‘So who’s this punk who calls himself Harry Mitchell?’ Lepski demanded. ‘Come on, Sarg, let’s pick him up! We’ll give him the treatment.’
But Beigler wasn’t to be rushed. He had had reports from Washington before and knew Washington wasn’t infallible.
‘Get a repeat on this, Max,’ he said to Jacoby. ‘Then call the Chief and report. Tell him Tom and I are on our way to the Dominico restaurant and we’ll bring Mitchell in.’
‘And we’ll bring Solo in too,’ Lepski said.
As they turned to leave the room, they paused. Standing in the doorway, looking scared and uneasy, was a short, thin man with hair down to his shoulders. Lepski immediately recognized him as Solo’s guitar player and barman.
‘Hold it, Sarg,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘This could be interesting.’
He went to the dividing rail and opened the swing gate.
‘You want something?’ he asked, staring at Randy.
Randy licked his lips.
‘Yeah... I’ve got things on my mind. I reckoned it was best to come here and talk to someone.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Randy Roache... I work for Solo Dominico.’
‘Is that right?’ Lepski gave him his cop stare. ‘Okay, Randy, come on in and take a chair. What have you got on your mind?’
Randy moved through the gateway, hesitated, then when Lepski waved him to a chair by Beigler’s desk, he sat down. He wiped his sweating face with a grubby handkerchief, then his sweating palms.
Beigler went to his desk and sat down. Lepski pulled up another chair and took out his notebook. Although his head was aching violently, he ignored it.
‘Well now, Randy,’ Beigler said. What’s it all about?’
‘I’m a draft dodger,’ Randy said miserably.
‘So?’
‘Harry told me to beat it, but I got thinking once the cops started investigating I’d be on the run and I know what it means to be on the run, so I’ve come here to tell you about it.’
‘You know what it means? Have you been on the run before, Randy?’
‘No, but I know friends who have, and anyway, Harry said you could never get away from the cops once they start looking for you.’
‘Who’s Harry?’
‘Harry Mitchell. He also works at Solo’s place.’
‘What do you know about Mitchell, Randy?’
Randy looked startled.
‘Not much. We met on the road. He saved my life so I got him this job with Solo. I telephoned Solo, telling him Harry was an Olympic swimmer and a veteran from Vietnam so Solo jumped at him. I don’t know anything else about him.’
‘Let’s have the story, Randy, Never mind the draft dodging. I want to know how, when and where you met Mitchell, how he saved your life... the works.’
As Randy began talking, Beigler pressed a button under his desk that started a tape recorder, concealed in his desk drawer.
When Randy got to the moment he and Harry stopped the Mustang, he paused, hesitating whether to go on or not.
‘Keep going, Randy,’ Beigler said. ‘You’re doing fine. So Harry saw car headlights and he signalled... then what?’
Randy took the plunge.
‘This might not sound like the truth to you,’ he said, ‘but it is the truth.’
‘Keep going, Randy, we’ll talk over the details when you’ve said your say. Just keep going.’
So Randy told them how they had stopped the Mustang, towing a caravan, how the girl had handed over the wheel and had got into the caravan, how they had stopped at a café, how a Mercedes had pulled up and then taken off, and that Harry had thought the girl had gone off in the Mercedes.
‘We stopped at another café outside Fort Lauderdale,’ Randy went on. ‘Harry went in for coffee and I went to wake this girl.’ He gulped, then described finding Baldy’s body, how they had driven to Hetterling Cove and buried him, dumped the caravan and then later, the Mustang.
Beigler leaned forward.
‘It’s a nice story, Randy, but it could read different, couldn’t it?’ He stared for a long moment, then went on, ‘Suppose this mysterious doll never existed? Suppose Baldy gave you two a ride and you knocked him off?’
‘Harry said you’d say just that,’ Randy said bitterly. ‘Well, we didn’t! I’m telling you exactly how it happened. If you don’t believe it, I can’t help it, can I?’
Beigler grinned at him.
‘Take it easy. I do believe it. I’m sure Baldy would never have stopped to pick up two guys wanting a ride. I just wanted to see your reaction.’
Randy heaved a sigh.
‘Cops!’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t trust your own mothers!’
‘Watch your mouth, jerk,’ Lepski said, ‘or I’ll watch it for you!’
‘Go on, Randy,’ Beigler said, signaling to Lepski to keep out of it. ‘So you two buried Baldy, and then what?’
‘We got rid of the Mustang and the caravan like I said. Then... no, wait a minute. I forgot. When Harry was burying the body, this dead guy’s wig fell off and in the wig was a key. This was for a left luggage locker at the airport,’
Beigler and Lepski exchanged glances.
‘Go on,’ Beigler said.
‘Well, Harry went to the airport and collected a suitcase and inside the suitcase was a slip of paper. The message said something about Sheldon Island and the Funnel.’
‘What else did he find in the suitcase?’
‘A gun and a box of slugs,’ Randy said. ‘Clothes...’
What was written on this slip of paper... I want it exact.’
Randy thought for a moment, then shrugged.
‘I don’t remember. Something like this: Sheldon. The Funnel, and there was a date... I don’t remember what the date was.’
While he had been talking the Telex had been chattering, now Jacoby came over to Beigler’s desk and gave him the message that read:
Washington. 07.38. Our 3488769 Cancel. Ref. 3488768. Harry Mitchell. Sergeant (Tech) 3rd Paratroop Regiment 1st Company. Served Vietnam 12.3.67. Rpt missing in action. 2.4.67. Released POW 7.7.67. Discharged 5.5.69. Dossier follows.
Beigler snorted and handed the Telex to Lepski.
‘So they bring him back to life again. Even in Washington, they have dopes.’
Lepski read the Telex.
‘Who hasn’t?’ he said, tossing the message on the desk. ‘But we still bring him in?’
‘Stop leaning on it!’ Beigler said curtly. He was longing for a cup of coffee but knew he would be wasting valuable time sending out for it. He turned to Randy and regarded him as he lit a cigarette.
‘Well now, Randy, you have said your piece, now I want you to tell me why you’ve said it.’
Randy shifted forward in his chair.
‘I came here because Harry saved my life... I like him and I owe him something. Now, he’s in trouble. I thought the best thing was to come to you and for you to take care of the trouble.’
Beigler squinted at him.
‘What trouble?’
‘Harry has got mixed up with Nina Dominico. I warned him. He has gone off with her to Sheldon Island in Solo’s boat. When Solo finds out... and he will... he’s going to kill Harry.’
‘Is Nina Solo’s wife?’
‘She’s his daughter,’ Lepski put in. ‘He’s crazy about her. This punk’s right. If Mitchell is fooling with Nina, he is heading for a load of trouble.’ Lepski turned to Randy. ‘Are you sure these two have gone to Sheldon Island?’
‘Harry told me last night he and she were going. They are there now. Solo’s boat’s gone. When Solo finds out, there’ll be murder!’
‘Why has Mitchell gone out there?’ Beigler asked.
‘He went to find out why Baldy died. He thinks Baldy hijacked something and it’s on the island.’
Beigler got to his feet.
‘Okay, Randy, we’ll talk to you later.’ He crossed over to Jacoby. ‘Max, take this kid and lock him up. Let him have coffee and cigarettes. Call the Chief and tell him we’re going to talk to Solo. I want a fast boat to take me to Sheldon Island. Have it come to Dominico’s harbour.’