Chapter 8

"What's the problem?" Tim asked the cops.

"No problem," the taller cop said. "We got tipped that a woman was murdered at Pete McDonald's place and the body was being brought in. We're claiming it."

"And I am the attorney for that woman's husband, Dick Padgett. I therefore shall be present until you release the body to me."

"You can't do that," the shorter cop said.

"Like hell I can't," Tim said. "I'll dig up a judge and get a court order. Just try me."

Tim sat there staring up at the two cops. I wondered who was going to be chicken. It turned out to be the cops.

"Okay," the taller cop said, "have it your way. Follow us to town."

The cops climbed into their car. Tim started his car and followed them up the grade. In time, they were able to turn around at a crossroad.

The police car was just ahead of us. Tim hung on like a terrier chasing a rat. He was still silent and grim and chain smoking.

"Mind if I butt into your thoughts?" I finally asked. "No," he said, still staring straight ahead. "What's on your mind?"

"There's a missing link somewhere."

"What do you mean?"

"Just this. Somehow, someway, Millie's death is tied to the death of Johnny Blake."

"But we don't know yet if Millie was murdered."

"Doesn't matter. Even if she committed suicide, she's still tied to Johnny Blake's murder."

"How do you figure that?"

"Because Millie knew something or was terrified by knowing something. It was more than depression. That was just an easy way out for the doctor. So we have to find out how long she has been depressed. That will give us the time when something happened."

"You talk like you're high on marijuana," Tim said.

"Maybe so. But if we ever get to the bottom of this, you'll find out that I'm right."

"But you have nothing to go on," Tim said.

"Oh, don't I? Well, try this on for size. Johnny Blake was a playboy. He roamed the world. He had plenty of money. But from what Sy and others have told me, there was no love lost between Johnny and his father. Oh sure, the old man gave him plenty of money. But I was told that the old man did that to keep Johnny away from home."

"But why?" Tim asked.

"Because they were always fighting. I never met old man Blake. But from what I hear, he's a domineering old buccaneer."

"That he is," Tim said, nodding.

"And I also hear that Johnny was made from the same mold. The old man had the younger sister and older brother cowed. But not Johnny."

Again Tim nodded. "That's right. Who's been telling you all these things?"

"Doesn't matter. When Johnny was chasing mc, I did some nosing around."

"So what's your theory?"

"I don't have any theory. But when Johnny first showed up in my shop late that afternoon, it was said he had come back to see his father. And then I found out he had been coming back every month or so for the last year or two."

"Well, what's so wrong about that?"

"Because up until a year ago, Johnny hadn't been home for five years. And then all of a sudden he starts coming home nearly every month."

"And Sy said that when he started chasing you, he was up here every week or so."

"That's right. But did it ever occur to you that I might be just a good excuse?"

Tim turned and stared at me.

"Watch out!" I yelled. "There's a turn."

Tim stood on the brake. He damn near ran over into the canyon. I blew out my breath and tried to relax.

"Will you please keep your eyes on the goddamn road?" I asked.

"You rocked me," Tim said. "Do you mean he wasn't coming back here every week just to see you?"

"I don't know. Sure, he was rushing me. But if we're going to get to the bottom of things, we can't believe everything we see."

"But why would he be coming back here every week?"

"For the same reason that he came back here every month for the last year and yet he hadn't been home for five years before he started coming back every month."

Tim dumped his cigarette and lit another one. He smoked in silence for a while.

"Well," he finally said, "you're trying to make this out to be a cloak and dagger affair."

"Who knows? Maybe it is."

Tim shook his head. "Not way up there in Slocum."

"Okay, what's your theory?"

"My theory is there was no tie-in between the two kills."

"But how do you explain Johnny Blake's sudden attack of homesickness?" I asked.

"I don't. Perhaps he thought the old man was near the end of the road. So he came home frequently to keep an eye on things. Because he didn't want to be beat out of his inheritance."

"That might be," I said. "In fact, that might be just what he was telling around. I heard that he had been telling just that. At the time, I bought it. But I don't know now."

As we hit the bottom of the grade, and the road straightened out, I said, "Who do you suppose tipped the cops about Millie?"

"That's what I'm going to find out."

"How?"

He shrugged, dragging on his cigarette, but he said nothing.

"I didn't get introduced to everybody up there at Pete's," I said. "Were all of them in high school with you?"

"Yes. Either in my class or just ahead or just behind. But we were in high school together at some time or other."

"So then what do you know about all of them now?"

"I don't. But I'm going to find out."

"Did it ever occur to you that Dick Padgett might have called the cops?" I asked.

Again he turned to stare at me.

"Watch the road," I yelled.

He stared at the road and we drove in silence. He finally said, "Why would Dick have called the cops?"

"Damfino. But when you read a murder mystery, you always keep your eye on the one who is least suspected. But someone wanted to cops to know damned fast that it was poison. Well, if it was poison, Doc Crocker would have found it. So why short-circuit him? Why tip the cops and have the coroner waiting?"

Tim sighed. "You come up with the damndest questions."

"Yeah, don't I? What's the matter, don't you want to face facts?"

"Yes. But with all these questions swirling around, it's like being caught out in a blizzard. It's overwhelming."

"Yeah, isn't it? And I have something else to add to your blizzard-they're still going to try to railroad me for Johnny Blake's death. That way there will be no chance that an inquiry will bring out the real reason why he was killed."

"But Blake was hit on the back of the head. That rock was wet, and hadn't been out of the creek bed very long."

"So what? They could say that I heard someone following me. I picked up the rock and kept on going. Then I was jumped. And while I was being raped my hand stumbled on the rock. He was lying flat to hold me down. So I smashed his head in."

"Yeah. But that's all pure conjecture."

"Yeah," I agreed. "But how about fingerprints? Could they find fingerprints on such a rock?"

"I doubt it."

"So that makes their case all the better," I said. "Then you think they're going to arrest you again?" Tim asked.

"I know it. Particularly since Millie died. Because it's possible that some of the facts in Millie's death could lead to Johnny Blake's killing."

"You're really reaching for that one," Tim said.

"Okay, so I'm reaching. When you're staring at the gas chamber, you start having hallucinations. But if they grab me again, just remember what I told you."

"I will. But I don't think they'll grab you."

"Will you make book on it?" I asked.

"No. Not with the crooked gang that's running the court house."

We drove in silence again. But as we hit the city limits Tim said, "Why do you think Dick Padgett would have called the cops?"

"I told you before I didn't know why. Or there was no reason for him to. The important thing is that someone wanted the cops to find out fast. So watch your step. More is involved than Millie's death. And it's entirely possible that others will die, too."

"My, but you're morbid," Tim said, trying to laugh. But there was no mirth in it.

We trailed the police car and the hearse to the mortuary. We swung up into a long curving drive. Tim set the brake and climbed out.

The two cops were out before us. As Fred and his assistant came around to open the rear door, the cops rushed up.

"We're taking charge," the taller one said. "Now get that body out of there and clear out."

I looked at Tim. He frowned. Fred turned and glanced at Tim.

Tim went forward.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"We're making sure this body isn't tampered with," the shorter cop said.

"Tampered with?" Tim asked. "How could the body be tampered with?"

"That's what we're making sure of," the taller cop said. "Now stand back. We're staying with this body."

"And so am I," Tim said. "Nobody's going to inject it and then yell Foul later on."

"You're not going in with us," the taller cop said.

"Like hell I'm not," Tim said. "I represent the husband. You can't keep me out."

They stood and glared at each other for a moment. Then both cops shrugged.

The cops looked at Fred. "Here, help us get the body inside."

They rolled the body to the door and on inside. Tim was beside it. The cops brought up the rear. And I trailed the cops. But when I got to the door, the shorter one turned.

"You're not coming in here," he told me.

He slammed the door and I heard the lock click. Damn!

As I turned and started toward Tim's car I saw another convertible pulling in behind it and stopping.

A tall willowy woman about my age, with raven hair cascading over her shoulders, slid out of the car and came toward me. .

"Hi," she greeted.

I nodded and said nothing. I opened the door of Tim's car and slid under the wheel.

"Did they lock you out?" she asked. "Yes. But what's it to you?"

She opened her purse and dug around in it. She finally held up a press card. "I'm Sharon Michaels, with The Blade."

"So what?" I said. "If there's any talking done, Tim will do it."

She looked surprised for a moment. "You mean Tim Riley?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I lived in Slocum until I was sixteen. Tim was a year ahead of me in high school. But I used to date him some." I grinned and then tried to suppress it. "What's so funny?"

"From what I hear," I said, "the boys and girls had a pretty wild time."

She grinned, too. "Yeah, we sure did."

"Were you in on the swapping?" I asked.

"Yeah. Tim was a real stud in those days."

I opened my purse and fished for my cigarettes. It gave me a chance to stall. First of all, why was she here so fast? Who tipped her? Maybe, somehow, she had heard about the swapping parties. It would be up to Tim to identify her and say that she had been there.

I lit a cigarette and stared straight ahead. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Nothing."

"What's that all about in there?" she asked. "I told you Tim would have to tell you."

"But why are you so hostile?"

I stared up at her. "Because I'm wondering how the hell you got here so fast. Who tipped her?"

She laughed. "I'll be glad to tell you. Pete McDonald called me. I knew Millie. Pete didn't let on that anything was wrong. He merely said Fred was bringing Millie's body down. That I should come over and talk to Fred, since Millie and I had been good friends in high school."

"It all seems so innocent," I said.

"Say, what's eating on you?"

"Nothing."

"Yes, there is. Now out with it."

"I'm not talking to anyone unless Tim is here."

"Then let's ask him," Sharon said. "Here he comes now."

I turned and looked over my shoulder. Tim was coming around from the other side of the building.

"Hi, Tim," Sharon called, and ran to him.

She hugged him to her, as if she were his long-lost wife. And Tim was hugging her, too. This was quite a reunion.

Then Tim broke free and his knees buckled. He kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Sharon," he said. "I didn't expect to see you."

"And I didn't expect to see you, either."

Tim led her over to the car. "Have you two met?"

"Yes," I said. "And she's trying to pump me."

Tim frowned and looked at Sharon. Again she opened her purse and dug out her press card. Tim took it and glanced at it.

"Oh, so you're a reporter now?" he asked.

"Yes. Pete McDonald called me and said Millie had died at his place. That Fred was bringing the body down. He asked me to come over and talk to Fred. As I drove up, I saw the cops shut the door in her face. So I asked her what it was all about. She said she wasn't about to talk until you came out."

Tim laughed. "I don't blame her."

"Why? What's going on?"

Tim shook his head. "I don't know. I wish I did."

"You mean something's wrong?"

"Yes. Somebody called the sheriff after Fred left town with the body. I was afraid Carl Reiner would horn in. So I started down the grade pell-mell. I damn near crashed into the hearse and a sheriffs car. Then I tailed both of them down here."

"Did they kick you out?" I asked.

"No. They're waiting for Carl Reiner."

"But you said you were going to make sure they didn't inject the body with something," I said.

"I did. Fred and his man are sitting in there with shotguns. Those deputies aren't even going to get close."

"But did you call Doc Crocker?"

"Yes. He's coming right over. So it ought to be a real donnybrook."

"How long will you be?" Sharon asked him.

"Damfino. Why?"

"What's your friend going to do while you're holed up in there?" Sharon asked him.

"Yeah. I hadn't thought of that."

"I've got a suggestion," Sharon said. "Let her go with me. You'll be tied up for at least two hours. We'll go get something to eat and then go to my apartment. Here...."

Sharon opened her purse again and pulled a pen and a scratch pad. "Here's my number. It's unlisted. Don't lose it. But when you're through, call me."

Tim nodded. He looked at me. "Want to go with her?"

"The only reason she wants me," I said, "is that she wants to pump me."

Tim grinned. He looked at Sharon. "Are you willing to sit on everything until this thing is over?"

"Sure. But I want a scoop after it's over."

"That you will get." He looked at me. "Go ahead and tell her everything. The Blade has tried for years to clean out the court house." He looked back at Sharon. "Are you still trying to do it?"

"Sure. This is Connie Stewart, isn't it?"

"Yes," Tim said. "Why?"

"Because we've got some pipelines into the court house. I heard what a rough time they gave her. I want to find out about that, too." She looked at me. "Oh, it's not going to be published. It just goes into our secret file. When the day of reckoning comes, it will be part of the ammunition we throw at them."

"But I don't want to get involved," I said.

"Oh, you won't be. But it will give the investigators a line of questioning."

I turned to Tim. "Am I to tell her everything?"

"Yes." He turned to Sharon. "But if you violate my confidence...."

"Don't worry. I won't." She turned back to me. "Come on, you can go in my car."

I climbed out and walked back to her car. Tim walked over with Sharon and helped her in. He planted his big hands on the top of the front door and leaned forward against them. "Now you girls be good."

"What the hell could we do in Broken Tree?" Sharon asked. "When I went with The Blade, I said for only five years, just to get experience. Then it was the big city for me. Yet here I am-stuck."

"But why?" Tim asked.

"Let's say I got homesick after three months in San Francisco."

Tim nodded. "I know. After fifteen years away, I still feel a twinge now and then."

Tim stood up and Sharon started the motor. He waved and the car backed slowly away. Then she gunned it forward and I looked back, waving. And Tim was standing there, grinning.

"Tim's quite a guy," Sharon said, as she guided the car out of the drive and into the street.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Were you out at Pete's this afternoon with Tim?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever swapped before?"

"Who said we were swapping?"

She laughed. "Pete did. Why not? I go up there once in a while for swapping parties. He said that he had a new stag movie. When it was over, you found Millie on the floor. Is that right?"

I hesitated for a moment. Why argue with that? So I merely said, "Yes."

"Did the girls get together, too?" she asked. "Two of them."

"All of them probably would have if you hadn't found Millie dead."

"Say, what kind of a bunch is that up there?" I asked. "Why?"

"You mean the women get together and the men get together?"

"Sure. Why not? Sex is sex. There's all kinds of ways of having sex. It's fun with a woman. Haven't you ever had it that way?"

"No."

"And you're not about to?" she asked. I shrugged. "Depends. I never thought much about it." She laughed. "That isn't the way I heard it. You wouldn't go to bed with Lila, would you?"

"That was different."

"Yeah. I agree."

We drove in silence through the traffic for a few minutes. "There's a place out on the edge of town called The Hut. It looks like one, too. But inside, it's real nice. They have a bar and good food. Will that be okay?"

"Sure," I said.

"Okay, then," Sharon said, "let's go."

She turned left at the next stoplight. She gave it the gun. And the car shot forward. The traffic thinned out. I stared out the side, watching the buildings and houses fly by.

Suddenly I felt her hand on my thigh. My first reaction was to yank my leg away. I don't know why I didn't. Perhaps because I was curious. In fact, it had made me hot to watch those two women on the bed at Pete's place. But I knew I couldn't ignore the hand. I had to do something.

So my left hand crept down and landed on top of hers. It squeezed her hand.

I looked over at her. "I'm making no promises."

"I don't want you to. What happens, happens."

I nodded. "So let's just say I'm willing to be shown. But if I don't want to go any farther, I want you to stop."

"That's far enough."

I started staring out the side of the car again. Her hand got bolder. It gently caressed and kneaded my thigh through my dress. How good it felt. So I reached down and patted her hand again.

That made her even bolder. Her hand went down to my knee and then crept up under my skirt. Her hand traced erotic patterns on the inner side of my thigh. I exploded. It damn near scared me to death.

I looked over and smiled at her. She smiled back. I lay back on the seat and spread my legs wide. She got the message.

Her fingers found my panties and explored. One finger went on inside. I yelped. And then I gave a low scream as I exploded again and again.

Her hand was pulled away. She wheeled right into a parking lot. She found a slot and pulled into it.

I was churning with passion unfulfilled. But I knew that it would not be that way for long.

I shoved open the car door and bounded out. Yes indeedy, this was going to be a most interesting evening.