I said: “Most women don't feel that way.”
She said: “I've lost more money playing high low Jack than most women have ever held in their hands. What good is it; you can't eat it, can you? It won't cover you when you're cold.”
“It will buy what it takes, won't it?”
She grinned and said: “Hell! You can only eat one meal at a time and sleep in one bed. It's nothing to worship.”
I thought that if Crandall had the same notion, Wendel would maybe have been spared a lot of grief.
I stalled until nine and then drove around to the corner where I was to meet Wendell. He and Lester were waiting on the corner and I pulled into the curb and said:
“Climb in.”
They did, with Wendel in the middle. He started to cry before I'd even gotten the car away from the curb. He said:
“I'll say now, Connell, that I'm disappointed in you. Free told me you were a good man but I think you've mismanaged this affair most lamentably.”
“Did you do better?” I asked.
He admitted he hadn't.
“I walk in here on a set-up that's damned near perfect and you expect me to crack it. I've got the whole damned town against me and you expect me to perform a miracle.”
“I can't understand your antagonizing the police the way you have. I can't understand that at all.”
“They haven't put me on any plane, mister.”
“I don't understand your idea in taking a position in that roadhouse. Your friend told me of that.”
“I met your wife there.”
He shut up for a moment, said in an altered voice: “How... how did she look?”
“Okey, as far as I could see.”
“Who was she with?”
“Her lawyer.”
“No one else?”
I couldn't see any sense in telling him she'd been with her lawyer as well as two hoodlums and their tramp women. But I knew what he was thinking of and I said:
“Now look! I thought the same as you're thinking when I started out on this. I figured boy friend, the same as you do. But I've seen her several times, twice out there, and she's always been with either her guards or her lawyer. And the lawyer's no boy friend of hers. So get that out of your craw. It's something else. Now did you meet any sixteen-year-old kids while you and Joey were painting the town?” He stared at me. We were parked by that time and I could watch his face. He said: “Why of course not. We were in bars and gambling places. Naturally I didn't meet any children in those sort of places.”
“They start young sometimes. A gal can fool you on age. Put it this way; were you out with any woman?”
He said stiffly: “I was not. I was here to effect a reconciliation with my wife. Naturally I would not be with any other woman. That sort of casual affair doesn't appeal to me, anyway. Even before my marriage.”
I said: “You know it's statutory rape if the girl's under sixteen. Even if she's willing. You've got that straight? Don't lie to me, Wendel, I've got to know.”
He looked at me as though I was crazy and said: “1 haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about. Please explain.”
I said: “I thought it was a frame but I had to make sure.” I went on and told him of what Crandall had said and his face got redder and redder and he swore in a school-boyish way. But very sincerely. I kept on with the explaining, showing him the spot he was on. I finished with:
“Now get it. If you contest the suit, Crandall will get this father of the girl, whoever she is, to swear out a warrant charging you with this mythical assault. You'll be picked up on the charge at once, if you're in the state. They could extradite you on it, if they wanted to, but I doubt if they would. They'll be satisfied to have you away. If you fight it, the judge has got two strikes called on you before you open your mouth; Crandall tells me the judge knows the girl they've got working with them. Of course the judge thinks she's a sweet innocent kid. You're going to get stuck with that robbing settlement if the thing goes through. There's no way out of it.”
“But... but won't my wife's action come up long before any criminal charge could be brought against me and carried to trial?”
“Not in this town. I don't say Crandall can influence the judge; I don't think he can. But he sure as hell can get a criminal case speeded up if he wants to pull a few strings. Christ, man! I guess you don't realize the influence a man like that carries in this sort of town. Look at it this way. He's in with the decent people and he's in with the crooks. Suppose some reputable person makes a slip. Crandall has his underworld element to tell him of the slip, as well as his decent friends and the things he learns through his own practice. He's got people like that foul; they'll jump when he speaks. He's been here for years. A situation like that snowballs; I'm willing to bet he knows as much about the private life of this town as the town does. He can bring pressure to bear in a thousand different ways. It's a form of blackmail; but he keeps in the clear all the time.”
“But this is a pure and simple frame-up.”
Lester made one of the few wise remarks I ever heard him make. He said gravely: “Pure frame-up perhaps, but surely not a simple one. It seems very complicated to me.”
Wendell ignored him, said to me: “Isn't there anything I can do?”
“D'ya think you can straighten this if you can talk with your wife?”
“I can try at least. I don't understand her action; I've done nothing to warrant it. If I can talk with her I think I can convince her of that.”
He looked down on the floor-board then, said in a sick sort of way: “I'll tell you, Connell. If she really wants to divorce me I won't stand in her way. I'll give her any settlement she asks for if it's possible for me to do it. But there's a mistake here; there must be.”
“D'ya want this blood-sucker of a Crandall to get the settlement she's asking for? I'm telling you; the man isn't in it like this for a straight fee. That doesn't make sense. There's big money in it for him or he wouldn't be fooling around. Hell, man, there's a murder in it. Why I don't know, but there's a tie-up. Would a supposedly reputable lawyer fool with murder for a divorce case fee? Use your head on this. I'm not bucking your wife's settlement. You're not. It's Crandall; he's back of it.”
“I know all that. Why tell me that?”
“I don't want you going soft on me.”
He put his dignified air back on and said: “My personal feelings are, after all, my own affair and concern.”
I cracked it at him then. I'd been wanting to do it all the time, but he was such a straight-laced bird I'd been afraid to speak. I said: “It's my concern if it puts my neck in a noose. Don't forget that, mister. Now if you want to take a chance, we'll try and talk with your wife.”
“Where can we see her?”
“At Crandall's place.”
He looked bewildered, stuttered: “B-b-ut the guards! I tried to speak with her before. I've told you that.”
I laughed and said: “We're going in the side way or the back way or some way where the guards aren't. I don't know just how and won't, until I case the house. But we'll try it if you've got the guts.”
He said very simply: “I want to see her.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE three of us drove out to the Three C Club and I parked in the shadow beyond it and sent Lester in to see what he could see. He came out, giggling, and said:
“She's in there with Crandall and the two guards. And Joey's there.”
“Drunk?”
“Very. He's at the bar, sitting on the edge of it. He's got a Santa Claus beard on and he's singing Coming Round the Mountain. And telling everybody that the song is written about his mountain.”
This was a new high, even for Joey. I said: “Did you see Rucci?”
“He was trying to get Joey to climb down from the bar. Joey's got a lot of money, though, and I guess Mr. Rucci doesn't want to make him mad so he'll go someplace else. Every now and then Joey shouts 'Fire in the head' and everybody goes to the bar an
d has a drink. Joey pays for them.”
This was enough to get Wendel's mind off his troubles, even if only temporarily. He asked curiously:
“What does 'Fire in the head' mean?”
“That's a term hard rock miners use,” I said. “They put powder in the face of the cutting. I mean, down in the shaft they're drilling.”
He looked bewildered and I explained: “They tunnel a shaft into the rock. Then they bore holes in the face of it and fill them with powder or dynamite. Then they light the fuses on these shots and yell 'Fire in the head' and everybody in the shaft runs like hell so they'll be away when the explosion comes. Do you see now?”
He said: “Frankly, I don't. Possibly I'm stupid.”
I didn't give him any argument on the last. I said: “Well, when somebody shouts 'Fire in the head' in a bar, everybody in the place runs up to get a drink. It's free, you see. Some wit saw the rush and thought of the mining term ... or maybe it was the other way around. Anyway, it's an old saying and everybody out here knows what it means.”
Lester said: “That's very interesting,” and Wendel said: “I'm afraid I have no sense of humor.”
I said nothing; there was no proper answer.
We cruised around until twelve, then went to a hole in the wall and ate. I called the station and tried to get Kirby, but he'd gone home. I tried the Sheriff's office for MacIntosh and got the same answer. It didn't make a great deal of difference; I just wanted to call in so they'd know things were moving along. I had no intention of telling them the plan I'd made for Wendell and myself.
We went back to the Three C then and Lester went in and out and reported that Joey was bogged down in a booth, with Rucci and two men he hadn't seen before. That Joey was drunk but no drunker. I said: “Hell! That man can't get any drunker. There's such a thing as a saturation point.” And then, because thinking I'd seen Joey drive by me there in Reno still bothered me, I asked Wendel: Did you tell me Joey went to Los Angeles?”
“Why yes. He called me at least once a day from there. I judged he wasn't drinking, either.”
Lester said the Wendel party showed signs of leaving so we drove back and past where Crandall lived. I parked in the shadow beyond the house and well away from it, and I said to Lester: “Now you sit here in the car and blow the horn if a police car comes by and stops. Then get out and run like hell. Not down the street; take off across lots. They can't catch you then as easily.”
“Why can't I come with you, Shean?”
“I'm going to have trouble enough looking after myself and Mr. Wendel, and I can't take the extra chances, kid.” I realized how this would make him feel and switched the meaning with: “I can't take chances with a bunch of cops stopping our get-away. You've got to stay here and give me warning.”
He said seriously: “Oh yes! The lookout man. Should I blow the horn in any sequence?”
I didn't get it. I repeated “sequence” and he said: “Why of course. You know. Like four times or three times. For the signal, you know.”
I said: “Say three times. Then run.” I didn't have any idea of police coming but I didn't want the kid tagging along and tripping over his shoe laces. He was blind as a bat in day time and at night he's even worse. I'd have had to lead him by the hand, as though he were a little child.
A big sedan came down the street and turned into the Crandall drive and stopped in front of the door. We watched more lights flick on, all over the house and I said:
“Now I'm going to do some guessing. It's a cinch the bedrooms will be on the second floor. The best, which would be the master's bedroom, will be in the front. There's two bedrooms in the front and that will mean that your wife, who's the honored guest, will have one and our Mr. Crandall will have the second. How's that for reasoning?” Wendel said: “It seems logical.”
Lester said: “But which is the first and which is the second?
“That's elementary. Mrs. Wendel is a guest. She'll naturally go to bed first, because Crandall will wander around and see that everything's okey before he tucks in. In common politeness he'd stay up until she went to bed. Simple?”
Lester said, with admiration: “That's pure deduction.”
Wendell said: “Humph!”
The upstairs light on the left of the house snapped on-first. We watched it. Ten minutes afterward it went out. A few minutes later the right hand one went on in turn. We watched that. In five minutes it went out. I said: “Check and double check. Mrs. Wendel would put cold cream on her face to take off the make-up. That would take a little while. Crandall would just take off his clothes and pile in bed. It proves my theory.”
I was just guessing but it sounded reasonable, even to myself. And Lester thought I was the second Sherlock Holmes and I didn't want to disappoint him. God knows I hadn't shown any brilliance in the case up to that time and I thought he was entitled to something that would back up his blind faith. I looked at Wendel in what little light the dash lamp gave and his face looked drawn and worried but he didn't seem afraid. I said:
“Now look, mister. You're not going to crack up on me in there, are you? I'm going first and see that everything's clear, but I want you right behind me. I don't want to look for you and find you where you don't belong.”
He smiled a little, said: “I want to see my wife. I'd do worse than this, Mr. Connell. Don't worry.”
Lester asked: “What are you going to do about the guards?”
“They'll probably be in bed. If one of them sits up it'll be in front. We'll wait; we can tell by the lights.”
There was a light in the front room but it was turned off about then. I said: “The chances are somebody sleeps in the front room on a couch or something. Or maybe the two bozos just took a last drink. It doesn't make any difference; we're not going in through the front.”
The house was dark and I looked at my watch and said: “In half an hour,” and opened the glove compartment and took out a bottle. I passed it to Wendel and he shook his head... and I took his share. The more I thought of this house-breaking idea the screwier it seemed to me. My feet were getting colder than Wendel's must have been.
The half hour finally passed and it didn't seem like more than six. Waiting for something when you're afraid makes time drag. But the time came and I climbed out and said: “Come on,” to Wendel.
He followed me and I told Lester to remember what he was to do and led the way toward the house. As soon as we got where Lester couldn't hear me I kept my voice low and said to Wendel:
“Now listen and for Christ's sake remember it. If there's action it's likely to come in a bunch. If anybody shoots at us, you drop down on your face and get as close to the floor as you can. Don't move, no matter what happens. Even if you think you can get away. The worst that can happen to you, if you're caught, is that you'll be put in jail. But if you run, you're liable to get a bullet in the back and they don't set bail on that.”
He said he understood and that he'd do it. “And if anything like that happens don't pay any attention to me. I may run; I may not. I don't know. You just drop flat and let the thing go on.”
He said impatiently: “I understand, Connell. You don't have to repeat yourself.”
“Did you ever have anybody shoot at you?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, I have. It's easy to forget things at a time like that, mister. We'll try it at the sides, first.”
I could see his face, there was enough light for that, and I could see he was a bit whiter but looked as though he was going through with it. It's tough, running into a thing like that, and he had brains enough to know it. The guards were certainly armed and probably Crandall would have a gun in his room. And his wife's room and Crandall's were almost next door; probably only a hall between them.
At that, he wasn't any more afraid than I was. He couldn't have been. I didn't have any wife to take my mind off the danger.
We pussy-footed up to the side of the house and I started to try windows. This after taking off ou
r shoes. I didn't think Crandall would have anything like burglar alarms on the windows; damned few private houses have, and this didn't worry me. But the thought of a squeaky window did.
They all were locked... both sides. We went to the back of the house, tip-toed up on a broad back porch and tried the back door and found it the same way. I tried the three pass keys I had and no dice. Then Wendel gripped my arm, pointed down the porch, and hissed: “That window's open.”
It was... and it was a mortal cinch it was a back bed-bedroom and belonged either to some of the house help or the guards. I went to it, peeked in and could see a shadowy outline of a bed and could hear somebody wheezing. It wasn't a snore and from the sound of it I couldn't tell whether it was a man or woman. I took my sap out of my back pocket and whispered to Wendel: “Let me get by the bed. Then you come in. For Christ's sake be careful.”
He squeezed my arm to show me he understood.
I climbed through the window, trying to keep my clothes from rubbing on the sill and making a noise, and got inside with no yowl coming from the bed. I knelt down by it so I could get the sleeper's face outlined against the wall, and saw it was a woman. I got ready to shove her pillow in her face, if she woke, and Wendel started to come in.
I'll give him credit. He had the instincts of a first class second-story worker. The guy must have been a thief at heart. He came through the window like a ghost.
We slipped through the bedroom door, which made one squeak when I opened it, and saw a hall leading toward the front of the house and an open door to the kitchen. I whispered to Wendel:
“There's probably back stairs but we can't look for them. We'd be bound to tack into something that would rattle. Keep about ten feet back of me but keep coming.”
He squeezed my arm again.
I went down the hall and it jogged, right by the front door, showing a staircase going up. There was a door leading to a front room on each side and from the left I could hear good hearty husky snores and I never heard better music in my life. I went up the stairs, walking close to the wall as I'd told Wendel to do, in order to lessen the chance of a squeaky tread, but the house was old and warped and those damned stairs sounded as loud to me as any brass band I ever heard.
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