by Gwen Moffat
The detectives walked into the dining-room after Miss Pink’s party had sat down to dinner. Eve had anticipated their arrival and put as much distance as possible between the tables, but it wasn’t a large room and no conversation could be private if conducted in normal tones. There was an air of restraint at the big table emphasised by a somewhat noisy gaiety, and an avoidance of any subject that related to cars or crime or the police. With varying degrees of fervour they concentrated on spotted owls, storms, whale-watching: anything that was innocent, and all the time they were uncomfortably aware of this presence at the side of the room.
The detectives, on the other hand, were making the most of their enforced sojourn in the backwoods. They ordered chablis with their lobster thermidor (they had to eat the same food as the main party; as usual Carl had prepared only one dish) and they listened attentively to Oliver who had been pressed into service as their waiter, leaving Eve free to attend to the other table.
Oliver was getting on splendidly with them, at least with the one Lois said was the senior partner: Laddow. He was talkative and ebullient but not vulgar. He had expressive eyes and a wide mouth, and hair that reached his collar but otherwise was cut so short that his head appeared to be framed in a dark halo. His face was extraordinarily mobile; whether he was asking questions or just listening, all his features, even his nose, twisted like soft rubber, reflecting his emotions or the emotions he sought to display, while his hands: broad, with stubby fingers, were never still. He was a large man, a little overweight under the tan suit and silk polo shirt, but not flabby.
His companion, who was called Hammett, was a different kettle of fish. Seemingly some ten years younger (Laddow was about forty), he was prematurely bald but with a lot of hair at the back of his polished skull that gave him the look of an egg-head in a slippery toupee. His large eyes were accentuated by wire-rimmed spectacles and his mouth was small and prim. He wore a modish shirt striped in rust and cream, and beige slacks. He said little; Laddow did most of the talking.
Miss Pink, deceptively bland, brought her attention back to the table and noted that her guests were losing their inhibitions. Unobtrusively she checked the levels in glasses and bottles, looked to see that everyone was eating well, and wondered how many of them could manage Carl’s peach compote, even without the cream. The meal wound down gently and, at a sign from Miss Pink, Lois rose and led the way to the sunroom.
When they were settled in front of the windows with coffee and liqueurs, pointedly concentrating on the sunset – which, behind a partially cloudy sky, was fiery – there was a sudden lull as if a curtain were about to rise. At that point the police entered, smiled – Laddow smiled – and waited. Lois introduced them: Eddy Laddow and Mort Hammett.
As Lois went round the company naming people the decision whether to ask the detectives to sit down was taken out of Miss Pink’s hands by the beaming Laddow who absent-mindedly turned a chair to face the ocean and subsided into it. Hammett went to the bar. Laddow appeared to notice the sky for the first time and gasped. ‘It’s like an explosion!’ he exclaimed, and the villagers regarded him indulgently.
‘Don’t you ever go to the ocean?’ Leo asked.
‘I see it occasionally, ma’am, but I never saw a view like this, with those rocks and the cape there. Ah, thank you, my boy.’ He took a whisky from the expressionless Hammett. ‘Get a chair, get a chair.’ He was fussing; Miss Pink felt sure he was putting on an act, that he was preparing for something. She looked at the others, saw that they too were aware that something was toward and she felt their frisson of alarm.
‘You’ll have the number of your husband’s office,’ Laddow stated conversationally, addressing Lois.
‘He didn’t have an office,’ she responded weakly.
‘His apartment then?’ He sipped his whisky, not watching her, but Hammett did.
She glanced helplessly round the company. ‘I – the name of it escapes me. Did anyone hear it?’ People shook their heads like marionettes.
‘Why?’ Leo asked, sounding belligerent and then, at a movement from Sadie: ‘You must have taken his phone number when he reported the theft of the car.’
‘He didn’t report it.’ Laddow looked at Leo with interest. She was chic and boyish tonight in a lemon shirt with an agate bolo. ‘Why do we need to see Mr Keller?’ he asked, and answered his own question: ‘Because we got a report on the car, on Mrs Keller’s Chevy.’ He turned to Lois. ‘What happened to the trunk, ma’am?’
Miss Pink was puzzled and then remembered that the trunk was the boot of the car.
‘The trunk?’ Lois repeated, her voice rising. Then, aware of her own stridency, her shoulders dropped and she relaxed visibly. ‘I didn’t know anything happened to it.’
‘It’s been forced.’
They stared at him and after a moment Chester said slowly, ‘If the car was stolen, without the keys – hot-wired – but the trunk was locked, it would have to be forced to get inside.’ His voice strengthened as he envisaged the situation: ‘The thief would want to see if there was luggage in the trunk.’
Hammett said, ‘You can get into a trunk by taking out the rear seat.’
‘Not on the Chevy,’ Lois said absently. ‘That back seat is jammed, something to do with the ratchet.’ She frowned. ‘What makes it important: the trunk being forced?’
‘When did you last look inside it?’
Her eyes glazed. ‘I remember looking inside; I was wondering if Andy – my husband – had brought his laundry, so that must have been shortly after he arrived.’ She was bothered but she went on raggedly, ‘The party – it was the Sunday … I would have looked in the trunk next morning.’
‘Was it locked?’
‘No.’
‘Did you notice anything odd about the interior, anything there that shouldn’t be?’
Her eyes sharpened, and now some of the others had caught on: drugs, they were thinking, and one or two of them: so what, it was Andy using the car. ‘No,’ Lois said firmly. ‘I didn’t see anything. Should I have done?’
‘A smell, for instance?’
Eyes widened. Several people sniffed.
‘No,’ Lois said. ‘I don’t remember anything. Why?’
‘Because a body’s been carried in that trunk,’ Laddow said.
Chapter 6
It was a long time before anyone spoke. No one wanted to be the first, and the police did nothing to ease the situation. Hammett had remained standing, a tumbler in his hand, but he wasn’t drinking. Then Miss Pink remembered that it was her party, that she was still the host. She turned to Laddow, remarked in the voice she used to call to order meetings of the Women’s Institute: ‘Perhaps you would elaborate, Mr Laddow,’ and had the satisfaction of making that rubbery face go completely blank for a moment. She sensed resentment; he would have liked to ask her where her own interests lay, but he didn’t. Hammett, alert as a hawk, would be wondering that too, but he had to leave the initiative to his superior.
Laddow looked from her to Lois. ‘We have to find your husband, ma’am.’ Emotion had returned: his intensity justified by an appearance of anxious distress.
Lois had recovered from the initial shock of learning that her car had been used to transport a body. She had had time to think, to work things out. ‘Of course it was stolen,’ she said quietly, addressing no one in particular, ‘and there’s an obvious reason why Andy didn’t report it.’ She looked at Laddow. ‘He was working on the screenplay of one of my books and a Burbank studio was interested. What happened, what must have happened, is he left the car in the airport parking lot in Portland and flew to LA. It was stolen from the airport and he doesn’t know about it yet.’
‘Or Gayleen drove him to the airport,’ Sadie put in, ‘and the Chevy was stolen from her, or— ’ She stopped in consternation, seeing where that was leading.
Hammett said, making a question of it, ‘It would be helpful if someone could remember where Mr Keller was staying?’ He looked round the grou
p and stopped at Jason who was staring at him open-mouthed. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Grace!’ Jason exclaimed. ‘Grace was trying to find out where. She’d know. I heard Gayleen say something about a motel, but I didn’t catch the name.’
‘Would you like me to call my daughter?’ Lois asked politely.
‘If you would, ma’am.’ Laddow responded in kind.
She left the room and the others shifted awkwardly, avoiding each other’s eyes except for Leo who tackled Laddow bluntly: ‘You knew about this all along; that’s why you stayed. You sent the chopper away deliberately.’
‘No, no!’ He was shocked. ‘There was this smell, you see.’ Now he was apologetic. ‘Unpleasant. So the car was with the Forensic people. They called us this evening with the results— ’
‘Like I said— ’
‘A woman,’ he went on. ‘It was the body of a woman.’
‘Well, that knocks my theory on the head,’ Jason announced. They stared at him.
‘What was your theory, sir?’ Laddow asked with interest.
Jason nodded as if acknowledging a tribute. ‘Why, they picked up a hitch-hiker and the guy killed them both and stole the car. I wouldn’t have said that with Lois here, of course; too distressing for her. But if it was a woman in the trunk, I mean a female body, what happened to Andy’s body?’
‘He could have been alone when he picked up the hitch-hiker,’ Hammett said reasonably, as if this were an academic discussion between equals.
‘No.’ Jason was confident. ‘He left with Gayleen.’
‘So you figure they picked up a hitch-hiker on Tuesday afternoon,’ Laddow said, and Miss Pink noted that he had the times off pat.
‘When did you say the accident occurred?’ Chester asked. ‘When the driver ran away from the Chevy?’
‘Late Thursday evening, two nights ago.’
‘So where— ’
Lois came in slowly as if uncertain of her reception. Everyone regarded her expectantly. ‘He was staying at a motel called the Fountain,’ she told them. ‘On the north side of the city.’
‘Did you call the motel?’ Laddow asked sharply.
‘No, I— ’ She bit her lip. There was a flicker of fear in her eyes, quickly suppressed. Chester looked concerned.
‘If you’ll excuse us one moment.’ Laddow rose and left the room with Hammett.
Now they did stare at each other: questioning, appalled. Chester leaned towards Lois and said quietly, ‘It was a woman’s body in the trunk.’ She stared at him blankly. ‘Of course the car was stolen,’ he added.
‘Of course it was.’
‘Oh, it had to be,’ Fleur put in, but the tone lacked warmth.
‘What are they doing?’ Sadie gestured towards the door.
Leo scowled. ‘Calling the motel.’
Eve approached from the bar. ‘Oliver will find out,’ she said. ‘They heard everything: him and Carl; the door to the kitchen wasn’t closed.’
‘Who needs to know?’ Mabel asked, her eyes glinting.
‘I want to.’ Lois was coldly angry. ‘If Andy’s mixed up in anything— ’ She stopped, then went on stiffly, ‘This concerns my family.’ She stared at the door and again Miss Pink caught that suggestion of fear. ‘I think Laddow will tell us what he finds out. He’s a gentleman,’ she added with a kind of desperation.
‘Well, he’s putting on a good act,’ Miriam said. Since they left the dining-room she had sat unobtrusively to one side, merely a part of the audience that was a background to the principal performers.
‘They’re a competent team,’ Miss Pink murmured.
‘What’s your base-line?’ Leo asked, and then elaborated: ‘I mean, what do you base your judgment on? You don’t know American police.’
‘Or do you?’ Chester eyed her keenly. When she had been walking with him and Lois, she had confessed that she wrote gothics for magazines, and the odd travel book, but she’d said nothing about her activities involving crime. Now, before their combined attention, she shifted uncomfortably.
‘I’ve had a little to do with them,’ she admitted, and was immediately plied with questions. Laddow and Hammett, appearing in the doorway, paused and listened. The group in the window was excited and obviously relieved to have the subject changed – or at least to have the location shifted away from home. Homicide was now something that had concerned Miss Pink in Montana and Utah and California, not one of themselves.
Miriam wasn’t giving undivided attention to Miss Pink’s reminiscences; she seemed jumpy, glancing towards the kitchen and the dining-room, so it was she who saw the police and said loudly, ‘Now maybe we’ll have an explanation.’ The tone was a warning.
Talk stopped as if a switch had been thrown. Laddow came and sat down. ‘Yes,’ he said heavily, as if he were continuing a conversation, taking them into his confidence, ‘they’re worried at the motel. They haven’t been seen since last Sunday morning.’
‘They?’ Jason repeated stupidly.
‘Sorry.’ Laddow widened doggy eyes at his own sloppy speech. ‘Gayleen and Andy haven’t been back to their room for just on a week.’
No one dared to speak, mutely deferring to Lois. She ignored the less important implication and said without expression, ‘So they didn’t go back to the motel after they left here … Maybe they didn’t go back to Portland at all, but went south from here: down to LA.’
‘But— ’
‘The car— ’
Fleur and Laddow spoke together. Charmingly he gestured to her to continue. She said, ‘They were driving north when I saw them.’
‘And Carl,’ Eve put in. ‘Carl passed them north of here.’
‘And the car turns up in Portland,’ Laddow mused. ‘It’s not conclusive but it does look as if they went back to Portland.’
Jason started to say something, glanced at Lois and his mouth snapped shut, but she had seen. ‘What were you going to say, Jason?’
He licked his lips. ‘It was nothing.’
She stared at him and he flushed. She looked at the others, at Laddow, her eyes stricken. ‘You think— ’ She couldn’t go on.
Laddow stood up. ‘What I think, ma’am, is we should stop speculating. We don’t know what happened yet but’ – he looked round the circle – ‘you all in Sundown are safe; Mrs Keller’s daughter’s unharmed in Portland, you got nothing to worry about. I suggest we all go home and get a good night’s sleep.’ His features twisted lugubriously. ‘I’m being subjective there; personally I’m ready for my bed.’
‘Shamming,’ Miss Pink said, addressing Fleur as they heard the outer door close.
‘He can’t fool you.’ Was there a hint of sarcasm there?
‘Well,’ Miss Pink began, and frowned. ‘Not on this occasion. He’s gone back to the Surfbird to use the telephone. Boligard’s going to be up late tonight.’
‘Listening in?’
‘Quite, but d’you think Laddow and Hammett aren’t aware of that?’
‘Talk of eavesdropping, here’s Oliver.’
He and Carl Linquist had come in from the kitchen, Oliver making an obvious but vain attempt to conceal his excitement, Carl making a similar effort but succeeding only in looking angry.
‘Oliver!’ Miriam’s tone was a command. ‘Come here. Did you hear the call to Portland?’
‘We did.’ He came and perched on the arm of her chair. ‘But there was nothing sinister about it. Of course we only heard his end of the conversation – the jolly one, Laddow, isn’t it? He asked if they’ – he paused at the pronoun but recovered easily – ‘were staying there, and then he asked when they’d left and when they were expected back, and if they’d taken their stuff. Then they went into a huddle: Laddow and his side-kick, and I couldn’t hear any more.’
‘They knew you were listening,’ Miriam said.
‘Undoubtedly.’
‘What I want to know,’ Carl put in angrily, ‘is what’s it got to do with us?’
‘Nothing, dear.’ Eve was reassuri
ng. ‘It’s just the car – isn’t it, Miss Pink?’
Thus appealed to she pulled herself together; she had been thinking, like Laddow, of bed. ‘They’ll be tracing the car’s movements,’ she suggested. ‘First confirming the ownership – they’d have got that from the registration’ – she glanced at Lois who raised her eyebrows a fraction; she was plainly exhausted – ‘now they’re concerned about what happened to the car between here and Portland. The implication is that the inquiries will shift away from Sundown to the highway. We may have seen the last of Messrs Laddow and Hammett.’
For a moment, next morning, the opposite seemed to be the case when two cars arrived at the Surfbird and large men in civilian clothes were directed to the Tattler where Laddow and Hammett were eating breakfast. The Sykeses and the Linquists monitored the activity as closely as possible and it transpired that, far from being reinforcements, the newcomers were merely delivering a car to the erstwhile stranded detectives. The strangers drove back north in the second vehicle, and Sundown braced itself for a resumption of the inquiries, only to experience an anti-climax when Laddow and Hammett checked out of the Surfbird, got in their transport and took off themselves, northwards. There were people who thought this smacked of rudeness: ‘After all,’ Jason said petulantly to Miss Pink who had stepped into his store to chat, ‘they might have said goodbye, at least.’
‘It wasn’t a social visit.’
‘No, but – talking like that, last night, it was sorta intimate, and then to take off without speaking to anyone. It was offhand.’
‘They could be coming back.’
‘What for?’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know. But they have to find Andy Keller – and Gayleen, of course – and this was Andy’s home, and where he was last seen— ’
‘That’s ridiculous! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude; I mean, hundreds of people must have seen him – them – after they left here; well, dozens.’