.”

“But they couldn’t,” she said weakly.

Shayne cogitated for a moment, then said, “Gerald and Jimmy will know why you wanted to see me… that you’ve spilled all this to me. There’s no use our trying to deny it. We’ll have to play it this way,” he went on briskly. “I’ll take you home and go straight to Gerald to discuss what you’ve told me… as a loyal stooge for AMOK. I’ll tell him I’ve advised you to keep your mouth shut for the present, which I do, and that I’ve gotten your confidence by pretending I believe in Brand’s innocence and promising to help clear him… which I hope I have.”

She laid her hand on his and said quietly, “I have to believe in you. There’s no one else. If I can’t trust you, I’m sunk.”

“You’re not sunk,” he assured her. “But I want you to understand why it’s imperative that I seem to play ball with Gerald and AMOK. Without their backing I wouldn’t last another hour in this town, and you know it.”

“I know.” She shuddered, then cried out violently, “It’s all so horribly wrong. There’s no decency or honesty here. No one dares to speak up. The people here are either crushed into hopeless apathy or have grown smug and acceptive. I don’t know which is worse. I do know I can’t stand much more of Centerville.”

She started the motor, turned on the headlights and backed the car around to drive up the dirt road onto the highway. Shayne sank back and stretched his legs out, lit a cigarette and mulled over the things she had told him while she drove swiftly toward town.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Then she asked suddenly and breathlessly, “There’s something I forgot… When Charles wrote you that letter a few days ago, did he mention me?”

“Your husband’s letter is one of the things I have resolved to keep strictly to myself until this affair is ended.”

“But… I have a right to know. It makes so much difference. Don’t you see… Charles may have learned that I had been with George a couple of times… and it might have something to do with… his death.”

Shayne said, “I’m sorry, but I learned long ago that the only way to keep a secret is to keep it.”

“Why is this secret so important?”

“It may be damned important to your husband’s murderer. Don’t you see the spot it puts him in? He doesn’t know how much I know… whether he was named in the letter or not.”

“But… why does that apply to me,” she argued angrily. “What difference could it make if you told me?”

Shayne sighed deeply. “You’ve told me a story tonight, Mrs. Roche. Certain things disagree with the testimony of other people. All of it may be the truth, or part may be the truth, or it may not be the truth at all. I’d be a sorry investigator if I accepted the unsupported word of any person even remotely connected with murder.”

“That means you suspect me, doesn’t it,” she retorted.

“It means that I believe nothing that isn’t corroborated,” he corrected her patiently. “There wouldn’t be the least difficulty making out a circumstantial case against you, as far as that goes. Look at it impersonally. You admit having been out with George Brand on at least two occasions. Suppose your husband learned of this, objected violently, and started out to confront Brand and have a showdown. Plenty of murders have been committed for less reason.”

“But I told you all about George and me. I’ve told you why Charles went to see him.”

“That’s the trouble, Mrs. Roche. I have only your word for any of these things you’ve told me. Suppose Seth Gerald denies everything you’ve said. Which one of you shall I believe?”

“You can tell me this: Did any of those anonymous letters mention George Brand and me?” She was pleading with him now.

“What anonymous letters?” Shayne asked blandly.

“The ones he refused to show me. You practically said he sent those to you.”

“Did I?”

“Didn’t he?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “That communication from your husband is my one ace-in-the-hole, and I’m not ready to show it yet. If you really want your husband’s murderer to pay for his crime you’ll have to let me play it my own way.”

She said, “Very well,” in a tone of weary resignation.

An automobile was approaching swiftly from Centerville, its headlights augmented by a powerful searchlight mounted above the windshield. It turned constantly to sweep each side of the highway. Its beams caught the Roche Buick at a distance of some five hundred yards.

“That light! It’s blinding me,” Elsa said.

“Stop the car,” Shayne ordered.

She put on the brakes just as the other car slowed to a stop beside them. Shayne said swiftly, “Don’t say a word except to follow my lead. No matter who it is or what they want.”

They sat quietly while a rear door of the other car slammed shut after a man had gotten out. He approached the left-hand side of the Buick and looked in at Elsa, past her to Shayne. He turned his head and called, “Yep. This is them, Chief.”

Another man got out and the other moved aside. Chief Henry Elwood said, “Evenin’, Mrs. Roche. Sort of late for a widow lady to be out with a stranger, isn’t it?”

“I’m an old friend of her husband’s,” Shayne told him quietly. “Mr. Persona will vouch for me.”

“You better come along with us,” the chief told him. “And you better drive on home, Mrs. Roche, ’less you take it in your head to pull some of the other prisoners out of my jail. I’ll send a man with you to see you find your way home all right.”

Shayne said, “Chief Elwood is right, Elsa. Try to get some sleep and I’ll call you in the morning.” He got out and went around the front of the Buick to the tonneau of the other car. There were two men in the front seat. The rear seat was empty. He got in and the chief followed him inside and slammed the door shut. The car started ahead slowly, continuing away from the village while Mrs. Roche drove on toward Centerville.

Shayne settled back in the darkness and lit a cigarette. The chief smashed the lighted cylinder against his face with a heavy, back-handed blow and said placidly, “You’re going to need your mouth for talkin’, Shamus.”