‘I’ve got the exact date and the time,’ Oakes said. ‘I have it all right here for you, together with the fella’s address.’ He gave Easton a copy of the sale receipt of the Lincoln, bearing an address.
Easton scratched the side of his neck as he stared at the address.
‘Johnny Acres, 12477, California Drive, Los Angeles,’ he intoned. ‘Probably phoney. Anyway, I’ll check.’ He looked at Oakes, ‘Could you identify this man again?’
Fred Oakes nodded. Although his feet ached and he was tired, he was enjoying being questioned. He knew for sure he would see his name in the papers the following day: maybe, even a photograph.
‘I’d know him anywhere.’
‘Was he alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did he pay?’
‘In cash. He gave me sixty ten-dollar bills.’
‘Any chance of examining the bills?’
Oakes shook his head.
‘We do most of our business in cash. The money’s been banked days ago.’
Travers asked, ‘Mr. Oakes, how did you react to this man — as a man? Did you like him?’
Oakes was quick to understand what Travers meant.
‘I couldn’t say I took to him. I didn’t pay much attention to him, but I got the impression he wasn’t the sort of guy you’d pick for a friend. I can’t say why. There was something about him… then he had this habit of humming under his breath. It irritated me.’
Travers became alert.
‘Humming under his breath?’
‘That’s right. Whenever I was talking to him, he started this low humming sound… sort of an unconscious habit I guess.’
Easton said impatiently, ‘Never mind that stuff, let’s have the details of the car. I want the licence number, the engine number and the make of tyres.’
Oakes supplied the information and Easton jotted it down. Then shaking Oakes’s hand, Easton got back into his car.
‘Well, here’s something for the S.A. to work on,’ he said as Travers joined him. ‘We should be able to pick up the car pretty fast. I’m going back to the office. What do you want to do?’
‘Drop me off at the station,’ Travers said. ‘I’ll take a train back.’
As Easton headed for the station, he said, ‘We’ve got to find out where this guy kept the Lincoln. He bought it nearly a month ago. He must have kept it somewhere. I’ll have the S.A. put out another broadcast.’
‘He could have left it in one of the big parking lots at Downside,’ Travers said. ‘No one would notice it. The parking lot by the railroad station has cars on it night and day. He could have left it there.’
‘Yeah, I guess that’s right.’
‘You’ll tell the S.A. about this guy’s habit of humming under his breath? He might be on record,’ Travers said. ‘The sideboards and the moustache can be removed, but when you have an unconscious habit like that, you don’t lose it.’
‘I’ll tell him,’ Easton said grudgingly, ‘but I don’t reckon somehow he’s an old-timer.’
He pulled up outside the station.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Travers said, getting out. ‘Will you be over?’
‘I guess so,’ Easton returned and with a wave of his hand, he started the car.
‘Hey! Wait!’ Travers yelled.
Easton pulled up and peered out of the car window. Travers was staring across at the vast car park. The light was failing, but his sharp eyes had spotted a car that aroused his attention.
‘Look at that Lincoln,’ he said, pointing. ‘A red top and a grey body. Could be the one we want. The third car in the second row.’
Easton scrambled out of his car and peered into the gloom.
‘Damned if I can see it,’ he muttered, then as Travers started towards the parking lot, he joined him. They paused finally beside the Lincoln.
‘It’s the one!’ Travers said. ‘Look… the licence number!’
‘What a break!’ Easton said excitedly.
‘We’d better get it towed to headquarters,’ Travers said. ‘The boys will want to go over it. I’ll wait here if you’ll get a wrecking crew.’
Easton hurried over to the telephone booth by the railroad station and called the Downside Police Headquarters.
While Travers waited, he peered through the windows of the looked car, shining his torch onto the empty seats.
Easton returned.
‘They’re coming right away,’ he said. ‘Maybe we’ll get his prints.’
‘I bet we don’t,’ Travers returned. ‘I’m beginning to respect Mr. Acres. He’s playing it smart. He leaves a trail a mile wide to the station by talking about the ’Frisco train, then he leaves his car right here for us to find. I have an idea he could still be in the district.’
Easton pushed his hat to the back of his head and wiped his forehead.
‘You keep sounding off about this guy,’ he said, ‘but how’s about the girl? They’re in this together, aren’t they?’
‘For her sake, I hope so.’
‘What does that mean?’ Easton asked, staring. ‘Don’t let’s get this thing complicated. It’s bad enough the way it is without adding to our troubles.’
Ten minutes later, the wrecking crew arrived and towed the Lincoln to police headquarters.
Easton and Travers stood under an arc lamp while three detectives began a systematic examination of the car.
It wasn’t until they opened the boot that they found Alice’s body.
It came as no surprise to Travers. He had been sure, when eventually she was found, Alice would be dead.
2
Calvin didn’t get back to the rooming-house until after eight o’clock. The auditors had worked late, and he had been obliged to hang around until they finally decided to leave the rest of the work until the following day.
He opened the front door silently. He could hear the familiar sound of the television and guessed that Major Hardy and Miss Pearson had settled down to their evening soporific entertainment.
He had had a snack dinner with the auditors and he was now feeling relaxed. He moved quietly up the stairs to his room. Closing the door, he took off his coat, ripped off his tie and sank into the armchair.
He was pleased that his nerves were so steady. It had been an anxious day, but he had weathered it, and now, he began to wonder what progress Easton had made.
When Easton had called on him, Calvin had quickly realised that this man needn’t worry him. He had expected much sterner opposition. The sight of the short, fat, balding agent had done much to calm Calvin’s jumping nerves and restore his confidence. But he was aware that although Easton appeared inefficient, Ken Travers had to be reckoned with. This young man was smart, alert and ambitious. He would be the one to watch.
Calvin lit a cigarette. Then he reached out, opened the closet by him and took out the bottle of whisky. It was empty.
For a long moment he stared at the bottle, his face suddenly vicious, his eyes glaring. This morning it had been almost full. He could guess who had been drinking his liquor.
‘She’s got to go,’ he said, half aloud. ‘I can’t afford to let her live, the drunken bitch. Why wait? I’ll get rid of her tonight. With all that whisky inside her, they’ll think she had a fainting fit and drowned herself. I’ll do it tonight.’
He got slowly to his feet and walked across the room to the communicating door. He opened the door and walked into Kit’s room.
Kit was lying on the bed. She had on a blue nylon wrap that had fallen open to show her long, slim legs. She half raised her head to look at him.
‘Hello, murderer,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised you want to see me. How do you like living with yourself now?’
He came in and shut the door, then moving to the foot of the bed, he stared at her.