I busted a dozen parole regulations then — and a couple of laws which apply to ordinary people. I pulled Paul’s body out of sight behind some bushes. Then I went into the house and doused the lights. In the darkness, I let them have it.
“You kids just wound yourself in more trouble than you ever knew existed. Why didn’t you ask who it was before you blasted him, Lila?”
“I... was scared. I told you. I was afraid for Freddie. I thought whoever it was had come to get him.”
“The protective female,” I sighed dismally. “Now what are we going to do about it?”
Lila began laughing hysterically. Between laughs, she said: “Think of it. I’ve reverted. I’m the descendant of killers and pirates and horse thieves and crooks. A real descendant now. I’ve become what Dad was always afraid he’d turn into. And I don’t give a damn. Do you hear me, Rick? I don’t give one good damn. Freddie... Freddie, sit beside me. Hold me. I’m scared all over again.”
“Finished?” I asked. “Then listen to reason for a change. You two are going back. Freddie to his room, you to your apartment. You’ll act as if nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened!” Lila laughed hysterically again. I walked over and slapped her hard across the face. That did it. She began sobbing quietly for a change.
“Freddie, you’ll probably be picked up,” I told him. “You’ll say you were at Lila’s. You two had an early date. Aunt Kate can’t deny that because she’s been at the hospital and I promise Paul Manning won’t testify against you.”
“Picked up?” Freddie asked. “You mean I’ll be arrested?”
“That’s what they call it. Freddie, did you think for a moment the murder of Hazy was committed for the fun of it? That kill is framed on you right now. Oh sure, nobody saw you that you know of, but I’m betting a couple of people show who’ll describe you to fit the rogue’s gallery photo they carry at Headquarters.”
Freddie had a pretty good grip on himself by then. “I’ll do whatever you say, Rick.”
“Lila is your alibi and you are hers. Maybe the death of Paul was a frame too.”
“No! No, I killed him,” Lila started all over again, but when I advanced toward her she stopped abruptly. She remembered that slap. I’d intended she wouldn’t forget.
“Whether you did or not, Freddie will say he was with you in your apartment. Tell your father what happened. Every last little detail and tell him I’ve got plenty of faith in both of you. Get him in on the twin alibis if you can.”
“He’ll do it — for me,” Lila said. “But I’d almost rather be shot than tell him I... I killed Paul.”
“You’ll have to tell him,” I said. “He’ll protect you because he is your father. No matter how much the cops land on Freddie, stay with that story. He was with you. Now beat it, both of you.”
“But... but there are three cars,” Freddie said with rare good sense. I hadn’t thought of it.
“Four,” I said. “Yours, Lila’s coupe, the limousine Paul drove, and that 1902 model I piloted. Take the same cars you drove here. I’ll account for the other two, somehow. Get going — before the cops decide to hunt Freddie at your apartment, Lila. And listen — don’t break any speed laws on the way back and watch the lights. If you’re pinched tonight — say so long to freedom.”
Freddie asked: “What are yon going to do?”
“I don’t know — yet. Maybe nothing. If Westover happens to land on this case, you haven’t seen me since the time I panhandled ten bucks. Now beat it. Time is an essential element even if you two can’t realize that.”
I watched them drive off in their respective cars. Then I sat down on the doorstep to figure the next move. I’d have one hell of a time piloting two cars back to town, but something had to be done. If there was a sacrifice, it was going to be the quiver I drove up here, but I’d have to account for that too.
Finally I hit on a plan, a simple but effective one. I should have thought of it right off the bat, but sometimes I use sawdust for brains. First though, I hunted a flashlight in the house and did some detective work. It was hopeless. The drive was gravel which didn’t take any footprints and heavy, close-cropped grass extended smack to the edge of the drive. I gave that up.
I went back to the house, stood near the door and visualized Paul Manning getting out of the car. It was dark as pitch. The limousine was even blacker and Paul was wearing a dark blue suit and a dark shirt. No part of him should have been visible. What was Lila shooting at, then? And I’d heard four shots. There were only two wounds in Paul. If Lila had plugged him twice through the heart, she wasn’t missing with the other two shots by much of a margin.
With the flash, I checked over the car. Freddie had been standing right in front of it, but there were no bullet holes in it. At least, that was a consolation because when the cops found the car next day, I didn’t want them to get excited about bullet holes.
I gave up then, climbed into the old hack and drove it to a garage I’d spotted some two miles down the road. It was closed, but the owner lived alongside. I found that out after I stopped just short of the place, raised the hood and did a few things to the motor of the rented car. It was a pleasure. I owed that crate some torture.
The garageman took one look and groaned. “Mister,” he said, “I won’t have this baby ready for two days. Your car is ancient. Hard to get the necessary parts.”
“O. K.,” I told him. “Take your time. I’ll hike to the village and grab me a train. Be out in a couple of days.”
I did start toward town too, until there was sufficient darkness between me and the garage. Then I doubled back to where Paul Manning’s car waited for me. Paul waited, too, though not for me. All he needed was a medical examiner and an undertaker.
I drove that sleek limousine back to town. Compared to the nut and bolt job I’d driven out, it was like driving on a cloud. I actually enjoyed myself. I pulled up on a quiet side street, wiped prints off the wheel and door handles, made a check to see things were O.K. and then left the car there. The cops would wonder how it happened to be in this spot while its driver was plenty of miles away, lying behind a bush with his heart full of lead.
Cops are paid to worry anyway. I had no guilty conscience.
Chapter Seven
The Workover
I phoned Freddie’s hotel ten minutes later and, surprisingly enough, he answered.
“Nothing has happened so far,” he reported. “No news flashes of that certain affair...”
“Stay put,” I told him. “And hang onto your nerve.”
I hung up and spent another nickle calling Lila. She didn’t sound much like the affectionate, friendly girl I’d met only a couple of days before. Her voice was weak and full of hopelessness. I tried to cheer her up.
“There’s a chance neither you nor Freddie will be connected with this thing at all. How did your father take it?”
“He... agreed to provide Freddie and me with alibis. Right now he’s locked himself in the study with a bottle. He... looked sick when I told him.”
“He’d be sicker if the police pinched you for murder, Lila. Remember that. Keep in touch with Freddie. Act as if nothing at all has happened.”
“Nothing — at — all,” she laughed and made me shiver as she hung up.
I subwayed to the station nearest my hotel. This was the worst mess I’d ever been in, though my luck was holding so far as Freddie and Lila were concerned. I remembered I still had that automatic. Getting rid of guns was really becoming a habit. This one could be traced to Ernest Doane and there might be complications. Yet I couldn’t go around with the thing on my hip.