It was from Rothman and contained bad news.
It told me that Eleanor had vanished without a trace; but that the Croyden police and Coast Guard detachment were dragging the river for a woman’s body reported sighted by a fisherman. And it gave me hell for getting into trouble.
I gave it to Thompson to read. He did, stood up, took a quick turn about the room, sat down and read it again. And then he swore. Hazel stared at him in surprise. Prudently, she left the room.
“I believe,” Thompson stated flatly, “that in view of what you’ve told me, I had better investigate Dr. Saari.” I agreed with him in a halfhearted manner. He continued, “But I don’t understand why Eleanor wasn’t touched until today! Why not yesterday, after you had talked to her? Why not last night, at the farmhouse? She was still in their good graces.”
“Elizabeth Saari,” I reminded him, “didn’t know I knew Eleanor until I spoke her name, there in the ditch.”
“That’s right. I wonder if we can find that farmhouse? Your description of the ride ought to help.”
“Find out who rented their telephone.”
“Easy. It will be a completely mythical character named Jackson Bristol. He doesn’t exist. They use that name for a phone in the barn, to lease that part of the lake grounds, and a phone in the cottage. But Bristol doesn’t exist.”
“Just somebody who hangs around there during the day to keep an eye on the place?”
“That’s right. I daresay several thousand dollars’ worth of gambling equipment and liquor is housed in that barn. They need a watchman. It gives me such a feeling of utter futility to know all this, and yet not be able to close up the place. Or to hang something on Swisher that would stick.”
“If we could find Leonore’s fingerprints someplace—”
“I’ve thought of that. Such as in the caretaker’s cottage. Circumstantial evidence would prove she met her death there and was carried to the lake. It could have happened there as easily as any place else. But first, upon what pretext could I gain entrance? And second, are they foolish enough to leave fingerprints lying around?”
I said, “I don’t think so. But I could get in where you couldn’t. I don’t need a warrant.”
Thompson looked at me. “That would be breaking and entering.”
“Yes, wouldn’t it,” I agreed. “If I was caught I’d probably lose my license... the one I’ve already lost.”
“Think again, Horne. You’d lose more than that.”
“You mean my neck?”
He meant just that. To be found there would put me much, much too close to Swisher for comfort. Nevertheless I decided to go out there as soon as I could. I said nothing to Thompson about my decision.
That was late Friday afternoon. That night I tried to make a graceful exit from the hospital and was foiled. Saturday morning Don Thompson came back again.
He began on me by thinking out loud:
“Our trouble is this: you know and I know who’s behind it. We are pretty sure we know how everything was engineered, and why. I can add one more thing I picked up during the night. Harry Evans and Swisher were definitely on the outs. I learned that Evans entertained ideas of taking over the reins from Swisher, who, of course, resented it. It wasn’t what you thought at alclass="underline" Evans wasn’t trying to get out, he was trying to get more deeply in.”
“Too deep for comfort.”
“Yes. I believe that Evans made the mistake of confiding his plans to the attorney, Ashley, in the belief that Ashley would side with him. Ashley promptly ratted on him. And the wheels began to move towards the elimination of Evans.”
I said, “Keep going.”
“Had those wheels not been revolving so elaborately, in so complicated a manner, they would have probably worked without a hitch. A simple gunshot and that was the end. The police would have nothing but the bullet which killed him. The perfect crimes are those that are exceedingly simple. But no, it had to be complicated. I’d like to study the intelligence which compounded such a scheme.”
“Cheer up. Maybe we can smoke him into the open.”
“Name something — go on — name something.”
I couldn’t.
His gaze went back to the snow on the window sill and his words were bitter, tired.
“Leonore is dead, deliberate murder. Who can it be pinned on? Eleanor said Swisher was their friend. We know better. But can we pin it on Swisher? We can not. Eleanor herself is his alibi. He was with her at the time of Leonore’s death; which means that a hireling did it. But who? And how shall we find him?
“Evans is dead, murdered by Leonore. And who can we pin that on? We don’t have the note — which undoubtedly was a clever forgery. And we probably no longer have Eleanor, whose testimony I would never go into court with. It is the weakest kind of circumstantial evidence. No — this whole plan may be fantastically complicated, but see how beautifully it ends at zero? Despite your meddling and my — meddling, they are getting away with it.”
“Unless they make one more mistake.”
“You’re thinking of Eleanor?”
“Yeah. Supposing city water turns up in her stomach?”
“We would have a clearly premeditated murder. As in Leonore’s case. Who would we arrest? I’m willing to bet that every one of those men you saw with her Thursday night have gone into hiding. Leaving you the last man to see her alive, as far as the public is concerned.”
Which ordinarily might prove embarrassing to me — if it wasn’t for the fact that they had had a perfect opportunity to erase my name from the slate forever, and had passed it by. That unexplainable “once over lightly” order, instead of a curt, rub him out. I must admit I had a glimmering of the truth; something Elizabeth Saari had said kept repeating itself to me. Sooner or later I knew things would make sense.
“You understand our position clearly?” Thompson asked. “We know much, and suspect more, but until we can prove it — beyond a shadow of a doubt — we may as well forget the whole thing. Don’t ever forget that Swisher beat the Feds.” He stood up. “I’ve got to get back to my office.”
As a parting shot, I flung at him, “I have no intentions of forgetting anything. And don’t forget to look into those things I mentioned.”
For the first time, he smiled. “My memory is pretty good, too. But remember, I warned you about breaking and entering.”
I said yes sir. And as he left I asked him to look into the legality of hillbilly music flooding the air. He must have mentioned my complaint to Hazel for presently the radio across the corridor was tuned down. I was glad she had voted for Thompson.
Last evening I asked for Dr. Saari. Hazel reported back that the doctor wasn’t in her office, but that she would keep trying. I wanted to make at least one appeal to be let out the front doors.
She was as good as her word, she did keep trying, but she never got the doctor. She said she could hear Dr. Saari’s office phone ringing but no one answered it. Shortly after supper Hazel went off duty and presumably forgot the whole business.
She hadn’t been gone very long before the night nurse came into the room. I hadn’t seen this one before and wasn’t particularly concerned about ever seeing her again. She asked me if I wanted anything.
I said no, not a thing.
Then she suggested I be a good boy and go to bed early because she didn’t want me galloping around the halls tonight. She put careful emphasis on the tonight. Which told me my jolly little adventure of last night was common property among the staff. I told her I would go to sleep early if that radio across the corridor didn’t keep me awake.
She answered that it wouldn’t, she would see to it, and that she had something for me.