Moment of Violence

by George Harmon Coxe

  He did not know what else had been taken but he went at once to Mike’s bedroom and turned on the light. Here, too, there was an unmistakable disorder and he stood uncertainly for several seconds, brown eyes somber as they moved slowly about the room. This inspection did nothing for him because he had never really known what had been here in the first place. It was impossible now to tell if anything was missing, or even if the room had been searched, and when he had accepted that fact he snapped off the light.

  Back in the other bedroom he undressed slowly, his movements automatic as his mind remained fixed on other things. He wondered if someone had come here especially to get the gun and knew this could not be true. No one knew he had that gun. That meant that whoever had come here had come for something else and, discovering the gun, had taken it. Why, he did not know. Neither could he guess the reason that lay behind the search and he was still groping for some answer when he finally fell asleep.

  15

  DAVE PAYNE wakened once during the night but after a brief exploratory excursion he fell asleep almost immediately, and in the morning he had to reach far back into his consciousness to be sure that his early awakening had not been a dream. He could not remember what had first disturbed him but he did recall hearing the distant braying of a donkey somewhere beyond the highway. It was a weird and somehow frightening sound until he identified it, and when it stopped he thought he heard an entirely different sound somewhere outside and not so far away.

  This time he had snapped on the bedside light while he listened again. His watch told him it was nearly three o’clock, and because he could not be sure whether that metallic sound was real or in his imagination, he had turned out the light and got to his feet. He had moved in darkness to the back door, turned the key, and opened it. The moon was bright there, and behind him, casting a shadow over the parked car and the garage beyond. Nothing moved that he could see and he stepped onto the landing for a better look, breathing shallowly so he could listen better. Then, a little annoyed with himself and blaming both his nerves and his imagination, he went back to bed.

  Now, with the sun spilling through the shutters and his watch pointing to eight forty-five, he could find no significance in the somewhat hazy episode. He remembered that the bungalow had been searched, that the Mauser had been stolen, but he could do nothing about that now. Because he did not even want to think about it, he turned his thoughts instead to the date he had with Joan. When he had pulled on his damp trunks and grabbed a towel he was ready.

  He saw the two small boys as he started up the beach toward the Carib Club. They were tossing something back and forth at the water’s edge and he saw the metal surface glisten in the sunlight. Hurrying now, something about the shape of the object rousing a feeling of excitement and expectancy in him, he came up to them and knew he had been right. They stopped their playing when they realized he was watching them. They stared at him with big eyes, their expressions guilty and uncertain when he spoke to them. The one with the box offered it shyly and he could tell from its size and shape that this must be the one Joan and Roger Eustis had seen.

  He could see at once that it was empty and that the top had been forced. He asked where they found it. They spoke in unison and pointed toward the sea, and while their Bajan accents were hard to translate their gestures helped. They seemed to be telling him they found it close in shore and tumbling in the gentle surf. They had retrieved it hoping for some treasure, and he said that there was no treasure but maybe a reward would help.

  “Stay right here,” he said. “I’ll get something for you.”

  It took him but a minute or two to run back to the bungalow and find two dollar bills. He gave one to each of them and they accepted shyly, not quite believing yet that the money could be theirs. When they were sure they sprinted laughingly across the sand and as he turned up the beach he saw Joan Allison coming toward him.

  “Of course it’s the same box,” she said when he told her what had happened. “I’d know it anywhere.” She flipped the lid back and forth. “But if someone stood along the beach here and threw it out into the water why didn’t it sink? It’s metal.”

  “If it had been closed,” Dave said, “it might have stayed down once it sank but with the lid open the tide and the waves had a better chance to work on it. The bottom slopes pretty gradually here too and that probably helped.”

  He turned with his back to the beach and surveyed the sand above the high-water mark. A wide-spreading manchineel tree stood not far away and when he went up the slope he hunched down to look underneath it. That was how he happened to see the hole which had been dug a few feet from the trunk. Thick drooping branches shaped the tree like an umbrella and when he pulled her down beside him and showed her the hole she started for it and he stopped her.

  “Let’s make sure those leaves are dry,” he warned. “If they drip on you or you rub up against them when they’re wet you can get a bad skin burn.”

  They crawled underneath when they were sure the leaves were dry and knelt beside this hole which might have been made by a dog digging up a bone except it was somewhat larger. The miniature embankment surrounding the hole did not look very old. Its upper layer was hardly dry, and as he considered this fact, Joan reached out to one side and plucked something from the sand. When she handed it to him he saw that it was a cigarette butt with a cork tip which had been snubbed out when someone thrust it vertically into the ground.

  “It looks like the ones we found in the shack,” she said. “Could it be a Raleigh?”

  “Could be.”

  “Mr. Sankar?” She sat back on her heels and brushed the sand from her knees. “He could have buried it here the first night.”

  “Or seen someone else bury it.” He touched her arm and led the way out from under the tree. “We’d better go back to the bungalow and call Major Fleming. This is something he ought to know about.”

  They heard the phone ringing as they came to the bottom of the steps and Dave went up them two at a time. It rang once more before he reached it and then he had it out of the cradle.

  “Mr. Payne?” the voice said when Dave had said hello. “Major Fleming here.”

  “Yes, Major.”

  “Something’s just come up. We’d like your help and the sooner the better.”

  “I have something for you too,” Dave said.

  “Oh? Good man.”

  “I’ll bring it with me.”

  “You do that. Now do you have a car or shall I send one for you?”

  Dave said he had a car and Fleming said: “Fine, fine.… Now one more thing. Do you happen to know where Miss Allison is? We’ve been trying to reach her at the Carib Club and she doesn’t answer.”

  “She’s here,” Dave said.

  “Oh, good. Then will you bring her with you, please? … Do you know where the Seaside Hotel is? … Well, about two hundred yards beyond that you’ll see an open area, a sort of a public beach. We’ll be waiting. You can’t miss us.”

  “Major Fleming?” Joan asked as they hung up. “What does he want?”

  “He wants us. Why don’t you take your car and drive up? I’ll walk up as soon as I’m dressed.”

  “Why don’t you drive it?”

  “I thought we might save some time if you took it. I can dress quicker than you can—”

  “You want to bet?”

  She did not wait for an answer but turned and hurried from the living room and he called after her, telling her that she had better get a cup of coffee if she could; then he stepped into the kitchen and put some water on and turned the flame high.

  By the time he had shaved, the water was boiling and he made his instant coffee and carried it into the bedroom while he dressed. He was ready in less than five minutes and this time the Hillman started without trouble. He struggled a moment to get it into reverse, backed round, spun the wheel. When he put it into low the car lurched forward and just then the door of the glove compartment dropped open. When he straightened out
in the lane he slammed the door shut. It stayed there for about fifty feet and popped open again. The next time he gave it a real bang but the result was the same and now, because he had to pay attention, he made no further effort to make the door stay shut. It was not until he was parked at the Carib Club and cut the motor that he took time to inspect the lock and he could tell at once that it had been forced.

  Joan was just putting on her lipstick when he knocked and stepped through the open door of the cottage. She said she’d be right with him and he did not say anything about the glove compartment until they were back in the car.

  “That wasn’t like that last night, was it?”

  “No,” she said, trying to make the little door stay shut and failing. “Of course it wasn’t. What happened to it?”

  “Somebody forced the lock.”

  “Forced the lock?” Her eyes widened and a frown began to wrinkle the smooth skin above them. “Why should anyone do that?”

  When he had straightened the car on the highway he told her how he had wakened during the night. He told her how the bungalow had been searched when he came in and was grateful when she said nothing about the Mauser. Apparently she was still thinking about the glove compartment because when he finished his story she continued with her original thought.

  “But I still don’t understand why. There wasn’t anything in there.”

  He thought he knew the answer now and he tried to explain it to her. He spoke of the envelope containing the papers and agreements that had to do with Mike Ludlow’s estate. He told her how Roger Eustis had given them to him.

  “I locked them in the glove compartment when I rented my car,” he said, “and I didn’t have a chance to think much more about it.”

  “Oh.” The frown deepened but there was a gleam of understanding in her eyes now. “Somebody came to the bungalow last night and thought this was your car.”

  “In the dark it would be easy,” Dave said. “I even got into it last night by mistake at Club Morgan. Someone has been pretty worried about that envelope. I think that’s why the bungalow was searched last night, why you nearly surprised someone there yesterday afternoon when you were looking for me. Whoever it was didn’t find the envelope and he came back last night and tried the only other place he could think of. The trouble was he got the wrong car.”

  “But what was in the envelope that’s so important? Why would—”

  He cut her off. He said as far as he knew there wasn’t anything important in the envelope. He said the only thing to do was to go get his car when they had a chance and take another look at the contents of the envelope. Now that he knew it was important to someone, maybe he could find out why.

  16

  THEY HAD no trouble finding Major Fleming and his forces. His directions had been accurate and the open area he mentioned extended from the highway to the sea, the rear half studded with casuarinas and scrub palms. A half dozen cars were parked just off the street and one of these was an ambulance. Its rear doors stood open and as Dave and Joan approached, a covered stretcher was being carried from a near-by car by two white-coated attendants. Fleming, who had been in conference with Inspector Gomes and the doctor, now came to meet them. His ruddy, good-looking face did not seem unduly concerned, and when he said good morning his tone was both pleasant and polite.

  “Sorry to get you out so early,” he said, “but we have reason to believe you can help us.”

  “Who is it?” Dave said as the ambulance doors closed.

  “A chap named Sankar. Someone seems to have shot him last night, possibly with the same gun that killed Mike Ludlow. Same caliber at least. Know him, do you?”

  “Well, I—” Dave let the sentence dangle. Somehow the fact that Sankar had become a second murder victim did not greatly surprise him. It was nothing that he had anticipated, but even so the knowledge upset him and undermined his composure so that he was not prepared for this particular question. “I know who he is,” he said finally.

  Fleming gave him a quick, penetrating glance. “You’re sure it’s not something more than that?” He produced a business card and Dave remembered when he had given it to Sankar. “Found this on him. Mind telling me when you gave it to him?”

  “Yesterday noon,” Dave said. “We told Inspector Gomes about that.”

  “It would seem that you forgot certain details,” Fleming said. “I know about Miss Allison’s recognizing Sankar and following him to Seaside. I know what that taxi fellow from Starr’s Garage said. What we didn’t know was that you actually had words with Sankar. Why?”

  “Call it curiosity,” Dave said. “They told Miss Allison at the desk that Sankar was a solicitor, and I’m a lawyer, and so I went up and introduced myself. I wanted to see what he was like.”

  Fleming’s expression said he was far from convinced but he dropped the subject and turned to Inspector Gomes. Dave heard what he said and then he stood very still, a sudden flutter starting in his chest as the inspector reached into his pocket and brought forth the Mauser. Fleming thanked him and turned to Joan, the gun on his palm.

  “Ever seen this before, Miss Allison?”

  Dave was afraid to look at her but he was very proud of her reaction.

  “Me?” she said in a tone that suggested this was the most preposterous thing she had ever heard. “Heavens no.”

  “It has your initials on it.”

  “I see it has,” she said, her voice still steady. “I’m sure there must be a lot of people here with those initials.… No, Major,” she added. “I don’t know anything about guns. I’m afraid I wouldn’t even know how to use it.”

  “Mr. Sankar was found in his car,” Fleming said. “He had been shot twice. This gun was on the seat beside him. The doctor tells me that the angle of entry of the bullets was such that he could not have used it on himself.”

  “Do you know when?” Dave said.

  “Not exactly.” Fleming waved a hand toward the side of the road. “Cars pull in here off the highway frequently in the evening. Young people as a rule. The constable who patrols this area noticed that car somewhere around one o’clock. He doesn’t remember seeing it on his previous round. Some children were playing around here this morning; happened to look in the window. Otherwise we might not have found him for a while.” He started to turn away and then stopped. “I believe you said you had something for me.”

  Dave said yes. He said he thought he had the box that had contained the money that Joan and Roger Eustis had spoken of. He went to the car to get it and then he and Joan were telling Fleming where they found it and what they had done.

  “Umm—yes.” Fleming turned the box over in his hand, tried the lid, passed it on to Gomes. “Very interesting. Might be a possible motive, don’t you think?” His glance moved beyond Dave as something got his attention. “Oh, will you excuse me, please? I won’t be long.”

  He went striding across the sand in his immaculate khakis and knee-length socks. A chauffeur-driven Humber had just pulled off the street and Fleming went over to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Dunning, who were riding in the back. Dave watched them get out and then, as his glance moved along the edge of the highway, he saw Alan Crawford. He was leaning against a small car and talking through the open window and Dave saw that the occupant was Gloria Ludlow. Up ahead Roger Eustis was leaning against a fender of another car and even as Dave identified him Gomes moved up and said something to Eustis. Eustis threw his cigarette away and straightened. He followed Gomes to Gloria’s car. Crawford opened the door for her and she got out, and as they moved across the sand under the trees Dave saw that the Dunnings were accompanying Fleming.

  “A little conference,” the major said as he passed Dave and Joan. “Over here should be a good spot. I’ll see that we’re not disturbed.”

  When he had them all together he told them what he had in mind. He said that in the light of what had happened last night and its apparent connection with Mike Ludlow’s death it would be necessary to check their movements th
e previous evening. He said it would save time if they could give him some preliminary statements right here and he invited them to sit down and make themselves comfortable if they liked. He warned them that even if this procedure was unorthodox what they said might be used against them but that the more formal statements could wait until later on.

  He waited while Dave and Joan eased down on the sand. Gloria smiled at him as she settled down on one hip and thigh and spread her skirt. Alice Dunning, after a moment of indecision, did likewise. By that time everyone was down except the major and Richard Dunning and he made a halfhearted protest as he spread his legs and prepared to stand.

  “Of course you know this is highly irregular, Major,” he said.

  “Quite,” Fleming said without resentment. “But it will save time, don’t you think? … If you’re in a hurry, Richard, I can start with you. Do you mind telling us what you did last night?”

  “I was home.”

  Dave, studying the thin ascetic face, had been curious about Dunning’s reply and when it came he was ready to refute it. For he understood now that there was no percentage in trying to be a nice guy. His basic instinct, which was to mind his own business, was no longer valid, and he was concerned now in protecting only one person—Joan.

  “Not all the time, Mr. Dunning.”

  “How’s that?” Fleming said.

  “He was at the Club Morgan for a while,” Dave said, ignoring Dunning’s malevolent stare. “Talking to Sankar.”

  “Is that true, Richard?”

  “I was there for a short time, yes.”

  “And what time was that?”

  “Between ten thirty and eleven probably.”