Recoil

"I suppose you're right. We'll be in a terrible spot if you aren't."

"Of course, I'm right," said Hardesty. "Pat, I don't want to seem discourteous, but perhaps..

I heard a suppressed laugh as I went out the door… I drank a great deal of whiskey that night, and the more I drank the more sober I became. Around midnight, when the stuff was virtually running out my ears, I went into the bathroom and vomited for what seemed like

hours. When it was all out of me, I started drinking again and I kept on until I fell asleep.

In this fine house I went to bed drunk, with my clothes on, for the first time in my life.

24

A long hot and cold shower and a close shave did wonders toward pulling me together. Afterwards, I had one short drink and got the morning paper from beneath the door.

Eggleston's picture and a half-column story about him were on the front page. Since the dead man had not been robbed, it was believed that:.. the private detective, long a familiar figure in divorce court proceedings, may have unearthed secrets which someone- probably a client-felt it unsafe for him to know. "I'm almost certain that our tall red-haired stranger and the murderer are the same man," Det. Lt. Rube Hastings declared. "Probably he only intended to throw a scare into Eggleston. Judging by his actions, I'd say that was what he had in mind. He walked up to the office, fearing perhaps that the elevator operator might want to accompany an after-hours caller. But he didn't mind being seen by the operator, as he would have if he'd contemplated murder.

"Something made him decide that he'd have to kill Eggleston, or perhaps he lost his temper. Then he realized that he'd have to get the body out of the building. The time of death could be approximated, and his presence in the building could be established. The only solution was to remove the body and hide it.

"The facts that the murderer apparently was well acquainted with Eggleston and feared identification prove that he is a local man who intends to remain here," according to Hastings. He was unable to explain why a permanent resident of the city was driving a car with an out- of-state license, but…

He wouldn't be unable to explain very long. Not if he was only half as bright as this story made him out to be. This was Capital City. There were hundreds of cars here with official license plates, the white plates with the square S at each end. That cop last night had only got a glimpse of my plates, and he'd put them down as belonging to some other state. But he wouldn't be long in changing his mind, having it changed by Det. Lt. Hastings.

I got the wallet out of my trousers and counted the money it contained. Only nine dollars, but there was a hundred and fifty more in the drawer of my writing desk. Doc had said it would be right there until he could get time to go to the bank with me.

A hundred and fifty-nine dollars. I could travel quite a ways on that if I had to.

I took a look at the clock, scooped up the clothes I had worn the night before and put them in the closet. The elevator operator had

said I was wearing a dark suit-it was blue-black shoes-they were tan-and a gray hat-correct. I laid out a brown hat, a light gray suit, and

brown-and-white oxfords.

I finished dressing and picked up the paper again. Another front-page picture and story caught my eye:

PHALANX LEADER SPEAKS TONIGHT

Fanning Arnholt, president of the National Phalanx and authority on subversive activities, will open his state-wide lecture series tonight with an address at 8:30 in Orpheum Hall.

Speaking on "Our Schools-Battleground of the Underground," Arnholt is expected to launch an all-out attack on a large group of textbooks which he claims are subversive. His appearance here is sponsored by local chapters of the Phalanx.

"The scarlet poison of Un-Americanism is flowing unchecked through the educational arteries of this great state," the noted patriotic leader declared upon his arrival here last night. "The antidote is an aroused citizenry which will force its legislative representatives into the proper and drastic action…"

So that Doc's crowd could make one last raid on the treasury.

I tossed the paper aside, and got up to help Henry with the breakfast tray. I told him to take everything back but the toast, orange juice and coffee. He fidgeted around the table, uncomfortably, doing everything twice.

"Something on your mind, Henry?" I asked.

"Well-" he hesitated, "you know that money you had, Mr. Cosgrove? There in your desk?"

I nodded. "What about it?"

"Well…1 don't know whether you noticed yet or not, but it's gone. Dr. Luther took it. I thought I'd better tell you in case it slips his mind, since Willie and I are in your room so much."

"I understand," I said. "Did the doctor say why he was taking it?"

"No, sir. He just came in while I was cleaning up yesterday and got it."

"Thanks," I said. "Thanks for telling me, Henry. I won't mention that you said anything."

He gave me a grateful smile and left. I sat down at the table and munched at a piece of toast.

Nine dollars. Nine instead of a hundred and fifty-nine.

Sipping my suddenly tasteless orange juice, I knew what his explanation would be. Without looking around, I knew something else: that he was there in the room with me.

I don't know whether Henry had left the door ajar, or whether he had opened it very quietly. But he was standing there, leaning against the wall, staring at me reflectively through the thick-rimmed glasses.

I poured coffee, took a swallow of it, and half-turned my head. "Good morning, Doc. Coffee?"

"Good morning, Pat," he said, tiredly. "No, thanks."

He crossed to the bed and sat down. I turned my back again and went on with my breakfast, listening to the rattle of the newspaper.

"Pat."

"Yes, Doc?"

"I took the money you had in your desk. I thought we'd get that bank account opened for you."

"Fine," I said.

"I won't be able to get down today, though. Maybe we can make it tomorrow."

"Fine," I repeated. For I had expected that, and what else was there for me to say?

The paper rattled again, and there was another long silence. I drank my coffee and waited. Waited for him to read the story about Eggleston. To re-read it, perhaps, and then stare at me, looking at my hair and my clothes and remembering that I had been out late last night.

His voice was overly casual when he spoke.

"That's a nice-looking outfit you have on, Pat. I don't believe I've seen you in it before."

"Thank you," I said. "I thought I'd put on something light with the weather getting so warm."

I heard him light a cigarette. I even heard his slow meditative puffing.

"Why don't you drive your own car today, Pat? The battery's apt to run down if you don't drive it once in a while."

"I think I will," I said.

"You can put the state car here in the garage."

"Thank you. I'll do that."

He didn't speak again until I was drinking the last of my coffee, coffee that I didn't want. "By the way, Pat-that group I'm having in tonight. I'd like to use your room for them, if you don't mind."

"Anything you say, Doc," I said.

"We'll have to shift the furniture around a bit. Bring in some other chairs, and so on. If you can get your dinner outside it'll give us a chance to get everything ready before our guests get here."

"I'll be glad to help," I said.

"No, no. Henry and Willie can take care of everything. Just drop in at eight-thirty, or a few minutes before, rather. We'll be listening to a radio program, and I don't want anyone coming in after it's started."

I nodded and turned around.

He got up from the bed and sauntered toward the door, his eyes shifting so that they avoided mine.

"It's a tough world isn't it, Pat?" he said, in a tired flat voice.

"I used to think so,"! said, "until you came along."

"What do you mean by that?" He flicked me a sharp glance.

"I was referring to all you'd done for me," I said. "The clothes, the job, the car, the home, the-well, the friendship you've given me. Unselfishly. Simply because I needed help. How can I feel it's a bad world as long as there's a man like you in it?"

A slow flush spread over his face. His lower lip drew back from beneath the protruding teeth.

"See you tonight, Pat," he said abruptly, and the door slammed behind him.

25

I called Rita Kennedy's office.

I heard the sharp intake of her breath as I identified myself.

"I've got some more of the forms ready," I said. "I wonder if you'd like me to bring them in today?"

"I-don't bother," she said. "Just forget about them. And leave your car at home. We'll send someone to pick it up in a day or two."

"Oh," I said. "You mean I'm fired?"

"I'm sorry, Pat. Your check will be drawn up as of the close of business last night. We're unable to keep a man like you on the payroll. That…that isn't any reflection on your work, you understand."

I understood. There'd been inquiries already and Rita had answered them truthfully. "A tall red-haired man? No, we have no one like that."

"When will I receive the check?" I asked.

"It'll be several days, I'm afraid. I wouldn't wait on it."

"I'm broke, Miss Kennedy," I said.

"Broke!" she said. "Oh, good lord!" And then the concern went out of her voice and it was as clipped and curt as it had been at our first meeting. "That's too bad, Pat. I've done all I can. Much more than I should have."

"I know," I said. "I appreciate it."

"Don't bother to thank me for it. Ever. I haven't really done anything. I can't be expected to remember everyone who ever worked for us."

"Of course not," I said. "Good-bye, Miss Kennedy."

"Pat."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Why did you do it?"

"I didn't. But I'll never be able to convince anyone of the fact."

"Did it have something to do with Doc?"

"Something," I said. "But I don't know what."

There was a short disbelieving laugh, and then the click of the receiver. That ended me with Rita Kennedy. As far as she was concerned, I no longer existed.

It was too late, now, to turn to Myrtle Briscoe. I couldn't go to her now, with a rap for murder hanging over me.

I drove downtown, cruising slowly past the building where Eggleston had had his offices. There wasn't anything to see there, of course. It was just something to do, some way of killing part of the long day ahead of me. Perhaps the last day of freedom I'd have. If I'd had my way I'd have stayed at the house. But Doc had made it very clear that he didn't want me there before tonight, and going back would mean bringing on a showdown. I was going to have to face one very soon, but there was no sense in jumping toward it. If Doc was certain that I was going to be washed up, he'd be the first man to throw a bucket of water. He'd feel that he had to, regardless of what his plans had been for me.

I turned the corner and idled the car up the street. I didn't feel like seeing a show. I didn't want to go to the library. I didn't want a drink either, but I had to do something. Iran the car on a parking lot, waiting in it while the attendant parked another car.

He came hustling up to me, a big smile on his face. And then the smile froze, and I knew that that was the last place in town I should have come to.

"Yessir," he said, trying to keep his voice casual. "How long you going to be, sir?"

"Just long enough to get a tire fixed," I said. "You fix them, don't you?"

"Well-uh-" He hesitated, staring at me.

"Well, how about it?" I said irritably. "I haven't got all day."

"Uh-" Some of the suspicion went out of his face and a flush of anger replaced it. "I can get it fixed for you, mister. You leave your car here, and I can have someone come and fix it."

"Oh, hell," I said. "I've got no time for that routine. Where's a garage near here?"

"Y-you-you work for the state, mister?"

"Work for the state?" I snorted. "Would I be driving a wreck like this if I worked for the state? Now do you know where I can get a tire fixed or not?"

He shook his head. Not in answer to my question but to the one in his mind. I wasn't the same guy; he wasn't going to be a hero.

I said something under my breath about dumbbells, just loud enough for him to hear it.

A couple of cars drove in just then, and he didn't have a chance to say anything more and I didn't have to. He trotted off sullenly, and I drove away. Within the next ten minutes, I drove a good five miles away.

I picked a quiet residential street, brought the car down to a steady fifteen miles an hour, and turned the radio to catch the police calls. I drove and listened until noon, and nothing came over the air. They weren't looking for me. Yet.

Around noon I stopped at a drive-in and had a hamburger and a bottle of beer in the car. The check brought my nine dollars down to less than eight-fifty. It also started me to thinking again about that one hundred and fifty that Doc had appropriated.

The more I thought about it the more certain I became that he'd taken the money to keep me from running away. He'd never intended to open any bank account for me and he didn't now. And then something had happened, or was going to happen, that made it unsafe for me to have that money longer.

It couldn't have anything to do with Eggleston, since he couldn't have foreseen how I'd be involved in that. And the only thing impending was the Fanning Arnholt scheme. So, somehow, he must be intending to use me in that. I was going to be used, and not several weeks from now but tonight.

I grinned to myself, thinking of Madeline and Hardesty. This was going to spoil their plans. The thing was going to explode on them before they were ready for it, and they'd have to do their own dirty work, whatever it was, instead of dragging me in on it.

They weren't going to like that. Not a bit. Hardesty in particular, with the secure and respectable position he held in the city, was going to hate being caught with his neck out. There'd be a blow-up between him and Doc and Madeline. I might get enough to clear myself of Eggleston's murder.

I wondered how Doc was going to wind up the Arnholt scheme tonight, something that even I could see should take two or three weeks. And I remembered those rare out-of-character glimpses I'd had of him, as on my first night out of Sandstone, and I knew exactly how he was going to wind it up. I felt certain that this, if nothing else, would bring on a quarrel with Madeline and Hardesty.

Madeline…

I tried not to think about her. When I thought about her I hated myself because, well, I couldn't hate her. I couldn't, no matter what she'd done or might do, and I knew I never could.

Slowly, the afternoon passed. I drove around until three and had more beer at another drive-in. And then I did more driving, still sticking to the residential streets, and around five o'clock I stopped at a neighborhood bar and restaurant.

I sat down at the end of the bar and had a ham sandwich, potato salad and coffee. It was a small, sidestreet place and I was the only customer. My ankles ached from the day's almost steady driving. I decided to kill some of my remaining time there.

After I'd eaten I had a brandy and dropped a few nickels in the juke box. I rolled dice with the bartender for drinks and won once and lost twice. By seven o'clock I was pretty well relaxed; as relaxed as I could be under my circumstances.

And, then, the cop came in.

He was a big, lumbering fellow with a broad red face, and he had little round unblinking eyes. He came through the door slowly, twirling his club as though it were an extension of his fingers, and stopped at the front of the bar. He looked the place over, walls, ceiling, floor and fixtures; studying it as if he might be considering its purchase. Then, he lumbered down to us.

The bartender finished his roll and passed the cup to me. I picked it up, numb fingered, and the cop swung the club up, caught it, and pointed it over his shoulder.

"That your coupe out there?"

"Yes," I said, easing my feet off the stool rungs. "It's mine."

"Buy it new?"

"No.

"How long you had it?"

"Not very long," I said.

He stared at me blank-faced. The club came down and began to twirl again.

"What'd you pay for it?"

"A hundred and seventy-five."

"Who'd you buy it from?"

"Capital Car Sales."

He caught the club under his arm, took a pencil from the side of his cap and a notebook from his hip pocket. He wrote in the book, his lips moving with the movement of his hand. He closed it, returned it to his hip and replaced the pencil in its clip.

"Been lookin' for a good cheap coupe," he said. "Think I'll go down and see them people."

And then he turned and lumbered out, the club spinning and twirling at his finger tips.

I had two more drinks, stiff ones, and got out of there.

At eight-fifteen I turned up the long wooded drive which led to Dr. Luther's house.

Three blocks from the house, a convertible was parked against the curb. I was swinging out to pass it when a woman stepped into the beam of my headlights and held up her arm.

Lila.

"Oh, Pat," she said, as I stopped beside her. "I'm so glad you came along. I seem to be out of gas."

"That's too bad," I said. "If you'll steer your car, I'll push it home for you."

"Oh, that's a lot of bother," she said, and she opened the door of my car and climbed in. "Let's just leave it here. I'll send one of the boys back after it."

I closed the door for her, but I didn't drive on. She could have walked home in five minutes. Why wait for me? For obviously she had waited for me.

I turned and looked at her, and she smiled at me brightly in the darkness. "Well, Pat? Hadn't we better be going?"

"Doc told you to wait there for me, Lila," I said. "Why?"

"Now what are you talking about, Pat?" she laughed. "I told you I was out of gas."

"Do you know what you're doing, Lila? Or are you just running blind, doing as you're told?"

She shook her head, not answering.

"Lila," I said. "I think you're pretty straight. I think you'd like to be straight. But you're mixed up in something damned bad. If you keep on, the same thing that happened to Eggleston may happen to you."

"Eggleston?" Her voice was puzzled. "Who's he?"

"You know who he was. The private detective."

"I don't know anyone named Eggleston-any private detectives."

"Don't hand me that," I said. "You had an appointment with him last night…and he was murdered."

"Murdered?" she said blankly. "And I had an appointment with him? You're joking, Pat!"

I grabbed her by the arms and started to shake her; and then I let go and slid under the wheel again.

"Yes," I said, "I was joking. Now I'll drive you home."

"I really don't know anything about it. Honest, I don't."

"No," I nodded. "You don't. Eggleston's appointment was with Mrs. Luther. You're not Mrs. Luther."

26

She gasped and whirled on me.

"That's not true! Why-why-" she laughed, a little hysterically, "I never heard of such a thing!"

"All right, then," I said, "we'll say that you are Mrs. Luther. You're Doc's wife and marriage doesn't mean a thing to you. You're Doc's wife and you killed Eggleston last night or you had him killed."

That got her; hit her hard from two directions. It hurt her pride deeply, and it frightened her even more.

"Y-you-you guessed it," she said, at last. "I didn't tell you!"

"No," I said. "You didn't tell me. Doc did. He told me enough so that I should have seen it. How did it start, Lila? Were you a patient of his?"

"N-not"-she shivered-"not at first. I met him on the train, years ago-about ten years, I guess it was- when he was coming here for the first time. I-I'd been losing a lot of sleep, and I thought I might be going crazy. He talked with me, and afterwards I felt better. And when he opened his offices here, I started consulting him. I-he found out what was worrying me."

"What was it?" I kept my voice gentle, sympathetic. "Had you killed someone?"

"My husband. I-I didn't mean to-I don't think I meant to-but I guess that doesn't matter. I was tired, of waiting on him, I suppose, and I gave him too much of the medicine. They all said I'd killed him. They couldn't prove anything, but they kept saying it. I had to leave there."

"And Doc picked up where your neighbors left off," I said. "He convinced you that you had committed murder. I imagine he even got you to admit it, didn't he?"

She turned and looked at me, eyes widening. "You sound like-like you don't think I-"

"Of course, you didn't do it intentionally," I said. "Doc wanted to use you so he made you believe you'd killed your husband. Let's see if I know what happened, then, after he had you start posing as his wife. He-"

"No need to guess about it, Pat," she said, and she told me how it had been.

Doc had used her in a kind of high class badger game with the capital big shots. He didn't take money. Money might have led to a charge of blackmail and, at any rate, the easy money crowd seldom had heavy cash assets. So, when Doc caught his "wife" in a compromising situation with one of the big boys, he simply demanded to be cut in on the political gravy. That gave him his "in," enabled him to get out of the game fast. For, of course, it couldn't be worked indefinitely. As it was, talk began to circulate that Lila Luther was too promiscuous to actually be so, and that Doc seemed jealous only when he could profit by it. His victims couldn't charge him with blackmail, but they could run him out of town if they learned the truth. They could fix it so that, even in the shadiest political circles, no one could afford to become involved with him.

"I guess that's why he hates me so much," Lila concluded. "It's been years since I've been of any use to him but he's had to go on keeping me. He's had to treat me as a man in his position would be expected to treat his wife. I guess, in the long run, I've gotten a lot more from him than I got for him."

"How have you felt about it, Lila?"

"I don't know, Pat." She shrugged wearily. "I don't know any more.! put up a fight at first, but then I just kind of gave up. I'm not very bright; there's no point in telling you that. There's no work I'm any good for, and Doc had that hold over me, and, well, I just gave up. I didn't know what else to do."

"Do you know what Doc's plans are about Fanning Arnholt?"

"Fanning Arnholt?" She looked blank.

"The textbook deal."

"I don't know anything about it, Pat. Really I don't."

I threw a few more questions at her, trying to trip her up. But she was telling the truth. She didn't know anything of Doc's plans. She simply did as she was told, and no questions asked.

"I'll tell you something," I said, "and I want you to believe me, Lila. You're on a hell of a spot. Almost as bad a spot as I'm on. Doc isn't going to be around any more after tonight. You're going to be left alone, without any money and probably even without a place to live, and you're going to be right in the middle of one of the biggest scandals that ever hit Capital City."

She turned on me, startled. Then, she laughed, incredulously. "But-how? Why? I mean-"

"I can't explain now. It would take too much time; it wouldn't make sense to you. But here's something to think about. Since you aren't Mrs. Luther, who is?"

"Who?" She laughed again. "Why-well, no one. I mean, Doc just made-"

"Huh-uh. He didn't make the story up. He'd know it would be checked. He was married under exactly the circumstances he said he was, and his wife followed him here after he reestablished himself. He's kept her out of the dirty work-as much of it as he could-and used you instead. And now that the elections are going sour…Well, what do you think is going to happen, Lila?"

"I…" She frowned, trying to think and getting absolutely nowhere. "I don't-Tell me what to do, Pat."

"You were supposed to pick me up here tonight?"

"Yes. I was supposed to make it look like-like we'd been out together."

It seemed like the showdown, but I couldn't be positive. And if I jumped the gun, there wouldn't be any proof. I could set the deal up only once, and if it fell through I'd never get another chance.

"Tell me what to do, Pat."

I hesitated. Then, I took a notebook and a pencil from my pocket. "Do exactly what you first intended to," I said. "But do this also. When-if-I give you the nod, excuse yourself and call this party. Tell her to go to-"

I hesitated again…To go to Doc's house? No. No, he couldn't leave from there. There'd be things he'd have to take with him- clothing, toilet articles and soon- and he couldn't take them from the house.

"… tell her to come to this address, and bring some help with her. Tell her to stake the place out and…"

I ran through it a couple of times, spelling it all out. Because it was simple enough, but so was she. I tore the page from my notebook, watched her tuck it into her purse and stepped on the starter.

I drove on to the house. I parked the car in the garage, and opened the door for her. She followed me up the drive, lagging a few steps behind; then, as we neared the porch, she caught up with me and linked her arm through mine.

She clung to it tightly, letting her long soft hip brush against me. We entered the hall, and she pulled me around suddenly and kissed me on the mouth.

I grinned and patted her on the arm. I didn't say anything. I didn't wipe off the lipstick.

It was just eight-thirty. Arm in arm, we went down the hall and into my room.

There were about a dozen people in the room. Doc was there, of course, and Hardesty. Then there was Burkman, Flanders and Kronup, and a couple of the textbook men. The others I didn't know, although I'd seen most of them around the house or the capitol from time to time.

My bed had been pushed against the wall, along with the desk, table and reading stand. Doc was sitting on a stool in front of the radio. The others were lounging in a half-circle of chairs facing the instrument.

The air was blue with cigar and cigarette smoke. Everyone except Doc had a glass in his hand.

Lila and I sat down in two straight chairs, the only unoccupied ones, and for a moment every eye was on us-and the room was completely silent.

Every eye was on us, and then on Doc, watching his startled scowl, the protruding teeth that bared suddenly, unconsciously it seemed, in anger.

He stared at us, turning the dial of the radio. "This is it," he said slowly.

And the announcer's quick, falsely excited voice filled the room:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we take you tonight to Orpheum Hall where Mr. Fanning Arnholt, president of the National Phalanx, is speaking on 'Our Schools-Battleground of the Underground.' As you doubtless know, Mr. Arnholt has long been in the vanguard of those alert and courageous citizens who are fighting the good battle against subversive influences. He has-"

Then they were all staring at the radio which had suddenly gone dead.

"I don't know." Doc shook his head at their unspoken question. "The thing's working all right. It-"

"If you will stand by for just a moment"-it was the announcer again-"there seems to be… Mr. Arnholt was right here on the platform with me a moment ago, but he seems to have been called away. I wonder-yes, there he is now! He's talking to some other gentlemen, and he looks quite-quite ill. And… Stand by, please!"

The two textbook men looked at each other nervously. Someone said, "What the hell?" and there was a chorus of "Shhs." I glanced at Lila. I nodded. I hadn't known quite what to expect, but I knew this was the beginning of it. She got up and left the room quietly. And I saw, or thought I saw, a peculiar look in Doc's eyes. But he didn't say anything, and no one else seemed to notice her departure. They were all too interested in what was-or wasn't-coming from the radio.

It wasn't completely silent, now. We could hear the subdued roar of the audience, and the sound of several voices, apparently near the microphone. Two of them rose above the others:

"But Mr. Arnholt is the scheduled speaker…"

"… isn't speaking… we're paying for time…"

"… all right. I'll take over."

The microphone popped and rattled, and the announcer came back again:

"Thank you for waiting, friends. Due to the unforeseen circumstances, which will be explained to you, Mr. Arnholt will be unable to address you tonight. I will now turn your over to Mr. Ralph Edgars, state president of the National Phalanx… If you please, Mr. Edgars."

"Thank you," said another voice. "Uh-I didn't come here prepared to talk, folks, and I'm sorry that I have to. It's my job to tell you that I and the organization which I head in this state seem to have been pretty badly taken in..

He paused and cleared his throat, and the audience was as absolutely silent as this room where we sat. Even I, who had expected something like this, leaned forward, straining to hear:

"A few minutes before Mr. Arnholt was scheduled to speak tonight, a number of documents-or I should say photostats of documents-were delivered to me on this stage. I was amazed and dismayed to find that they cast serious doubts on Mr. Arnholt's motives for being here and on the entire series of talks he intended to make in this state.

"Briefly, these documents tend to prove that Mr. Arnholt was launching an attack on certain textbooks so that the books of rival firms might be adopted by the state in their place. In the absence of any satisfactory explanation from Mr. Arnholt, they did prove that.

"Under the circumstances, we local leaders of the Phalanx cancel his talk and offer you our apologies. For several reasons I will not now name the persons and firms who seem to be involved with Mr. Arnholt in this swindle. We have cleaned our own house, or will clean it shortly. It is not for us to take over the work of the courts. However, the names of these persons and firms will be made known to you shortly and proper action will be taken against them.

"The documents, the photostats, in my possession will be presented to the state attorney general tomorrow morning. And I am authorized to promise you that they will not be pigeon-holed or forgotten. I can promise you that…"

Doc snapped the radio off.

He swiveled around on the stool, and waited.

Hardesty was the first to speak. For a moment he looked as sick and bewildered and frightened as any of the others. But, then, his face tightened and he forced a laugh.

"Well," he said. "There goes the ball game."

"There it goes," Burkman nodded slowly. "There g-goes-" And his pot belly trembled, and he put his hands over his eyes and began to cry.

Flanders laughed harshly. "What'd I tell you, Doc? Didn't! tell you that dumb son-of -a-bitch would screw himself up and us in the bargain? If you'd spent the same money and effort in the regular channels…

"How about the money, anyway?" It was one of the textbook salesmen. "Harry and me are both in for twenty-five hundred. How the hell are we going to explain a deal like this to our companies?"

"We ain't going to have to explain," said the other one, bitterly. "We're washed up. Out. We won't be able to sell a book in the southwest for the next twenty-five years."

Kronup shook his finger at Doc, snarling. "Money's the smallest part of it. We're not only out and facin' prosecution, but there's no one we can turn to. Now or any time. We ain't going to be able to keep a finger in; we ain't going to be able to elect anyone that's halfway reasonable. What you've done, Doc, is put the whole damned reform crowd in office, put 'em there for good. And I'm sayin'-"

"Son-of-a-bitch," sobbed Burkman. "S-son-of-a-bbitch…"

"Will you shut up?" yelled Flanders. "Doc, didn't I tell you that-"

"I'm talkin'!" Kronup shouted. "I say this phony psychologist made a deal! I say he sold us out!"

He shouted the accusation again, for they were all talking now; all shouting and snarling and growling at once. Frightened, surly, half- hysterical animals. Only Doc and Hardesty were silent. Hardesty was staring at Doc, a puzzled but bitter frown on his too-handsome face. Doc sat with his hands folded, looking down at the floor.

His mouth was working; he might have been muttering to himself. He might have been, but he wasn't. I was beginning at last to read his expressions. He was laughing.

His mouth stopped moving, and he looked up. He shook his head and the room grew quiet.

"Don't be a damned fool," he said coldly to Kronup. "How could I sell out? What would I get out of it? How could I make a deal with the reform crowd? There's no way they could give me anything, even if they wanted to."

"But-"

"But nothing," said Doc. "Anyway, we don't know how much of the deal was spilled to Edgars. A very little would be enough to get Arnholt and that's probably all Edgars has. He's trying to throw a bluff into us. If we sit tight and keep quiet, it may blow over."

There was a growl of dissent. "You don't believe that," said Flanders. "Arnholt's going to sing his head off. Regardless of what Edgars has or hasn't got in the way of documentary proof, it's going to be enough to wash us up."

"We're through and you know it," snuffled Burkman, angrily. "All we can do now is grab what we can before the ceiling falls in on us."

"Maybe you're right," Doc shrugged.

His quietness seemed to madden Burkman. He tried to speak and his throat choked with fury. And then he was pointing at me, shaking a trembling finger in my direction.

"You got some kind of scheme you're pullin' with that red-head, there. I don't know what it is but I know it must be good, the trouble you went to gettin' him out. You're cuttin' me in on it."

"You're cutting all of us in on it," corrected Flanders.

"I'm not," said Doc, levelly, "cutting anyone in on it. That deal is off. I'm letting Cosgrove return to Sandstone tomorrow."

27

I'd been expecting that, but the cold fact of its happening jolted me. I lighted a cigarette and my hand trembled.

"That's pretty sudden, Doc," I said. "Would you mind explaining?"

"If you need an explanation," said Doc, his voice clipped. "I've done a great deal for you.! intended to do a great deal more. And all I've asked of you is that you leave Lila alone. You wouldn't do it. You've carried on an affair right in front of me. Recently, you gave her the money to buy a car for you. You intended to jump your parole and leave town with her-leave me holding the bag both ways. I'm beating you to the punch."

A low murmur went around the room. Kronup cleared his throat with embarrassment.

"Say, that's too bad, Doc," he said. "I been hearing things out around the capitol, but-"

"Of course, you've heard things," I said. "Doc wanted you to hear them, and there was a certain basis of truth in them. Lila did buy that car for me. She has thrown herself at me. I've known the talk was spreading, but I didn't know what to do. I-"

"Well, I know what to do," said Doc, getting up from the stool. "Gentlemen, I suggest that we get together in the morning and see what can be done about this Arnholt matter. Frankly, I can't think clearly enough tonight to discuss it."

They began to get up, brushing at their clothes and moving toward the door. A few stared at me; most of them deliberately avoided doing so. For the moment Doc's problem had become paramount to theirs.

"Just a minute," I said. "There's one thing you haven't told these gentlemen, Doc. Lila isn't your wife."

The movement toward the door stopped abruptly. They stared from me to Doc, and his jaw fell slack. And then Hardesty's voice boomed out, breaking the silence.

"So what?" he demanded reasonably. "He couldn't get a divorce from his wife, so he hasn't been able to marry Lila. That has no bearing on the matter. She's been more to him than most wives are to their husbands."

"Yes," said Doc. "A great deal more."

"Well, we'll all get along now," said Hardesty bluffly. "But I'd keep an eye on Cosgrove, if I were you. He isn't going to like going back to Sandstone."

"I'll keep an eye on him," said Doc.

They filed past him out the door. They were in a hurry to get out now. The news about Lila had value; some highly placed people would be very interested in hearing it.

They didn't know, as I did, that Doc wasn't going to be around to face the music.

At last, only Hardesty and Doc remained, and Doc took Hardesty by the arm and urged him toward the door. Hardesty hung back.

"I think I'd better have a little talk with Pat. Let him know how things stand."

"Later," said Doc, not looking at me. "Not now."

"I really think-"

"I don't give a damn what you think," said Doc. "I'll do the explaining when the time comes for it. Right now I want to get away from here."

Hardesty suddenly remembered something.

"You blew this Arnholt deal, didn't you? What the hell was the idea?"

"I'll explain about that, too," said Doc. "Now, come on. We're liable to have some callers as soon as that crowd starts telephoning. We can't afford to get tied up here."

"What about him?"

"He'll keep," said Doc, and he literally dragged Hardesty through the door and slammed it.

I fixed myself a drink and sat down on the bed. Faintly, I heard the last of the cars pulling away from the front of the house. Clearly, a few minutes later, I heard the smooth purr of Doc's sedan as it rolled out the driveway.

I finished my drink and lay back on the bed. I felt very comfortable, relaxed, for the first time since I'd left Sandstone. I'd told Lila to beat it as soon as she made the telephone call. There was nothing to do now but take things easy.

I lay thinking, grinning a little when I thought of the surprise that Doc and Hardesty were in for. And then I thought of Madeline and my grin went away. Regardless of what she'd done, I couldn't take any pleasure in what was going to happen to her.

I let my mind wander, wish-thinking, wondering if I could be wrong about her… After all, she had suggested that I go to Myrtle Briscoe and lay my cards on the table. She hadn't insisted on it; but how could she when I, obviously, was as I was: ready to do anything that would keep me out of Sandstone. She could be working with Myrtle. She could be-and her actions with Hardesty didn't prove that she wasn't. She'd have had to lead him on. She couldn't let me beat the truth out of him, perhaps even kill him. She…

Oh, hell. How crazy could a guy get? She'd been working in Doc's dirty racket for years, and it was an easy step from that to-But she might not have known what she was getting into. Doc would have pulled her into it a little at a time, until she was in over her head.

I cursed and sat up. Things didn't happen that way. They never had, so why should they begin now? My whole life had been fouled up. The best I could hope for now was to keep my parole. She was as rotten and crooked as the rest of them, and she'd have to suffer with the rest. But-

I wished I could stop thinking about her.

Almost twenty minutes had passed when Willie tapped on the door and came in with the telephone.

He plugged it into the wall by the bed, and handed it to me. He went out as quietly as he had come in, and I spoke into the mouthpiece. I spoke and listened.

"All right, Doc," I said. "I'll be right over."

I hung up the phone and took a last long look around the room. Then, I got my car out of the garage and drove straight to Madeline's place.

I parked my car behind Doc's and went silently up the stairs. I listened at the door to the bedroom, and then I moved over to the other one.

"It doesn't make sense," Hardesty was saying, angrily. "Our end of the deal was worth twenty-five grand, and we could have wound it up in a couple weeks. I don't see why the hell-"

"All right," Doc's voice cut in. "We make that killing-the last one we could possibly make-and then I do my fade-out. How does that look?"

"The same way it looked in the beginning," said Hardesty. "That's the way we planned it. If you didn't like it, why didn't you say something then?"

"Things have changed since then," said Doc. "The police are looking for Pat or will be shortly. We had to wind up the deal tonight."

"But you intended to wind it up tonight before they ever started looking for Cosgrove," said Hardesty. "Why didn't you tell Madeline and me?"

"I had reasons."

"Oh, hell," said Hardesty, disgustedly.

"I don't get you," said Doc, slowly. "I'd have had two or three weeks' overhead to pay; that's not peanuts. I'd have had to pay several grand in past due bills that I've been stalling. All that would have had to come out of our end. You wouldn't have had more than five or six g's for your cut. What's five or six grand to you, especially when you stand to pick up a clear five?"

"I just don't like it," said Hardesty.

"I can see you don't. But I wonder why."

"Forget it," said Hardesty. "Just forget the whole damned thing."

There was silence then. I raised my fist and knocked.

"Pat?" It was Madeline.

"Yes," I said.

"Come in."

I went in and closed the door.

Hardesty and Madeline were seated on the lounge. She was wearing a nightgown under a blue woolly robe, and her hair had been hastily piled up and pinned on top of her head. She looked like a child, suddenly roused out of a deep sleep, and she gave me a child's questioning but trustful smile. I looked away from her to Doc.

He'd changed clothes, and he was taking more articles of clothing from a pile of bags and packages and putting them into a suitcase which stood on a chair in front of him. He smiled at me, narrow eyed, and jerked his head at Madeline.

"I don't believe you two have met formally," he said. "Mr. Cosgrove-Mrs. Luther."

28

Madeline flirted a hand at me. "'Lo, Mr. Cosgrove," she said in a weak voice.

I nodded to her, dropping into a chair. "How do you do, Mrs. Luther," I said.

"Well," said Doc, with a note of reproof. "You don't seem particularly surprised, Pat."

"I'm not," I said. "I'm only surprised that I didn't see it a long time ago."

"Oh?"

"Yes," I said. "You gave me a tip at the outset, that morning I bought my clothes. You'd been having an argument with Hardesty, and you told him to keep away from your wife. You wanted to be sure of what I'd overheard-whether you'd mentioned Madeline by name."

"I remember," said Doc, shooting an unpleasant glance at Hardesty. "I remember very well, now that you mention it."

"Then there was the matter of the baby," I said. "I didn't believe you'd invented the story. I was sure that your wife had had a baby. Well, I'd seen Lila at pretty close range, thanks to you, and I knew she couldn't have had a baby. So…"

I didn't tell him the rest; that I'd seen the striae-the marks made by giving birth-on Madeline's body. I wanted to talk about murder, to have him and Hardesty talk about it. With Myrtle Briscoe and her boys listening in.

Hardesty let out an impatient snort.

"For God's sake, Doc," he said, "are we going to sit around here talking all night?"

"There's no hurry," said Doc. "Pat's got a right to some answers. He's entitled to know where he stands… Pat, I believe you talked to Lila tonight?"

"Yes," I said.

"And she told you the truth; she doesn't have enough sense to do anything else. Do you see the spot I was in? I was desperate for money, and she fell right into my lap, waiting to be used. And when I'd used her I didn't dare get rid of her. I couldn't separate from a woman I was supposed to be madly in love with. I knew she'd talk if she ever got out from under my thumb."

"And do you see the spot I was in, Pat?" said Madeline, quietly.

"As a matter of fact," I said, "I'm not particularly interested."

Doc grinned and then his expression changed, and he shook his head. "Don't think too hard of her. She doesn't deserve it. We all make mistakes, and we all pay for them. You were only eighteen when you robbed a bank. Madeline was only eighteen when she came here to Capital City."

"I know," I said. "She's a very loyal little woman."

"Very, Pat. To herself, as well as me. We've been husband and wife in name only. She's worked for the money I've given her."

"Would that work include murder?"

"Eggleston's, you mean?" He shook his head calmly. "She had nothing to do with that. He found out about our marriage and demanded money from her, and I went to make the pay-off. She didn't know I was going to kill him. I didn't either. I didn't even know who'd hired him or whether he was working on his own. I didn't have to talk with him very long, however, to realize that he couldn't be trusted. That left me only one thing to do."

I nodded. That took me off the hook for the murder. Now, to wrap up the rest of it.

Doc glanced at the hall door casually, then back at me. And there was that peculiar look in his eyes again: The one I'd seen back at the house, when Lila had left the room.

"There's one thing I don't understand, Doc," I said. "Why didn't you go through with this Fanning Arnholt deal? Why did you set it all up and then blow it to pieces?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" snapped Hardesty. "I'm just lucky that there's nothing that can be pinned on me."

"Well-" Doc hesitated, grinning faintly, "why don't you make a guess, Pat?"

"I can think of a couple of reasons," I said. "One is that you were trying to get a few marks on the credit side of the ledger. After what happened tonight this state's going to be as clean as a whistle."

"Yes?"

"I think that's what you thought you were doing," I said. "What you persuaded yourself you were doing. Actually, I think you had another motive. You'd got all you could. You intended to make sure that nothing would be left for anyone else."

Doc's fingers tightened on the package he was unwrapping. He stared down at it, blindly, and then he went on picking at the string. He didn't say anything.

Hardesty scowled at him angrily.

"Well, by God!" he said. And then he raised his shoulders in a shrug of helplessness. "Pat, I'm sorry but-"

"I'm talking to Doc," I said. "Let's see if I've got things straight. You'd been wanting to break loose for a longtime, Doc. You knew that the next election was going to force you to. You needed to make one last big killing, and when you got my letter from Sandstone you saw a way of doing it with Madeline's and Hardesty's help. You insured yourself heavily in Madeline's-your wife's-favor, you got me out. To kill you, ostensibly, after a quarrel. Actually, of course, you won't get killed. It'll be made to look like! killed you and dumped you in the river where no one could find you. But it won't be that way. You'll clear out and go into hiding, and Hardesty will push the insurance claims through for Madeline. And after a year or so, when it's absolutely safe, she'll join you. Is that what you planned?"

"That," said Doc, "is what I'm going to do. Incidentally, Pat-"

"What about Lila?"

"Well, what about her? My wife wouldn't live with me, but she insisted on the protection of insurance. That's the story."

"It looks to me like the insurance companies will claim fraud. No company would knowingly insure a man with such potentially dangerous living arrangements."

"Correct," Doc nodded. "Too bad they didn't look into the matter more closely. As it is, they've accepted my premiums and Madeline's down as the beneficiary. It's a binding contract and they'll have to pay."

"I see," I said. "How much are you going to have to live on the rest of your life? How much insurance have you got?"

"Well"-he hesitated for a second-"I guess there's no reason why! shouldn't tell you. Ten policies for ten thousand each. It'll come to a hundred thousand, double indemnity."

"What's Hardesty's share?"

"Sixty-five thousand, roughly. A third."

I shook my head. I couldn't think of anything to say for a moment. It seemed to me that everything had been said that needed to be, and it was time for Myrtle to-

"By the way, Pat. As I started to mention a moment ago…"

"Yes?" I said.

"It was a nice try-but I'm afraid Myrtle isn't going to be with us. I checked on her whereabouts just before our little soiree at the house. She's out of town."

29

I swallowed, and my Adam's apple stuck in my throat. And I think I must have looked as sick as I felt.

Doc grinned sympathetically. "You weren't going to tell me that you tipped off the police? They'd grab you on that Eggleston rap, and before you could get clear of it-"

"No," I said, "I didn't go to the police. I was just going to say that-that-How can you do it, Doc? You're sentencing me to death! Doesn't that bother you?"

"I suppose it should," said Doc. "But, no, it doesn't. Not much, Pat. You'd have died in Sandstone if I hadn't got you out. This way, at least, you have had a little fling."

"That car Lila bought for me doesn't really mean anything?" I said. "I'm going to be allowed to get away?"

"I'm afraid not, Pat. Not finding my body is one thing. Not finding the man who is supposed to have killed me is another. It would be more than would be swallowed comfortably. You'll have to be caught, I'm afraid, somewhere near the spot of our nominally fatal quarrel."

"And you don't see any danger in my being caught?"

"You mean you'll talk?" He smiled faintly, shucking a pair of socks out of a paper bag. "Who's going to believe a fantastic story such as you'll have to tell when all the evidence points to murder?"

"It isn't going to work, Doc," I said.

"Oh, it'll work all right, Pat," he grinned. "It's just improbable enough to seem completely plausible. You're the best evidence of that yourself. You've had the puzzle in front of you for weeks yet you never arrived at the motive for my getting you out of Sandstone."

"That isn't what I meant," I said. "I'm talking about the insurance companies. They're not going to make settlement on those policies."

"They wouldn't, ordinarily," he nodded. "They wouldn't pay a death claim without positive proof of death-a body, in other words. But where the evidence is so clear cut-well…"

"What makes you so sure of that?" I said.

"Our friend, Hardesty, here." Doc perked his head. "One of our leading legal lights, regardless of what you may think of him on other grounds. Hardesty says they'll have to pay. If he says so, they will."

That was true. Hardesty would know. But why, then, had he wanted me to-? Suddenly, it hit me. The last piece of the murderous puzzle fell into place. And I laughed.

I was caught, stuck in the middle no matter what I did. But I couldn't help laughing.

Hardesty re-crossed his legs, shifting nervously on the lounge. His right hand crept into the pocket of his coat and remained there.

"Doc," I said. "You're not very bright, Doc. Not about some things. I've had a feeling all along that you were into something beyond your depth, but I didn't think you were quite this simple."

"No?" He grinned, but a tinge of red was creeping into his cheeks. "Just how simple am I supposed to be, Pat?"

"Simple enough to believe a man who hates you and loves your wife. Simple enough to believe that he'd be content with a third of that two hundred thousand when he and she can take the whole pile. Sure, he knows what the insurance companies will and won't do. But there's a hell of a big difference between what he knows and what he's told you!"

"I-" Doc looked from Hardesty to Madeline and then back to me. "I don't understand…"

"There's nothing to understand," said Hardesty curtly. "Don't pay any attention to him, Doc. He-"

"Think it over, Doc," I said. "And while you're doing it, Hardesty can make me his offer. I want you to see why you're going to be killed, but you'll have to think fast. I won't be able to play my part in this little drama if the police catch up with me."

Doc stared at me silently, his eyes blinking behind the thick lenses. I nodded to Hardesty.

"All right," I said. "What's it going to be? Do I kill him and get away or do you do it and let me get caught?"

"Pat!" Madeline cried. "Don't-"

But Hardesty's hand had already come out of his pocket. "You do it," he said, and he tossed the snub-nosed automatic to me. "You do it and get away."

I caught the gun, and motioned with it.

"All right," I said. "Stand up. All three of you."

"Pat," said Hardesty. "You-"

"Up," I said, and yanked him to his feet.

I lined the three of them up, and searched them. I shoved Madeline to one side, and looked at Doc and Hardesty.

"Now," I said, "I'm going to call the police."

"Police!" They spoke the word simultaneously.

"I know," I said. "They won't believe me; probably they won't. But I've got to try."

"But what's it going to get you!" Hardesty's face was dead white. "You could get away, Pat! We'll-I'll see that you have plenty of money to-"

"I don't think so," I said. "A man can't get away from himself."

"You're talking in riddles!" snapped Doc. "You've knocked this insurance scheme in the head. I've cleaned up the political mess. Let it go at that, and-"

"Sure," said Hardesty. "Be sensible, Pat. We're all kind of off on the wrong foot here tonight, but it's not too late to straighten things out… Doc, why don't we shake hands all around, and…"

"Why not?" said Doc heartily, and his hand shot out.

It closed around my wrist. He bore down on it with all his weight; and Hardesty stepped in close, swinging. And I laughed again. It was too easy. It didn't give me an excuse to really get rough-to give them the only punishment they'd probably ever get.

I weaved around a few of Hardesty's windmill swings, letting him wear himself out. Then I gave him an open-palmed uppercut, and he rose up on his toes and shot backwards, and went down in a heap against the wall.

Doc was still struggling with my gun hand. I let it sag suddenly, jerked upward again, and he went back against the wall with Hardesty.

They sprawled there, looking at me dazedly.

I looked at Madeline, and she was smiling at me happily, joyously. Hugging herself. And before I could think, wonder if I had been right, if just this one time something would go right… the bedroom door banged open.

Myrtle Briseoe walked in. Myrtle and two state troopers. She blew a whistle and two more troopers burst through the hall door.

She pointed, and the troopers took hold of Hardesty and Doc. She jerked her head and they started toward the hall with them. It happened in split seconds, so fast that Doc and Hardesty lacked even time for surprise. They went out the door, wordlessly, tottering between the troopers, and Myrtle patted Madeline on the shoulder.

"Our girl friend beat you to the tip-off, Red," she grinned. "Had yourself a pretty bad thirty minutes, didn't you?"

"I-uh-yes, ma'am," I said.

"Well, you asked for it. Tried to get you to level with me, didn't she? I tried, didn't I?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well-" her eyes swept over me swiftly, "that little tussle doesn't seem to have hurt you any. I was afraid there might be shooting if I busted in on it. Couldn't let you get shot before I got you a pardon."

"No, ma'am-what?" I said.

"Why not?" said Myrtle Briscoe. "I think the governor's going to sign just about anything I lay in front of him."

And she clumped out the door, slamming it behind her, and Madeline was in my arms.

30

That, I believe, is about all.

I got my pardon. I got the job, which I still have, as investigator with the Department of Corrections. Madeline got her divorce, and we got married.

Doc got ninety-nine years for Eggleston's murder, plus an additional thirty years-to run consecutively-for bribery and attempted fraud. Hardesty got a total of forty years.

That's a lot of "gots," and there are still more concerning Burkman and Flanders and the rest of Doc's old gang. But I won't go into those. I'll only say that Doc doesn't lack for friends, if they can be called that, there in Sandstone.

Lila…

Well, Lila did quite well for herself, everything considered.

She sold her life story, ghost-written, of course, to a newspaper syndicate. That got her a nice chunk of money and a great deal of publicity, very valuable as it turned out. The last I saw of her-Madeline and I- she was headed for Hollywood with a B-picture contract.

She stopped to say good-bye to us before she left. Afterwards, I caught Madeline looking at me thoughtfully.

"I'm wondering," she said. "I'm wondering if lever will know what went on between you and that dame."

"What went on?" I said. "Surely, you don't think I'd… do that, Mrs. Cosgrove!"

"Uh-hah. I'll bet you wouldn't!"

"Well," I said, "I don't know of anything lean say to convince you…"

"And you can't think of anything to do either?"

"As a matter of fact," I said, "I believe I can. You've given me an idea."

It wasn't a new idea, but it proved to be a very, very good one. Good enough to make Madeline forget all about Lila.

Good enough, period.