I didn’t like the way he looked at me nor the cold edge in his voice. We drove down to headquarters, and they left me in a room with a couple of cops while my statement was being typed. It was a long and uneasy wait. Neither of the cops said anything to me, and when I spoke to them they stared at me like a couple of deaf mutes. Finally, Summers came in.
“Come on,” he said, and I didn’t like the sneering grin he gave me.
We went down the passage and into Redfern’s office. Summers closed the door and set his back against it. There was an odd atmosphere in the room. I couldn’t make it out.
Redfern waved to a chair.
“Sit down.”
I sat down.
There was a pause while he glanced through a number of typewritten sheets that lay before him on the desk.
“I’ve been through all this,” he said, and looked up. There was an amused expression in his eyes that startled me. “It reads like a hop-head’s nightmare, doesn’t it?”
“I guess so, but that’s how it happened.”
“Oh, sure.” He pushed the sheets away and folded his hands on the desk. “There’s a lot of checking to be done. To make this story stand up, we’ll have to get Boyd to admit he engineered the theft of the dagger, and that won’t be easy. Boyd has a lot of money and influence. Then we’ll have to get this guy Joe to admit he let the Rux girl out of the penthouse to murder Brett, and he may not want to put himself wrong with Casy. Then we’ll have to get this Federal Agent to admit he lied when he identified the body as Alma’s. It’ll cost him his pension and he may think it safer to stick to his story. That goes for the Sheriff of Gallup.”
“I know all that, but that’s what the police are for. You could make these guys talk. It only needs a little rough stuff,” I said, staring at him.
“Sure, but I don’t think I’m going to be bothered. It’ll cost the State money and it’ll take up a lot of time. Time and money are valuable, Jackson.”
“If you don’t do it, how the hell are you going to crack this case? You don’t expect me to do it, do you?”
Redfern smiled.
“I’ll let you into a secret, Jackson. I’m tired of being a copper. The political set-up in this town is getting too tough. It’s too hard to keep honest. I’m getting out and so is Summers.”
“I don’t get this. What’s that to do with the case . . . with me?”
“Plenty.” He lit a cigarette. “It has plenty to do with him, hasn’t it, Summers?”
“It certainly has,” Summers said, and showed his big yellow teeth in a grin.
“Suppose you tell me?” I said, and felt a chill run up my spine.
“The only thing that hooks this case together is the compact. That’s right, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes. It’s important, but if you dig a little you’ll get other evidence.”
“The compact is the only link that proves Alma Baillie masqueraded as Veda Rux. No other evidence you or I could produce would do that, would it?”
“That’s right.”
“We have a big furnace down in the basement. Summers went down there an hour ago and dropped the compact right in the middle of it.”
For a moment I could only stare at him, then I went cold.
“What the hell do you mean?” I shouted, and jumped to my feet.
“Sit down,” Summers snarled and closed his fist. I remembered his cameo ring. I sat down.
“What is this?” I went on, but I knew all right.
“Look at it from our point of view,” Redfern said quietly. “It doesn’t matter a damn, to us about the compact. We don’t want it. It only complicates things. I’m satisfied you killed this girl, Rux or Baillie or whoever she was. I don’t care who she was, nor does anyone else. I don’t care if she killed Brett or Otis, or if you did. Nor does anyone else — but you, and you don’t count. I’m charging you with the murder of Veda Rux, and to save time and money I’m also charging you with the murder of Brett and Otis.”
“You can’t do it!” I cried. “It’s murder, Redfern. You know I didn’t kill her.”
“That’s the way it is, Jackson. I’ve had to wait a long time to get you where I want you. I’ve got you now. You’ve been very smooth and tricky and you’ve talked yourself out of a lot of grief in the past, but I don’t think you’ll talk yourself out of this this time. The compact’s gone. Boyd won’t talk. Joe won’t talk. The Federal dick won’t talk. Summers and I are splitting the reward. There’d also the twenty grand you say the Rux girl stole from Brett. We might as well have that. They’ll think you’ve spent it. Do you get the idea now, Jackson?”
“If you think you’re going to get away with this you’re crazy,” I said, but I had a hollow feeling inside me. He could get away with it.
“You watch and see. You’re going up for trial, Jackson. You can trot out your story, but you won’t make it stick. It’s a hop-head’s story. The jury will laugh at you. But my yarn will stick. She signed a statement before she died. It’s the kind of statement a jury will love. I took care of that. Somehow I don’t think she thought much of you. She played you for a sucker from the beginning.” He nodded to Summers. “Okay, take him away.” To me, he said with a grin, “So long, sucker.”
Well, that’s the way it is. I’ve written it all down from beginning to end so my lawyer has something to work on. And he’s working on it, but I don’t like the doubtful look in his eyes. He keeps talking about the past, and how the other side has raked up a lot of stuff about my record, and blackmail and women. He says without the compact he’s helpless, and I don’t think he knows what to do. It won’t be long now. The trial begins tomorrow. The newspapers say it’s a foregone conclusion. Redfern thinks it is. He tells me after they’ve finished me he’s going to retire. He and Summers are buying a chicken farm. Odd how these dicks pin their faith on chickens. Casy comes to see me. He’s not cheerful. The cops have put Joe under protective arrest so Mick can’t get at him. But he swears he’ll get me off. I don’t know how he’s going to do it: he doesn’t either.
I keep thinking of Veda. I’m sure she loved me. If I hadn’t tipped Redfern that she was in San Bernadino she wouldn’t have signed that statement. But she reckoned I had double-crossed her, and she was right, of course. Well, it’s too late now. I keep seeing her in my dreams. She’s laughing at me. I hear her voice: “Poor cheap little crook. It’s not coming right for you this time.” It’s getting on my nerves.
Why go on? The trial’s tomorrow, and tomorrow is another day. I guess I’ll get some sleep even if it does mean dreaming about Veda. I have a feeling she’s not going to worry me much longer, but it’s no good being pessimistic. I’ll have to wait and see.
The End
1955 - You Never Know With Women Page 22