You Must Be Kidding

Two

At 20.30 quiet reigned in the Detectives’ room at Paradise City police headquarters.

Detective 3rd Grade Max Jacoby was mouthing silently such phrases as: Se voudrais un kilo de lait. Mais, moti petit, le lait ne se vend pas au poids: ca se mesure.

Any hunkhead would know that, Jacoby thought, but desperately anxious to speak French, he mouthed the sentences from his Assimil French Without Toil. Jacoby’s burning ambition was to take a vacation in Paris, and chat up the girls.

At his desk, across the big room, Detective 1st Grade Tom Lepski was wrestling with a crossword puzzle.

Lepski, thin, tall, had been recently promoted. He was very alive to the fact that he was on his way up. His secret ambition was to become eventually Chief of Police.

The telephone bell rang on his desk. Scowling, Lepski snatched up the receiver.

‘Detective Lepski!’ he barked in his cop voice.

‘You don’t have to shout, Lepski,’ his wife said.

‘Oh, you. Why honey, this is an unexpected pleasure,’ Lepski said, softening his voice.

‘Where are my car keys?’

Lepski sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He loved his pretty, bossy wife, but there were times when he wished she didn’t nag him so much.

‘Car keys?’ he said blankly. ‘I’m not with you, honey.’

‘You have taken my car keys! I have a date with Muriel and the keys aren’t here!’

Lepski sat up straight. This was fighting talk.

‘Why the hell should I take your car keys?’ he demanded.

‘There is no need to swear at me! My car keys are not where I keep them. You have taken them!’

Lepski began to drum with his fingers on his desk.

‘I’ve never seen your goddam car keys!’

‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Lepski! Such language. My car keys are missing! You must have taken them!’

Lepski made a noise like a car backfiring.

‘And don’t make a noise like that to me!’ Carroll snapped.

Lepski sucked in a long breath.

‘Sorry,’ he said between his teeth. ‘I don’t know a god... I don’t know a thing about your car keys. Have you looked?’

‘Have I looked?’ Carroll’s voice went up a notch.

Jacoby put aside his Assimil and settled himself to enjoy this. He had often heard Lepski and his wife shouting at each other on the telephone. As a performance, he had often thought, it was as good as any T.V. comedy act.

‘That’s what I said.’ Lepski was now on the offensive. ‘Have you looked under the cushions? In all your bags?’

‘Lepski!’ The snap in Carroll’s voice stopped him short. ‘My keys are not here! You have them!’

Lepski gave a laugh a hyena would have envied.

‘Come on, honey! Why should I take your goddam car keys?’

‘Stop swearing! You take things and lose them! You have them!’

Lepski shook his head sadly. There were times when Carroll jumped to stupid conclusions.

‘Now, honey, you look again. You’ll find them. Just act like a smart detective like me... really look.’

He dipped his hand into his jacket pocket for his cigarette pack. His fingers touched metal and he gave a start, observed by Jacoby, as if he had been goosed with a hot iron.

‘I’ve looked everywhere!’ Carroll screamed.

Even Jacoby could hear what she had said.

Lepski fished his wife’s car keys out of his pocket, stared at them, moaned softly and hurriedly put them back into his pocket.

‘So, okay, honey,’ he said, oil in his voice. ‘You have mislaid your car keys... could happen to anyone. Now, here’s what you do. Call a taxi. I’ll pay. No problem. Take a taxi there and back. When I get home, I’ll find the keys for you. How’s that?’

‘A taxi?’

‘Sure... sure. I’ll pay. Have a lovely evening.’

‘Lepski! I now know you have found them in your pocket!’ and Carroll slammed down the receiver.

There was a long silence in the room. The drama over, Jacoby returned to his French studies. Lepski stared into space, wondering how, when he got home, he could find a hiding place for the keys that would convince Carroll she had unjustly blamed him.

Then the telephone bell rang on Jacoby’s desk.

‘Jacoby. Detective’s desk,’ he said briskly.

A man’s voice, low and husky, said, ‘I’m not repeating this, fuzz. Shake what brains you have alive, and listen.’

‘Who’s this talking?’ Jacoby said, stiffening.

‘I said listen. You have a stiff to collect. Paddler’s Creek. The first thicket on the drive down. A bad one.’

The line went dead.

Startled, Jacoby stared across the room at Lepski. He reported the conversation.

‘Could be a hoaxer,’ he concluded.

Lepski, ever ambitious, snatched up the telephone and called the communications room.

‘Harry! Who’s covering Paddler’s Creek district?’

‘Car six. Steve and Joe.’

‘Tell them to investigate the first thicket on the drive down to Paddler’s Creek, and pronto!’

‘What are they supposed to find?’

‘A stiff,’ Lepski said. ‘Could be a hoax, but get them moving!’

He hung up, lit a cigarette, then got to his feet.

‘Get your report written, Max,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait for Steve to call back before alerting the Chief.’

While Jacoby was hammering out the report on his typewriter, Lepski prowled around the room, giving a fair imitation of a bloodhound straining at the leash.

Twenty minutes later, his telephone bell rang.

‘This is Steve. We have a real bad one here: a girl, ripped. Murder all right.’

Lepski grimaced. It was a long time since there had been a murder in Paradise City.

‘Stay with it, Steve. I’ll get action.’

At 21.15, four police cars converged on the thicket down to Paddler’s Creek. Chief of Police Terrell, Sergeant Joe Beigler, Sergeant Fred Hess of Homicide, Lepski and three other detectives were the first to view the gruesome remains. Then Dr. Lowis, the police M.O. and two interns arrived with an ambulance. A police photographer unwillingly took photographs, then hurried into the thicket to vomit.

There was talk. Finally, the body was taken away.

Terrell went over to where Dr. Lowis was standing.

‘What’s it look like, Doc?’ he asked.

‘She was hit on the head, stripped and ripped. She hasn’t been dead more than two hours. I’ll tell you more when I get her on the table.’

Terrell, a massively built man with greying hair and a determined jaw, grunted.

‘Let’s have it as fast as you can.’

He walked back to where Hess, short and fat, was waiting.

‘Okay, Fred, I’ll leave you to handle it. I’ll get back to headquarters. Find out who she is.’ Then signalling to Beigler, Terrell walked to his car.

Hess turned to Lepski.

‘Take Dusty and chat up the hippies. Find out if she belonged there. Terry has polaroid photos of her. Get them from him.’

Lepski went in search of Terry Down, the police photographer. He found him sitting on the sand, holding his head and moaning to himself.

Down, young, but a top class photographer, had only been with the Paradise City police for six months. With an unsteady hand, he gave Lepski three prints of the girl’s face.

‘Jee-sus! What a horrible... ugh!’

‘You won’t see much worse than that one,’ Lepski said. He studied the prints in the light of the moon. The girl wasn’t pretty. Her face was thin, her mouth hard. A girl, Lepski decided, who knew all the answers, and had had a real tough life.

Dusty Lucas, Detective 3rd Grade, joined him. Dusty was around twenty-four, massively built, with flat features of a boxer as he was: the best heavyweight of the police boxing team.

‘Let’s go, Dusty,’ Lepski said and got in his car. Dusty sat beside him. Lepski drove along the hard, white sand until he could see the campfire and the gas flares, lighting the tents and cabins. He pulled up.

‘We’ll walk from here.’

The sound of a guitar and drums were soft. A man was singing.

‘Why the hell Mayor Hedley doesn’t clear this scum out of the city beats me,’ Lepski growled. ‘Phew! What a stink!’

‘I guess they have to live somewhere,’ Dusty said, reasonably. ‘Better for them to be here than in the city.’

Lepski snorted. He walked briskly to where a group of around fifty young people were sitting on the sand, around a big camp fire. They were of any age from sixteen to twenty-five. Most men were bearded, some with hair to their shoulders. The girls too followed a pattern: jeans, T-shirts, hair mostly cut in a deep fringe, dirty.

The man, singing, was lean and tall. His face and head were so covered with thick curly hair it was hard to say if he was good looking or not. He spotted the two detectives as they came out of the shadows, and he abruptly stopped singing. He was seated on an orange crate. As he got slowly to his feet, a hundred or so eyes regarded Lepski.

Somewhere in the darkness, a voice said, ‘Fuzz.’

There was a long moment of silence and stillness, then the tall, lean man put down his guitar and walked around the seated hippies and paused before Lepski.

‘I run this camp,’ he said. ‘Chet Miscolo. Something wrong?’

‘Yeah,’ Lepski said. ‘Detective 1st Grade Lepski. Detective Lucas.’

Miscolo nodded to Dusty who nodded back.

‘What’s the trouble?’

Lepski handed him the three polaroid prints.

‘Know her?’

Miscolo moved to a gas flare, regarded the prints, then looked at Lepski.

‘Sure, Janie Bandler. Looks like she’s dead.’

A sigh went through the group who were now all standing.

‘Yeah,’ Lepski said. ‘Murdered and ripped wide open.’

Again a sigh went through the group.

Kiscolo handed back the prints.

‘She arrived last night,’ he said. ‘She told me she was only staying a few days: had a job waiting for her in Miami.’ He rubbed his hand across his mouth. ‘I’m sorry. She seemed okay to me.’ He spoke regretfully, and Lepski, watching him, decided he was sorry.

‘Let’s have all you know about her, Chet.’ Aware of the tension in the group, Lepski sat on the sand. Dusty followed his example, sitting close to the gas flare, taking out his notebook.

This was a good move. The group hesitated, then they all sat down.

The smell of frying sausages and body dirt was a little overpowering to both detectives.

‘Want a sausage, Fuzz?’ Miscolo asked, dropping on the sand by Lepski’s side, ‘we are all ready to eat.’

‘Sure,’ Lepski said, ‘and don’t call me fuzz... call me Lepski... right?’

A fat girl forked two sausages from the pan on the fire, wrapped them in paper and handed them to Lepski.

‘None for this fuzz,’ Lepski said, not wanting Dusty’s notebook to get greasy. ‘He’s getting to fat.’

There was a faint laugh around the group and the tension eased. Dusty made a comic grimace.

Lepski bit into his sausage and munched.

‘Good. You folks know how to eat.’

‘We get by,’ Miscolo said. ‘Who killed her?’

Lepski finished the sausage. He told himself he must talk to Carroll about cooking sausages. Carroll was a non-expert cook, but a tryer. She constantly produced elaborate dishes that were always disasters.

‘That’s what we want to know,’ Lepski said. ‘She came here last night and said she had a job waiting for her in Miami... right?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘Did she say what job?’

‘Not to me.’ Miscolo looked around the group. ‘Did she say anything to any of you?’

The fat girl who had given Lepski the sausages, said, ‘We shared a cabin. She said she had a job, working for the Yacht Club, Miami. I didn’t believe her. From her style, I guess she was a hooker.’

Lepski thought this was more than possible.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Katey White.’

‘Katey is permanent,’ Miscolo said. ‘She handles the cooking.’

That, to Lepski, explained why the girl was so fat.

‘Did she have anything with her?’

‘She had a rucksack. It’s in the cabin.’

‘I’ll want that.’ Lepski paused, then went on. ‘What happened tonight?’

‘She said she was going for a walk,’ Katey told him. ‘I didn’t like her. So she went for a walk, and I couldn’t care less.’

‘Why didn’t you like her?’

‘She was too tough. I tried to talk to her, but her mouth was foul.’

‘When did she go for this walk?’

‘Around seven.’

‘Any of you others see her?’

There was a chorus of ‘nos.’

‘So she went for a walk, ran into trouble, got knocked on the head and had her bowels in a heap.’

There was a long pause of shocked silence.

‘Listen, you people, there could be a ripper around,’ Lepski said, his voice quiet and serious. ‘I’m warning you. Right now don’t go for walks alone at night.’

Again a long silence, then Lepski asked, ‘Would any of you know someone who would do a thing like this? Anyone kinky?’

‘No one here,’ Miscolo said firmly. ‘We are one big family. No kinks.’

Lepski thought, then asked, ‘Have you had any new arrivals? I mean someone who has arrived here within the past four hours?’

‘A guy did drift in a couple of hours ago,’ Miscolo said. ‘Calls himself Lu Boone. He had some money and has rented a cabin to himself. I don’t know anything about him.’

‘Where’s he now?’

‘Sleeping. He said he had thumbed from Jacksonville.’

‘I’ll talk to him.’ Lepski finished the remaining sausage, then got to his feet. ‘Where do I find him?’

Miscolo also got to his feet.

‘I’ll take you.’ As they walked across the sand to the ten tiny wooden cabins, with Dusty walking with them, Miscolo said, ‘I don’t want trouble here, Mr. Lepski. I’ve run this camp now for two years. There’s been no problems. Mayor Hedley accepts us.’

‘Yeah, but don’t kid yourself, Chet, you do have trouble.’

Miscolo paused and pointed to the far cabin in the row.

‘He’s in there. You want me to stay around?’

‘Suppose you go and wake him up?’ Lepski said. ‘Tell him we want to talk to him. Then when you’ve got him awake, we’ll move in... how’s that?’

‘You cops don’t take chances, do you?’ Miscolo grinned. ‘I’ll leave him to you. I haven’t finished my supper,’ and moving around Lepski, he walked back to the campfire.

Lepski gave Dusty a wry grin.

‘It was worth a try.’

‘That guy isn’t stupid.’

Lepski took out his .38 police special, sighed, then walked to the cabin and pushed open the door. Dusty, following training, dropped on one knee, his gun covering Lepski.

Lepski looked into total darkness. A rank smell of body dirt came to him. Then a light snapped on. Lepski moved sideways, his gun pointing.

A bearded young man, naked, sat up on the camp bed.

‘Don’t move,’ Lepski barked in his cop voice. ‘Police!’

The bearded young man flicked the dirty sheet across his lap, then stared at Lepski as he moved into the cabin.

‘What do you want with me?’

Dusty came in and moved against the wall. He shoved his gun back into its holster.

Satisfied this hippy wasn’t armed, Lepski lowered his gun.

‘Checking,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Lu Boone. Can’t you fuzz let a guy sleep?’

Lepski sat down on the only chair. He holstered his gun.

‘You’ve just arrived, Lu? Right?’

‘If you want it spelt out,’ Boone said. ‘I booked into this cabin at five after nine.’

‘How did you come?’

‘For God’s sake! On my goddamn feet!’

‘I mean which way?’

‘Along the beach. I got a hitch to the top of the road and walked down, along the beach.’

‘This is a murder investigation,’ Lepski said quietly. ‘Did you see anyone? Hear anything? There’s a girl’s body in the first thicket along the road. You didn’t go that way?’

Boone stiffened.

‘You’re goddamn right, I didn’t! I don’t know anything about murder!’

‘The girl was killed around the time you were walking down the road. See anyone? Hear anything?’

Boone scratched at his beard and his eyes shifted.

‘I didn’t see anyone nor hear a thing.’

Lepski felt instinctively he was lying.

‘Look, Lu, think again. Did you see anyone on the road or on the beach?’

‘I don’t have to think again. The answer’s no!’

‘This girl was ripped wide open. The killer must have got blood on his clothes,’ Lepski said. ‘I want to look at your clothes.’

‘That’s something you don’t do, fuzz. I know my rights. Get a search warrant!’

Lepski looked at Dusty.

‘Search this dump,’ he said.

As Dusty went over to the small closet, Boone jumped off the bed, stark naked, then stopped short as Lepski showed him his gun.

‘Take it easy, Lu,’ Lepski said in his cop voice.

Boone sat down on the bed.

‘I’ll fix you, fuzz. I know my rights.’

It took Dusty only a few minutes to go through Boone’s clothes. He grimaced at Lepski.

‘He’s clean.’

‘I’ll put in a complaint tomorrow!’ Boone said. ‘I’ll fix you, you goddamn flatfoot!’

Lepski gave him his wolfish smile.

‘How would you like to be taken in as a pusher, Lu?’ He took from his pocket a small packet. ‘I can always say I found this in your gear. Like the idea?’

Boone stared at the packet, then shrugged.

‘Okay. Forget it. I’m losing my touch. Fuzz can’t lose.’

‘You can say that again. Now, let’s hear about you, what you do, where you’re from, when you’re leaving here.’

Boone again shrugged and began to talk.

Dusty wrote busily in his notebook.

Ken Brandon arrived back at his home at 21.30. During the drive, his mind had been active. What a godawful mess he had got himself into! Before long, the body would be found, then the police would move in. If it hadn’t been for this gruesome murder, he would have driven to Fort Lauderdale and spent the rest of the night, celebrating Mary and Jack’s goddamn anniversary. But the sight of the ripped body had completely unnerved him. Even now as he turned into the long road, leading to his bungalow, his stomach heaved.

This was Sunday night. Most of his neighbours would be out. He turned off his headlights and using only parking lights, drove slowly down the road. So he could establish an alibi for Betty and the police, he knew it was important to get home without being seen.

He drove to his garage door, flicked the gimmick to open the door and drove in. For a long moment, he sat in his car, thinking. Then leaving the car, he opened the door that led to the lobby and walked into the darkness of the living room. He crossed to the window and peered into the street. The three villas opposite were in darkness. He drew the heavy curtains, then groped his way across the room and turned on the lights.

So far, so good! he thought. He felt confident that he had arrived without being seen.

He made himself a Scotch and soda, then sat down. His thoughts darted like frightened mice. First, he had to convince Betty. He forced his mind to concentrate. After a while, he decided he must be truthful to a point. Betty was no fool. He planned his story, then satisfied, he thought of Karen.

God! That had been a mad, reckless mistake! He flinched at the thought that tomorrow he would see her again in the office. Sexually drained, Karen, to him, right at this moment, was a menace to his marriage and to his career.

Then he thought of the bearded man they had encountered. If the police got onto him, and if he told them he had seen Karen and himself, then...!

He wiped the sweat off his face.

He was still sitting in the lounging chair when he heard Betty’s car. He drew in a deep breath and stood up.

A few moments later Betty came in.

‘What happened, Ken?’

He seldom saw Betty angry, but he saw the signs now.

‘I told Jack. I had a breakdown,’ he said quietly. ‘Was the party a success?’

‘Ken! Why didn’t you come? Everyone was asking. Mary was terribly upset!’

‘There was something wrong with the ignition. I’m sorry, honey. I was delayed more than an hour.’

‘But you could have come!’

‘Oh, sure. I could have come, but after the flop at the schoolhouse, after fiddling with the car, I just wasn’t in the mood. I’m sorry, but that’s how it was.’

‘A flop?’ Betty looked concerned.

‘You can say that again. After all the trouble I took, setting up five hundred chairs, I only got thirty-four people! Then when I got in the car, it wouldn’t start. There I was stuck! Hell! I was ready to flip my lid. I took out all the plugs and got in a mess. I just wasn’t in a party mood after all that.’

‘Didn’t you do any business?’

‘I got some of them to sign up, but what a flop! I came right back here to lick my wounds.’

Betty went to him and put her arms around him. He ruffled her hair, feeling sure he had crossed the first hurdle.

‘Darling, I am so sorry. I thought it was going to be so good for you,’ she said.

‘You understand? I’m sorry too. I know I should have come, but I got so goddam depressed, I couldn’t face a party.’

She moved away from him and gave him that lovely smile he so cherished.

‘Let’s go to bed. I’ll talk to Mary tomorrow.’

While they were undressing, Betty asked, ‘What happened to Miss Sternwood?’

Ken felt a tightening in his stomach.

‘She had a date. She went off before I tried to start the car,’ he said.

Betty went into the bathroom for a shower. Ken got into bed and lay on his back, staring up at the dimly lighted ceiling.

It’s going to work out, he told himself. His groin still ached from the beating he had had from Karen. He was now relaxing. Then Betty slid into bed and turned off the light. Her arms went around him and she moved close to him.

‘I’m turned on, darling,’ she said softly.

For the first time since they had been married, Ken failed her.

The following morning, Ken left Betty still sleeping, made himself a hasty cup of coffee, then drove to the office. Meeting Karen again was something he dreaded.

He unlocked the office door and went into his office, turning on both the air conditioners. He was working on the contracts he had made with the parents from the school meeting when Karen arrived.

‘Hi!’ she said, pausing in his office doorway and she smiled. ‘No problems?’

‘No.’

He looked at her. There she was in her skintight jeans, her sweatshirt that emphasized her provocative breasts, her eyes alight, but he got no buzz from her.

‘You look pale, Ken,’ she said. ‘We had a ball, didn’t we?’

He pushed thirteen contracts across his desk towards her.

‘Would you record these, please? I’ll have the others ready in a while.’

She laughed.

‘Sure.’ She came over and picked up the contracts. ‘Strictly business this morning, huh?’

He didn’t look up, but frowned down at the contract lying before him.

‘Oh-ho!’ Again she laughed. ‘Mister guilty conscience. You’ll recover,’ and she walked back to her office, swinging her hips.

Ken sat back. He must get rid of her, he told himself. This situation just couldn’t continue. But how? He sat staring into space, listening to the busy clack of Karen’s typewriter. How to find some acceptable excuse to persuade Sternwood to move his daughter to head office.

Then the prediction of Henry Byrnes, the school’s principal, became a fact.

A sudden murmur of voices in the outer office brought Ken to his feet. He found more than a dozen black people standing before the counter. They all wanted to know what the Paradise Assurance Corporation could do for their children.

From then on, Ken and Karen were busy. The morning passed swiftly. Both of them had sandwich lunches sent in from the Snack bar across the street. It wasn’t until 16.00 that they had time to relax.

‘Phew! This has been quite a day,’ Karen said. ‘Pop will be pleased.’

‘So it wasn’t such a flop. I’ll call Hyams. This is something to boast about.’

Ken went to his office and checked the number of policies he had issued, then, as he was reaching for the telephone, he heard the outer door open. Yet another client, he thought, and getting to his feet, he looked into the outer office.

A tall, thin man with hard blue eyes was standing at the counter. Ken felt a rush of cold blood down his spine. Police! He immediately recognized Detective Tom Lepski from police headquarters. Although Ken had never spoken to this man, he had often seen him either driving or walking around the city. One of Ken’s golfing friends had said, ‘You see that guy? He’ll be Chief of Police when Terrell retires: real smart.’

Ken moved back out of sight. He took out his handkerchief to mop off the rush of cold sweat. His mind flashed to the bearded hippy. He must have given the police a description of both Karen and himself!

Lepski leaned on the counter and regarded Karen with approving eyes. Lepski was susceptible to any girl who he regarded as a sexy piece.

Karen stopped typing, got up and swished her way across the room to the counter. The sway of her breasts, the swing of her hips were not lost on Lepski who gave her a leering smile.

‘Miss Sternwood?’

Karen also knew this man was a detective. Seeing his smile, she returned it with an up and under flutter of her eyelashes which intrigued Lepski.

‘Well, if it isn’t,’ she said, ‘someone is wearing my clothes.’

Lepski gave his soft wolf laugh.

‘You are a police officer,’ Karen went on. ‘Have you children, Mr. Lepski?’

Thrown off his stride, Lepski gaped at her.

‘Children? Why, no. I...’

‘You must be married,’ Karen said. ‘A beautiful hunk of manhood like you just couldn’t be single.’

Lepski made a noise like a cat fed sardines.

‘Miss Sternwood...’

‘So you are thinking of raising a family and you want insurance coverage,’ Karen went on, thrusting her breasts at him. ‘Mr. Lepski, you have come to the right place. To insure unborn children will give you a very low premium.’

Lepski got hold of himself. The very idea of having children, plus Carroll to contend with was his idea of a horror nightmare.

He was well aware that Karen was the daughter of one of the richest and most influential men in the city. The Homicide squad, searching around the murder scene, had come upon Karen’s cabin which was within two hundred yards of where the body was found. Hess, who knew everything there was to know about the rich in the city, had told his men not to approach the cabin. He had reported to Terrell who had told Lepski to talk to Karen who would be at the Secomb branch of the Assurance Corporation.

‘Handle her with kid gloves, Tom,’ Terrell warned. ‘We don’t want to get Sternwood sour. My information is that she is a top class bitch.’

‘Miss Sternwood,’ Lepski said firmly, ‘I am investigating a murder.’

Karen’s eyes opened innocently wide.

‘Is that right? So you are not planning to raise a family just yet?’ She gave him a sexy smile. ‘Maybe later.’

Lepski eased his shirt collar with a hooked finger.

‘Last night, Miss Sternwood, a girl was murdered within a couple of hundred yards from your cabin. Were you in the cabin last night?’

‘Yes, I was, alone, I like being alone sometimes. I like to unwind after working in this dump all the week.’ Karen fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘Don’t you like to be alone sometimes, Mr. Lepski?’

Into Lepski’s shrewd mind came a doubt. This sexy piece might be trying to con him.

‘You heard nothing? No screams? Nothing?’

‘I was watching T.V. Do you dig T.V.? I guess you’re too busy to be able to watch much. I find it relaxing.’

Lepski smiled his wolfish smile.

‘What were you watching, Miss Sternwood?’

He saw her eyes flicker, and he knew, from his long experience as a cop, he had sunk in a punch that told him she was lying.

‘Oh, something.’ She shrugged, once more on even keel. ‘Does it matter? Some goon screaming.’

‘You didn’t hear a car?’

‘I’ve told you, Mr. Lepski, I didn’t hear a thing. Who is this girl? What happened?’

Lepski stared at her, his cop eyes cold.

‘It was a messy murder, Miss Sternwood. I’m glad you were safe in your cabin, watching T.V. I wouldn’t like anyone to see what this killer did to this girl.’

Karen grimaced.

‘How awful!’

‘That’s right, Miss Sternwood. So you can’t help me? You saw no one, heard nothing... right?’

She tilted her chin at him.

‘That’s right.’

They regarded each other, then Lepski tipped his hat.

‘Thanks, Miss Sternwood.’ He paused, then gave her a long hard cop stare. ‘Miss Sternwood, this is no business of mine, but spending weekends in that lonely cabin entirely on your own could be dangerous.’

‘Thank you, Mr. Lepski.’ She smiled brightly at him. ‘As you say, no business of yours.’

As soon as Lepski had gone, Ken appeared, white faced and shaken.

Looking at him, Karen said sharply, ‘Come on! Relax!’

‘That guy with the beard we ran into!’ Ken said. ‘If the police find him and he talks, he could prove you were lying.’

Karen returned to her desk and sat down.

‘It would be his word against mine, and my word, plus Pop’s word, draws a lot of water,’ she said and began typing.

At 17.00, there was a conference around Chief of Police Terrell’s big desk. Sitting before him were Sergeant Beigler, Sergeant Hess, Detective 1st Grade Lepski and Detective 3rd Grade Jacoby.

The various police reports that had flowed into Terrell’s desk had been summarized: reports from Hess, the M.O., Lepski, Jacoby and other detectives.

‘Janie Bandler,’ Terrell said. ‘She kept a diary. She has been on the hoof as an itinerant prostitute for some years. That’s about all we know of her. Dr. Lowis tells us she was knocked on the head, stripped, raped, strangled and ripped. This is a savage, sex nut murder. So far, none of the hippies have come forward with any useful information. None of them seemed to have seen or heard anything.’

‘I’m checking every one of them out,’ Hess said. ‘There were about fifty of them at the time of the killing. It’ll take a little lime.’

Terrell nodded.

‘From what we have, it would seem the only possible lead is Lu Boone who admits being near the scene of the killing at the time of the killing. The killer must have had blood on his clothes.’ Terrell glanced at Lepski. ‘You checked his clothes and found them clean.’

‘Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he knows something. He either saw someone or else he’s the killer. When I questioned him, I got the impression he was lying. He played it too cool. He says he has money, likes to live rough and plans to stay at the colony for a couple of weeks.’

‘Check on him, Fred,’ Terrell said.

‘I’m doing it,’ Hess returned.

‘Right. Now we come to Miss Sternwood who owns this cabin within two hundred yards of the murder scene.’

‘I talked to her,’ Lepski said. ‘She’s a smart sexy cookie. She admits being in the cabin at the time of the murder, watching T.V. She claims to have been listening to some goon singing. I’ve checked all the channels, but at that time no one was singing. My guess is she had some guy there and was screwing. A piece like her just wouldn’t spend the weekend alone, watching T.V.’

‘That’s not our business,’ Terrell said. ‘She’s Sternwood’s daughter... remember that. We’ll forget her.’ He turned to Jacoby, ‘What impression did you get of this man who phoned the squeal?’

‘Husky voice; could be any age; anti-police. No hope of tracing the call. It didn’t last more than five seconds.’

‘It could have been the killer,’ Terrell said. He looked around at the men sitting before him. ‘This could happen again. This is a sex nut and he could be on the prowl. We’ve got to find him, and fast.’ To Hess, ‘If you want more men, Fred, I’ll borrow some from Miami.’

The telephone bell rang. It was a call for Hess. The others waited while Hess talked to one of his men who had been, with others, searching the thickets and the sand around the murder scene.

‘Let’s have it right away,’ he said and hung up. To Terrell, he said, ‘Jack has found an odd jacket button: a miniature golf ball, half buried in the sand and about three yards from the body. Could be our first clue.’

Fat Katey White was cooking sausages over the camp fire when Lu Boone joined her. She was on her own. It was her pride that there was always a constant supply of sausages ready for anyone who felt hungry. Sausages and spaghetti were the staple diet of the colony. The rest of the colony were either swimming or earning a few dollars wherever a dollar could be earned.

Accepting a sausage, Lu squatted by her side.

They got talking. Katey thought Lu was a superman. She loved his beard, his muscles and his jeering green eyes. Lu had a talent for turning girls on. This was about his only talent as his father, a staid Houston judge, had sadly discovered. Lu was a law drop out. He considered his father and his mother were the world’s biggest drags. He had left home when he was seventeen years of age, and since then, now twenty-three, he had bummed around, picking up some kind of living, doing any job from dish washing to garage work, but happy to be free from the suffocating atmosphere of his home. But after six years of living rough, he had come to the conclusion that money, after all, was important. He had begun to dream of being rich: not peanuts, but real money, and he had also come to the conclusion that he just wasn’t going to become rich by settling to some dreary nine-to-five job.

Arriving at Jacksonville three days ago, he found he hadn’t enough money to buy himself even a hot dog. His hunger overcame the last of his scruples. Walking aimlessly through Confederate Park, he came upon a well-dressed old woman, sitting on a bench, sound asleep. By her side was a large lizard-skin handbag. It was the work of a moment to whip up the bag and run swiftly into the flowering shrubs. The net yield of the bag was an unbelievable $400.

Katey had been living in the colony now for two years, and what she didn’t know about the city, most of the people and their way of life, could be written on the head of a pin.

Seeming to be chatting idly, Lu got from her that Karen Sternwood, the daughter of one of the richest men in the City, owned the cabin right where this hooker was murdered.

‘Karen is okay,’ Katey said. ‘She comes here from time to time. In spite of all her money, she’s our people. Chet digs her.’

Lu became alert.

‘If she’s that rich, what’s she doing living in a shack like that?’ he asked, reaching for another sausage.

‘It’s her love nest,’ Katey explained. ‘Her old man is a real drag. A girl needs to get screwed now and then. If her old man ever knew what went on in that cabin, he would flip his stupid lid.’

‘Would she care?’

Katey laughed.

‘Sure she would. Right now she has everything. She once told me if her old man found out, he’d cut her off without a dime.’ She looked longingly at the sausages she was cooking, but she checked the impulse to take one. She hated being known as Fat Katey. ‘But Karen likes work. Her old man started a branch office in Secomb. She works there: a nine to five stint that would drive me out of my tiny mind.’

‘Is she in charge there?’ Lu asked, ever probing.

‘Oh, no. Ken Brandon is in charge.’ Katey heaved a sigh. ‘There’s a lovely man!’

‘Why do you say that, Katey?’

‘He’s just like Gregory Peck, when young, and he’s nice. He once gave me a hitch into the city.’ Katey closed her eyes and sighed again. ‘He really turned me on.’

Lu’s mind shifted to the man who had been with Karen. Tall, dark, and maybe like Peck. It made sense. A guy working all day with a hot piece like Karen would want to screw her.

‘No romance for you, Katey?’ he said with a sympathetic smile. ‘I suppose he’s married?’

‘Oh, sure. His wife is real smart. She works for Dr. Heintz. He fixes all these rich creeps who get pregnant.’

‘Does Brandon get along with his wife?’

‘Sure. They get along fine together. Any girl in her right mind would get along with him!’

Lu decided he had asked enough questions. He switched the subject and asked Katey how long she planned to stay with the colony.

Katey shrugged.

‘I’ve got nowhere else to go. I guess I’ll stay as long as I’m wanted.’

Lu patted her fat hand.

‘You’ll always be wanted, chick. You’ve got that thing.’ Then he got to his feet. ‘I’ll take a look around. See you, and take care.’

Katey watched him walk towards his cabin.

You’ve got that thing!

She felt a pang. How she wished she had! Then the impulse to eat a sausage proved too much for her.

Back in his cabin, Lu sat on the camp bed. He opened the telephone book and found Ken Brandon lived on Lotus Street. He scribbled the address down on a scrap of paper. Then he counted his stolen money. He was worth $350. He lit a cigarette and sat for a long time, thinking.

This could be his big take, he told himself, but he would have to handle it carefully.

First, he must survey the scene. He must find out about how much Brandon was worth. There would be no problem with the Sternwood girl. According to Katey, her old man was loaded with the stuff. According to Katey, Brandon and his wife were close. This night out was probably Brandon’s first slip up: a strong lever for getting money from him.

If he handled it right, Lu told himself, stubbing out his cigarette, he could pick up ten thousand dollars: the thought excited him.

Then he frowned. If he went ahead, this would be extortion His year in law school had taught him this was a serious offence. Again he thought. He was already a thief. Extortion? If he played this smart, he wouldn’t get caught. Ten thousand dollars!

He scratched his beard while he continued to think. Step by step, he finally told himself: survey the scene.

Getting to his feet, he went into the bathroom and trimmed his beard and hair closely. Then stripping off, he took a shower. Dressed in his best hip-huggers and a white shirt, he surveyed himself in the bathroom mirror. He was convinced that he wouldn’t attract the attention of some nosey fuzz. He looked almost respectable!

Leaving the cabin, he walked over the dunes to the highway. He waited for a City-Secomb bus, then was conveyed to Secomb. While sitting in the crowded bus, he decided he would have to become mobile. After wandering around the crowded streets of Secomb, he came upon a car mart. Two hours later, he drove away in a battered VW. He had paid $155 for the half-wreck, but not before he had squeezed from the dealer a new set of plugs. He was satisfied that the car would run for another five hundred miles. His garage experience had paid off.

He had asked the car dealer where to find the branch office of the Paradise Assurance Corporation. Following the car dealer’s directions, he drove to Seaview Road, and was able to park within twenty yards of the Assurance office. The time now was 13.00. He hadn’t been sitting in the car for more than ten minutes when he saw Ken Brandon leave the office and walk over to the quick-lunch bar, across the road.

Lu immediately recognized Brandon as the man he had seen with Karen on the beach.

Check! he thought.

He then drove into the city. He found parking and bought a map of the city from a drug store. Returning to the car, he located Lotus Street. He drove there, then leaving the car at the top of the road, he walked down, passing bungalows and villas until he came to Brandon’s bungalow. Slowing, but not stopping, he regarded the bungalow with its trim garden, and he nodded to himself. A guy who could afford a place like this, he thought, must be worth at least five thousand dollars.

Returning to his car, he drove back to Secomb, and again found parking near the Assurance office. For some minutes, he watched black people entering the office. He had to be sure that the girl who had been with Brandon was indeed Karen Sternwood. He hesitated. Would she recognize him if he walked into the office? He had trimmed his hair and beard. As she had only seen him in the moonlight, he decided it was unlikely she would recognize him. But suppose she did? Did it matter? He would have preferred the element of surprise, but it was worth the risk.

Leaving the car, he walked over to the office and entered.

Karen was talking to an anxious looking black man.

Lu paused in the doorway and looked hard at her. No doubt about it! She was the girl!

Karen glanced at the man who had come in and who was staring at her. She immediately recognized him. A little shock ran through her, but not for an instant did her expression betray her shock.

‘A few minutes,’ she said with her sexy smile.

Watching her, Lu was convinced she hadn’t recognized him. He smiled.

‘Parking problems,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right back,’ then he returned to his car.

Karen forced her mind to the problems of this worried black man who seemed so desperate to protect his brood of ten children. As she began again to explain the policy she was offering to take care of his children, she thought this man who had just come in, who had stared at her, and had now gone, meant real trouble.