His face darkened. “And leave you with him?”
“We can’t let him know — yet! He thinks you’re dead. He’ll make up some excuse why he decided not to go to Omaha. He’s a glib liar.”
“I’ve got to settle it with him. Now!”
“He’ll stay in his part of the house, darling. I’m in no danger. It’s that girl—”
“You’re my girl!”
She pressed against him, one hand over his lips. “Sh-h-h. We’ve got to find her, Lark. Find out what he’s done with her. Don’t you understand? I know Gabe. He’s money-mad. He’d be merciless if he thought she endangered what he has here.”
Lark jerked her hand away. “Then make up an excuse. You’re getting out tonight! We’ll go to Deerfield and pick up any clues we can. He’s got her stashed there — somewhere. I’d bet on it.”
“Tomorrow,” she whispered. “I’ll tell him I’m going to visit Aunt Neila’s in St. Charles. Neila Brent. Pick me up there at ten o’clock in the morning.” She slipped the locket in the front of her dress. “Hurry, Lark.”
He caught her hard against him, staring deep into her eyes. “You know what this means, Red?”
“I’ll be free,” she said, gazing into his eyes. Her voice throbbed: “Oh, darling — free!”
He silenced her with his lips.
Her arms slid up around his neck, warm, strong arms, binding him...
He let her go finally. “If you need me — phone Mac.”
She nodded wordlessly, the wild flame still in her eyes.
He grabbed his hat, went over the wall, made his way to the Buick. He pushed the car down the inclined drive, drifted along in the dark without lights, then let in the clutch. He pulled a short distance down the main road and parked.
For awhile he couldn’t make himself leave. Varden must have left the rented car in Deerfield, and returned by train. He sat chewing his lip, worrying about her. She was probably right — Gabe’s number one wife was the one on the spot. In the quiet dusk birds twittered sleepily. He edged his tired body down on the seat, thinking of a spare cot in the back room of his garage at the station. He’d stay there, rather than at his bungalow. Mac would wake him if she phoned during the night.
Wearily he stepped on the starter. His eyes were so tired, they burned. He’d probably slump into a deep sleep if he sat here any longer...
Mac was shaking him. “Get up. This is Saturday. You wanted to be in St. Charles by ten o’clock. It’s 9:80 now. I let you sleep as long as I could.”
Lark threw off the blanket groggily, swinging his feet off the cot. His neck ached.
Mac held a cup of coffee and he took it gratefully. “How’s business?”
“Swell. What he’d do to you — run over you with his car?”
Lark rubbed the back of his neck; sipped the strong, black coffee. There were some clean clothes laid out on a chair, and he lifted his eyebrows.
“Went to your place and got ’em.” Mac grinned. “You can wash up here. Where’d you get the Buick?”
“Deerfield. By tonight I think I’ll have Gabe Varden boxed up tight, Mac! I’m meeting Jeri in St. Charles — going back to Deerfield.”
“You need me? How about me doing the driving?”
Lark shook his head. “You sit tight. If I get in a jam, I’ll phone you.”
Mac scowled. “What do I do then — hop a plane? And supposing there’s no phone service where you meet up with Gabe?”
“He’s here in town. Now stop belly-achin’. Right now I’m after a little blonde with a solemn face — Varden’s number one wife.”
Mac ran stubby fingers through his yellow hair. “He’s that smelly?”
“Brother, he is!” Lark snapped, trotting toward the washroom.
Jeri came running down the steps of her aunt’s house, hair flying in the sunlight, red lips parted. “I brought a picnic lunch.” She shoved a basket into the rear seat and jumped in front. “Not that I expect it’s going to be a picnic.”
“What happened last night?”
She snuggled against him, gripping his arm, smoothing her green, linen skirt over her knees. “Nothing.”
He headed the car away from the curb.
“He said he’d decided not to go to Omaha. Oh, he was cool as you please, but — he’s different, Lark. He’s done something. He seems very pleased with himself.”
“That I don’t like!”
“Me either. Of course he’s had plenty of time to check on the fact that no body was picked up along the Chicago North Western. He must realize you’re alive.”
“Did you bring the locket?”
“Of course.” She lifted a red leather wallet from the pocket of her skirt, thrust it back again. “When I told him I’d be at Aunt Neila’s a few days, he gave me a peculiar look. I believe he’ll check up.”
“You warned her?”
“Yes. She’d lie like a trooper for me; simply tell him that I’m down town shopping or something.”
“But it’s risky. We’ll have to make today count.”
He kept the speedometer needle floating high, and as he drove, told her there was a lot of leg-work and hours of questioning ahead of them — a hot, tiring, dusty search for an illusive hideout, probably in the country. A lonely farm, or a house one would least suspect.
“Or,” she added hollowly. “A plot of earth in the ground.”
He glanced at her face, caught the suddenly sombre expression.
“I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “She may be dead, yes. But then again — maybe not. He’s had time to plan things. And he probably doesn’t suspect interference. I think he took her somewhere first. Some place where she’d think she was secure. He’d put on the anxious-husband act probably.”
Jeri shivered. “Hurry,” she whispered tightly. “Oh, Lark — hurry...”
They didn’t reach Deerfield until two in the afternoon. A flat tire hadn’t helped. He took Jeri into the Emporia and bought her a drink, left her there while he skipped across to the Alcazar to check up.
The toothless clerk informed him that Mr. Simpson had checked out yesterday about 3 p.m.
Jeri was waiting in the semi-darkness of the cocktail lounge, twirling an empty glass, her slender heels locked over a rung of the stool.
“You may as well have one,” she gestured. “Then we’ll start. It’s on me, partner.”
He grinned, ordered bourbon.
She did deft things briefly with a lipstick, ran a comb through her red curls. She laid a ten-dollar bill on the counter, and the barkeep went away to make change. She swung toward Lark reflectively.
“If Gabe left that sanitarium about I0 o’clock yesterday morning and caught a train out of here about three — that gave him five hours alone with her.”
He finished his drink, nodding.
“What do you suppose he was doing from the time he got in town Thursday — about noon, you said — until 10 o’clock Friday morning? That’s 22 hours!”
“That’s one reason I’m guessing he’s got a place in the country. A nice, lonely place. Let’s get started.”
She picked up her change and stepped down from the stool, following at his heels.
He stopped by the garage where he had rented the Buick, gave them some money and switched cars, heading out into the general direction of the sanitarium, driving the blue ’4I Hudson that Varden had used the day before.
Chapter Five
Delectable Dick
At six o’clock that night they were still cruising. He’d called at scores of houses and farms, asking questions, describing Gabe. Had they noticed this ’41 Hudson the last two days? Even Jeri took a hand, without success.