Find a Victim

Chapter 3

Kerrigan must have been watching for the sheriff. He came out of the lobby as I pulled up behind the Mercury.

“How’s the boy, Brand?”

“Good enough.”

They shook hands. But I noticed as they talked that each man watched the other like chess opponents who had played before. Or opponents in a deadlier game than chess. No, Kerrigan said, he didn’t know what had happened to Aquista, or why. He had seen no evil, heard no evil, done no evil. The man in the car had asked to use his telephone, and that was his sole connection with the case. He gave me a look of bland hostility.

“How’s business, by the way?” Church glanced up at the no-vacancy sign, which was lit. “I guess I don’t have to ask.”

“As a matter of fact it’s lousy. I turned that on because my wife’s too upset to handle the desk. She says.”

“Is Anne on her vacation?”

“You could call it that.”

“Did she quit?”

Kerrigan lifted and dropped his heavy shoulders. “I wouldn’t know. I was going to ask you.”

“Why me?”

“She’s your relative, after all. She hasn’t been on the job all week, and I haven’t been able to get in touch with her.”

“Isn’t she in her apartment?”

“The phone doesn’t answer.” Kerrigan peered up sharply into the sheriff’s face. “Haven’t you seen her either, Brand?”

“Not this week.” He added after a pause: “We don’t see too much of Anne any more.”

“That’s funny. I thought she was practically part of the family.”

“You thought wrong. She and Hilda get together now and then, but mostly Anne leads her own life.”

Kerrigan smiled his soft and ugly smile. “Maybe this week she’s leading her own life a little more than usual, eh?”

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want to put into it.”

Church took a long step toward him, his hands clubbed. His eyes were wide and black, and his face had a green patina in the colored light. He looked sick with anger.

I opened the car door and got one foot on the gravel. The sound of my movement checked him. He stood shivering, staring down into Kerrigan’s evil grin. Then he turned on his heel and walked away from us. He walked like a mechanical man to the margin of the light and stood there with his back to us and his head down.

“Shut my big mouth, eh?” Kerrigan said cheerfully. “He’ll blow his top once too often, and blow himself out of the courthouse.”

Mrs. Kerrigan opened the door of the lobby. “Is something the matter, Don?” She came toward us, wearing a silver-fox cape and an anxious expression.

“Something always is. I told the sheriff Anne Meyer didn’t turn up this week. He seems to think I’m to blame. I’m not responsible for his God-damn sister-in-law.”

She laid a timid hand on his arm, like somebody trying to soothe an excited animal. “You must have misunderstood him, darling. I’m sure he couldn’t blame you for anything she does. He probably wants to ask her about Tony Aquista.”

“Why?” I said. “Did she know Aquista, too?”

“Of course she did. He had a crush on her. Didn’t he, Don?”

“Shut up.”

She backed away from him, stumbling on her high heels as if she had been pushed.

“Go on, Mrs. Kerrigan. It may be important. Aquista died just now.”

“He died?” Her hands went to her breast and wound themselves in the fur cape. She looked from me to her husband, her blue eyes darkening. “Is Anne mixed up in it?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said. “This is enough of this, Kate. Go inside. You’re cold and upset and making a fool of yourself.”

“I am not. You can’t order me in. I have a perfect right to talk to anyone I choose.”

“You’re not going to shoot off your mouth to this bastard.”

“I haven’t been–”

“Shut up.” His voice was quiet and deadly. “You’ve made enough trouble for me already.”

He seized her elbows from behind and half carried her to the door of the lobby. She struggled weakly in his grasp, but when he released her she went in without a backward glance.

He came back toward me, running his fingers lovingly through his hair. It was clipped in a crew cut, much too short for his age. I guessed that he was one of those middle-aging men who couldn’t face the fact that their youth was over. It gave him an unreal surface, under which a current of cruelty flickered.

“You don’t believe in killing them with kindness.”

“I know how to handle bitches. Purebred bitches or any other kind of bitches. I also know how to handle nosy sons of bitches. Unless you’re here in some official capacity, I suggest you get off my property. But quick.”

I looked around for Church. He was in a public telephone booth at the end of the row of cottages. The receiver was at his ear, but he didn’t seem to be talking.

“Take it up with the sheriff,” I said. “I’m with him.”

“Just who are you, fellow? If I thought you sicked the sheriff onto me–”

“What would happen, sweetheart?” He was my favorite man now. I kept my hands down and my chin out, hoping that he would swing and give me a chance to counter.

“You’d be flat on your back with a throatful of teeth.”

“I thought you only pushed women around.”

“You want a demonstration?”

But he was bluffing. From the sharp bright corners of his eyes he was watching the sheriff approach. The sheriffs face was solemn and composed: “I owe you an apology, Don. I don’t often lose my head like that.”

“Don’t you? You’ll try it on one too many taxpayers. Then you won’t be able to get yourself elected dog-catcher.”

“All right. Let’s bury it. I didn’t hurt you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I said bury it,” Church repeated quietly. His facial muscles were anatomized by the effort he was exerting to hold himself under control. “Tell me more about Anne. Nobody seems to know where she is. She didn’t tell Hilda she was quitting her job or going anywhere.”

“She didn’t quit the job. She just went away for the weekend and didn’t show up for work Monday morning. Apparently she didn’t come back from the weekend. I haven’t had any word from her.”

“Where did she go?”

“You tell me. She doesn’t report to me.”

They faced each other for a long still moment. There was something worse than potential violence between them, a hatred that went beyond violence and absorbed them completely, like a grand passion.

“You’re a liar,” Church said finally.

“Maybe I am a liar. Maybe it’s just as well I am. If I am.”

Church saw me watching them and jerked his head in peremptory command. I left them bound in their quiet vicious quarrel and went into the dark lobby.

Its darkness was barely penetrated by the green and yellow light that filtered in through the Venetian blinds. Mrs. Kerrigan was curled on a lounge in the farthest corner. All I could see of her was silver-pointed hair and the wet gleam of eyes.

“Who is it?”

“Archer. The one who brought you the trouble.”

“You didn’t bring the trouble. I’ve had it all along.” She rose and came into the center of the room. “You’re not on the local police force, Mr. Archer.”

“No, I’m a private detective. The southern counties are my normal beat. I stumbled into this one.”

“Didn’t we all.” Her odor was faint and fragrant, like nostalgia for half-forgotten summers. Her troubled whisper might have been the voice of the breathing darkness: “What does it all mean?”

“Your guess is better than mine. You know the people involved.”

“Do I? Not really. I don’t really know my own husband, even.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Seven years. Seven lean years.” She hesitated. “Mr. Archer, are you the sort of detective people hire, to find out things about other people?”

I told her that I was.

“Could I – can I trust you?”

“It’s up to you. Other people have been able to, but I don’t carry references.”

“Would it cost a great deal? I have some money left.”

“I don’t know what you have in mind.”

“Of course you don’t. I’m sorry. I’m awfully scatterbrained tonight.”

“Or else you don’t want to tell me.”

“That may be it.” I could sense her invisible smile. “Or it may be that I don’t know exactly what I want done. I certainly don’t want to make trouble for anyone.”

“Such as your husband?”

“Yes. My husband.” Her voice dropped, almost out of hearing. “I found Don packing last night, both of his big suitcases. I believe he intends to leave me.”

“Why not ask him?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” she said with a desolate kind of wit. “He might give me an answer.”

“You’re in love with him?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” she said a little wildly. “I was at one time, quite a long time ago.”

“Another woman?”

“Other women, yes.”

“Would Anne Meyer be one of them?”

“I know she used to be. There was a – a thing between them last year. He told me it was off, but it may still be on. If you could find her, find out whom she’s seeing–” Her voice trailed off.

“Exactly how long has she been missing?”

“Since she took off for the weekend, last Friday.”

“Where did she spend the weekend?”

“I don’t really know.”

“With your husband?”

“No. At least he says not. I was going to say–”

Kerrigan spoke behind me: “What were you going to say?”

He had quietly opened the door of the lobby. His bulky shadow moved forward out of its panel of light. He pushed past me and leaned tensely toward his wife: “I told you not to shoot off your mouth.”

“I didn’t–”

“But I heard you. You wouldn’t call me a liar now, would you, Kate?”

His back swung sideways, I heard the crack of the blow, and the woman’s hissing gasp. I took him by the shoulder.

“Lay off her, bully boy.”

The heavy wad of padding came loose in my hand, and something ripped. He let out a canine yelp and turned on me. One of his flailing fists numbed the side of my neck.

I backed into the light from the doorway and let him come to me. He charged like a ram, directly into my left. It straightened him up, and I followed through with a short right cross to the jaw. His knees buckled. He swayed forward. I hit him again with my left before his face struck the carpet.

His wife kneeled beside him. “You men. You’re like horrible little boys.” She cradled his head in her hands, and wiped his cut chin with a laceedged handkerchief. “Is he badly hurt, do you think?”

“I doubt it. I didn’t hit him often.”

“You shouldn’t have hit him at all.”

“He asked for it.”

“Yes. I suppose he did.” Kerrigan stirred and moaned. She looked up at me fearfully. “You’d better get out of here now. Don has a gun and he knows how to use it.”

“Did he use it on Aquista?”

“Certainly not. That’s ridiculous.” Her voice was high and defensive. “My husband had nothing to do with it. He was here with me all afternoon.”

Kerrigan struggled groggily in her arms, trying to sit up.

“Please go now,” she said without looking at me.

“What about the job we were discussing?”

“We’ll simply have to forget it. I can’t stand any more trouble.”

“Whatever you say. It’s your marriage.”