‘Why, sure, Harry. You get off.’
I returned to my office and called Nina.
‘I could be a little late,’ I said. ‘What are you doing tonight?’
‘Why, nothing. I’ll wait for you.’
‘Look, why don’t you go to the movies? Why sit at home on your own? There’s a good movie at the Capital. Why don’t you take a look at it?’
‘I don’t want to go alone, Harry. I’ll wait for you.’
If only I could get her out of the bungalow for a few hours!
‘It’d please me, Nina, if you’d go. You stay home too much.’
‘But darling, I don’t want to go out alone even if we could afford it. When will you be back? Shall I keep supper for you?’
I gave up. If I went on pressing her to go out, she would become suspicious.
‘I guess I’ll be about an hour. Yes, keep something for me. I’ll be seeing you.’
‘Oh, Harry, I still haven’t found my car keys.’
A spurt of irritation ran through me.
‘You can’t use the car, so why worry? So long for now,’ and I hung up.
For a long moment I sat there, staring sightlessly at the desk clock. Usually Nina went to bed around eleven o’clock. I would have to wait until at least one o’clock before I dare move Odette’s body. Now the time to act was drawing closer, the horror of the thing I had to do gave me the shakes. But I had to do it. Where was I going to dump the body? Dare I go out to the old silver mine? I knew it had already been searched. They weren’t likely to search it again. If I could get out there without being spotted, her body might never be found. But could I get out there? Before I had left the Operations Room I had studied the map where Renick was plotting the progress of the searchers. They were moving down the highway, away from the silver mine, towards my place. By one o’clock the highway might be clear except for the odd patrolling car. In my official capacity as Press officer to the D.A., I might be able to bluff my way through if — and it was big if — my nerve held. Right now my nerve wasn’t holding. I was in a terrible state.
Before I could do anything, I had to hire a car. That was the first move.
I left the office and took a bus to my local garage. The time was twenty minutes to nine when I walked in.
Ted Brown, an eighteen-year-old youth, who I knew pretty well was sitting in the little office reading a racing sheet. I was relieved to see there was no sign of Hammond, who owned the garage.
‘Hi, Ted,’ I said, pushing open the door. ‘You look pretty busy.’
The boy grinned sheepishly. He laid down his paper and stood up.
‘Hello, Mr. Barber,’ he said, ‘I was just trying to pick a winner. I sure could do with a little luck. The gees haven’t been running good for me the whole week.’
‘They never run good for me,’ I said. ‘Look, Ted, I’ve had some bad luck too. The Packard has packed up. I’ve got a bust gearbox.’
The boy’s face showed his concern.
‘Gee! I’m sorry. That’s a pretty high item.’
‘Yeah. I want to borrow a car for tonight. Have you anything you can let me have?’
‘Why, sure, Mr. Barber. There’s the Chevvy over there you can take. Just for tonight?’
‘That’s right. I’ll bring her back first thing tomorrow.’ I started over to the Chevrolet. ‘I’ve a rush date at Palm Bay.’
‘I’ll get you to fill out the form, Mr. Barber. There’ll be thirty bucks for the deposit and the insurance.’
I paused.
‘I’m in a rush, Ted. I haven’t the money on me. I’ll settle tomorrow.’
The boy scratched his head, perplexed.
‘I don’t reckon Mr. Hammond would like that, Mr. Barber. I couldn’t do it on my own responsibility.’
I forced a laugh.
‘What’s biting you, Ted? Why, damn it, I’ve been dealing here for over ten years. Mr. Hammond would be glad to oblige me.’
Ted’s face brightened.
‘I guess that’s right, Mr. Barber. Maybe you’ll just sign the form? Then tomorrow when you bring her back…’
‘Sure.’
I followed him into the office and waited impatiently while he searched for the form. He finally found it and spread it on the desk in front of me.
As I took out my pen, a car drove into the garage.
It was Hammond.
If I’d only been five minutes sooner I would have been gone by the time he arrived. Now I had an argument on my hands. I knew it when I saw his expression change at the sight of me.
Somehow I managed to give him a grin as he came into the office.
‘Hello, Mr. Hammond,’ I said. ‘You’re keeping late hours.’
‘‘Evening,’ he said curtly. He looked sharply at Ted. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m hiring the Chevvy,’ I said. ‘My car’s got a bust gearbox. I’ll get you to pick it up sometime next week. I’ve a rush date in Palm Bay and I must have a car.’
He relaxed a little.
‘That’s okay. If you’ll fill up the form, Mr. Barber. It’ll be thirty bucks for gas, insurance and the deposit.’
I began to fill up the form. My hand was so shaky I didn’t recognise my own handwriting.
‘I’ll settle with you tomorrow when I bring her back,’ I said as casually as I could. ‘This is an unexpected date. I hadn’t time to get to the bank before it closed. I’ll settle with you tomorrow.’
I signed the form with a flourish and pushed it over to him. He ignored it.
‘Give me Mr. Barber’s credit card,’ he said to Ted.
Ted produced the card, then went out into the garage. He seemed embarrassed.
Hammond examined the card, then he looked at me and there was a bleak expression in his eyes.
‘Mr. Barber, you owe me a hundred and fifty bucks for repairs, gas and oil,’ he said.
‘Sure thing: I know. I’ll settle that tomorrow too,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry it’s run on for so long.’
‘I’ll be glad if you would.’ There was a pause, then he said, ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Barber, but until the account is settled, I can’t give you any more credit.’
I nearly lost control of myself. With my hands in fists, I said, ‘Now look, I want a car urgently. I’ve dealt with you for ten years. This is no way to treat an old customer. I wouldn’t ask you to do me this favour if it wasn’t urgent.’
‘There’s the bus, Mr. Barber, if you have to go to Palm Bay. Your account has been running unpaid for close on eighteen months,’ Hammond said. ‘I’ve spoken to Mrs. Barber about it a number of times. I always get the same story: ‘I’ll settle tomorrow.’ I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you any more credit. You can have the Chevvy when you have paid the deposit and settled the account. That’s final.’
I felt so bad I wanted to die. I had to have that car! My life depended on it!
‘I’m in a situation that is very, very urgent,’ I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. ‘I must have a car tonight. I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll leave my wife’s jewellery with you as a deposit. The stuff is worth a couple of hundred bucks. Then tomorrow, I’ll pay the whole account. You may not have heard, but I’ve a job now. I’m the Press officer to the District Attorney.’ I took out my Press card and handed it to him.
He glanced at it and handed it back to me.
‘If you’re working for the District Attorney, Mr. Barber, you’d better get a police car if it’s all that urgent. I don’t want your wife’s jewellery. I don’t do my business in that way.’
Then suddenly I remembered that in the trunk of the Packard was the briefcase containing five hundred thousand dollars! What was I doing, standing here, begging this punk to do me a favour when I could buy up his whole goddam garage if I wanted to? I would use some of that money! It was dangerous, but nothing like so dangerous as leaving Odette’s body in my garage.