“A cigar, Mr. Burke? Mr. Baker?” He held out an open leather case, and when we both refused he selected a blunt perfecto, clipped the end and lit it with a jeweled lighter. Myra’s hands gripped the arms of her chair tightly and I felt that she was going to scream if something didn’t break in a hurry.
Raymond Dwight’s fingers touched her shoulder as he said: “I’ll be frank with you, Mr. Burke. Man to man, eh? May I have your word that what is said here in confidence will go no further?”
Burke was carefully filling his pipe from a worn pouch. He didn’t look up. “I want Leslie Young’s murderer. I reserve the right to use any information you give me as I see fit to serve justice. I am not, however, desirous of dragging the name of any innocent person into the limelight.”
“Very fair indeed. I’m going to trust you, Mr. Burke. We... Myra and I... have to trust you. At the moment you so unceremoniously burst into this room I was on the point of advising Mrs. Young that suspicion of murder was not to be trifled with even at the cost of... ah... certain embarrassing revelations. Was I not, my dear?” He looked down at Myra Young with as nearly a fatuous expression as his heavy features could contrive.
Her underlip was caught between strong teeth and she was staring at the floor. Her “Yes” was faint.
Burke said: “She’s in a tough spot. She had the motive, the opportunity... and no alibi.”
“Suppose she produces an alibi, Mr. Burke?”
“It’ll have to be a good one.”
“An unimpeachable alibi, Mr. Burke.”
Jerry Burke shrugged. “I’m listening.” I had a hunch he pretty well knew what was coming.
Raymond Dwight blew out a cloud of blue smoke and said: “I understand Mr. Young was shot and killed at two-thirty yesterday afternoon.”
Burke nodded. “Approximately.”
“I am prepared to swear to an alibi for Mrs. Young between two-fifteen and four o’clock yesterday afternoon.”
Burke’s expression didn’t change when Dwight delivered that bombshell. Damn the man! He’s utterly inhuman. Even if he was expecting to hear just that, I don’t see how he could take it so calmly. He merely asked:
“Why did Mrs. Young withhold that vital information when we first questioned her?”
I was watching the widow. She flinched as Dwight answered suavely:
“She hoped it might not become necessary to reveal this fact. Innocent of any crime, she did not realize that she might actually be suspected of her husband’s death. It was not until you and your associates began cleverly weaving a web of circumstantial evidence about her that she realized it was no time for quibbling.”
“So she slipped over here to discuss it with you?”
“Exactly.” Raymond Dwight met Burke’s gaze unwaveringly.
“Where was she at the time her husband was murdered?”
“At home.”
“She told us that. What can you add to her former statement?”
“I was with her during the period in question.”
Myra’s eyelids quivered shut.
“Without her husband’s knowledge?”
“Er... yes. You can understand her natural reluctance...”
“Did you know her husband would be away at that time?”
“Yes.”
“How?” Burke was shooting out the questions like bullets.
Raymond Dwight glanced uncomfortably down at Myra. She lay back with closed eyes and heaving breasts. It evidently wasn’t a pleasant session for her.
The millionaire pursed his lips and blew out a cloud of smoke. “I realize this is no time for concealment or half-truths, Mr. Burke. I have a telescope mounted upon my front balcony. You can easily determine that through it I can be aware of every movement at the home of my neighbor across the valley.” He paused, fumbling for words, went on slowly:
“Some time ago we arranged a signal which would indicate to me that Mr. Young would be away for an appreciable period and I would be... er... a welcome visitor. I was at the telescope yesterday afternoon and saw him ride away on horseback at two o’clock. Shortly thereafter, the signal was flashed to me by Myra. I walked across the old path leading directly to the cottage and was there within fifteen minutes. I did not leave until four o’clock.”
“Is this true?” Burke threw the question at Myra.
She opened her eyes but did not stir. “Why not? Did Les give me any reason to be faithful to him? What was he doing at two-thirty? I had as much right as he to step out.”
Burke shrugged his shoulders. “This isn’t a morals hearing. Your statement throws the case wide open again, Dwight.”
“I trust it will go no further.”
“It won’t. Unless further developments make it absolutely necessary.”
“You’d better check up on that Yates woman!” Myra sat erect and the words were hissed out between set teeth. “Les practically admitted he was going to meet her when he rode away from the house.”
“He did meet her,” Burke admitted affably. “Perhaps she did steal that pistol, Mrs. Young.”
I stared at him, wondering if he meant it. His expression didn’t tell me anything.
Dwight was helping Myra up, bending over her solicitously. “I’m sure Mr. Burke doesn’t wish to detain you longer, my dear.”
“No.” Burke didn’t get up. “But I’d like to think this thing out a little, Dwight. I may wish to question some of your servants.”
“Certainly.” Dwight went out with his hand under Myra’s arm, and I had a funny all-gone feeling of not knowing what the hell it was all about.
10
“And that,” said Jerry Burke, “is positively that.”
I grimaced at the doors which had closed behind the couple. “Things like that keep me thinking I’ve been smart to stay a bachelor.”
“I guess no man ever knows about a woman. I would have sworn she was in love with Leslie.”
“She had Dwight’s daughter fooled too,” I pointed out. “The girl thought there hadn’t been anything between them previously.”
Burke’s fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. “The under-surface stuff dredged up in the course of a murder investigation continually amazes me.”
“You weren’t surprised by her alibi,” I charged.
“N-o-o. I had a hunch she had an ace up her sleeve. She was entirely too unconcerned about being suspected. Jelcoe didn’t worry her with those .25 bullets. She almost had to have an out that we knew nothing about.”
“Where does it leave us?”
“I’m afraid,” he said soberly, “we’ll have to start barking at Laura Yates’ heels.”
I had felt that coming and was braced against it. Somehow, goddamn it, I didn’t like to think in that direction. It was something I hadn’t figured out. I hated myself for feeling physically attracted by Laura.
Mentally, she irritated me. I felt that her outward calm was inhuman and that it had to be a pose... and I detest posing females. I couldn’t forget that she had listened to the story of Young’s death with as much emotion as she would have shown over the announcement that her car had a flat tire.
And I couldn’t forget that she had kissed him a few minutes before he died. The memory of her kiss in the darkened upstairs room of the hacienda still plagued me, and I found myself wondering how much she would have emoted if I’d been shot five minutes later.
“On the other hand,” Burke’s speculative voice recalled me to the present, “there are other angles. I can’t rid myself of the feeling that the warning for Young to stay away from the hacienda is definitely tied up with his death.”