“I guessed you’d want to do that,” Beigler said. “I have a search warrant. If we tear the place apart, we might even turn up the motive.”
The three police officers arrived outside Lee Hardy’s penthouse front door at a few minutes to nine. Beigler dug his thumb into the bell push and held it there for several seconds, then the three men waited. More seconds dragged past and Beigler again thumbed the bell push.
The front door was suddenly jerked open by Gina, her face like a stone mask and dark smudges under her eyes. She was wearing a flower patterned wrap and her feet were bare. She looked as if she had just got out of bed. By the way she screwed up her eyes as if trying to focus the police officers, Terrell could see she was drunk.
“I want to talk to you,” Terrell said and riding her back, he moved into the lobby.
She shrugged indifferently and then walked unsteadily into the lounge. She seemed glad to flop into one of the big comfortable Lounging chairs. She rubbed her eyes, yawned and then stared at Terrell without seeing him.
“Make some coffee,” Terrell said to Beigler. “She’s plastered.”
Beigler went out of the room in search of the kitchen. Hess took a chair behind Terrell and fiddled with a notebook while Terrell slowly filled his pipe.
Gina said abruptly, “What is it? If you’ve just come to stare at me, then get the hell out of here?”
“You told me Hardy spent the evening here with you the evening Sue Parnell was murdered. I’m asking you again: was Hardy here or were you lying?”
“Lee didn’t murder her,” Gina said.
“I didn’t ask you that. I asked if you gave him a false alibi. This is serious. I have reason to believe he was in this woman’s cabin at the motel on the night she died.”
“What’s it matter where he was now? He’s dead, isn’t he?” Gina, said, lighting a cigarette.
“Did you or did you not lie when you said he was with you on that night?” Terrell demanded, his voice hardening.
“Oh, go to hell! What does it matter? He’s dead! He was the only man I ever cared for! He’s dead! Get the hell out of here!” She got unsteadily to her feet and started towards the door as Beigler came in, a jug of coffee in one hand, a cup in the other. “And you... clear out too!” Gina screamed at him. She gave him a violent push so that the jug of coffee flew out of his hand, smashing against the wall. The coffee streamed down the wall as Gina, dodging around Beigler, ran into her bedroom and slammed the door.
Beigler smothered an expletive and then put the cup on the occasional table. He looked at Terrell.
“Leave her be for the moment,” Terrell said. “Let’s look around and see if we can find a motive for the killing.”
Methodically, the three men began to search the penthouse, avoiding Gina’s room. It was Hess, a couple of hours later, searching Hardy’s bedroom who found what they were looking for. In a large envelope, tucked behind a reproduction of a Picasso designed, above Hardy’s bed, was a thin leather-bound diary, a folded letter addressed to Gina, and two cancelled cheques of five thousand dollars each made out to “Bearer”.
Terrell sat on the bed and read the letter.
Dear Pekie,
If anything should happen to me, turn the contents of this envelope over to the police. Sue found out about the reefer racket I’m snarled up in, and she’s been squeezing me ever since I threw her out. She got hold of the duplicates of the records and she has enough to put me away for ten years. She is set to squeeze me dry, but if I walk under a car or something, I want her to pay for the merry hell she’s cooked up for me. Give Terrell the diary and the cheques. If he can’t fix her, no one can.
Terrell spent some time going through the diary, then he looked over at Beigler who was smoking and sipping coffee he had made while Terrell was occupied.
“Here’s the motive. He got tired of paying, so he knocked her off. He ripped her to make it look like a sex killing,” Terrell said. “Now, I’ll talk to her.”
“You’re welcome,” Beigler said. “Want me along?”
“What do you think?” Terrell got to his feet, and followed by Beigler, he walked from the lounge and into Gina’s bedroom.
They found Gina, now dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, a glass half full of whisky in her hand.
“The Parnell woman was blackmailing Hardy,” Terrell said. “We have proof here.” He waved the diary and the letter. “Now come on: you lied when you said he was here on the night she died, didn’t you?”
Gina frowned at the whisky in the glass, then suddenly, she shrugged.
“So what does it matter? So I lied,” she said, “but he didn’t kill her. You’re not pinning murder on him even if he is dead.”
Terrell sat down. His slight signal alerted Beigler who moved over to the window, sat down and took out his notebook.
“If you’re so sure about that, who did kill her?” Terrell asked.
“Oh, a guy,” Gina said. “He was a nut. I didn’t know he had screws loose at first, but it has gradually dawned on me.”
“Just what are you talking about?” Terrell asked, leaning forward. “Who is this man? What do you know about him?”
“A guy I ran into,” Gina said. She blew out her cheeks and moved a strand of hair off her face. Terrell could see she was very drunk now.
“Suppose we begin at the beginning? Where do you come in on this?”
“I found the letter and the diary the way you found it,” Gina said, staring glassily at her drink. “I guessed Lee was having trouble with that bitch, but it wasn’t until I found the letter and the diary that I realised she was set to squeeze him dry. I wanted to marry him. I loved him, so I decided to fix her. If he was to spend his money on anyone it was to be me... certainly not her. One evening when he thought I was out, he called her. I listened in on the extension. They made a date at the Park Motel. He was paying her another five thousand. So I decided to go out there and persuade her to part with the records she had stolen from him.” She got unsteadily to her feet, weaved across the room, opened a drawer in a closet and took from it a broad bladed hunting knife. She came back and offered it, hilt first, to Terrell.
“I took this along with me. My idea was to knock her out, tie her up and threaten to carve her face to bits. I would have done it too, but I guessed she would part with what she had stolen before I had to start on her.”
Terrell examined the knife. There were dark stains near the hilt. He put it carefully on the bedside table before saying, “Then what happened?”
“After Lee left the motel, I picked up a U-Drive car. I didn’t intend to kill her, but if she wouldn’t play, I was ready to go the whole way and I wanted to be sure no one could trace me so I didn’t use my own car.” She paused, wiped her flushed face with the back of her hand and looked over at Beigler. “Am I going too fast for you?”
“You’re doing great,” Beigler said sarcastically.
“Why take a U-Drive car? You’d have to show your licence,” Terrell said.
Gina sneered at him.
“You think I’m that dopey? I stole a handbag off some girl and used her licence. I even bought a blonde wig.” She paused to sip the whisky, then went on, “I gave Lee half-an-hour’s start, then I drove after him. I was within ten miles of the Park Motel, driving slow because I didn’t want to run into Lee and besides, I was tight, when a man walked right in front of the car. I stopped fast, but he was close enough for the fender to be touching him, when I did stop.” She peered at Terrell. “You don’t have to believe any of this. I can’t prove it.”