There’s a Hippie on the Highway

Chapter Eight

Her coffee finished, Carroll Lepski was looking impatiently at her watch when she saw Manuel, the Captain of Waiters, weaving his way around the tables and heading towards her. He arrived at her table and gave her that sad smile people wear when about to break bad news.

‘Excuse me, Mrs. Lepski,’ he said, leaning over her, his voice low and confidential. ‘Your husband is in a little trouble. Don’t be alarmed. It happens now and then, although it’s the first time in this restaurant.’

Carroll’s eyes opened wide.

‘Trouble? What do you mean? Is he hurt?’

‘No... no... no... certainly not. He’s just passed out. Maybe the heat... maybe a little too much Scotch.’

Carroll started to her feet.

‘Are you telling me my husband is drunk?’

‘Well, you could say that.’ Seeing Carroll’s eyes light up with anger, Manuel felt it safe to look superior. ‘I always say, Mrs. Lepski, some can take it... some can’t.’

Blood rushed into Carroll’s face. She felt humiliated and furious.

‘Where is he?’

‘We’ve put him in his car, Mrs. Lepski. He’ll be fine by tomorrow morning. We’re sending someone with you. You’ll need help getting him to bed.’ Manuel showed her his teeth in a sympathetic smile. ‘Think nothing of it, Mrs. Lepski. These things happen... so sorry.’

Carroll snatched up her bag and walked towards the exit, sure everyone in the restaurant was looking at her. By the time she got into the hot night air, she was in such a rage she was practically breathless.

Manuel trotted behind her.

‘To your right, Mrs. Lepski,’ he said.

Carroll stamped across the car park to where she could see Lepski’s Wildcat in the shadows. By the car stood the handsome man Lepski had spoken to and had called Mitchell. He stood back as she reached the car. She peered into the back seat where her husband sat, his head resting on the back of the seat, his eyes closed. Through the open car window came a strong smell of whisky.

Carroll hesitated: a little alarmed. She had never seen her husband like this. How could he have got so drunk in such a short time?

‘Now don’t worry, Mrs. Lepski,’ Manuel said soothingly. ‘This happens all the time. Harry will drive after you and help you when you get home.’

‘Are you sure he’s all right?’ Carroll asked, a quaver in her voice.

‘He’s fine. A little headache perhaps tomorrow morning, but otherwise... fine.’ Manuel shifted impatiently. Why the hell didn’t she get in the car and take off? He had a restaurant full of people needing his attention.

Suddenly, from the car, came a loud, strangled snore. To Carroll, this revolting sound was like a spark in a gunpowder factory. She got in the car, slammed the door and gunned the engine. As she began to drive out of the parking lot, Manuel signaled to Harry who got in Solo’s estate car and went after her.

Harry was puzzled. He had been serving d inks when Manuel bad told him Solo wanted him. He had found Solo kneeling beside Lepski’s unconscious body.

‘Look at this!’ Solo had said, his voice despairing. ‘I tell him it’s all on the house and he disgraces my restaurant. Swell! He must have swam in the stuff.’

Harry bent over the prone body. The stink of whisky made him wrinkle his nose.

‘Is he all right?’

‘All right? He’s drunk!’ Solo said bitterly. ‘Now listen, Harry, his wife is in the restaurant. You take my car and help her... hey? Put him to bed. Soothe her. This is very bad for my business. Help me get him into the car.’

While he pondered on all this, the Wildcat ahead of him was tearing along the highway. Harry had trouble in keeping up with it. The brake lights shone red as the Wildcat swung off the highway, raced down a narrow twisting road so fast Harry let it go. If this woman wanted to kill herself, she could do it. He wasn’t going to risk his neck on such a road.

He lost sight of the Wildcat for several minutes, then picked up the taillights again on a strip of road leading to a housing estate. The Wildcat skidded to a halt before a two-storey house with a tiny lawn, a patio and a garage.

Harry got out of the estate car as Carroll got out of the Wildcat.

‘I can’t tell you how ashamed I am!’ Carroll said as Harry came up to her.

Harry looked at her. The headlights of the two cars gave enough light for both to see each other.

‘Ashamed?’ He smiled. ‘What’s there to be ashamed of?’

‘I could kill him!’

Harry went to the Wildcat, took hold of Lepski, dragged him out of the car and hoisted him across his broad shoulders.

Carroll opened the front door and led Harry with his burden into the small hall, up the stairs and into the small bedroom they reserved for their guests.

‘Dump him in there!’ she said, then leaving the room she went down the stairs and into the living room. She turned on the lights and stood for a long moment while she fought down her fury. Okay, she thought, so Lepski gets drunk. Okay, what’s good for him, is good enough for me!

She went to the liquor cabinet, seized a bottle of gin, poured a treble into a glass, added a dash of soda, then shutting her eyes, swallowed the drink in two stomach-heaving gulps. The room reeled around her and she clutched hold of the liquor cabinet, rattling the bottles and the glasses. Then she drew in a long, slow breath and unsteadily, made her way to the settee. She collapsed on it, not sure if she was going to be sick.

By the time Harry had got Lepski into bed and had come down the stairs, Carroll had again visited the liquor cabinet and she was now so drunk she couldn’t stand.

What a beautiful man! she thought, watching Harry as he came into the room. I’m going to bed with him! I’m going to be unfaithful for the first time in my married life! He’s going to tear off all my clothes and I’m going to scream with ecstasy!

‘There’s nothing to worry about, Mrs. Lepski,’ Harry said. ‘Just let him sleep it off.’

‘Worry about him? That’s a laugh! That’s the last thing I’m going to do! Have a drink, Harry... can I call you Harry?’

Harry looked at her sharply and realised how drunk she was.

‘Call me anything you like.’

‘Harry... I like Harry... have a drink.’

‘No, thanks. I have to get back. This is a busy night for us.’

She giggled.

‘Let’s make it a busy night for us... you and me. Come here, Harry.’ She lay back on the settee, her dress riding up, her knees spread as she beckoned.

Harry flicked up the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Then silently, he went into the hall, out into the night and to his car.

Terrified at what she was doing, her body shrinking while she waited for his hands to rip her dress from her, Carroll lay still, her heart hammering, her eyes fast shut.

It was only when she heard his car start up and drive away that she realised he had gone.

From the guest room upstairs came a loud, resonant snore.

Burying her face in a cushion, Carroll burst into tears.

Harry came awake.

He looked through the uncurtained window of his cabin at the grey light of the dawn. He peered at his strap watch. The time was 05.30. Getting out of bed, he walked into the kitchenette and plugged in the coffee percolator. Then he went into the shower room, stripped off and stood under the cold water that brought him awake. He dried himself, shaved, then went into the kitchenette and unplugged the percolator. Carrying a cup of strong black coffee into his bedroom, he set the cup down and dressed. Then he sipped the coffee, checked his watch and saw he still had fifteen minutes before he had to get to the boathouse. He leaned back, the coffee cup in his hand and thought of the previous evening.

He couldn’t believe Lepski had been drunk. The obvious solution to the Lepski puzzle was that someone — probably Solo — had sapped Lepski and had knocked him cold. Why had this happened? Harry wondered. When he had left Lepski’s residence, he had driven back to the restaurant. Solo had been too busy serving late dinners to talk to him. It wasn’t until 01.00 that the restaurant closed and then Solo had gone to bed, still giving Harry no chance of talking to him.

Harry had had a brief moment with Nina before going to his cabin. She had looked at him with burning eyes.

‘I’ll be at the boathouse at six,’ she had said and Harry had nodded.

As he walked towards his cabin, Randy had joined him.

‘What’s going on?’ Randy had asked. ‘What happened to Lepski?’

Harry went into Randy’s cabin and sat on the bed. He waited until Randy had pulled the curtains and shut the door, then he said, ‘You want to know what happened to Lepski. I don’t know for sure, but I can make a guess. I think Solo sapped him, poured whisky over him and made out he was drunk. I took him home, put him to bed and soothed his wife.’

Randy’s eyes bulged.

‘You’re kidding! Solo would sap a cop!’

‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Harry said quietly. ‘That’s the way I see it.’

‘But why?’

‘Maybe Lepski saw something... I don’t know.’ Harry paused and stared at Randy. ‘Look, this is the right moment for you to take off.’

Randy gaped.

‘What do you mean... take off? You said I should stay right here and bluff it out!’

Harry nodded.

‘Situations change. I know I said that, but now, it’s different. When Lepski surfaces and gets to a telephone, this place is going to be smothered with cops. You won’t stand a chance. Take my tip, Randy, get out now.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘Tomorrow morning early I’m going to Sheldon Island with Nina.’

‘With Nina?’ Randy’s voice rose. ‘You crazy?’

‘Randy, this is major league. You are way out of your depth. Pack up and get out,’ Harry said. ‘You’re a nice little guy. I don’t want you to get into trouble. Fade away.’

‘Fade away?’ Randy exclaimed. ‘You told me you could never get away from the cops. Now you’re telling me to fade away. What’s the matter with you? Can’t you talk sense?’

Harry felt in his shirt pocket for his pack of Camels while he stared thoughtfully at Randy.

‘I need some sleep, Randy. Get out of here. Do I have to spell it out? Beat it!’ He stood up and started towards the door.

Randy put himself between Harry and the door.

‘Now, wait a minute!’ he said. ‘Just what is all this? You’ve got to tell me! This Baldy thing! You said we could make money out of it!’

‘There’s a chance, Randy, but not for you. You do what I say... get out,’ Harry said patiently.

‘You really mean you’re going to Sheldon with Nina?’

‘Yes... don’t shout.’

‘I warned you!’ Randy began to shake. ‘Solo will find out and he’ll kill you, Harry! Listen to me! I like you. You saved my life! I owe you something! Don’t go to Sheldon with Nina!’

‘I’m going.’

‘You want to tangle with Solo for God’s sake? He’ll kill you, Harry! He’s mean. It won’t be a fair fight. I know Solo!’

Harry shoved Randy aside, opened the door and stepped out into the darkness. He paused.

‘Get out, Randy, Don’t worry about me.’

Thinking about all this, Harry glanced at his watch. It was time to leave. He knelt by his bed, levered up the floorboard and took from the hole Baldy’s automatic and the box of cartridges. He put them in a beach bag, put in his swim trunks and two packs of cigarettes and then left the cabin.

He wondered if Randy had gone. He looked at Randy’s cabin, seeing the drawn curtains. He didn’t want to be involved with Randy any longer. He had warned him. If he hadn’t gone then it was Randy’s funeral.

He walked quickly down to the boathouse which was screened by shrubs and palm trees.

Nina was there, waiting.

Solo’s boat was a twenty-four footer with a cabin aft and powered by twin screws. As soon as Nina saw him coming across the sand, she waved, then swung the engine. As he came aboard, the launch moved from its moorings and began to bounce and bump over the waves as it headed out to sea.

Nina was wearing a bikini. She smiled at him as he joined her in the cockpit.

‘Did you have coffee, Harry?’

‘Sure.’

She again smiled at him.

‘You will love Sheldon. You and I and the birds!’ She caught hold of his hand. ‘I’ve been waiting... waiting... I thought today would never come!’

Harry felt the power of the engines as the boat cut through the sea. He looked towards the cabin.

‘Some boat,’ he said.

‘It’s good enough,’ Nina looked sharply at him as he began to climb out of the cockpit. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Taking a look.’

He moved along the deck until he reached the cabin which was big enough to take four berths. Curtains were drawn across the portholes and when he tried the door, he found it was locked. He frowned, stared at the door for some moments, then returned to the cockpit.

‘The cabin’s all locked.’

‘I know. Dad keeps stuff in there. It’s always locked. I never use it.’

‘What sort of stuff?’

‘I don’t know... stuff.’ She smiled, but he saw her eyes had turned hard.

He sat on the bench seat beside her.

‘Tell me about Sheldon. Do you go there often?’

‘About once a month.’

‘I heard someone talking about the island. He said something about the Funnel. Does that mean anything to you?’ Harry was being very casual.

‘It is a funnel between the rocks. The tide is very tricky around the island. Once every three months the tide drops and you can get through the funnel... a passage that leads to a marvelous grotto. The walls are phosphorescent. I’ve been in there twice. You have to be very careful. The tide can change and then you could be trapped in there for three months!’

Harry lit a cigarette. He was remembering the note he had found in Baldy’s suitcase.

‘When the tide is right, can a boat this size get into the grotto?’

‘Yes. I’ve been in it in this boat. I don’t stay long. Just in and out.’

‘You mean the tide can change that fast?’

‘That’s right. It’s been known to change in an hour. The sea comes in fast. That’s why tourists never visit the grotto.’

‘So we can’t visit it today.’

‘Not by boat.’ She regarded him. ‘Do you want to see it?’

‘Sure... when is the tide due to change?’

‘Another week... it won’t be next Sunday... probably on Wednesday when we’ll be working. But if you really want to see it, we can swim in.’

‘We can?’

She nodded.

‘Have you ever done it?’

‘Oh, no. I couldn’t do it on my own. It’s tricky.’ She put her warm hand on his arm. ‘But with you, I’d be all right. You’re a top class swimmer. Olympic standard.’

‘I can swim. What’s so tricky about it?’

‘There’s a long swim under water and the current is fierce.’ She paused, then went on, ‘There are two aqualungs in that locker.’ She pointed. ‘We could make it if you’d help me.’

Harry looked thoughtful.

‘No... better not. Maybe I’ll go on my own, but not with you. I don’t want an accident.’

She made an impatient movement.

‘I want to go! I’m a good swimmer, Harry... honest! If we clipped a cord to each other and I got into trouble, you could help me.’

‘You mean it’s that tough?’

‘For heaven’s sake! I thought you were a top swimmer!’

‘I can swim.’ He thought for a moment while she watched him. ‘Well, okay, we can’t come to much grief if we use aqualungs.’ He shifted along the bench seat to the locker she had indicated, opened it and took out the aqualung equipment.

‘Do you want some coffee now, Harry?’

‘Sure.’

He checked the equipment, satisfied himself both lungs were in good order, then turning, accepted the plastic cup of coffee she held out to him.

‘There’s a length of nylon cord somewhere in the locker,’ Nina said, ‘and a couple of belts.’

Harry finished his coffee, turned and hunted in the deep locker. There was a lot of junk wedged in at the back. From this junk he pulled out a plastic bag. Through the plastic he could see a pair of anti-glare driving goggles, a black cotton shirt and a woman’s white headscarf.

His broad back was turned to Nina so she couldn’t see what he was doing.

‘Have you found it Harry?’

He pushed the plastic bag back among the junk. Then he saw the coil of nylon rope His face expressionless, he turned, holding up the coil.

‘This it?’

‘Yes. You take the wheel. I’ll find the belts.’

‘It’s okay... I’ve got them.’ He pulled two belts fitted with metal loops from the junk.

He was seeing the woman with the Mustang, hidden behind anti-glare goggles, concealing her hair with a white headscarf, tucked into a black cotton shirt. He shut the locker door, turned and lit a cigarette.

He remembered what Joe, the barman, had said: You have no friends here, Mr. Harry except me and Randy. No friends... I mean that and there’s trouble coming for you.

‘What’s the matter, Harry?’ Nina asked sharply.

‘Nothing.’ He looked at her. ‘Why should there be?’

‘You looked far away.’

‘I guess I’m a faraway type.’

‘What were you thinking about just now?’

Harry drew on his cigarette and released the smoke down his nostrils.

‘Do you share your thoughts with anyone, Nina?’

She frowned.

‘Sometimes.’

‘But not often?’

‘I guess not.’

‘Then we’re alike’ He finished his coffee. ‘Want a cigarette?’

‘No, thank you.’ She looked at him, hesitated, then went on, ‘You were thinking of something, weren’t you, Harry?’

Over the horizon Harry could see the outline of a small island.

‘Is that Sheldon?’ he asked, pointing.

‘That’s it.’

‘Is it a good time to go to the Funnel right away?’

‘Yes... it’s better early... there’s less swell. You really want to see the grotto, don’t you?’

‘Sure. We have plenty of time for other things.’ He looked at her and smiled. ‘When do you think we should get back?’

‘Before dark. I’ve brought plenty of food.’

‘Does your father know you have taken the boat?’

‘I told him I was going last night. He sleeps most of Sunday. He never gets up before dinner time.’

Harry nodded. He looked along the deck at the locked cabin, then taking a knife from his pocket he cut a length of nylon cord. One end he fastened to one of the metal rings on one of the belts and the other end of the cord to the metal ring on the other belt.

‘You’re sure you want to come?’ he asked.

‘Of course. It’s marvellous in there. I’ve only seen it twice in about four years.’

He went along the deck until he could get a clear view of the island as they approached it. He could see it was of volcanic rock, rising steeply out of the sea and with many sea birds: gulls, cormorants and pelicans, on the rocky shelves.

Twenty minutes later, Nina was steering the boat into what seemed to Harry to be a large split in the rock wall. It was a tight fit, but she handled the boat well and then they were in a sheltered harbour, the rocks towering above them and a small landing jetty on which hung a number of old motor tyres to act as buffers at the far end of the harbour.

Nina cut the engines and Harry, taking a line, jumped onto the jetty and secured the boat.

‘We have a walk and a climb,’ Nina said as she handed up the aqualung equipment. She pointed to a narrow path that rose steeply and then disappeared around the side of the rock. ‘Over there and we come to the Funnel.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Harry said. ‘You told me a boat could get through when the tide is right.’

‘So it can. In a boat, you get to the Funnel on the other side of the island,’ Nina explained. ‘This is the quickest way when the tide is high.’

‘Give me my bag, will you?’

She handed it to him.

‘That’s heavy... what’s in it?’

‘Stuff.’ Harry smiled at her, and as she picked up the bag containing their lunch, he caught hold of her hand, swinging her onto the jetty. ‘You lead the way.’

They set off, climbing the path until they reached the top. From there, Harry could see down into a lagoon with access to the sea.

‘There it is... that’s the Funnel.’ Nina pointed to the face of the rock.

‘I don’t see it.’

‘You won’t. It’s under water. When the tide’s right, the sea goes down some twenty feet, and then you can see the entrance. See the overhanging rock? That’s where the entrance to the grotto is. We swim to that, then dive. There’s a long tunnel and it takes us right into the grotto.’

Harry studied the overhanging rock.

‘You’re still sure you want to come?’

‘Of course.’

‘Well, okay, let’s get down there and change.’

She led the way down the steep, narrow path to a platform of rock just above the lagoon. While they were climbing down, Solo’s boat bobbed at its moorings. It wasn’t until Nina’s voice had died away that there was a sharp sound from the boat of a bolt being drawn. The cabin door swung open.

Fernando Cortez a .22 target rifle under his arm, stepped cautiously into the early morning sunshine.

Lepski opened his eyes and stared with bewilderment at the curtained window opposite him, seeing light filtering around the edges of the curtains. The curtains seemed oddly familiar, then he realised with a sense of shock that he was in the guest room of his own house.

He sat up. A blinding pain crashed through his head, making him groan. He had to lean forward, his head in his hands for some moments before the pain receded. Then cautiously he got out of bed, startled to find himself in pyjamas.

He looked at the clock on the dressing table. It showed 06.35. For some moments he stood still, too dazed to think, then he remembered Cortez, the blow on the head and until now, complete blackness.

Where was Carroll? What the hell was he doing in the guest room?

He walked unsteadily across the passage and into the main bedroom.

‘Don’t come near me, you drunken brute!’ Carroll said dramatically from the bed. ‘Go away and hide yourself!’

Lepski touched the back of his head, wincing when his fingers came into contact with a horribly tender spot.

‘What happened? How did I get home?’ he snarled.

‘You were carried here... drunk!’ Carroll sat up in bed. She was also fighting a headache, but she was so angry to see her husband again on his feet and remembering what had happened the previous night, she was determined to inflict a tongue-lashing even if it killed her. ‘I’ve never been so ashamed! I promise you, Lepski, if this ever happens again, I’m going back to mother! I warn you. I...’

‘Shut up!’ Lepski barked. ‘What happened?’

Carroll stared at him in amazement. He had never spoken to her like this before. She immediately concluded he was still drunk. She gave a wail, turned over and buried her face in her pillow.

Lepski grabbed hold of her, and in spite of the raging pain in his head, turned and shook her.

‘What happened? Don’t tell me you’re such a goddamn pinhead you thought I was drunk! I was sapped! What happened?’

Carroll broke free, not believing her ears.

‘Are you daring to call me a pinhead?’ she demanded shrilly.

‘I’ll call you something a damn sight worse if you don’t tell me what happened?’

Carroll had never heard Lepski’s cop voice before nor seen such white heat of rage in his eyes. He completely cowed her. Quickly, she told him how Manuel had come to her table, saying he (Lepski) had passed out, how she had found him in the Wildcat, had driven him home and with Harry Mitchell’s help, had got him to bed.

‘You really believe I was drunk... ME?’ Lepski shouted indignantly.

‘You stank of whisky... you were drunk!’

‘I was sapped! They poured whisky over me! It’s the oldest, corniest gag in the world! You ought to be ashamed of yourself... a cop’s wife falling for that one!’

He left the room, stumbled down the stairs and entered the living room. Here he paused. He thought of Beigler and Hess. How would they react to such a yarn? He cursed under his breath. This could be goodbye to his promotion. He snatched up the telephone receiver and dialled police headquarters.

Half an hour later, he was driving fast down the highway. Ten minutes later, he walked into the Detectives’ room at Headquarters.

To his surprise, Beigler looked at him with concern.

‘Are you all right, Tom? You haven’t got concussion or something?’

Lepski had laid it on strong over the telephone and he was pleased he had made an impression.

‘I’m all right,’ he said, looking brave.

‘You look like hell.’

‘Never mind how I look... what’s going on?’

‘There’s an alert out for Cortez. Fred is now with Mr. and Mrs. Carlos. I’m just off to talk to Solo.’

Lepski showed his teeth in a snarl

‘I’ll come along. It’s my bet Solo sapped me. I’m going to rip that fat punk’s guts out and tie them around his goddamn neck!’

‘Well, okay if you’re sure you’re up to it.’ Beigler took his jacket from the back of his chair and slipped it on.

‘I can’t wait to get my hands on him!’ Lepski said and meant it.

The Telex across the room began its noisy chatter, Jacoby left his desk and went over to the machine.

‘Report on Harry Mitchell, Sarg, coming in from Washington.’

Beigler and Lepski joined Jacoby. Leaning forward they read the brief report, word by word, as; it appeared on the paper:

Beigler re-read the Telex, stood back and ran his fingers through his hair.

‘Well, what do you know? The guy’s dead!’

‘So who’s this punk who calls himself Harry Mitchell?’ Lepski demanded. ‘Come on, Sarg, let’s pick him up! We’ll give him the treatment.’

But Beigler wasn’t to be rushed. He had had reports from Washington before and knew Washington wasn’t infallible.

‘Get a repeat on this, Max,’ he said to Jacoby. ‘Then call the Chief and report. Tell him Tom and I are on our way to the Dominico restaurant and we’ll bring Mitchell in.’

‘And we’ll bring Solo in too,’ Lepski said.

As they turned to leave the room, they paused. Standing in the doorway, looking scared and uneasy, was a short, thin man with hair down to his shoulders. Lepski immediately recognized him as Solo’s guitar player and barman.

‘Hold it, Sarg,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘This could be interesting.’

He went to the dividing rail and opened the swing gate.

‘You want something?’ he asked, staring at Randy.

Randy licked his lips.

‘Yeah... I’ve got things on my mind. I reckoned it was best to come here and talk to someone.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Randy Roache... I work for Solo Dominico.’

‘Is that right?’ Lepski gave him his cop stare. ‘Okay, Randy, come on in and take a chair. What have you got on your mind?’

Randy moved through the gateway, hesitated, then when Lepski waved him to a chair by Beigler’s desk, he sat down. He wiped his sweating face with a grubby handkerchief, then his sweating palms.

Beigler went to his desk and sat down. Lepski pulled up another chair and took out his notebook. Although his head was aching violently, he ignored it.

‘Well now, Randy,’ Beigler said. What’s it all about?’

‘I’m a draft dodger,’ Randy said miserably.

‘So?’

‘Harry told me to beat it, but I got thinking once the cops started investigating I’d be on the run and I know what it means to be on the run, so I’ve come here to tell you about it.’

‘You know what it means? Have you been on the run before, Randy?’

‘No, but I know friends who have, and anyway, Harry said you could never get away from the cops once they start looking for you.’

‘Who’s Harry?’

‘Harry Mitchell. He also works at Solo’s place.’

‘What do you know about Mitchell, Randy?’

Randy looked startled.

‘Not much. We met on the road. He saved my life so I got him this job with Solo. I telephoned Solo, telling him Harry was an Olympic swimmer and a veteran from Vietnam so Solo jumped at him. I don’t know anything else about him.’

‘Let’s have the story, Randy, Never mind the draft dodging. I want to know how, when and where you met Mitchell, how he saved your life... the works.’

As Randy began talking, Beigler pressed a button under his desk that started a tape recorder, concealed in his desk drawer.

When Randy got to the moment he and Harry stopped the Mustang, he paused, hesitating whether to go on or not.

‘Keep going, Randy,’ Beigler said. ‘You’re doing fine. So Harry saw car headlights and he signalled... then what?’

Randy took the plunge.

‘This might not sound like the truth to you,’ he said, ‘but it is the truth.’

‘Keep going, Randy, we’ll talk over the details when you’ve said your say. Just keep going.’

So Randy told them how they had stopped the Mustang, towing a caravan, how the girl had handed over the wheel and had got into the caravan, how they had stopped at a café, how a Mercedes had pulled up and then taken off, and that Harry had thought the girl had gone off in the Mercedes.

‘We stopped at another café outside Fort Lauderdale,’ Randy went on. ‘Harry went in for coffee and I went to wake this girl.’ He gulped, then described finding Baldy’s body, how they had driven to Hetterling Cove and buried him, dumped the caravan and then later, the Mustang.

Beigler leaned forward.

‘It’s a nice story, Randy, but it could read different, couldn’t it?’ He stared for a long moment, then went on, ‘Suppose this mysterious doll never existed? Suppose Baldy gave you two a ride and you knocked him off?’

‘Harry said you’d say just that,’ Randy said bitterly. ‘Well, we didn’t! I’m telling you exactly how it happened. If you don’t believe it, I can’t help it, can I?’

Beigler grinned at him.

‘Take it easy. I do believe it. I’m sure Baldy would never have stopped to pick up two guys wanting a ride. I just wanted to see your reaction.’

Randy heaved a sigh.

‘Cops!’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t trust your own mothers!’

‘Watch your mouth, jerk,’ Lepski said, ‘or I’ll watch it for you!’

‘Go on, Randy,’ Beigler said, signaling to Lepski to keep out of it. ‘So you two buried Baldy, and then what?’

‘We got rid of the Mustang and the caravan like I said. Then... no, wait a minute. I forgot. When Harry was burying the body, this dead guy’s wig fell off and in the wig was a key. This was for a left luggage locker at the airport,’

Beigler and Lepski exchanged glances.

‘Go on,’ Beigler said.

‘Well, Harry went to the airport and collected a suitcase and inside the suitcase was a slip of paper. The message said something about Sheldon Island and the Funnel.’

‘What else did he find in the suitcase?’

‘A gun and a box of slugs,’ Randy said. ‘Clothes...’

What was written on this slip of paper... I want it exact.’

Randy thought for a moment, then shrugged.

‘I don’t remember. Something like this: Sheldon. The Funnel, and there was a date... I don’t remember what the date was.’

While he had been talking the Telex had been chattering, now Jacoby came over to Beigler’s desk and gave him the message that read:

Beigler snorted and handed the Telex to Lepski.

‘So they bring him back to life again. Even in Washington, they have dopes.’

Lepski read the Telex.

‘Who hasn’t?’ he said, tossing the message on the desk. ‘But we still bring him in?’

‘Stop leaning on it!’ Beigler said curtly. He was longing for a cup of coffee but knew he would be wasting valuable time sending out for it. He turned to Randy and regarded him as he lit a cigarette.

‘Well now, Randy, you have said your piece, now I want you to tell me why you’ve said it.’

Randy shifted forward in his chair.

‘I came here because Harry saved my life... I like him and I owe him something. Now, he’s in trouble. I thought the best thing was to come to you and for you to take care of the trouble.’

Beigler squinted at him.

‘What trouble?’

‘Harry has got mixed up with Nina Dominico. I warned him. He has gone off with her to Sheldon Island in Solo’s boat. When Solo finds out... and he will... he’s going to kill Harry.’

‘Is Nina Solo’s wife?’

‘She’s his daughter,’ Lepski put in. ‘He’s crazy about her. This punk’s right. If Mitchell is fooling with Nina, he is heading for a load of trouble.’ Lepski turned to Randy. ‘Are you sure these two have gone to Sheldon Island?’

‘Harry told me last night he and she were going. They are there now. Solo’s boat’s gone. When Solo finds out, there’ll be murder!’

‘Why has Mitchell gone out there?’ Beigler asked.

‘He went to find out why Baldy died. He thinks Baldy hijacked something and it’s on the island.’

Beigler got to his feet.

‘Okay, Randy, we’ll talk to you later.’ He crossed over to Jacoby. ‘Max, take this kid and lock him up. Let him have coffee and cigarettes. Call the Chief and tell him we’re going to talk to Solo. I want a fast boat to take me to Sheldon Island. Have it come to Dominico’s harbour.’

Lepski came over, carrying the Telex.

‘I want that other Telex... the first one that said Mitchell was killed in action.’

Jacoby found it and handed it over.

‘What’s the idea, Tom?’ Beigler asked as the two detectives left the room and headed down the stairs.

‘I have an idea,’ Lepski said. ‘I think I can make Solo talk if you let me handle it. We’ll need four of the boys with us. Solo is like a rogue elephant. He’ll need a lot of handling.’

They came out into the hot sunshine.

‘What is it?’ Beigler asked suspiciously. ‘You haven’t been so bright so far, Tom. When Cortez threw his gun, why hadn’t you got him covered?’

Lepski licked his lips. The last thing he was going to tell Beigler was he hadn’t his gun with him.

‘The punk was like lightning. Before I even guessed who he was, the gun was in his hand.’

Beigler told a patrolman to tell Jacoby to send four men to the Dominico restaurant. He got into the waiting police car.

‘How do you imagine you’re going to make Solo talk?’ he asked as Lepski got in beside him.

Lepski told him.