“Stop it, you vile old fake!” Val screamed at him. “I won’t listen to you! Go away from me! Go away!”
Startled, Hare looked quickly over his shoulder and was relieved to see that there was no one close enough to have heard Val’s outcry.
“Well, of course, if that is what you wish,” he said with great dignity. “I never impose myself when I am not wanted. Then you want me take this heavy responsibility and go to the police with this terrible and damning evidence?”
White faced, her eyes burning with fear and anger, Val stared at him.
“What else are you suggesting?”
“I have been struggling with my conscience,” Hare said mildly. “Yours is a very well-known family. Your father is one of the most important men in the country. I felt I had to see you first before I went to the police. I thought you and also your father would not wish for your husband to be tried for the murder of a worthless prostitute, found guilty and put away for life behind the walls of a State Criminal Asylum. I felt the least I could do would be to talk to you and see if that is what you really wanted. It seemed to me that these two articles of deadly evidence could be destroyed and then no one but you and I would be any the wiser. That is why I have taken the trouble to come here this morning to consult with you, but if you would really prefer me to do my obvious duty, then regretfully, I will do so.”
Val sat still, her hands in her lap, her face white. She remained like that for some moments, then she said quietly, without looking at Hare, “I understand... how much?”
Hare drew in a deep breath of air into his fat larded lungs. A nasty moment, he thought, but he had handled it well.
“A half a million dollars, madam.” he said gently. “It is a reasonable sum. When you think what you are getting in return, it is a paltry sum.” He took his card from his billfold and dropped it close to Val. “I will give the lighter and the jacket to the police at six o’clock this evening... at precisely six o’clock. Unless, of course, you telephone me before then.”
He re-wrapped the jacket, heaved himself to his feet. Then raising his hat to Val, he walked away across the san leaving big, widely spaced footprints behind him.
Chapter Six
Terrell looked up from a mass of reports he was reading as Beigler came into his office. As Beigler sat down and reached for the can of coffee that permanently stood on Terrell’s desk, he said, “Nothing so far. We’re still checking the list of her boyfriends. We’ve reached number fifty-seven: so far they all have cast-iron alibis.”
Terrell shrugged.
“They could all be in the clear, but we can’t afford to miss out on one of them. It’s my guess it is some sex nut who followed her and set on her. If I’m right, we’ll have a job to find him. Nothing from the Service Stations?”
“No.” Beigler sipped his coffee and lit a cigarette. “How about Hardy? Could be the Lang woman was lying when she gave him an alibi?”
“I thought of that, but why should Hardy want to kill her?” Terrell said, frowning. “So far he’s operated without getting into trouble. Besides, I can’t imagine he’s the type to kill in that way.”
“She could have had something on him, and he ripped her to make us think it was a sex killing.”
“Yeah, that’s right. I...”
The telephone bell rang. Terrell stopped short and lifted the receiver. He listened. Beigler saw his face tighten with surprise, then he said, “We’ll be right with you. Don’t touch a thing,” and he hung up. He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “Henekey’s been found dead. Looks like someone’s knocked him off Come on... let’s go.”
Beigler crushed out his cigarette and moved fast from the office. As Terrell began the long walk down the corridor to the street, he could hear Beigler bawling for the Homicide Squad.
An hour and a half later, Dr. Lowis came from Henekey’s cabin and crossed through a patch of sunlight to where Terrell and Beigler were waiting.
“He was murdered all right,” Lowis said. “The killer worked him over before killing him. His body is a mass of cigarette burns. He was finally killed by someone putting a cushion over his face and sitting on it. He must have been a very heavy man. Henekey’s nose is broken.”
Terrell and Beigler exchanged glances. Then Terrell said, “Thanks, Doc. Okay, if you’re through, let’s get him away.”
When Henekey’s body, watched by the tourists, had been taken away in an ambulance, Terrell and Beigler went into Henekey’s cabin. The Homicide Squad had finished their work. Hess came over.
“No prints, Chief. There’s one interesting thing...” He walked into the bathroom followed by Terrell while Beigler remained in the doorway. Hess lifted a loose tile in the bathroom floor. “Could have been a hiding place for something. There’s nothing in there flow.”
Terrell glanced into the cavity.
“Could be why he was worked over,” he said. “Let’s go look at the office safe.”
It took an expert half an hour to get the safe open, but they found nothing to give them a lead on Henekey. They returned to the cabin. Hess and his men were leaving.
“Still nothing, Chief,” Hess said. “This is a professional killing. Henekey went to bed around two o’clock. It’s my bet the killer or killers were waiting for him in the cabin. The lock shows signs of being tampered with. They must have worn gloves. I can’t turn up one fingerprint that isn’t Henekey’s.”
Terrell grunted.
“Make a list of all the cabins. See if anyone heard anything. Then check Henekey’s print. He may have a record.”
Hess left, leaving the cabin door open. Terrell sat on the table while Beigler prowled around the cabin.
“What do you think, Chief?” Beigler asked finally. “Think this has any connection with the Parnell killing?”
Terrell took out his pipe and began to fill it.
“Yeah... seems more than possible. Could be Henekey was lying when he said he didn’t know the girl. Could be he was holding back something and the Parnell killer came back, tortured him and finally killed him.”
A shadow falling across the floor made both men look around sharply. Standing in the doorway was a little girl of around eight years of age. She was quite beautiful with blonde hair hanging below her shoulders. Her features were small and delicate, her eyes big and alert. She was wearing a blue and red check sunsuit and she was barefooted.
“Hello.” she said. “Are you the police?”
Beigler was young enough to have no time for children. He scowled at her.
“Run away... get lost,” he growled.
The girl looked inquiringly at Terrell.
“Who’s the loud mouth with the ugly face?” she asked, resting her small, tanned body against the doorway.
“Hear me!” Beigler barked. “Run away!”
The child pursed her lips and blew him a raspberry that resounded through the still cabin.
“Drop dead!” she said with withering contempt. “If you’re not all that tired of life, go suck your toenails!”
Terrell watched with amused interest. Beigler’s face, dark red, was a study.
“If you were my daughter, I’d smack your bottom,” he said furiously. “Run away!”
“If you were my father I’d have my mother’s head examined,” the child replied promptly.
Terrell turned a guffaw of laughter into a loud cough. Beigler glared at him, then with slow, deliberate steps, he began to advance on the child who faced him without fear and with such a sophisticated expression that Beigler came to a hesitant standstill.
“If you touch me, I will charge you with rape,” the child said.
Beigler took two hasty steps back and then looked helplessly at Terrell.