Dodd thought first and irrationally of the little dog waiting at the kennel to be picked up by his master. It would be a long wait, a long, long wait.
He turned and fumbled his way down the dark hall to the front door. When he opened the door he saw Gill take a couple of steps backward as if he intended to run away.
“You’d better come inside for a minute,” Dodd said.
“I don’t like this, I don’t like it at all. Is he — is he here?”
“He’s here.”
“How’s he taking it, your breaking in like this?”
“He hasn’t made any complaints.”
“Oh. Well. In that case.” Gill stepped inside, moving his body rigidly as if he expected an attack. “I can’t see. Turn on the lights.”
“Later. Where have you been all day, Brandon?”
“At my office. Why?”
“You didn’t pay a call on your brother-in-law earlier in the afternoon?”
“Of course not.”
“When you left the office to go out and buy that gun, was there anyone with you?”
“No.”
“How long were you away?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Arranging for me to come here with you like this would make a good cover-up in the event that you were here earlier, by yourself.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re getting at. Why can’t we turn on a light? Where’s Rupert? What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” Dodd said. “It’s all over. Rupert’s lying in the kitchen, dead.”
“Dead? He — he killed himself?”
“Possibly but not probably. Someone tried to clean up the mess afterwards.”
“Mess? How...?”
“A knife.”
“Oh, God. Oh, my God. What am I going to do now?”
“You’re going to come right back to the kitchen with me and phone the police.”
“I won’t. I can’t. My family, my reputation. We’ve got to get out of here. Quick. Now. Before anyone comes. My God, fingerprints. Have I touched anything? The doorknob. I’ll wipe off the doorknob...”
“Don’t panic, Brandon.” Dodd put his hand firmly on Gill’s arm. “Take it easy.”
“Let me go! I’ve got to get out of...”
“This is the wrong time to throw a fit, believe me. Now exercise some control, will you? I don’t like this any better than you do. I could lose my license on this little gambit.”
“It was your idea, it was all your idea.”
“O.K., blame me if you like. Just don’t flip your lid.”
“What about Amy? Poor Amy, God help her.”
“Amy isn’t here. We are. If God’s going to help anyone, I want priority. Now come on. We have work to do.”
“I–I can’t. I’ve never seen a — dead man before. I’m afraid I might be sick.”
“Keep your head up and breathe through your mouth,” Dodd said. “And kindly remember, as you view the remains, that you hated his guts anyway.”
“You’re a callous, insensitive brute.”
“Sure. But right now you’re stuck with me, so let’s talk friendly.”
As he spoke he gave Gill a little push and Gill started down the hall, holding a handkerchief to his mouth. When he reached the doorway of the kitchen he paused and let out a sound of surprise. The handkerchief fluttered to the floor, unnoticed.
“That’s not,” he said in a whisper, “that’s not Rupert.”
“Are you sure?”
“Rupert’s bigger and his hair’s much darker.”
“Who is he, then?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see his face from here.”
“Go over and take a look at it, then. Be careful not to touch him.”
Gill walked cautiously around the pool of blood and leaned over the dead man. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“Think hard, think of Rupert’s friends, Amy’s friends...”
“I don’t know all of their friends, but I’m pretty sure this man wouldn’t be one of them.”
“What makes you say that?”
“That haircut, those clothes. He looks like a hoodlum or one of those beat boys that hang out around Grant Avenue.”
“There’s quite a difference between a hood and a bohemian.”
“I’m simply saying that I don’t believe Amy or Rupert would consort with a man like this.”
“Then what’s he doing in their kitchen?”
Gill’s face was gray and shiny like wet putty. “For God’s sake, how should I know? It’s all crazy, preposterous.”
“Well, you’d better call the police.”
“Why me? Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I won’t be here when they arrive.”
“You can’t walk out and leave me holding the baby.”
“I can. I have to.”
“If you go, I go. I warn you, you’re not getting out of here without me.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Dodd said. “Take it easy and listen a minute, will you? We know now that Kellogg had a damn good reason to skip town. But his car’s still in the garage. I want to find out how he left and if anyone was with him. I still think my hunch about the dog may be right, so I’m going to drive out to the kennel and check. If I stay here and wait for the police I’ll lose several hours.”
“But what will I tell them?”
“The truth. Why we came here together, how I got into the house, the exact truth. They’ll probably send out either Ravick or Lipske of the Homicide squad. They’re both friends of mine. They’re not going to like my not sticking around, but tell them I’ll contact them later and give them any information I have.”
“Will I have to talk about — Amy?”
“You’ll have to talk about everything. This is a murder case now.”
Gill picked up his handkerchief from the floor and pressed it against his forehead. “I’d better call my lawyer.”
“Yes, I think you’d better.”
16.
Along the ocean front waves angered by the wind were flinging themselves against the shore. Spray rose twenty feet in the air and swept across the highway like rain, leaving the surface sleek and treacherous. Dodd kept the speedometer at thirty, but the thundering of the sea and the great gusts of wind that shook and rattled the car gave him a sensation of speed and danger. The road, which he’d traveled a hundred times, seemed unfamiliar in the noisy darkness; it took turns he couldn’t remember, past places he’d never seen. Just south of the zoo, the road curved inland to meet Skyline Boulevard.
The Sidalia Kennel was built on a bare, brown knoll about half a mile beyond the city limits. It looked new and clean, a brightly lit, two-story Colonial structure with an expanse of galvanized iron fencing on each side, and a small neon sign at the entrance to the driveway: pet hospital. A second sign below elaborated on the first: treatment and boarding. small animals only.
As Dodd got out of the car an Airedale began pacing up and down its runway in restless curiosity. A jet shrieked across the sky and the Airedale raised his head to howl a complaint.
“It’s no use, old boy,” Dodd said. “That’s progress.”
The howling had roused the other dogs. Before Dodd even reached the front door every runway had come alive with noise and movement: wagging tails, bared teeth, sounds of welcome and sounds of warning.
As Dodd reached out to press the buzzer the door opened to reveal a short, stout, white-haired man who looked a little like a beardless Santa Claus. He wore a smile and a white coat, both of them fresh and tidy.
“I’m Dr. Sidalia. Come in, come in. Where’s the patient? Not an automobile accident, I hope? Those I dread. So sad, so unnecessary.” He shouted over Dodd’s shoulder. “All of you fellows out there, be quiet, do you hear me? They’re good chaps,” he explained to Dodd, “just a bit excitable. Now what can I do for you?”