Doan chuckled. "Forget it. So many people are mad at me for so many different reasons that one more or less--"
Carstairs growled, and Doan whirled around tensely. "Aqui!" a voice shouted.
A soldier was peering at them through the niche in the wall. He climbed over and dropped into the patio. Another soldier and another and another scrambled over after him. They advanced in a raggedly spaced line. Their bayonets glittered, and their brown faces were grimly set.
"Something tells me," said Doan, "that I'm going to have a heart-to-heart chat with Captain Perona in the very near future."
Chapter 15
IT WAS THE SAME SMALL, SQUARE ROOM in which Doan had been incarcerated before, but now Captain Perona and Colonel Callao and Lieutenant Ortega sat in a solemn, official row behind a table in the center of the floor. None of them spoke when the soldiers ushered Doan and Janet into the room. Carstairs was between Doan and Janet, and he sat down and looked at the three officers for a moment and then yawned in a pointed way. Captain Perona nodded at the soldiers, and they went out and closed the door.
"Senorita Martin," said Captain Perona formally, "I regret to see you in your present company."
"Mr. Doan and Carstairs are my friends!" Janet told him.
"That shows loyalty but also a lamentable lack of brains," said Captain Perona. "Now kindly keep silent until you are addressed. Doan, this is a military court of inquiry. We would have met sooner to consider some of your actions if it had not been for the confusion resulting from the earthquake."
"No need to apologize," Doan said amiably.
Captain Perona's lips tightened. "That was not my intention. By a very contemptible sort of trick, you deceived me and sent a message to the detective agency which employs you informing them of Patricia Van Osdel's murder. As a result--which you intended--you have been hired to solve the mystery of her death, although there is no mystery."
"No?" said Doan.
"No. You will receive no fee from this case. I have solved the murder, and I have no intention of letting you steal the credit for it. We have learned through our own sources of inquiry that Patricia Van Os-del drew twenty-five thousand dollars in United States' currency from her bank in Mexico City four days ago. She made no major purchases subsequent to that time, and it is reasonable to assume, since a search of her possessions at the Hotel Azteca failed to reveal it, that she brought the money to Los Altos with her."
"In her purse," said Doan.
"That is immaterial. The money furnished the motive for her murder. Her companion, Greg, knew she had it. He was looking for an opportunity to steal it. The earthquake gave him an excellent chance. He struck down Patricia Van Osdel and the maid, Maria, and stole the money. But Maria was only wounded. She could identify Greg as the murderer when she recovered consciousness and would certainly do so. He came to the hospital and killed her last night to insure her silence. He was seen by Amanda Tracy, and he struck her down, again to keep from being identified."
"Greg got his arm broken in the earthquake," Doan observed.
"Yes. He fell while he was pursuing Maria. That is why he only wounded her then. He was in great pain and anxious to get away from the scene of his crime. We have not apprehended him as yet, but we will very soon. That ends the matter. Also, it absolves the Mexican government and the army of any responsibility. Patricia Van Osdel virtually caused her own death by her choice in friends and by secretly carrying such a sum of money with her without informing us of the fact so we could take extra precautions to protect her. Now have you anything to say?"
"Oh, a hell of a lot," Doan answered.
"Proceed," said Captain Perona.
"Well," said Doan. "First there's me. You were under a little misapprehension as to why I came to Los Altos. I wasn't hired by any crooked politicians to come down here and persuade Eldridge not to come back to the United States."
"No?" said Captain Perona.
"No. I was hired by a Committee of Good Government to bring him back so they could give the brush-off to the crooked outfit that is running the state. That outfit is slightly on the subversive side, and a lot of people would like to see them go away and not come back any more. If Eldridge testified to what he knew, it would have done the job up brown. But the Committee couldn't get him extradited because he had too much influence here and there."
"This is very interesting," said Captain Perona, "if true."
"It's true. Due to slander, libel, defamation of character, and unfounded rumors I have the reputation of being a little sharp in my business activities."
"Yes, indeed," Captain Perona agreed.
"So they hired me to pretend I was hired by Eldridge's crooked pals to scare him into staying here. That would naturally make him slightly resentful. Then he and I would cook up some sort of a supposed double-cross of his crooked pals, and he would return to the United States voluntarily so the Committee could lay hands on him and throw him in jail until he got talkative. Eldridge actually had no intention of returning, before we started to work on him. He was just talking in the hopes of shaking down his pals."
"You actually expect me to believe this?" Captain Perona asked politely.
"Sure."
Captain Perona watched him. "You forgot to mention the matter of the ten-thousand-dollar bribe."
"No, I didn't. There wasn't any bribe or any ten thousand dollars. That was just a rumor."
"What is in the safety deposit box in Chicago?"
"A well-gnawed steak bone," said Doan. "Carstairs is progressive. He doesn't bury his bones like other dogs. He deposits them in banks."
"Bah!" Captain Perona exploded.
"Honest," said Doan. "I'll sign a power of attorney, and you can have your consular agent go and look in the box."
Captain Perona breathed deeply. "If this fantastic nonsense has the faintest relation to the truth," he said with a certain amount of satisfaction, "you have failed in your mission."
"Oh, no," said Doan. "Eldridge dictated a dying statement to me--signed, sealed, and witnessed in triplicate."
Lieutenant Ortega looked up quickly. "That is impossible. Eldridge could not possibly have dictated a statement after receiving the injuries which caused his death."
"He did, though," Doan maintained.
Captain Perona frowned at him. "You intend to forge a statement."
"Me?" said Doan. "Oh, no. Why, if I did that all those crooked politicians would haul me into court and prove the charges in the statement were false."
Captain Perona opened his mouth and shut it again, helplessly. "Doan," he said at last, "the United States is an ally of this country's, and as such we wish to treat its nationals with all due consideration, but I warn you to get out of Mexico and stay out."
"Wait a minute," said Doan. "I want to set you straight on a couple of other matters first."
"What matters?" Captain Perona inquired icily.
"I want my dough. I want you to give me the official credit for solving the mystery of Patricia Van Osdel's death."
"And what possible reason could I have for doing that?"
"Because if you do, I'll tell you where to find Bautiste Bonofile."
There was a dead, ominous silence.
Captain Perona stirred a little in his chair. "I now retract what I said a moment ago. You are not going to leave Mexico. You are going to stay here for about twenty years, I think."
"It's nice of you to ask me," said Doan. "But no."
"Where--is--Bautiste--Bonofile?"
"Do I get credit on the Van Osdel deal?"
"No! If you do not tell me at once where Bautiste Bonofile is, you are going to regret it."
"Don't get tough," Doan warned, "or I'll dummy up on you, and then you'll never find him. Come on, Perona. Let's make a deal. I get credit for Van Osdel. You get credit for Bautiste Bonofile. That's a nice offer."
Captain Perona rubbed his hand over his face and sighed deeply. "I dislike you, Doan. I dislike you very much, indeed. You are
an unscrupulous, cold-blooded criminal, and I think--and hope most fervently--that you will come to a bad end one day soon."
"I can hardly wait," said Doan. "But let's make a deal first."
Captain Perona said: "I have failed to find Bautiste Bonofile, and that is a reflection on me and on Major Nacio' s organization. The cables will be in place over the Canyon of Black Shadow by tonight. My failure will then be a matter of public knowledge. You have won, Doan. I must bargain with you because I have no choice. You will be given the credit for solving Patricia Van Osdel's death. Where is Bautiste Bonofile?"
"In a tunnel under Colonel Callao's patio."
"What?" said Captain Perona sharply.
Doan nodded. "Yeah. He is."
Captain Perona turned slowly to look at Colonel Callao. Colonel Callao's face was as loosely blank as ever, and he was smiling, but there was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead.
"Don't let him kid you," said Doan. "He understands English. Enough to get by, anyway. He's got a swell poker face, but he can't control his eyes. I think he's been dealing for and covering Bautiste Bonofile all along."
Colonel Callao stood up very slowly and leaned his weight against the table. His face was darkly leaden now. No one else in the room spoke or moved. Finally Colonel Callao pushed himself away from the table, swaying a little, and walked toward the door, pushing one foot ahead of the other.
Captain Perona looked at Lieutenant Ortega and nodded once. "I assume all responsibility here. I order you to follow Colonel Callao and place him under close arrest."
Lieutenant Ortega got up and saluted stiffly. He walked out of the room behind Colonel Callao. The door boomed shut.
Captain Perona looked at Doan. "I like you even less after this. Colonel Callao is a drunken pig, but he has done some very brave things in his day. I had some suspicion of him. I thought he understood English, and I have been trying to trick him into betraying himself by insulting him in that language, but he was too clever. Explain to me how you knew where to find Bautiste Bonofile."
"I didn't know, and I didn't find him. Janet did."
Captain Perona glared at her. "You! You knew! And you stood there silent and let me compromise my honor by bargaining with this criminal!"
"You told me to keep still until you addressed me," Janet said.
"So! You choose this particular time--the only time since I have met you--to obey my orders!"
"Stop shouting at me."
"I will shout at you if I please!" Captain Perona roared. "You do not have the brains of a two-year-old child! I think I will put you in jail and keep you there until I decide whether or not I want to marry you!"
"What?" Janet said dazedly. "What did you say? Until you decide whether or not you want--"
"Do not be coy," Captain Perona ordered. "I detest that in a woman. I have not made up my mind as yet whether you would be a suitable wife for me, and after this performance I have grave doubts. But I am a just man, and I will give you one final chance to prove you are worthy of the honor. How did you find Bautiste Bonofile?"
Janet stamped her foot. "If you dare to think I would ever even consider--"
"Answer my question!"
"I won't!"
Doan said mildly: "It was that diary again. There was another cache dug by your illustrious ancestor mentioned in it. Janet was looking for it. Bautiste Bonofile had found it. I forgot to tell you that he's dead."
"Dead!"
"Yes," said Doan. "And I'll save you the trouble of asking. It was me again. I shot him."
"So!" said Captain Perona. "You lied about that also! You did have another gun!"
"Don't you dare talk to him like that!" Janet shrilled. "Mr. Doan saved my life! That Bautiste had a gun poked right against my back, and Carstairs jumped at him, and Mr. Doan shot him, and it was good enough for him! And if you weren't such an arrogant dumb-head it never would have happened because you would have found Bautiste months ago!"
"I am afraid that is correct," Captain Perona admitted ruefully. "So then, Doan, the matter becomes settled. Now all that is needed is for us to find the man, Greg."
"Oh, I know where he is, too," said Doan.
"What?" said Captain Perona incredulously. "You know... Well, where is he?"
"In his grave."
Captain Perona stared at him. "You said--grave?"
"Sure. I knew that right away when you couldn't find him. Greg couldn't hide in Los Altos for five minutes without being spotted if he was alive. A dead man--a buried one doesn't take up much room. There are lots of fresh ruins around here."
"You are insane," said Captain Perona.
"Nope. Look at it this way. Patricia Van Osdel drew a lot of money out of the bank and made a big point of coming here at this particular time--even bribed the hotel to put on the bus trip after they had canceled it. Why? Because she had an appointment with someone here yesterday. Greg might have known about the money she was carrying, but there was one other person who would be sure to."
"Who?" Captain Perona asked numbly.
"Why, the person she was going to pay it to."
The hinges on the door at the back of the room creaked just slightly, and then a voice said bitterly:
"You dirty little rat. You dirty, stinking crook."
"Hello, Amanda," said Doan. "I was just telling the Captain that if he really wanted to find Greg he could probably uncover what's left of him if he dug around under your house a bit."
Amanda Tracy was wearing a bandage like a lopsided turban over her frizzed hair. Under it the tanned skin of her face looked dry and yellowish.
"No," Janet breathed softly. "Oh, no."
"Yes," said Doan. "Amanda cooked up a deal to do Patricia out of some of her dough. Offhand I'd bet that she told Patricia that she had uncovered some of Predilip's paintings. The reason I say that is because Patricia was careful never to mention Predilip's name, although he's one of the best reasons to come to this town. Patricia was a bit of a chiseler in her refined way, and if she thought she could get an undercover bargain in some previously undiscovered paintings which now are very valuable, she'd come running, and she'd bring cash to overawe the person she was dealing with. How about it, Amanda?"
"You're so damned smart," said Amanda Tracy. "I'll tell you something you don't know. I didn't take anything from Patricia Van Osdel that wasn't mine. Do you know where her old man got his flykiller formula? From my mother. She made it up herself and used it around the farm. Old Van Osdel came along selling phony patent medicine one day, and he saw it work. He got my mother to tell him how she made it and got her to sign a release of all her rights in it for five dollars. Five dollars!"
"Patricia came by her chiseling honestly," Doan commented.
Amanda Tracy made a savage gesture with her clenched fist. "Just five dollars, and Van Osdel made millions out of it! And then later, when my father died and we lost our farm, I asked him to give us just a little to help us out--to keep my mother from dying in the county poor-house. He refused. I told him then that I'd get some of his dirty money whether he gave it to me or not--plenty of it. I waited for a long time before I got a chance. I painted up some damned good imitations of Predilip, and I contacted Patricia when she came back to America. I told her I'd found the pictures in an attic of a house Predilip had lived in. I made a good story of it. I intended to sell her the fakes and then tell everybody about it and laugh like hell when she tried to get her money back."
"Not a bad idea," said Doan. "Why didn't you do that instead of killing her?"
"You should ask, little man. Because of some others like you, and that's why I've always hated the whole breed. When I threatened old Van Osdel, he lured some private detectives to follow me around for awhile. I knew that, but I didn't know they had taken pictures of me--candid shots. I knew Patricia had never seen me, but she had seen those pictures. She recognized me right away. She knew then that the whole deal must be a gyp, and she just laughed at me. She didn't laugh long, though."
<
br /> "Dios mio," Captain Perona whispered.
Amanda Tracy laughed at him. "The earthquake was just what the doctor ordered. Patricia was walking away from me when it happened. I picked up a rock and slammed her and grabbed her purse. Maria started running and squawking, but so was everyone else right then. I chased her and hit her with the rock. I thought I'd finished her. No one noticed me before or afterward. They're used to me in this town."
"What about Greg?" Doan asked.
"He followed me from the hotel last night. He knew why Patricia had come here, and he guessed what had happened. He wanted the twenty-five thousand. All of it, if you can imagine the nerve of him. He was a nasty one, that boy. But I knew he didn't have his knife with him. I did have mine. He slammed me with a rock once. That was all he had time for."
The Essential Works of Norbert Davis Page 23