You’re Lonely When You’re Dead

I

I arrived back at Orchid City as dusk was falling and went straight to the office. Paula was still there, and as I pushed open the office door she glanced up from a paper-strewn desk with an expression of relief and expectancy on her face.

‘What news?’ she asked. ‘And how’s the head?’

‘The head could do with a drop of Scotch,’ I told her, dropping into an armchair near her desk. ‘Be a nice girl and fix me a drink. Things are popping, but there’s some way to go yet. At least I know who killed Benny. A guy named Lee Thayler. He’s either here in Orchid City or he’s returned to Frisco. I’ve left Kerman to watch that end.’

‘Thayler?’ Paula repeated, as she opened the desk cupboard and hoisted into view a bottle of Haig, a glass and a carafe of water. ‘Who’s he and where does he fit in?’

‘He’s Anita’s husband,’ I said, reaching for the bottle. ‘I haven’t found him yet, but I’m going after him. I may run into a little trouble with him. He’s kind of cute with a rod. Maybe it’d be an idea for you to make a few notes just in case. If I step into anything too big to handle it will help Mifflin to clear up the mess to know some of the facts. But don’t tell him anything unless things do happen.’

Paula stared at me; her dark eyes opening wide.

‘Now don’t get excited,’ I said, pouring myself a drink. ‘This is just a precaution. Got your notebook?’

‘But, Vic...’ she began, but I waved her to silence.

‘I want this down fast. I haven’t a lot of time to waste.’

She pulled her notebook towards her and picked up her pencil.

‘Go ahead,’ she said, a resigned expression on her face. ‘I’m ready when you are.’

‘The scene is San Francisco,’ I began; ‘the time two years ago in early June.’ I watched her pencil fly over the page, making sure I wasn’t going too fast for her. ‘A strip-tease artist, calling herself Anita Broda, blows into town from Hollywood. Her act has been a little raw for Hollywood’s night clubs, and the Vice Squad has sent her packing. She goes the rounds in Frisco, trying to get an engagement, but the night clubs are scared of her. Finally, she gets an introduction to Nick Nedick who runs a third-rate vaudeville show on the corner of Bayshore and Third. He takes a chance on her, and gives her a week’s tryout. She clicks in a big way, and after her third week has her name in lights across the front of the house.

‘Most of the acts Nedick engages fade away after the first or second week, but the customers rave about Anita so she becomes a permanent feature, heading the top of the bill for a record run of eighteen months.

‘There’s another act, not so successful as Anita, but good enough to remain as a second permanent feature, put on by a guy named Lee Thayler, a trick sharpshooter, and his partner, a girl called Gail Bolus.’

Paula looked up sharply, blinked, and asked, ‘Isn’t that the girl...?’

‘Yeah, the same one,’ I said. ‘Let’s get straight on. This stuff’s loaded with dynamite. You’ll get another surprise in a moment.’

‘Go ahead,’ she said.

‘Thayler and Anita fall for each other, and Thayler decides to quit show business and buys himself a piece in a photographer’s shop, specializing in theatrical work.

‘The owner of the shop is a guy named Louis, who makes money on the side as a blackmailer. Thayler is probably mixed up in the racket. The shop isn’t much, and two wouldn’t make much of a living out of it unless there was more to it than the photographer’s business.’

I paused for a moment to give Paula time to catch up, then went on, Thayler marries Anita on 8th November of last year. Gail Bolus quits show business. A month later Anita leaves Thayler. Maybe they didn’t hit it off. I don’t know. Anyway, she gets a job as a mannequin at Simeon’s swank dress shop on 19th Avenue. It’s here she meets Cerf.

‘Cerf, as you know, lost his wife a couple of years back in a car accident. He has a sick daughter on his hands, and life isn’t much fun. Anita spreads her net, and he walks into it. He offers marriage.

‘Anita talks it over with Thayler, who’s quick to see the advantage of her being hooked up with a millionaire. He tells Anita to go ahead and marry Cerf. He promises to keep out of the way providing he gets a take on whatever Anita gets out of Cerf, and she intends to get plenty. Anita marries Cerf: a bigamous marriage, of course, and goes to live with him at Santa Rosa Estate.

‘I’ve made inquiries about Anita, and can’t find anyone who’ll support Cerf’s suspicions that she was a kleptomaniac I spent a couple of hours before leaving Frisco, talking to people who knew and worked with her, and none of them ever suspected that Anita had this tendency. I am now pretty sure that the suitcase of stolen articles was planted in her cupboard to discredit her with Cerf. The only person who had reason to discredit her is Natalie, Cerf’s daughter, who would have lost half the estate if Anita had lived.

‘But we’ll leave that because I haven’t had time to tackle Natalie yet. I’m satisfied that Anita’s association with Barclay has nothing to do with the case. She found Cerf dull, and probably an unsatisfactory lover, and turned to Barclay for a little spare-time fun. She was the type. I’m pretty sure Barclay doesn’t figure in this, although there’s still the problem why Dana’s clothes were hidden in his house. It’s my guess they were planted there by the killer to divert suspicion, but that’s guesswork.’

Paula paused long enough to ask, ‘What happened to Benny, Vic?’

‘Yeah, Benny. Get this down. Benny had no idea Louis was hooked up with Anita. He went to the shop and into trouble. Thayler happened to be there. As soon as he heard Benny ask questions about Anita, he came out with a gun. Anita had already told Thayler she was being watched by Universal Services. Thayler was jittery. He had been to Orchard City hoping to see Anita on the night Dana was murdered, but hadn’t contacted her. On his return to Frisco he was in a state of nerves, and when Benny turned up he lost his head and knocked Benny off. Then he caught the ten o’clock plane to Orchid City. Maybe he decided the safest thing would be to silence Anita. I don’t know. The point is he was on the spot when Anita was killed. Whether he killed her or not is something I have still to find out. I’m sure he was the guy who sapped me when I found Anita. He may have taken her body. I don’t know. These are the first pieces of the jigsaw that mean anything, but they don’t make a complete picture. There’s a lot of work to do before we do get a complete picture:’

I finished my drink, got up and began to pace the floor.

‘If I can find out why Dana was murdered,’ I went on, ‘and why Anita Cerf left the diamond necklace in Dana’s apartment I think we’ll have the answer. I think those two points are the framework of our jigsaw. If we can only find the answers to them the rest of the bits will fall into place. I want to find out too why Anita was scared when I found her at L’Etoile, and why she was hiding there. And why she was murdered and what s become of her body. There are a hell of a lot of things I want to find out.’

‘How about Gail Bolus?’ Paula asked, laying down her pencil. ‘Where does she fit in in this?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, sitting on the edge of her desk. ‘On the face of it I think she’s still hooked up with Thayler. The way she turned up after I had been sapped was too much of a coincidence to be an accident. It’s something I’m going to find out.’ I reached for a cigarette and lit it. ‘Another thing: I have an idea Caesar Mills is mixed up somewhere in this business. It’s a hunch, but it’s a strong one. It’s time I went out to his place at Fairview and looked the joint over. Maybe it’s a waste of time, but it’ll set my mind at rest.’

‘We haven’t a lot of time to waste, Paula said. Brandon is raising hell over Leadbetter’s killing. He wants to see you. They’ve matched the bullet that killed Leadbetter with the one that killed Dana. You’ll have to watch out, Vic. Brandon’s in a dangerous mood.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, and scowled. ‘Right now I’ll have to see what I can do about Thayler, but I’ll take care of Mills at the same time. The point is I can’t go chasing all over town looking for Thayler. He may be here or he may have gone back to Frisco. It might take me weeks to run him down.’ I sat thinking for a moment, then reached for the telephone. ‘Finnegan’s an old friend of Dana’s. He offered to help. I believe he could find Thayler. He has contacts among the mobs in town.’ I dialled Finnegan’s number, waited, and when Finnegan’s growling voice came over the line, I said, ‘Pat, there’s something you can do. I want to contact a guy named Lee Thayler. He may or may not be in town. He’s a trick sharpshooter, blackmailer and possibly a murderer. It’ll be worth a couple of hundred bucks to anyone who let’s me know where he is to be found.’

‘Well, all right, Mr. Malloy,’ Finnegan said. ‘I’ll pass the word round. If he’s in town, I’ll find him. How about a description?’

‘I’ll do better than that. On my way out I’ll leave a photo of him for you. It’s urgent, Pat. He has something to do with Dana’s killing.’

‘Let me have the photo,’ Finnegan said, his voice hard, ‘I’ll find him for you if he’s to be found.’

I thanked him and hung up.

‘That takes care of Thayler,’ I said, and slid off the desk. ‘Now, while I’m waiting, I think I’ll take a look at Mills. Get these notes typed, Paula, and put them in the safe. And another thing, take that diamond necklace over to Cerf and get a receipt for it. We should have done that before. If Brandon heard about it and found it here we wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. In Cerf’s hands it doesn’t become evidence anymore.’

Paula said she would do that right away.

‘Well, so long,’ I said, making for the door. ‘If I run into trouble turn the whole works over to Mifflin,’ and before she could fuss, I left the office and went pelting down the stairs.

II

Beechwood Avenue, a three-mile long, two-way street, separated by a parkway planted with magnolia trees, climbed snakelike up the hill at the back of Fairview and down into the valley to the San Francisco and Los Angeles Highway. It was a quiet, backwater street, lined on either side by stately houses, white columned with balconies and lofty porticos.

No. 235, Caesar Mills’s residence, hid behind white stucco walls. The moonlight was bright enough for me to read the chromium numbers on the seven-foot gate as I drove past. All I could see of the house was its green-tiled roof.

About two hundred yards farther on I saw a cul-de-sac, leading to one of the bigger estates, and I drove into it, pulled up close to the kerb, turned out all but the parking lights and got out.

It was a hot, still night and quiet, and the air was heavy with the scent of flowers growing in the hidden gardens and from the magnolia trees in the parkway: a nice secluded spot for courting couples or burglars.

I walked casually towards No. 235, without hurrying, like a man taking a little exercise before going to bed. It was twenty minutes past ten. I was feeling flatfooted and tired, and the heat bothered me. I had a feeling, too, that I was wasting time; that I had no business to be out here. I should be concentrating on Lee Thayler, or better still in bed, getting some sleep to be ready for whatever happened in the morning.

I paused outside the seven-foot gate to look up and down the street. There was no one around, and I lifted the latch, pushed open the gate and peered at a small, well-kept garden, flood-lit by the moon. Facing me was a one-and-a-half-storey frame house with the chimney at each end, six wooden columns supporting a verandah roof, broken by three dormers that extended across the front of the building. Four casement windows opened on to the verandah, and lights spilled through the windows. It looked as if Caesar Mills was at home.

I decided, now I was here, to take a peep at him, and I crept along the garden path to the verandah and looked in through the nearest window.

One glance showed me that Mills lived in style. The room was designed for comfort, and money had been lavished on it. Chinese rugs lay on the parquet floor. Two big chesterfields, four lounging chairs and a divan were arranged about the room. A walnut table, loaded with bottles and glasses stood against one of the walls. Lamps with parchment shades made pools of subdued light on the polished floor and the rugs. It was a nice room: a room furnished with taste. The kind of room anyone could be happy in.

Caesar Mills sat in one of the armchairs, a cigarette between his lips, a tall, frost-filmed glass of whisky in his hand. He was wearing a navy blue, silk dressing-gown, white silk pyjamas and his bare feet were thrust into heelless slippers He was reading a magazine, and by the bored frown on his face, he didn’t seem to think much of it.

I wondered if it would be worthwhile to wait. I wanted badly to get into the house and look it over, but I didn’t feel like taking risks, nor did I feel like getting into a rough house with Mills. But there was a chance he would go to bed before long so I decided I’d give him half an hour and see what happened.

I picked a spot in the shadows and sat down on the edge of a big stone tub full of petunias and waited. From where I sat I could see into the room and I could see Mills, sure he couldn’t see me.

Twenty minutes dragged by. I knew it was twenty minutes because I kept looking at my watch, and thinking how nice it would be to go home and get some sleep. It wasn’t much fun watching Mills taking it easy in an armchair while I sat on the edge of a stone tub with an ache in my head and a pain in my back. But I was playing a hunch, and I was obstinate, so I waited, and after a while he tossed aside the magazine and stood up.

I was hoping he was going to lock up for the night, but instead he went over to the bottles on the walnut table and freshened his drink. Watching the whisky run out of the bottle made my throat twitch with envy. I was hot and tired, and I could have done with that drink.

Then as he returned to his chair, I saw him pause and cock his head on one side and listen. I listened too.

The sound of a car coming fast disturbed the quiet of the night. Mills put down his glass, went over to the big mirror above the fireplace and took a look at himself, then he stood, waiting.

The car drew up outside the garden gate, a car door slammed and the latch of the gate clicked up.

By now I was on my feet. I stepped back into the darkness made by the shadow of the house. I heard the gate swing to, and footsteps come along the path: quick, light steps of a woman.

I waited, squeezed against the wall, looking from the darkness into the brilliantly lit garden. A woman came round the corner of the house: a woman in fawn linen slacks and an apple-green sports shirt, worn outside the slacks. She was bare headed and carried a handbag made of fawn linen to match her slacks.

She passed close to me, and I caught the fragrance of her perfume. The moonlight was harsh on her white, pinched face. There was an unhappy little sneer on her lips.

She walked briskly across the verandah and into the room. As soon as she was out of sight, I took out my handkerchief and mopped my face and hands. I wasn’t tired anymore. My head no longer ached. I felt pretty pleased with myself. It’s always good to play a hunch and prove yourself right.

The woman in the fawn linen slacks and the apple-green sports shirt was, of course, Natalie Cerf.

III

It was very quiet out there in the shadows and the heat. Somewhere in the far distance I could hear the sound of the ocean breaking on the reef out at East Beach: a whisper of sound that seemed loud in the silence around me.

And while I stood in the darkness waiting for something to happen, I tried to remember what Paula had said about Natalie Cerf. Two years ago there had been a motor accident. Natalie’s mother had been killed and Natalie crippled. She had been treated, X-rayed and examined by every doctor worth a damn in the country. But none of them had done anything for her. Cerf had paid out hundreds of thousands of dollars: none of them could make her walk.

It looked as if medical science had missed a miracle healer in Caesar Mills. What the brains of the best medical men in the country had failed to do, apparently he had done, for Natalie couldn’t have walked more briskly into the room where he was, not if she’d been a competitor in the Olympic Games.

I heard Mills say in his lizard, grating voice, ‘You didn’t say you were coming out. I wasn’t expecting you. Why didn’t you phone?’

Under cover of his voice I moved forward so I could look into the room.

Mills was standing in the doorway; as if he had just come into the room. There was a sulky frown on his face and his pale eyes were hard.

‘Am I disturbing you?’ Natalie asked politely.

She was sitting bolt upright on the arm of the chesterfield, her thin hands folded on her handbag, an alert look on her face.

‘I was going to bed.’

‘Were you? It’s not very late. Is that the reason why you look so sulky?’

He came into the room and closed the door.

‘It’s not that. I don’t like you busting in like this. I might have had a guy here or someone.’

He picked up the drink he had left on the table. She watched him, her face suddenly as expressionless as the face of a shop-window dummy.

‘I didn’t think I had to ask permission to come to my own house,’ she said quietly. Although the words were hostile, her tone, if anything, was conciliatory. ‘I’ll know next time.’

Mills didn’t like this, but he didn’t say anything. He returned to his armchair and sat down. There was a long — overlong — pause.

She said lightly, ‘Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?’

He didn’t look at her.

‘This is your house. They’re your drinks. Help yourself.’

She slid off the arm of the chair and walked over to the table. I watched her pour three inches of whisky into a glass, drop a chunk of ice into it. Her narrow, thin back was straight and her hands were steady, but her lips were trembling.

‘What’s the matter, Caesar?’ she asked, without turning. She still tried to keep the light, bantering tone, but it wasn’t convincing.

‘How long do you think this is going on?’ he asked.

She turned swiftly to face him.

‘How long is what going on?’

‘You know: this—’ He waved his hand at the room. ‘How long do you think I’m going to fool outside those gates, saluting like a lackey? How long do you think I’m creeping into your bedroom, side-stepping Franklin who knows what’s going on, and pretends he doesn’t?’

‘But what else can we do?’ she asked, frowning.

‘We can get married, can’t we? How many more times do I have to say it? We can live here, can’t we? You have your own money. Cerf can’t do anything about it.’ He drained his glass and set it down angrily on the edge of the fire-kerb. ‘We can get married,’ he repeated. ‘That’s what we can do.’

‘No, we can’t.’

‘We can get married,’ he said again. ‘You can tell Cerf the truth. You don’t think he cares, do you? Maybe he cared when it happened, but not now. A guy can’t live with that kind of thing for two years without getting used to the idea. You’re kidding yourself if you think he cares anymore. He doesn’t.’

‘Yes, he does,’ she said, her eyes big in her white, pinched face.

He got up and stood with his hands thrust into his dressing-gown pockets, his head a little on one side, a faint, sneering smile on his pale lips.

‘I tell you he doesn’t,’ he said.

They both spoke quietly, but there was a tenseness about them that told me they were holding themselves in as if they knew that so long as they kept their tempers the situation was under control. And it was easy to see that because they both had something to lose, they didn’t want the situation to get out of control.

‘And I’ll tell you why,’ Mills went on. ‘Look at the way he treats you. How often does he come to see you? Twice a day.’ He broke off as she made an impatient little movement, said, ‘I know what you’re thinking.’

‘What am I thinking?’

“You think because he only sees you twice a day it’s because he can’t bear to come more often. You have a cockeyed idea that his conscience troubles him. You think every time he comes into the room and sees you sitting in your chair or lying in bed with that hurt, lonely look on your bitchy little face he gets a stab in the heart. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’

‘There’s no need to be coarse,’ she said, and behind her back her hands clenched into fists.

‘Isn’t it?’ he repeated.

‘Yes! I know he does,’ she cried, her voice suddenly loud and harsh. ‘I know he can’t bear to see me, and I’m glad. Do you hear? I’m glad!’

‘It’s time you stopped kidding yourself,’ he said, keeping his voice down, watching her, very confident as he swayed backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. ‘It’s time you faced up to it, baby. Your racket was washed up when he married that blonde.’

‘I’m not going to talk about it!’ she cried. ‘I’ve had enough of this, Caesar. And don’t call me baby. It’s vulgar and hateful.’

‘If we don’t talk about it now, it’s the last time we talk about anything,’ he said, crossed the room to take a cigarette from a silver box on a distant table. ‘But please yourself.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s plain enough, isn’t it? I’m handing in my nice knee boots and peak cap tomorrow. I’m through with standing outside your gate, I’m through with creeping up the back stairs to your room. That’s what it means.’

She gave a sudden harsh laugh. It wasn’t a pleasant sound.

‘And I suppose you’ll give up all this?’

‘If you mean this house and all its junk, then you’re right for once, baby.’ He lit a cigarette, released a stream of smoke down his thin nostrils. ‘I quit unless we marry.’

‘I can’t marry you, Caesar,’ she said. ‘Not so long as he lives. I can’t do it.’

‘Do you think anyone will want to marry you by the time he’s dead?’

‘Why can’t we go on as we are? You have everything you want, haven’t you? You have your freedom. I don’t interfere with you.’

He walked up to her, caught hold of her wrist and jerked her to him.

‘I’m sick of being your bedroom lackey,’ he told her.

She slapped his face. The sound of her palm against his tight, brown cheek was as loud as a pistol shot.

They stood looking at each other, then he released her wrist and, with a sneering little grin, moved away from her.

She sat down abruptly as if the strength had gone out of her limbs.

‘I didn’t mean to do that,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t think I care, do you?’ he said, and laughed. ‘I had you on the raw that time, baby. It gives me a bang to see you squirm. Sooner or later this had to come to an end. Well, I guess this is the payoff. I’m through.’

‘Don’t talk like that. You don’t mean it. You’re angry. I’ll go now. We can talk about it tomorrow.’

‘You talk about it tomorrow. I shan’t be here.’

He pitched his cigarette into the fireplace. Her eyes went from him to the smouldering cigarette, and her lips tightened. When he was sure she was looking at the cigarette he put his foot on it and smeared it on the tiles.

‘Like that,’ he said softly.

‘Caesar, please...’

‘Like that,’ he replayed. ‘You and me — like that.’

There was a long, tight silence.

She said after minutes, ‘You’ll miss this house and the money. You’ll miss everything I do for you.’

‘Baby, how you love to kid yourself. Miss this house and your money? This isn’t the only house and you aren’t the only girl with money. You don’t really think that, do you?’

‘Let’s not go on with this anymore, Caesar,’ she said, clenching her fists and sitting bolt upright.

‘We’re going on with it. I can find another girl as good as you and as rich as you tomorrow. It’s easy This town is crammed with girls like you. Girls who like a guy with a little muscle to fool around with; who like to buy him suits and lend him a house and snap their fingers at him when they want him: and you know why they want him, don’t you? I don’t have to go into that side of it, do I?’ He laughed. ‘Rich, pampered girls with nothing better to do than buy a man because he’s got muscles. Well, you’re not the first, baby, and you won’t be the last. If you want to keep me, marry me. Marry me so I can get my hooks into your money, and that’s the only reason why I’d marry you.’

‘Did you say I wasn’t the first?’ she asked, her eyes closed and an exhausted look on her face. She had dropped back into the chair while he was speaking, and there was a grey, sick look on her face.

‘Certainly I said you weren’t the first, and you won’t be the last either.’

‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I may be the last.’

‘Don’t count on it, baby. Don’t count on it.’

He finished his drink, yawned, ran his fingers through his hair.

‘Well, I guess I’ll go to bed. I’m sick of this. You’d better run off home.’

Her eyes opened.

‘And tomorrow?’ she asked in a cold, brittle voice.

‘I shall be the hell out of here tomorrow.’

She got slowly to her feet.

‘You really are going away?’

‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked roughly. ‘Don’t I talk plain enough for you? I’m through. I’m quitting. I’m taking a powder. I’m leaving you flat. I’m giving you the brush-off. Now do you get it? I’m shaking the dust of this love nest off my feet. I’m going to forget the way you look, the way you act, the things you say, and baby, it’s going to be a long and beautiful vacation.’

She stood motionless, a feverish look in her eyes.

‘Did you say that to Anita?’ she said.

Mills gave her a quick, searching look, then laughed.

‘You’re no fool, are you? So you knew about her? Well, she didn’t last long, and she wasn’t much anyway. She hadn’t your youthful enthusiasm.’ He turned away to pour another drink. ‘Why don’t you give Franklin a chance?’ he asked, and laughed again. ‘Franklin’s old but I bet he’s keen.’

She had turned slightly, her back to him, her hand unfastening the clip on her bag. She dipped into the bag and lifted out a .25 automatic. The heavy nickel plate on the gun reflected in the lamplight, sending bright flashes across the ceiling.

Mills heard the snick of the safety catch as she thumbed it back, and swung round as she pointed the gun at him.

‘You’re not going away, Caesar,’ she said softly.

She had her back to me now. I couldn’t see the expression on her face, but I could see Mills’s expression. The confident smile slid off his face the way a fish slides off the fishmonger’s slab. He stood very still, scarcely breathing, his eyes opening wide.

‘You’d better put that gun away,’ he said, stiff-lipped and whispering. ‘There might be an accident.’

‘There’s going to be one,’ she said, and began to back slowly towards the casement window. ‘Oh, yes, Caesar, there’s going to be an accident all right. Don’t move. I know how to use this thing. A millionaire’s daughter has so many opportunities to do things: shooting with this toy is one of them. I’m a pretty good shot, Caesar.’

‘Now, look, baby...’

‘I told you not to call me that. Keep quiet and don’t move. It’s my turn to talk now.’ She was by the window, within three feet of me. I could smell the perfume in her hair, see the feverish glitter in her eyes. I kept as still as a corpse and as quiet. I didn’t know how quick she could be. The slightest movement from me might bring her swinging round and shooting at the same time. I was too close for her to miss The thought made me sweat a little.

‘I knew, sooner or later, this would happen,’ she said. ‘I knew, sooner or later, I should have to do this. You’re not the type, Caesar, to keep a bargain. But you’re handsome and strong and you’re fun sometimes: but not always. You’re not always fun. Every once in a while your mean, hateful, dirty little ego gets the better of you. And don’t think you ever fooled me. You didn’t. I knew about Anita. I watched you two together. What a swine you are, Caesar, What a fine, handsome swine you are.

‘Oh, yes. I wanted this thing of ours to go on, but I knew sooner or later you would get tired of it, and you would find someone else. And I knew it wouldn’t be difficult for you to find someone else. And I knew, too, you would talk about me to the slut you found. You can’t resist ta king, can you, Caesar? You’ve talked to me. Do you think I liked to lie by your side and listen to all the details about the other girls, knowing that one day you would be telling some other girl about me? But you’re not going to do that, Caesar, nor are you going to tell any girl about any other girl, not ever again.’

‘You’re crazy,’ Mills said, his voice off-key.

‘No, I’m not. I should be crazy if I let you walk out of here, but you’re not going to do that. They’ll find you in the morning, and they’ll reconstruct the shooting, and they’ll know it’s a woman, but they won’t know which woman. There have been so many, haven’t there, Caesar? Regiments of women: all who would have wanted sometime or other to have shot you. I don’t think they’ll even suspect me. Everyone in this pick-nosed town knows I can’t walk. How could I come out here and shoot you? They may think I did because this house belongs to me, but they’ll only have to talk to Dr. McKinley and he’ll tell them I can’t walk. He couldn’t afford to admit I’ve been fooling him for months. And then there’s faithful Franklin. He knows I’ve come here to see you. The news of the shooting will please him, Caesar. He doesn’t like you, and he won’t give me away.’

Mills said through white, stiff lips, ‘Put it down, you little fool! Don’t point it at me! Put it down!’

‘Good-bye, Caesar,’ she said, and the short, glittering barrel moved to aim at his head. ‘You’re going to be lonely. That’s something you don’t know the meaning of yet. But you will. You’ll be lonely when you’re dead, Caesar.’

‘Don’t do it!’ he shouted, and threw up his hands, half-turning, seeing she was going to shoot and knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

I swung my fist and hit her elbow as the gun went off. The blow paralysed her arm and she dropped the gun, swung round and struck at me. I felt her nails scrape down the side of my face and I grabbed at her, but she dodged out of reach, and ran past me into the garden.

I let her go, watching her run down the moonlit path to the gate and to the car.

IV

‘Hello, Mac,’ Mills said. ‘So there are times when you come in on cue.’ He sat down abruptly as if his legs couldn’t support him. Sweat beaded his tallow-white face. ‘Have a drink? If you need it the way I need it, brother, you need it!’

I moved into the room, dabbing at the scratches on my neck with my handkerchief. One of the scratches was bleeding; the others felt raw.

‘Sort of shook you up, didn’t it?’ I said, and sat on the arm of the chesterfield where Natalie had sat but a few minutes before. ‘You won’t be closer to a coffin than you were just now.’

‘I know it,’ Mills said. He tried to pour whisky into a glass but his hand shook so much most of the whisky went on to the carpet.

‘Better let me do it,’ I said, and took the bottle from him.

He lay back in the armchair, the sweat was now pouring down his face. Olaf Kruger had said once you got him going he’d turn yellow. Natalie had got him going all right.

I made a couple of drinks big enough to float a yacht on, handed him one and poured die other down my parched throat. It was the nicest drink I’d had for forty-eight hours.

Mills put his down in three long swallows. It might have been water. And when he had drained the glass, he shoved it at me again.

‘I could use another like that,’ he said. ‘Sweet Pete! That bitch scared me. If you hadn’t barged in like that...’

‘You had it coming,’ I said, fixing another drink for him. ‘It’s a wonder to me more of you heels don’t get wiped out. If I hadn’t wanted to talk to you I’d have let her shoot you.’

He gave a thin, smiling grimace.

‘You’re my pal, Mac,’ he said. ‘I owe you something. What a spot I was in! She’s crazy. You know that? She’s as crazy as a rattlesnake you kick accidentally, and as dangerous. I thought I was a goner. Did you hear what she said? That stuff about being lonely when you’re dead. That’s a nice crack to make when you’re shooting at a guy, isn’t it? That’ll tell you how crazy she is.’

I handed him a drink to match the first.

‘Don’t toss that lot down all at once. I want you sober for the next ten minutes.’

‘Gimme a cigarette,’ he said. ‘My nerves are creeping up and down my spine like spider’s legs. I’m going to get the hell out of here. I know her. Know what, Mac? I wouldn’t put it past her to go home, get another gun and come out here again. Well, I’m not staying. I’m not taking any more chances with a crazy twist like her.’

I gave him a cigarette and lit it for him. Although he kept talking I could see he was in a bad way. The reaction had hit him all ends up, and I shouldn’t have been surprised to have seen him slide out of his chair in a faint.

‘Take it easy,’ I said. ‘She isn’t coming back. Get hold of yourself.’

He took another drink and sat staring blankly at the carpet. I could see it was no use hurrying him. He had had a shock, and he hadn’t the guts to shake it off quickly.

It was nearly five minutes before he spoke again, and then his voice sounded a little more normal.

‘What are you doing out here, Mac?’ he asked. ‘Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. I’m glad you came. I’d be growing cold by now if you hadn’t bust in the way you did.’

‘I’m here to talk to you,’ I said. ‘You can help me straighten out a little problem I’m working on if you want to.’

He looked at me and gave a pinched grin.

‘After what you did for me, Mac,’ he said seriously, ‘Anything I can do is for the asking. And I’m sorry I pushed you around that day. I guess you feel sore about that. Well, I’m sorry.’

‘I was sore all right, but forget it. I thought that dame couldn’t walk. What’s behind it all?’

‘She’s trying to get back on Cerf,’ Mills said. ‘I tell you she’s crazy. And I mean crazy.’

‘What’s Cerf done to her?’

‘Do you want to hear it?’ Mills asked, huddling farther down in his chair. ‘I’ll make it short if you really want to hear it.’

‘Go ahead,’ I said.

“Well, it’s this way,’ Mills said. ‘She was nuts about her mother, but she hadn’t much time for Cerf. To complicate things Cerf was crazy about her. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her and was jealous the way she used to hang around her mother. The three of them took a trip in a car. Cerf drove. They stopped some place for lunch and Cerf livened himself up with a load of booze. He was all right in the hotel but when he got into the air he was stinko — just like that!’ And Mills snapped his fingers. ‘Instead of turning the wheel over to one of the women, he got obstinate and insisted on driving. He hit a truck head on. It was a hell of a smash. The trucker was killed, Nat was knocked out and her mother thrown through the windscreen, cutting her throat on the glass. Cerf wasn’t even scratched When Nat came to she found herself covered with her mother’s blood and her mother laid out beside her with her head hanging on a strip of skin. Know what I think?’ He leaned forward to stare at me. ‘I think that sent Nat crazy. It didn’t show, but it’s there. Cerf nearly went crazy himself when he found Nat was hurt, and she was quick enough to see the way he reacted. Up to then, she told me, he’d never shown any feelings. He was responsible for her mother’s death, and she hated him from then on with a hatred that has been growing ever since. To punish him she pretended she couldn’t walk. Maybe for the first couple of months she did punish him; from what she told me, he was genuinely fond of her, but after a while I guess he got used to the setup. She wouldn’t have it he didn’t care, but that’s my bet. Can you imagine? She kept to a wheel chair or in bed for two solid years, going out only when Cerf was away or at night when she knew he wouldn’t come to see her. That shows you what a nut she is.’

‘And how did you happen along?’ I asked.

‘They wanted another guard on the gate. I was short of dough at the time and got the job. You know how these things happen. About a couple of days later she began to make passes. I guess she was bored with herself and thought it’d be fun to have a guy to fool with.’

‘Do you know anything about a suitcase of stolen articles which was found in Anita’s cupboard?’

‘That was Nat’s idea. I collected the stuff for her, and she planted the suitcase. She reckoned it’d take the gilt off Cerf’shoneymoon, and it certainly did. She was full of sweet ideas like that.’

‘What can you tell me about Gail Bolus?’

He stared at me, surprised.

‘You get around, don’t you, Mac? What do you know about her?’

‘I’m asking you. You know her, don’t you?’

He nodded

‘Yeah. She blew into town about four months ago. She was crazy about the fight racket. We met at Kruger’s. At that time I did a bit of boxing. We hooked up together. She liked to see me fight. When I quit fighting, she lost interest in me. You know how it is, Mac. She was a tough dame, and knew all the answers. You have to work too hard with a dame like that. I gave up trying. As far as I know she used to earn a living playing poker. She could shuffle all the aces to the bottom of the deck as easily as she could light a cigarette. I don’t know what became of her.’

‘Did she ever mention Lee Thayler?’

He shook his head.

‘Who’s he?’

‘Never mind. What were you doing in Barclay’s house a couple of days back?’

He gave me a quick, startled look.

‘You’re a busy guy, aren’t you? What were you doing there?’

‘I was there. What were you looking for?’

‘That was Nat again. She sent me out there to see if I could find anything that’d convince Cerf Anita was two-timing him. But I didn’t find anything.’

I finished my drink and stood up.

‘You wouldn’t have any ideas about the murder? Why Dana Lewis was shot?’

He shook his head.

‘Not a thing. Nat thinks Anita did it, but I don’t. Anita isn’t the type.’ He pushed himself out of the chair. Fear and whisky made him unsteady on his feet. ‘If that’s all you want, Mac, I guess I’ll be going. I’ll pack a bag and get out of town. I shan’t be easy until I’ve put some miles between myself and that twist.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘That’s all I want.’

V

On the way back to Orchid City I chewed over what I had heard and what Mills had told me. On the face of it none of the facts I’d learned had any bearing on Dana’s death, although they did clear up some points that needed clearing up. But I was still as far away as ever from finding Dana’s killer.

I was still sure that the key to the whole business was the reasons why Dana was shot and why the diamond necklace had been left in her apartment. But I couldn’t see any way of finding the explanations of those two reasons. As far as I could see the hunt was narrowed down to Thayler or maybe Bannister. Thayler was the most likely suspect. I couldn’t see why Bannister should have shot Dana unless he had been bribed to do so by the promise of the necklace, and when he didn’t get it he had squared accounts by shooting Anita. I didn’t like this theory much, but decided it might be worthwhile to give it a little more thought. I didn’t think it was possible for Natalie to have shot Dana. She had no motive for one thing, and she wouldn’t be able to handle a .45 for another.

I went on like this, turning the facts over in my mind, trying to make them fit into the jigsaw, and getting nowhere until I pulled up outside my cabin.

It was quite a change to find the place in darkness. I turned on the light after unlocking the front door and walked heavily into the sitting room. The clock on the mantel showed one-fifteen. I was tired enough to go to bed with my clothes on.

As I walked into my bedroom the telephone began to ring. In the quiet of the night the bell sounded loud and hysterical. Cursing softly I sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the receiver.

It was Pat Finnegan, and he sounded excited.

‘I’ve found him, Mr. Malloy,’ he said. ‘He’s holed up with Joe Betillo, and he’s there right now.’

I stiffened to attention.

‘You mean Thayler?’

‘Yeah. Do you want me to come over?’

‘You go to bed,’ I said, and patted my pillow regretfully. ‘This is something I can handle on my own. Thanks for the tip, Pat.’

‘Now wait a minute, Mr. Malloy. You can’t go out there alone,’ Finnegan said excitedly. ‘Betillo’s a mean guy to monkey with. You want to be careful of him.’

‘Forget it, Pat,’ I said. ‘Do me a favour, will you? Call Frisco and tell Kerman to come back by the first plane. Tell him where Thayler is.’ I gave Mike the telephone number of Kerman’s hotel. ‘You leave Joe and Thayler to me.’

‘But, look, Joe’s a mean guy...’ Finnegan began, but I cut him short.

‘So am I. Go to bed and so long,’ and I dropped the receiver back on its cradle, gave my pillow one more regretful pat and went out to the car again.