His account was broken by a long pause.
Bartholdi kept asking himself questions that he could not answer.
Everything? Not quite. He doesn’t know, it seems, that we have found the body of Terry Miles. Why? Why should he be ignorant of the very thing he should know above all?
Jay’s voice, drained of life, picked up the thread of his account.
“I’m to have the money ready tomorrow. Tomorrow night, at midnight, it’s to be delivered by a third person. He made a point of saying that I mustn’t bring it. This third person is to start walking exactly at midnight along a certain road west of town. Somewhere along the road he will be contacted. There are to be no police in the area; the police are not to be notified. He warned me Terry will be killed if they are.” Surprisingly, he laughed. “What kind of monster could tell me a thing like that, knowing he’d killed her three days ago?”
“What road?” Bartholdi asked.
“West End Road, he said. I’ve been trying to think where it is, but I can’t.”
“I know it. It’s a narrow road, little more than a lane, about five miles long. It begins at an isolated intersection and runs eventually into another. It’s poorly maintained — hardly ever used. It’s lined on both sides with hedges and underbrush.”
“Anyhow, that’s where the money is to be delivered.” Jay sank back as if the account had depleted him of his last reserve of strength. His face, turned up to the light, was gaunt and livid. “The question is, what do we do now?”
Bartholdi said, “We do as we’ve been told. It won’t be necessary, of course, to arrange a transfer of funds. I’ll have a dummy package prepared for the contact to carry. I’ll have men stationed after dark near both ends of West End Road and at intervals between. We can’t have them swarming all over the place, of course — we mustn’t risk scaring our man off. But we’ll take all possible precautions. The contact man will be from headquarters.”
“No.” Jay sat up suddenly. “That won’t do.”
“Why?”
“Because I was told whom to send. Someone the kidnapper seems to know by sight.”
“Who was specified?”
“Apparently he didn’t know the name. His exact words were, ‘The fellow who went with you to headquarters.’”
Bartholdi turned to Farley, at the door. Farley was looking as if he had bitten into a sour orange.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Farley said. “I’m no bloody hero to go walking down a country road at midnight to meet a murderer. There may be a few cops scattered around, but how the hell do I know they’ll be where I may need them? A man could get hurt on an assignment like that.”
“That’s right.” Bartholdi nodded. “He could.”
He continued to look at Farley, who was trying not to look at Jay, who kept looking at his hands. After a moment Farley struck a fist into a palm bitterly.
“All right, damn it, I suppose I’ll have to do it. It’s what I deserve for not minding my own business. It’s Fanny’s fault, that’s who! She kept after me and after me — wouldn’t leave me alone—”
“That’s settled, then.” Bartholdi rose, slapping his hat against his thigh. “Speaking of Fanny, do you happen to know if your sister’s home?”
“I haven’t any idea.”
“She’s around somewhere.” Jay lifted his eyes from his hands, escaping the contemplation of his shame. “She and Ben were in here a while ago. I think they must be across the hall.”
“Do they know about the telephone call?”
“Yes. I saw no harm in telling them. Anyhow, I couldn’t pull my wits together.”
Bartholdi’s voice sharpened. “Do they also know your wife’s dead?”
“I haven’t told them that. I haven’t told anyone.”
“You, Mr. Moran?”
“Not me,” said Farley glumly.
“Good. I have some unfinished business concerning Mr. Green. I believe I’ll step across the hall and have a word with him.”
21
Fanny, as a matter of record, had already settled the business; in the process, she had a great many more words with Ben Green than one. She had, in fact, lost no time in initiating the settlement, and she was no sooner back from upstairs with her bottle of gin than she went to the heart of the matter.
“Ben,” she said, “it was all right to be close-mouthed and two-faced so long as everything was uncertain. But now things have changed, and you’d better come clean if you know what’s good for you.”
Ben, who had promptly relieved her of the gin and was splashing generous portions into a pair of glasses, looked at her with a ferocious scowl that was equal parts sullenness and anxiety.
“I don’t see why,” he muttered.
“If you don’t see why, it’s high time someone told you, and I’m just the baby who can do it. Terry has been kidnapped, which is a serious crime, and you’re obviously under suspicion through your own foolishness, if not for other reasons.”
“What the devil do you mean by that? Why should I want to kidnap Terry? Damn it, I didn’t even know she had any money,”
“That’s what you say. I happen to know, however, that you come from Glendale, which is near Los Angeles. It’s entirely possible that you knew all about it.”
“How do you know I come from Glendale? Isn’t anyone’s private life safe from your nosiness?”
“Never mind how I know. The point is — if I know, chances are ten to one Captain Bartholdi does, too. It stands to reason that he’s going to demand an accounting of where you were and what you were doing last weekend. As a matter of fact,” Fan finished ominously, “I am demanding it myself.”
“How do you know it won’t make matters worse for me?”
“That’s possible. Nevertheless, if you’re capable of kidnapping, I would like to know it now rather than later. I have no serious objections to most of your faults, but I’m naturally reluctant to marry a man who may show up on the list of the FBI’s ten most wanted men.”
“There you go with that marriage blather again. What makes you so sure I want to marry you? My guts would be constantly in the saucepan. Damn it, Fan, I’m just a simple guy who wants to become a teacher of history in some quiet little college somewhere, and here you’ve got me in trouble with the FBI!”
“I haven’t got you in trouble with anyone. You have. Come clean, Ben. If you were just off philandering somewhere, I promise to give you another chance.”
“Another chance to philander?”
“Not much! Anyhow, you’ll have no reason. It would be a poor substitute at best for what may be available if you’ll only start facing the inevitable.”
“Oh, hell! Let’s have a drink and forget it.”
“I’ll have a drink, thanks, but you won’t. So you might just as well leave it sitting right there on the cabinet.”
“So that’s the way it is! Listen, toots, if I don’t get a drink, you don’t get any ragout, and that’s that.”