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“He won’t show. He stuck me with a bum check for ten dollars. That and the convertible don’t make sense, unless the car’s hot.”

“Maybe it is.”

“A cop, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want any trouble here.”

“You won’t get any.”

“That’s a promise. I hope.” He ambled down to the other end of the bar and began talking to the two men who were bent over the racing form.

“So that’s the real reason you came up here,” Charlotte said. “Not to talk to Violet’s sister, but to look for O’Gorman and Voss.”

“Both. There was an off-chance that O’Gorman might be stupid enough to come home. In fact, he may not even know there’s a warrant out for him and Voss. The last report I had on O’Gorman was that he was heading north. He sold his ‘38 Plymouth at Crescent City for a hundred and fifty dollars. That’s about fifty dollars less than the list price, and after the deal was closed the new owner got a little suspicious about it. He called the local police and they called us.” He drained his glass. “This is the first I’ve heard about the Ford convertible, though. It makes it fairly certain that he’s around here someplace, not to stay, probably, but to do a little showing off in front of the home-town folks.”

“How could he buy a new car? He had no money.”

“He has now. What I’d like to know is where he got it. Any ideas?”

“No.”

“Sure of that?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Not even one tiny idea?”

“No! What are you getting at? I... you’re confusing me. You don’t think that I gave O’Gorman the money? I didn’t. When I went there, he and Voss had already gone.”

“Let’s be confused together,” Easter said lightly. “You know, I went to a lot of trouble for the privilege of buying you a beer.”

“Trouble?”

“Of course I didn’t think it would end up the way it did. I’m an incurable optimist. I figured that you would drive up here with me and give me a chance to parade my wit and charm etcetera, and we would return home, you with the first flush of love on your cheeks, and me feeling the same way as I did when I started. As I do now. Well,” he added, “it didn’t work out.”

“I’m beginning to see a little light.”

“Yes? Tell me about it.”

“It concerns a doctor I know called Bill Blake.”

“Blake? Yes, I believe I know him too.” He was smiling. “In fact we went to college together. I introduced him to the girl he married.”

“You also introduced him to the idea of calling me up and offering to...”

“Well, don’t get sore about it.”

“I’m not sore. I’m boiling.”

“You ought to be flattered.”

“You planned everything.”

“Not quite everything,” he said dryly. “I underestimated your obstinacy, or whatever quality a woman like you has that makes it impossible for her to see what’s good for her.”

“You’re good for me, are you?”

“I am,” he said. “Ballard isn’t.”

“Please leave him out of this.”

“How can I? You think you’re in love with the man.”

“I think so and I am.”

“You intend to marry him.”

“When it becomes possible, yes, of course I’ll marry him.”

“The thought makes me sick.” He ordered another beer, but when it came he didn’t drink it. He kept tracing a letter with his forefinger on the mist that appeared on the outside of the glass. B, B, and then again, B. “I have an interesting theory about you, Charlotte.”

“Have you?”

“I think the reason you picked Ballard is because you unconsciously wanted to avoid marriage. By falling in love with a man who couldn’t marry you anyway, your problem was solved for you, at least temporarily. Until his wife dies. Or something.”

“What do you mean, or something?

“Just or something.” He erased all the B’s from his glass with one swipe of his palm. “People do die, you know. Like Violet.”

She stared at him, her eyes hostile. “If you’re implying that Gwen Ballard might possibly kill herself, I assure you you’re wrong. She isn’t the type.”

“You know her, then?”

“She’s been a patient of mine for a year.”

“Well,” he said. “Well. That’s very interesting. I don’t suppose you’ve ever been tempted to slip a little prussic acid in her cough medicine.”

“No,” she said steadily. “I’ve never been tempted. And I consider the remark incredibly boorish.”

His face had gone suddenly grave. “I’m glad it shocked you. It was intended to. If anything ever hap-pens to Mrs. Ballard, you’ll be hearing lots of remarks like that. You’re asking for them. You’re not only her doctor, you’re her husband’s girlfriend. That’s boorish too, eh?” When she turned away without answering, he added, “I suggest, very seriously, that you turn Mrs. Ballard over to another doctor.”

She was too proud to tell him that she had already tried. “Thanks for the advice.”

“You have a lot to lose, Charlotte. Stop leading with your chin... Now I suppose you’re sore again.”

“I’ve never stopped. You’re simply — simply impossible.”

“Now that’s a silly remark,” Easter said patiently. “I’m the most possible man you know.”

“I want to leave.”

“The door’s open.” He saw her hesitation. “What’s the matter, afraid of the dark?”

“No!”

“Well, go on. Leave.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“By the way if you want to get in touch with me, I’m staying at the Rose Court Motel. That’s where Miss Morris works. I thought it would be a nice place to stay. She’s such an interesting character.”

Charlotte walked to the door. She felt Easter’s eyes on her back, and she wondered if her stocking seams were straight

16

At the motel, there was a light in Mr. Coombs’s office but the door was closed and the blinds were drawn. A radio was turned on inside, a crime program, Charlotte thought as she drove past and heard the loud, heated voices and the eerie background of organ music.

She parked the Buick in the carport beside Number Four. She was still breathing hard, angrily, as she unlocked the door of the cabin and fumbled for the light switch on the wall. Before her hand reached the switch the light clicked on, as startling as a flash of lightning.

“Surprise,” Voss said with a low satisfied chuckle. “Hey look, Eddie. She’s surprised all right, ain’t she?”

“She sure is.” Eddie grinned self-consciously and stroked the lapel of his green and brown plaid coat. They were both wearing brand-new outfits that were almost identical. Plaid suits, with vests, and brown suede loafers, and ties with the picture of a half-naked woman hand-painted on each.

With a motion so swift that Charlotte had no time to forestall it, Voss reached behind her and slipped the bolt into place across the door.

She didn’t try to unbolt it. She made no physical movement at all.

“Surprised, eh?” Voss repeated. “I kind of thought you would be.”

“Get out,” she said, “or I’ll call the manager.”

Voss made a half-circle around her and sat down on the luggage rack at the foot of the bed. “The manager? That’s a hot one. Why, Coombs is an old school chum of Eddie’s. That’s how we come here. Eddie wanted to drop in on Coombs and say good-bye, and maybe show off his snazzy new outfit.”

“Who’s a show-off?” Eddie muttered. “Say that again. Who’s a show-off?”

“Oh, take a joke, can’t you, and stop interrupting me. Like I was saying, we came to pay Coombs a little social call, and I just happened to glance at the register in his office and see your name. I figured I better wait around and find out what’s your angle.” His eyes roamed the room. “Not a bad little dump, eh, Eddie? But this is peanuts compared to how we’ll be living some day.” His gaze returned to Charlotte and settled there. “We’re leaving the country, Eddie and me.”