“Keep going,” Terrell said.
“Well, this guy asked for a lift. I said I was going to Ojus and he said that would be fine with him. So he got in. I had had a good look at him in the headlights and he wasn’t the kind who would worry me. Anyway, few men worry me. I know how to handle men. But this guy was something special. He was a looker: a real doll.” She paused to sip her whisky, then went on, “There was something about him that made me want to confide in him. I was drunker than a skunk and weepy. I had to be drunk if I was going to do what I planned to do. Okay. I guessed I talked too much. I told him about Lee. I told him about the Parnell bitch. I told him I had to get these papers from her or kill her. By the time I started shooting my mouth off, we had arrived at the Park Motel. Then he started talking as we sat in the car in the motel’s parking lot. He said he would take care of everything. He said he liked me: he was sorry for me: he knew what it was to be in love. He had lots of authority, looks and confidence. I was so goddamn drunk I was glad to listen to him. He said women like Sue Parnell weren’t fit to live. He said he would take care of her. On the back seat of the car I had left the knife and a tyre lever. He took them. As he got out of the car, I suddenly got scared. I said I didn’t want him to do anything. I could handle it. He smiled at me. ‘You couldn’t fly a kite,’ he said. By this time the drink was really hitting me. I knew if I got out of the car, I couldn’t even stand. I let him go and sat in the car, waiting. After a while he came back and got in the car. He said, ‘I’ve fixed it.’ By this time, I was ready to pass out. I had a pint in the car and I kept hitting it. I felt him push me into the passenger seat, and then I felt the car move. I guess I passed out. The next thing I remember was waking up on the grass verge of the highway. He and the car had disappeared.” She again blew out her cheeks and passed her hand across her face. “Gee I’m tight. That’s all. Lee never killed her. It was this guy.”
“How do you know he killed her?” Terrell asked. “Hardy could have killed her and this guy you talk about could have walked in and found her.”
“Think so? I say different. When he went into the cabin he was wearing a sports jacket. When he came out, he was carrying the jacket, inside out... why? He gave me the knife. It was wrapped up in her pants. He said, ‘You’re lucky. I’ve fixed it. You have no more worries the way I have.’ I found the knife and her pants in my handbag the following morning when I got, sober. There was blood in my bag, on the knife and the pants. I put the bag and pants into the basement furnace... he killed her all right.”
“Let’s look at it another way,” Terrell said. “Suppose this, convenient nut never existed? Suppose you went into the cabin and failing to make Sue Parnell part, you killed her. That would be a lot more simple, wouldn’t it?”
Gina finished her drink. She sneered at Terrell as she put down her glass.
“That’s a cop all over. You hear so many lies, you don’t believe the truth when you hear it.”
“I like it better this way. I think you’re trying to talk yourself out of a murder rap.”
“That’s right. Take it the easy way,” Gina said. “It would suit you to pin this on me, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have to look further. You wouldn’t have to hunt for this boyfriend, would you?”
“For the record,” Terrell said, “let’s have something more about this boyfriend. If you saw him again, would you recognise him?”
“I’d know him anywhere. He was the kind you couldn’t help but know again... a real doll!”
“Let’s have something to work on: what was he like: give me a description of him.”
“He was tall, handsome and dark. He had everything. He was sympathetic. He was the kind of man you would tell your frankest secrets to.”
“You said he was a nut. Why do you say that?”
“Of course he was a nut. He wouldn’t have gone in there and ripped her unless he was a nut. I provided him with an excuse to kill a woman. I guess I was lucky he didn’t kill me.”
Terrell looked at Beigler who lifted his shoulders. Gina’s story sounded as corny to him as it did to Terrell.
“I still think Hardy could have done it and you’re drunk enough to dream up this story,” Terrell said. “But you’ll come to headquarters and we’ll work all this over. Come on... let’s go.”
Gina grimaced.
“My road stopped when Lee died,” she said. “I’ve had all I want from life and it hasn’t been all that hot. Lee didn’t kill her. Can’t you get that fact into your thick skull? It was this nut who did it.”
“We’ll go over it again at headquarters. Let’s go,” Terrell said, getting to his feet.
Gina shrugged and stood up.
“Excuse me while I spend a dime,” she said. “My back teeth are floating.” She walked unsteadily across the bedroom and into the bathroom. As she shut the door, Terrell said, “What do you make of this story, Joe?”
“She’s lying,” Beigler said. “It’s my bet...”
The violent bang of a gun, coming from the bathroom made both men start to their feet. As one, they rushed to the bathroom door. Beigler drove his massive shoulder against the panel and burst in.
Gina lay face down on the floor, a smoking gun in her hand. Her brains made a white and red stain on the bathroom tiles.
As Terrell came in from a quick lunch, he met Beigler looking hot and irritable, getting out of his car. The two men walked fast up the steps into police headquarters.
“How’s it coming?” Terrell asked as he led the way to his office.
“Got something,” Beigler said. He entered the office and lowered his heavy frame on to one of the upright chairs. Terrell went behind his desk and sat down. He poured coffee from the flask.
“Go ahead.”
“The day before the murder, a woman, Ann Lucas, reported her handbag stolen. That afternoon, a woman calling herself Ann Lucas hired a car from the U-Drive Depot for five days. The guy who handled the deal wouldn’t know her again without the sun goggles and the scarf she was wearing. It’s my bet this woman was Gina Lang.”
Terrell rubbed the end of his nose with the butt of his pen.
“So she wasn’t lying.”
“That’s it, but here’s something you’re going to love,” Beigler said. “Sam Karsh turned up at the U-Drive joint two days after the murder. He told them he had found one of their cars... the car rented by Ann Lucas or Gina Lang dumped in a clearing on a dirt road off the North Miami Beach highway. He told Morphy... he’s the manager of the joint... he had found the car and thought it had been dumped. He asked questions, got a description of this Ann Lucas or Gina Lang and then faded away. I’ve contacted Ann Lucas. She tells me that on the night Karsh contacted Morphy, she got a mysterious telephone call from a guy who questioned her about the loss of her driving licence. After she had admitted losing her licence and as soon as she began questioning him, he hung up. That could have been Karsh.”
Terrell said, “What are we waiting for. Let’s get Karsh here.”
Beigler grinned.
“Jacobs is already picking him up. He loves Karsh.”
“Okay Joe, nice work. I want to think about all this. When Karsh arrives let him sweat it out. I may not be ready for him for an hour.”
When Beigler had gone, Terrell sat for some time thinking, then he abruptly reached forward and flicked down a switch on the intercom.
“I want the file covering Chris Burnett’s disappearance,” he said.
When an officer brought in the file, Terrell studied it. Then he took a large scale map of the district from his desk drawer and studied that.
The intercom came to life.
“We have Karsh here, Chief,” a voice said.
“Let him stew. I’m not ready for him yet.”