Arrenhower’s eyes wavered. “What crazy notion is this? I didn’t even know your wife.”
“You knew her, all right. You were in Lowering’s private hospital a year ago. You meet a lot of queer ducks in a private hospital. Somebody told me that. And now I know it’s true. Stella met you there, didn’t she? While she was taking the cure? Young and beautiful. You can’t resist ’em, can you, Arrenhower? And usually, they can’t resist you. Arrenhower has millions. Arrenhower’s an old pig with arthritis, but he’s got millions.”
“All right, I met your wife. At Lowering’s. What does that prove?”
“It proves you knew her. If you knew her and she resisted you, you’d pursue her, wouldn’t you? Just what you would want after all your easy conquests — the Ybor City babes and the ones you bought with diamond rings.”
Arrenhower looked at him. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to get out of here. I’m going to bed now.”
Blake stood up. He took a step toward him. “And you’re never going to get up, Arrenhower. Not all your money nor all your goons are going to save you. It’s just me and you now, Arrenhower. And my hands about your throat. If you want to tell me why you killed her, you’d better talk fast.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
Blake’s voice flared. “Don’t lie!” In one ripped and bleeding hand, he held out the scrawled letter he had found in Glintner’s apartment. “It’s the same handwriting that I saw in Bruce Bricker’s desk drawer. You had written ‘for value received’ when you paid him ten grand to sell me out.” He flung the blood-smattered letter at Arrenhower.
He drew out Stella’s twisted shoe. “Glintner wasn’t lying when he wrote to tell you he knew you had killed Stella. Glintner was hiding in the bedroom. He stole her shoe and went out the window. After you were gone. And he was going to blackmail you. Only he didn’t know he was dealing with a killer.”
Arrenhower stepped toward the door. “Now he knows,” he said quietly. “But you don’t, Blake. Why would I want your wife dead?”
“I even know that,” Blake said hoarsely. “I didn’t know why Stella was so insistent that I give up that job in your plant. Before, she had told me she wanted me to get another job. But after I went to work spying on you, she didn’t talk about anything else. I remember thinking she was distraught on the subject. She even drank to keep from thinking about it. She knew I was working against you. And she knew you. She knew how dangerous you were.”
“That may be true. But that’s still no reason for me to kill her.”
“All right. Here it is. You tried to buy me, remember? Ten grand to leave the country. You were over there Saturday. I had gotten away from the plant on Friday night to go to Jax so I could come in to Gulf City on the train. You tried to buy Stella, didn’t you? You offered her how much, Arrenhower? How much to betray me — to set me up for you and your goons? And Stella? She couldn’t be bought — any more than I could. She threatened to tell me, meant to tell me, didn’t she? And you knew you had to kill her!”
He took another forward step. “Only you didn’t know that Glintner was up there. Why? Because he had seen you coming there when I was away. Or maybe Grueter had told him about you. And about Manley. Manley was trying to force her to repay the cost of Lowering’s hospital. Only Stella wasn’t telling me any of that because she didn’t want to worry me with her past. And Glintner thought she was right for blackmail. Only when you killed her, he thought he really had a fine one for plucking.”
He moved forward again, his hands dripping blood. “That’s how you found out about me, isn’t it, Arrenhower? You were chasing Stella. She tried to keep you away without telling me. You wondered why her husband was so seldom home, didn’t you? And the next step was to find out that I was a private investigator. It must have been quite a shock to find out I was investigating you under the name of Robert Cole, employee.”
His face was hard. “And that’s it, Arrenhower. That’s my case against you. If you want to yell for help, now’s the time to do it. It’s not going to save you. But go ahead. Yell!”
It was painful for Arrenhower to move quickly. And that would explain why the room had been wrecked before he could kill Stella. But now the man jerked around and leaped for the door. His voice came from the top of his terrorized throat. “White! Al! For God’s sake! Al! Save me!”
Blake leaped after him, feeling his hands close on Arrenhower’s throat. He dragged him back from the door. Arrenhower’s voice croaked again in terror — “Al!”
From beyond the closed door there were the sounds of many cars, police sirens and then quick staccato gunfire. But it was all vague to Blake. His hands closed on Arrenhower’s neck. He felt Arrenhower sink to his knees, heard his rasping breath as he tried to speak, pleading for his life.
Then he saw the gun that Arrenhower had fought free from his pocket. Arrenhower’s purple face was murderous. He brought the gun upward. Blake growled at him. “Pull that trigger, damn you. You’re going to die anyway. Pull it!” As he talked, his fingers tightened. He could see that it was costing Arrenhower all his strength to lift that gun and there wasn’t enough left even to trip the hair trigger.
“You killed her!” Blake wept. “And now I’ve got you. Now I’ll kill you — and nothing in the world can save you!”
Arrenhower’s eyes seemed bursting from their sockets. He was still trying to lift the gun. But it slid from his fingers and banged on the floor. At that moment the door was flung open.
His fingers still digging into Arrenhower’s fat throat, Blake looked up, willing to die, expecting to die. But it wasn’t Al White. It was Connell, the detective, and beyond him the sharp-featured old maid, Ada Grueter.
“That’s him!” She wailed at Connell. She pointed an accusing finger at the strangling Arrenhower. “He used to come to see her all the time. And he’s the one who slipped into Bixby Glintner’s room and killed him. I know. I was standing hidden in the hall, waiting for Bixby to come out — I just wanted to look at him. Now I never will!”
Connell leaped forward and grasped Blake’s hands, ripping them away from Arrenhower’s throat.
“Let me alone!” Blake screamed. This was the man who laughed at senators and told congressmen when to breathe This was the man who believed he could buy anyone in the world he wanted; he only had to find the price. Here was Arrenhower who could have any woman in the world he wanted. But had wanted the only one he couldn’t have, couldn’t get and couldn’t buy. He wanted Stella until it became a mania. Until the mania drove him wild, until he couldn’t let her live, knowing she was laughing at him, knowing she couldn’t be bought. Knowing that she was good and that she belonged to a guy named Steve Blake. His voice broke and he sobbed. “I’m going to kill him.”
Connell wasn’t quiet any more. He wasn’t patient. His voice rasped. “You are going to kill him, Blake,” he said. He pulled Steve away from the gasping man on the floor. Arrenhower’s mouth was open. He was breathing like a fish out of water. “But you’re going to do it through the law, Blake. Arrenhower broke most all the laws and got away with them, but not this time. You don’t need to take the law into your hands. We’ve rounded up Arrenhower’s goons. And we’ve got a case against him. You’ve nothing more to worry about. A lot to forget, but that’s all. And you can do that if you’ll get out of here now and get back to that girl over there.”
Blake looked at him. Gradually his breathing subsided. He looked down at Arrenhower on the floor. His shoulders straightened. He nodded. He stepped over Arrenhower without even looking at him again and went out through the door, along the hall, down the stairs. His steps quickened. By the time he reached the gravel drive, Blake was running.
THE END.
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The Brass Monkey
Call Me Killer
Drawn to Evil
The Naked Jungle
A Woman On the Place
One Deadly Dawn
Heat of Night
Don’t Speak to Strange Girls
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Copyright © 1952 by Harry Whittington, registration renewed 1980
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This is a work of fiction.
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ISBN 10: 1-4405-4665-7
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