Seventy minutes later she was at the airport. Half an hour later, sitting relaxed in the aircraft, she was heading for Jacksonville.
Sheriff Ross and Deputy Sheriff Hollis standing just behind him, watched Perry return to the garage.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Ross said. “You keep out of sight. Let’s take it easy, huh?”
“I’ll cover you, Sheriff,” Hollis said. “You take it easy. Logan could be there.”
Ross walked slowly towards the lighted garage, at the alert. He arrived at the entrance of the garage as Perry heaved the typewriter from the car’s boot.
“Hi, there, Mr Weston,” Ross said.
Perry was braced for this encounter, although he didn’t expect to see Sheriff Ross. He put down the typewriter and forced a smile.
“Why, hello, Jeff!” He came forward. “What are you doing here in this weather?” The two men shook hands.
“I could say the same to you, Mr Weston,” Ross said. “You couldn’t have come at a worse time.”
“I guess you’re right. I’m working on a movie, and thought I’d get away from the Big City. I didn’t expect to run into this.”
“You just arrived, Mr Weston?”
“Got in late last night. The road down here is murder. I guess I was lucky to make it.”
“You on your own, Mr Weston?”
“That’s right.”
“All okay with the lodge?”
“Sure.” Perry made the effort and, forcing a smile, went on, “A million thanks to Mary. The place is fine.”
Ross turned and signalled to Hollis who came forward. “This, Mr Weston, is my new deputy, Hank Hollis.”
“Glad to know you, Hollis,” Perry said as the two men shook hands. “Rifles, huh? You two can’t be out hunting?”
“That’s what we’re doing,” Ross said quietly.
“Well, what do you know?” Perry was trying desperately to sound casual.
“Come on in. You’d like coffee or something?”
“We won’t come in,” Ross said. “We’d only muddy up your place.” He pointed to his mud-encrusted boots.
“Come on, take them off. I bet you could use some coffee. You two look half drowned.” Ross and Hollis exchanged glances, then Ross nodded.
“Thanks, Mr Weston. We sure could use some coffee.”
“Get those boots off and come on in. I’ll start coffee,” Perry said, picking up the typewriter. “You know the way, don’t you?”
“I guess it’s okay,” Ross said quietly as both men stripped off their slickers and their boots, “but keep alert, Hank, don’t let’s take chances.”
“How about the rifles?” Hollis asked.
“Leave them here.” Ross patted his revolver holster. “Just let’s watch it, Hank.” He led the way into the big living room, both men in their stocking feet.
Perry poured coffee into a saucepan. He had no idea where Brown was hiding. In the kitchen? Upstairs? He could be anywhere. We’ll share a double funeral. He was surprised to find how steady his nerves had become. He no longer felt frightened. This situation was developing into a plot for a movie script, the kind of script Silas S. Hart was wanting. He paused for a moment, thinking. He realized he was playing with fire. Any moment Brown could turn vicious, but it was possible, if he played the cards carefully, Brown could be kept under control.
Perry felt a surge of confidence. He knew for certain that if he gave Ross the slightest hint that Brown was hiding somewhere in the lodge, there would be a shootout. He knew for sure Brown would never be taken alive.
Some situation! Already, he could imagine how to begin the script. He poured coffee into two mugs. So, okay, play this very cool. This could develop into a great movie.
He carried the two mugs into the living room to find the two officers standing awkwardly, looking around.
“Make yourselves at home,” he said. “Sit down. Here...” He handed the two mugs of coffee to the two men, then dropped into a lounging chair.
“You didn’t tell me, what are you two doing out here in this goddam rain?” Both men sat down, facing him.
“Well, Mr Weston, we’re hunting a killer,” Ross said. “I had an idea he might be hiding in one of the fishing lodges. We’ve checked them out. So far, it looks like I was wrong.”
“A killer? You don’t mean this man Logan? I picked up a radio warning.”
“That’s the man.” Ross paused, then went on, “Would you remember Jud Loss, Mr Weston?” Perry had a sudden cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Jud Loss? Why, sure. He owns an orange farm. We used to have a drink when he was in the village. Nice fellow. What about him?”
“Ever met his wife? His daughter?”
“Can’t say I met his wife, but I remember his daughter... nice kid. What about him?”
“Logan arrived at the farm and massacred the three of them with an ax.”
“Good God!” Perry stared at Ross in horror. “They’re dead?”
“My deputy, Tom Mason, went out to the farm. He was unlucky. Logan gave him the same ax treatment.” He jerked his thumb at Hollis. “He’s replaced Mason.”
Into Perry’s mind flashed the hesitant thought: Should he tell these men that Brown was here?
We’ll share a double funeral.
No!
“This is a terrible thing, Jeff,” he said. “Do you think this man is still in the district?”
“He could be. The State police and the National Guard are hunting for him. The State police think he held up a motorist and got through the roadblocks and is in Miami.” Perry nodded. He was sure, somewhere, Brown was listening, gun in hand.
Having finished his coffee, Ross got to his feet.
“We’ve got to get along, Mr Weston. Will you be staying long?”
“A couple of weeks.” Perry heaved himself out of his chair. “Could be longer. It depends how the work goes.”
“Do you want my wife to look after you, Mr Weston?”
“Not right now, Jeff. I’ll telephone her... okay?”
“You do that. I guess the rain will clear by tomorrow. It’s been a rough three days.”
“Let’s hope.” Perry went with them to the garage and waited until the two men had put on their boots and struggled into their soaked slickers. He shook hands.
“I’ll be around, Jeff, but for the next week, I’ve a big job to cope with. Give Mary my love. I’ll call her when I need help.”
“Okay, Mr Weston,” Ross said, picking up his rifle. “Best of luck with the movie.” He and Hollis moved out into the rain and started up the muddy path into the forest.
“Well, I guess I was wrong,” Ross said. “Okay, you can’t always be right. I guess Jacklin makes sense when he thinks Logan got through to Miami where he could get lost.”
Hollis said nothing. He plodded through the mud behind Ross, but when they reached the shelter of the dripping forest he said, “Hold it a moment, Sheriff.” Ross stopped and turned.
“What is it, Hank?”
“I think Logan could be in Weston’s place, and Weston, under gun threat, is covering for him.”
“What are you saying?” Ross stared at Hollis. “What makes you say a thing like that?”
“A hunch, Sheriff,” Hollis said quietly. “I’ve got a hunch that Logan is there.”
“A hunch? What do you mean?”
“Maybe you can tell me something, Sheriff.” Hollis’s voice was cold and hard. “Why is the telephone torn out of the wall? While you were talking I was looking around. Do you think Weston pulled out the telephone cable, killing the telephone?”
Ross stiffened, He felt suddenly old. He should have seen what Hollis had seen.
“We’ll go back. We’ll ask Mr Weston.”
“With respect, Sheriff,” Hollis said, “we shouldn’t do that. You don’t want Mr Weston killed, do you?”