CHAPTER 16
Johnny knew!
Reason had nothing to do with it. It was experience. He knew, clear and plain, that Dick Bartee would just as soon have seen Johnny seriously injured, hors de combat, or even dead, by accident, in the winery. He would have taken the
risk to himself to be rid, and innocently rid, of Johnny Sims and Johnny's questions. Not too much risk, actually. Dick would have saved himself, since he was warned; he knew what to expect if Marshall lit a match. But he had made no warning sound for Johnny's sake.
The tour speeded up and became a perfunctory walk through various rooms. It ended in a reception hall where a young woman was ready to pour the guests some samples of the product. At this point, Bart excused himself and took Marshall off to his oflBce.
So the girls and Johnny and Dick, waited at the counter for the young woman to pour them sherry.
"Better give John Sims a double dose," said Dick. "His nerves are shot. Cheer up," he said to Johnny. "A miss is as good as a mile."
The man was made of brass!
Nan turned, "Oh, Johnny, too badi The wine might help." She was sorry for him and his weakness.
Johnny, standing there, knew that his conviction had shaken him. To his surprise, it was worse than the doubt. Now that he knew, he looked like a man who had had a bad shock. He said, "Nan, I want to talk to you alone." "Oh, not now, Johnny ..." "Now," he said.
Nan took a wine glass and turned it in her fingers. She lifted her chin. "Johnny, I don't think we will ever talk alone again," she said gently. ''You must understand. I am going to be mairied. Won't you di'ink to that?"
(What is known as a "winning smile," said something cynical in Johnny's head.)
"All right," said Johnny. "TU drink to that, if you want. Then, will you listen to me?"
Dick's arm came aromid her. "What do you want to say?" he inquiied. "The same old pitch? I killed Chiisty Mc-Cauley?"
"Oh, Johnny," said Nan, in a voice of impatience and disappointment.
Dorothy said, bright-eyed, "You see, we can't believe that, Johnny."
"Then, please excuse me," Johnny said tightly. He felt alone in the world. Let down. Ineffectual.
What had he not done? Where had he not looked yet
for the evidence? The proof, damn itl He had no proof and the law would want it. He must get proof for the law because the law could take Bartee away from Nan.
An hour later, he eased his old Plymouth into the crossroads settlement called Twomey.
It didn't take long to locate the Bartees' old yardman, whose name was Delevan. Johnny caught him in his backyard. "I'm hunting up people to talk to," said Johnny, "about the McCauley murder, seventeen years ago."
Delevan was about fifty, strong of limb, with a crooked nose on a pushed-in face. He leaned on his spade.
"I understand you were there. In a hammock, or so I heard." Johnny liked this man at once and grinned at him companionably.
'That's right," said Delevan. "I was in the hanunock. So the old man fired me. That was a long time ago. I used to sleep up there more times than the old man heard of. Hadn't been for the cops—" Delevan leaned on the spade handle and took out cigarettes. "Why do you want to talk about it?"
Johnny made his speech about Roderick Grimes.
"But you weren't called as a witness, I understand?" he finished.
"Nope. They didn't bother." Delevan looked up at^the sunny skies. '^ nice night, that was. I was swinging and having a smoke . . ."
"When?"
"Around midnight. Around the time. Somebody killed a woman in the house and there J, was, swinging and smoking and thinking."
"This haiimiock was among the trees at the front of the house?"
"Right."
"Then you must have heard Clinton McCauley."
"Heard him and saw him, too."
"Start from the beginning."
"Where does it begin?" Delevan grinned. "I was swinging and thinking. I heard just what you hear in the night. Little crickets. Wind blowing. I hear cars."
I'Cars?"
"Sure. Planes, too. You know what you hear in the night."
"The boy, Dick Bartee, had some kind of car, didn't he?"
"Yup. Some kind of car."
"Did you hear that car, that night?"
"Buddy, this was seventeen years ago," said Delevan tolerantly. "I tell you, I hear cars. On the roads."
Johnny said, "The Upper Road is the one that goes by in back of the Bartee house?"
"Right."
"Could a car come in from that Upper Road and get to the back of the house?"
"Why not? Only I'd have heard a car come that close."
"You couldn't have seen?''
"Couldn't see through the house."
"He could have walked—You tell it." Johnny subsided.
"O.K. So I'm swinging there. I heard the bus. You can tell a bus. They got a woosh to their doors. So I know who this is coming. CHnton McCauley."
"You know him?"
"I knew everybody in the house. This McCauley's got no car. If anybody's getting off the bus in the night, why it's him."
;;Well?"
"I douse my cigarette. He doesn't have to know I'm there. Takes a long time before I hear him on the road. So pretty soon I can see him weaving up the front steps. So he unlocks the door and he goes in."
"Then what?"
"Nothing. For a while.''
"You couldn't see the side of the house?"
"Nope."
"Where the study is? No lights?"
"Sure, I could see hghts."
"What Hghtsr
"Well, like I told the police, there was always a light in the hall downstairs. And I can see that, kinda dim, through the glass in the front doors. I can't tell from where I was, whether the study's got a light or not. I can only see the hght upstairs."
"What light upstairs?"
"Nathaniel's room."
"Which was that?"
"Front and to the right when you're facing like I was. I could see him plain."
"You mean, he was up and around?"
"Sure he was. He was painting a picture."
"When could you see Nathaniel. Before or after Mc-Cauley got there?"
"Both," said Delevan. "I told you, I was swinging and enjoying the night. Fact, I was thinking about Nathaniel Bartee and me. There he had the big house, the money behind him. But I was thinking I'd rather be free and swinging out there in the hammock with practically nothing to my name but the clothes I had on—than I'd be Nathaniel who wants to paint pictures and has to do it in the night when the house i.s sleeping and the old man can't catch him."
"How long were you watching Nathaniel?"
"Oh, a long time. He had on some kind of funny shirt. He's standing up in front of this picture. I'm smoking—oh, two or tluee cigarettes. Then, I hear the bus. I put my cigarette out. I can hear McCauley on the road after a while, but I can't see him yet, account of the trees, so I don't botlier looking. I'm watching Nathaniel.
"So, as I say, McCauley goes inside. Few minutes later, the Hght goes on in the old man's room."
"Where is that?"
"Front. On the left. Old lady turned it on. Nathaniel heard something when the hght went up. He stopped p^int-ing.
"Now, wait a minute. You are telling me that you had your eyes on Natlianiel for quite some time before McCauley got tliere, up to and after the hghts went on in the old man's room?"
"Yup. That's what I'm telhng you."
"You told the police this?"
"I did. Listen, I was Nathaniel's alibi. He never left that painting 'til—oh, I'd say quite a while after the Hghts were on in the old man's room. Then he heard something, because he takes off that crazy shirt, quick, and gets into his bathrobe. Then, I can't see him no more.
"Then the hghts go on downstairs, front right. And lights start popping all over the house. Well, I don't know what's going on. I just He there. The pohce showed up, maybe fifteen minutes later."
"What did you do?"
"I went and talked to them."
Johnny looked at him with respect. "I see. You went and told all that you knew?" "Right."
"You heard no quarreling, no voices?" 'Didn't. Couldn't have."