“He told me,” Colton said.
I said, “And did he tell you that Craybaugh was the only obstacle in his way? That Craybaugh knew he was coming and sent him anonymous notes threatening his life?”
“You’re wasting my time, Flynn. The Surfside has nothing to do with Mr. Craybaugh’s death. You killed him because he found proof that you broke Samuels’ neck.”
I said, “I thought that would be the way you’d dope things out.” I stared at him, wondering how I could get one simple, obvious idea through his dislike for me long enough for him to start thinking.
He said, “I’ve been up all night because of you, Flynn. I want to get some sleep. So start walking.”
I moved reluctantly toward the front door. My eyes were growing accustomed to the dim light. I noticed a difference in the room since the last time I’d been in it. None of Dolphin’s personal gear was in sight anymore. And suddenly the words Colton had used took on a new meaning.
I stopped near the door. I turned to face him. I said, “You told me Dolphin left. Do you mean he checked out?”
“That’s right. He’s gone to Nevada. To marry a lady. She was a friend of yours, I believe.”
He was enjoying himself thoroughly. He didn’t like me and he thought he was making me suffer. He could only be talking about Ingrid.
I yelled, “She was here? You saw her?”
“No. She left some time ago,” Colton said. “She had to go home on some business. Then she’s flying to Nevada. Dolphin’s driving there to meet her.”
“He told you this? And you believed him? You clam-headed idiot!”
Colton said in a typical cop voice, “You’ve said about enough, Flynn. Just keep moving.”
The meaning of Ingrid’s sudden change of attitude, her impishness when she walked out of Annette’s kitchen suddenly made sense. She was determined to help me. She had added together a few of the things I’d said and realized Dolphin was a key piece in my problem. And she had gone after him, to pump him. For me.
The top came off my head. I shouted, “Dolphin isn’t going to meet Ingrid anyplace. She’s already with him. And he isn’t going to marry her. He’s going to kill her. Can’t you see it, Colton. She was with me not an hour ago. She left and went to talk to Dolphin. He must have realized she knew too much and he grabbed her. He’s probably busy getting rid of her right now!”
Colton’s face was empty of understanding and full of disbelief. He said, “All right, Flynn. You’ve exhausted your bag of tricks. Let’s go.”
I took a deep, steadying breath. I forced myself to calm down, to start thinking again. Shouting against this wall of stubborn dislike was getting me no place.
I said carefully, “Mrs. Lofgren was Craybaugh’s fiancée. Now that he’s dead, she’s probably his heir. That makes her head of Rio Pollo’s two biggest payrolls.”
I had caught his interest. I said, “Maybe you think she’s going to enjoy seeing you parade me across the Surfside lawn with my hands on my head and a gun in my back. Her guests will love it!”
He got the idea. He said, “You can put your hands down. But I want your gun first. Shrug your coat off and drop it on the ground. And then step away from it.”
I took another deep breath. I lowered my arms and held them behind me. I wiggled my shoulders until my coat started sliding. I let it go all the way to my fingertips. The collar touched my hands. I closed my right fist over the double thickness of cloth. I pulled my left arm up and free of the sleeve.
I pulled my right arm too—around in a swing that snapped the gun-weighted coat out like a whip. I let loose and hit the floor.
Colton shot just once. The bullet smacked into the heavy paneling of the front door. Then the coat slapped down over his head. He screamed like an angry woman. I left the floor in a tackle that caught him across the thighs.
I drove him to the floor. I lifted both fists and rammed them down through the coat, into his face. He brought up a knee, but it was a feeble movement. I reached out and got his gun wrist. I slapped his hand down hard. He let loose of the gun. I picked it up. I got to my feet. I snatched the coat off him.
I showed him the gun. I said, “What’s an extra murder among friends, Colton? You’ll do what I say the way I say it or you’re going to meet Milo sooner than you figured.”
He didn’t try to bluster. He was smart enough to know when he was licked. He brushed himself off calmly. He said, “All right, Flynn.”
I had to admire him. It takes guts to look into a gun held by a man you think is a murderer.
I said, “We walk out of here. We go to my car. If any of your cops tries to stop us, I’ll shoot you. You see that they leave us alone.”
He said again, “All right.”
I said, “If you’re lucky, we’ll find Dolphin while Ingrid is still alive. If we’re too late, I’m going to kill you both. Now walk.”
He started walking.
11
THE FIRST cop was stationed at the junction of the two paths. He watched us coming. Colton a half step ahead of me.
Colton didn’t slow down. He said, “Relax, Roberts. We got the wrong man. Flynn is on our team.”
The cop said, “Do I wait here or come with you?”
“Stay where you are,” Colton said. “If Dolphin comes back, hold him. He’s a material witness.”
“Yes, sir.”
We walked on. I said, “That was fine. Just keep it up.”
He said with soft savagery. “I’m going to enjoy getting you in my basement, Flynn. It hasn’t been used in ten years, but the rubber hoses are still there.”
I said, “I’ll give you odds I never see your basement.”
He walked on. We met the second cop on the edge of the lawn, the third by the parking lot. Colton talked us past them both. I led him to my Porsche. We climbed in.
I laid his gun across my leg as he settled in the bucket seat to my right. I said, “I can drive this with one hand, so don’t get any ideas.”
He stretched his legs. “No ideas Flynn.”
I started the motor. I gave it half the usual warming up time. I shifted to reverse. I put my right hand on the wheel. I started backing.
It wasn’t an easy job. I used three precious minutes before we were clear of the lot and well down the road. I rolled down the window and tossed Colton’s gun into the timber.
I said, “The other gun is in my left hand pocket. I can get it fast enough if I need it. So just stay relaxed.”
I said, “If Dolphin left only five minutes before I showed up, then we might have a chance. He’ll have used up time getting Ingrid into his car. If we’re lucky, he’ll still be on this road.”
I settled down to serious driving. I didn’t waste time worrying about Colton. He was hanging onto the dashboard handhold with a two-fisted grip. His face had lost a lot of its color.
I didn’t worry about him, but I knew I might need him later. I couldn’t expect to get him over to my side, but I had to try to at least start his mind working.
I said, “Colton, Dolphin found out I was coming to the Surfside. Annette had wired asking for my help. He wrote me a letter, hiring me to come here and listen to his troubles. He offered me five thousand dollars to do a job for him. I turned him down.”
“You shouldn’t rat on your friends, Flynn.”
I said, “Friend, hell. He told Annette that he wanted to hire me to talk her into selling the Surfside to him. He probably told you that too.”
“He did,” Colton said.
I said, “That was so much crud. He hired me in the first place because he wanted to make sure he would know exactly what time I was coming here. He knew I’d stick my nose into Annette’s troubles. And he knew I’d smell him out. He hired Samuels to run me off that cliff. Dolphin learned that Samuels had failed but was still alive when I went into the lobby to report the accident. Dolphin was there. I saw him. He took off and killed Samuels to keep him quiet.”
I was driving flat out. The Porsche
passed the junction and sailed up the slope, snarling, squatting down on its belly with the curves. I had my lights on high. I dimmed them as the fog thickened with the altitude.
I said, “Get it clear, Colton. Dolphin killed Craybaugh. No one else had reason enough. Dolphin took Annette for a ride last night. He made one last effort to get her to sell. She told him no. He threatened her. She countered with Milo as a threat of her own.”
“This is ridiculous, Flynn. Why would a man like Dolphin want the Surfside enough to kill to get it?”
I said, “I can think of two good reasons. One, years ago when he first tried to turn respectable, he offered to buy Nils Lofgren’s chain of hotels. Nils refused to sell to him, telling him he didn’t want a man like Dolphin soiling anything he had built. Two, Dolphin is still trying to turn respectable. And what could make him more so than owning a place like the Surfside? Especially if he could get something of Nils Lofgren’s at the same time?”
Colton couldn’t say anything. He was too busy swallowing as we bellied down on a tight, flat curve.
I said, “Annette didn’t agree to marry Milo because she loved him. She was after protection from Dolphin. He’s been dogging her for years. She married Nils for the same reason. He was rich. But she found money wasn’t enough. After Nils died, she looked around for better protection. She located it in Milo. He wasn’t only rich; he was tough. She figured he could fight Dolphin for her if anyone could.”
Colton said, “What could Dolphin ever do to bother a woman like Mrs. Lofgren?”
I said, “I’ll tell you that when I have to, not before. Right now, just take my word for it. She didn’t tell Milo that Dolphin was bugging her. But he wasn’t stupid. He could see something was wrong. He did some checking on his own, and found out plenty. He faced her with it. I don’t know how much she admitted to him, but it was enough to start him going. You’d believe this if you had seen them together in the dining room last night, and seen the way Milo looked at Dolphin.”
Colton still didn’t say anything. He was looking worriedly at the way the fog thickened as we rolled up toward the summit of the pass.
I said, “I ran into Milo last night. He was prowling Dolphin’s cottage. He had done enough checking to find out that Dolphin had hired me to come here. He thought I was Dolphin’s man. We talked about it. One thing led to another. He flipped me over the lanai to the beach below. I was out for a while. I came to and went back to talk some more to Milo. He was dead, shot with his own gun.”
“I found it,” Colton said dryly. “Under your mattress.”
I said, “Dolphin planted it on me. When he came back from his ride with Annette, he found Milo at his cottage. I can guess what happened. Milo got hard with Dolphin. Dolphin realized that Milo was tough enough and wealthy enough and—in Rio Pollo—big enough to keep him from getting what he wanted. I can guess too that Milo wasn’t very subtle. He probably told Dolphin how much he knew about him and just what he was going to do if Dolphin didn’t pack up and go. So Dolphin fought with him too. Only Dolphin won, killing him.”
My eyes were tiring from squinting into the heavy fog. The summit was close, but there was no sign yet of Dolphin. I could feel the nervous sweat starting down my ribs.
I said, “I didn’t think of Dolphin for a long time. I knew he had gone out with Annette. But I didn’t know until a little while ago they hadn’t stayed together long. I added that to a few other things I learned and came up with the only possible answer—Dolphin.”
Colton yelled “Watch it!”
I rammed on the brakes. A car was groping slowly through the fog just ahead of us. I shifted to second and eased closer.
I couldn’t miss those fins, that juke-box of a rear end, that great wallowing, cream-colored monster. I was behind Dolphin’s Caddy.
I said, “That’s him. And when we stop him, Colton, ask him just one question. Then decide if what I’ve told you is the truth or not. Ask him why Annette never married Tibbetts.”
Colton said, “Tibbetts! That cheap housedick of hers?”
I said, “That’s right. And ask yourself why she has a man like that at a place of the caliber of the Surfside. Now hang on.”
Dolphin had topped the summit. In a few minutes he would be dropping into thinning fog where he could pick up speed again. Then he would be out of it altogether, over the hills that cut the ocean away from the warmer, drier interior. I couldn’t afford to give him those few minutes.
I moved close behind him again. I eased inside as we straightened out for the quick drop just below the summit. I shot the Porsche between the cliff face and the Caddy. I pulled even with him and held my speed.
I said, “Take a good look, Colton.”
Colton looked. I looked. And Ingrid’s face swam out of the fog. It stared at us. Her mouth opened, pleading. Her face was twisted from crying, stained with tears. Not even a cop like Colton could miss the truth behind that window glass.
Then Dolphin looked too. His big mouth opened and shut His head swung to the front. The Caddy gave a heave and, shot forward.
I hit the throttle, keeping level with him. I mouthed, “Can you jump?” at Ingrid. On the third try, I saw her head bob.
I let the Porsche fall back. I said to Colton, “Did you get a look at the radiant bride.”
Colton said, “Christ!” He sounded sick.
I took the gun out of my left hand pocket and passed it to him. “You might have to use this.”
He cupped the gun in one hand. He hung to the handhold with the other.
Dolphin was braking ahead of us. His taillights flared in the fog as he slowed for a curve. I didn’t bother to slow. I took the curve in third, holding the Porsche tight, slewing a little on the wet downgrade, then snapping out straight. I was on Dolphin’s tail again.
He moved the Caddy to the inside of the road, away from the drop off. I gunned the Porsche between the Caddy and the edge of the blacktop. I felt the left side wheels bite at gravel, spit it, start to slide. I eased in, away from the crumbling dirt.
I scraped the side of the Caddy. Then Dolphin swung the wheel, trying to smash me. I flattened the throttle. His front bumper ticked my rear fender. I whipped. I pulled back, fighting a potential skid. I felt soft dirt slide under the wheels again. Then I was clear and back on the road as Dolphin braked for another curve.
I started slowing down. I dropped to second and crawled. Dolphin came up behind me. He didn’t have room to take the bulk of his car around me on either side. He had to slow down or ram me.
His front end gave me a savage rap. I fanned the brakes. I looked in the rear view mirror. I was making less than ten miles an hour. Dolphin going slower, letting me get ahead far enough so he could ram me harder.
I said, “Why doesn’t she jump, damn it?”
Then the inside door came open. I saw a flash of skirt, of white, smooth skin. She hit the ground with both legs moving. She went forward, her body going faster than her legs could run. I saw her force a change in direction. She slammed against the inside wall of the road. She stopped abruptly and went down.
I shifted my gaze to the Caddy. Dolphin braked when she jumped. Then he started up again. He was picking up speed, aiming for my rear end. I could see his strategy: hit the lighter car hard enough and drive it off the edge of the sharp curve coming up.
I moved a little to the outside, tempting him. I picked up speed, making him come for me faster. I shifted up to third. I hit the throttle and went into the curve with everything I had.
Dolphin took the bait. He didn’t want to lose me. He wanted me on the start of the curve, where he had the best chance of driving me over the dropoff.
I saw his face as he realized that the curve was too close and that I was too far into it. I could picture him stabbing for the power brake, wrenching the wheel of the big car. I could almost feel the sickness in his stomach when he realized he couldn’t maneuver quite enough to keep the control he needed.
Colton was twisted around, watc
hing.
I braked carefully. I didn’t need to go any farther forward. It was all over behind me. The Caddy made a nose-dipping dive toward the inside wall. The rear end whipped for the edge of the road. Dolphin almost beat the skid. But he had too much weight, too much soft springing to fight.
The Caddy went over still going forward, a great creamy surge into the thinning fog. I stopped. I rolled down the window.
We sat and listened until the last metallic sound was swallowed in the mist at the bottom of the canyon.
I turned around and drove back to Ingrid.
I said, “All right, Colton, you’ve got the whole story. If Miss Calhoun’s testimony didn’t satisfy you, nothing will.”
He said, “I still owe you for punching me in the face, Flynn.” He got up. We were in Annette’s office. She sat behind her desk. She didn’t look very sharp but her eyes had the old snap to them. Tibbetts was standing at one side, stiffly, like a British sergeant on parade.
Colton said, “If I have your assurance, Mrs. Lofgren, that what Dolphin was holding over you is not a police matter….”
She said, “You have, Lieutenant. It’s an old affair, the stupid act of an immature girl, best forgotten. Shall we leave it at that?”
Colton looked a little dubious. I said, “Lieutenant, we already discussed Mrs. Lofgren being Craybaugh’s heir, if you’ll remember. I don’t think that bringing up old gossip would help her or Rio Pollo.”
He got the message. He said, “I’ll need all your statements later, for the record.”
He walked quietly and carefully out.
I got up too. I said, “I’m going to the hospital and pick up Ingrid. She should be patched up and ready to leave by now.”
Tibbetts said, “Why didn’t you tell the whole story to Colton, Flynn?”
I said, “What story? That you were really the one who killed Dolphin’s man when you stole those records for Annette? And that she’s been protecting not herself but you all these years? Dolphin had proof you were a killer?”
Annette said slowly, hopelessly, “How did you find out?”
The Surfside Caper Page 11