At that moment I was completely defeated, crushed. My tongue was thick and my throat tight, and I knew I couldn't utter a word if my life depended on it. To gain time, I pushed my head and shoulders into the back of the car and pretended to take a close look at the flywheel. My God, I thought, he knows everything! He must! Why else would he bring that thing straight to me?
It was a bad moment. But it passed. I made my hands stop trembling. By sheer force of will I made myself stand up and say calmly, “Is this the flywheel that was tied to the body?”
“That's right. Did you ever see it before?”
“I don't think so. Of course, I can't be sure. Ike works on cars sometimes, back of the station, and leaves extra parts around.”
“What do you do with those extra parts?”
“Have them hauled away with the tin cans and other trash that piles up in a place like this. Maybe once a month I call a truck and have the stuff taken out to the dumping grounds.”
“I see.” Then he said, “Ike, how about you? You ever see a flywheel like this before?”
“Sure,” Ike said, and my insides seemed to shrivel.
“Have you ever seen this one before?”
“Can't be sure about that. But it looks like one that used to be back in the station.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well...” Ike pushed closer and had a good look. “Well, the ring gear is still on it, for one thing. See how chewed up it is? It looks like the assembly I took out of Dr. Hooper's old Dodge not too long ago. He had a bad habit of pushing the starter while the engine was running— absent-minded, I guess—and that's the reason the ring gear is chewed up the way it is. Had a hell of a time with the pinion gear jamming.”
“Is that the reason you replaced the flywheel?”
“Hell, no. Just a new ring gear would have fixed that part of it. That old car of his had a bad clutch that scored a flywheel. Had to replace the whole assembly.”
“When was that?”
“Maybe a month ago. A little longer.”
Otis turned to me. “Have you had the trash hauled since then?”
That was the big question. That was the jackpot question, and it could kill me if I didn't come up with the right answer.
That clutch, that flywheel, they had been taken out together, and it was reasonable to assume that they had been hauled away together. If they had been hauled away. If both of them were still in the station, everything would be fine. But I knew they weren't. If both of them were gone, that would be fine, too. But that clutch was still there.
You'd better think fast, Hooper.
And I couldn't think at all. I stood there with my forehead screwed up, trying to look as if I was thinking, but there was just a roaring emptiness in my brain. There was only one thing to do. I had to bluff it. I had to lower my head and bull my way through, and hope that Otis Miller would take it.
I heard myself saying, “Sure, all that stuff was hauled away almost a month ago. It's about time I called the truck again.”
“Ike would remember the hauling, wouldn't he?”
That was the end. I might as well get set for it. I looked at Ike and knew that he would be no help at all. “Sure,” I said, surprised to hear that my voice was still normal. “I guess Ike would remember.”
Ike was scratching his head, looking a bit sheepish. “Sheriff,” he said slowly, “I can't be sure when the last hauling was done, but I think I know what you're getting at. You're trying to trace that flywheel, is that right?”
“It's the only clue we have. That's right, Ike.”
“The flywheel I mentioned we had in the station, do you figure it's the same one you have in your car?”
The Sheriff said nothing. He just waited.
“Well,” Ike went on, “like I said, I don't remember exactly about the hauling. But I do remember that clutch assembly, because I took it home with me.”
The Sheriff's eyes widened. He looked as though he had reached for his gun and discovered it wasn't there. “What do you mean, Ike—you took it home with you?”
“Well...” Ike was sweating now. He knew that he had just kicked one of Otis Miller's ideas full of holes. I felt like the man who got a reprieve after they had already strapped him to the chair. I could hear relief whistling through my teeth. Suddenly I could smile. I could breathe again. Riding this kind of luck, nothing could stop me. Nothing! It was all I could do to keep from laughing.
The Sheriff was waiting.
“Well,” Ike said again, “I figured Joe wouldn't mind. I had an idea I could use some of the parts sometime.”
“Have you still got that clutch assembly?”
“Sure. At home.” Then Ike got smart, as he sometimes did. He stopped talking.
The Sheriff looked at Ike, then at me, then he took off his hat and wiped his face. Then, surprisingly, he grinned. “Well, I guess that's all. Sorry to have bothered you, Joe.”
“Not at all, Sheriff.” He could never in the world pin anything on me now, no matter what he was thinking behind that grin.
Then Otis turned to Ray King. “We'd better be going. I want to check with all garages and salvage yards on this thing.”
Ike and I stood there as they got into the car and drove out to the highway. My feeling of elation began to melt as the car disappeared. It had been a close thing—too close for comfort. If Otis had caught me in that lie about the flywheel, it would have been all over.
Chapter Thirteen
I used the stove-repair excuse on Ike again and back to the Sheldon cabin. Paula had the question ready before I got the door open.
“What did the Sheriff want?”
“I don't know what he wanted. He was very polite, but that doesn't mean a thing with Otis Miller.”
“What kind of questions did he ask?”
“It isn't the questions that matters. Most of them didn't make sense. But he had that damn flywheel with him. That's the important thing.”
Sheldon was awake again. He had been following the talk with his eyes closed, but now he opened them. His voice was husky, not much more than a whisper.
“He didn't trace the flywheel to you, did he?”
“Not for sure, but he may have ideas. There's no way of telling about a man like Otis.” I went over to the bed and said, “How do you feel?”
“Like hell.”
“You'd better take a turn for the better, because you've got to get out of here.”
Paula stepped between us.
“Look,” I said tightly, “I know what I'm talking about. This sheriffs no dummy. Sooner or later he'll begin tying all the loose ends together, and that will be the end of us.”
“We'll leave,” Paula said calmly, “when the doctor says it's all right. Not before.”
I could feel anger swelling in my throat. Tread lightly, I told myself. Take it easy and think straight. I turned and walked out.
Paula followed me out of the cabin and caught me at the bottom step. “This is the way it has to be, Joe. I don't like it any better than you do, but I can't leave him to die.” She looked at me. Then she took my hand and I could feel the current going up my arm. “It's going to work out all right, Joe.”
“You don't know the Sheriff.”
“It's going to work out. I can feel it. Karl will be ready to travel before long. When things cool off, you can contact me through my sister, just the way we planned.”
I wanted her, but I also wanted to stay alive. I said “That husband of yours is going to get us nothing but trouble. Leave him to me and I'll get rid of our troubles before they kill us.”
Her eyes snapped angrily. “No! Can't I make you understand? I owe Karl something, I owe him plenty, and this is the only way I can pay him back. Seeing him through this is the only way I'd ever feel right about leaving him.”