Mason handed him a cigarette. Fleetwood lit it with a hand that was trembling so he had to steady the match with the other hand in order to get it to the end of the cigarette.
“Go ahead,” Tragg said.
Fleetwood said, “Allred was smart. He sent me out with his wife that way, thinking that if I had genuine amnesia, he’d have time to do something about it. But just in case I was putting on an act he started spreading the word around that I’d eloped with her.
“You can see the beautiful position in which that put him. He could catch up with us, kill us both and claim it was the unwritten law.
“Well, Allred was pretending to be my brother-in-law, and I honestly thought that, if I kept up the amnesia act until he’d concluded a deal with Jerome, that would be all there’d be to it. But I hated Allred’s two-timing, and I decided I’d get word to Jerome, if I had a chance, and tell Jerome to get a gun and come out and join us, have a showdown with Allred and take me away with him.
“Well, I never had a chance to get to a phone without getting caught; but I felt I had at least four or five days more. We left Springfield and drove a hundred miles or so north. Then Mrs. Allred got a chance to phone her husband. He evidently told her to come back and go to that Snug-Rest Auto Court.
“Well, we did it. We got to the Snug-Rest and waited there. We had a few drinks. Then Allred showed up. He told us to get our luggage together, because we had to move. Then when we were packed and had the luggage in the car, he suddenly told Lola to climb in the luggage compartment.
“I knew what was up right then. I guess he knew I was wise. He shoved a gun in my ribs, and when his wife tried to grab his arm, he socked her one right in the face. It gave her a bloody nose.
“Then at the point of the gun, he made her get in the luggage compartment. Then he slammed down the lid on the turtleback and told me to get in the car and start driving. I knew that he had me over a barrel. I drove the car. But, believe me, I was intending to drive it off the road and take a chance on a smashup. But Allred was wise. He wouldn’t let me get up any speed. He said, ‘Put it in low gear and keep it in low gear.’”
“What did you do?” Tragg asked.
“Well, you know how it is when you’re driving a car in low gear. You have lots of control over the car and it’s surprising what you can do to a passenger who isn’t looking for surprises. We rounded a curve and I stepped on the throttle and the car shot ahead with all the power of the motor in low gear. Allred was thrown back against the cushions. He tried to brace himself, to push himself forward and push the gun forward so it would still be pointing at me; and then I slammed on the brakes.
“Stopping the car that way, right at the time Allred was pushing himself forward, slammed his body forward. His head hit against the windshield. I gave him an elbow on the face and the minute his head hit the windshield, I grabbed the gun and slammed the barrel down on his head hard.
“Allred went out like a light. He slumped down in the corner of the car over against the door on the right-hand side.
“I started to put him out of the car right then. But if I did that I was afraid he’d regain consciousness and tell some story to officers that would get me pinched for stealing the car. I just wanted to get away from Allred and wanted to get out of the whole mess. I decided to leave Allred in the car and get out and walk. However, I didn’t want to do that until I was near a town or some place—and that’s where I remembered this man Overbrook.”
“What about Overbrook?” Tragg asked.
“I hadn’t met him, but there had been some correspondence with him that I’d seen in the office. He and Allred had been in a mining deal and, I guess, Allred had trimmed him. But that’s neither here nor there. I knew from the correspondence I’d seen that Overbrook had an isolated little ranch up in the mountains and that the road turned off within a few miles of where we had stopped. I got the idea of carrying on my pre-tense of amnesia. I knew that if it came to a showdown and I had to appeal for help, Overbrook would stand with me against Allred.
“Well, gentlemen, that was all there was to it. I came to the turn-off within a mile, took the dirt road, drove up to within a quarter of a mile of Overbrook’s place, and swung off the road.”
“What about Mrs. Allred?”
Fleetwood grinned and said, “Believe you me, Mrs. Allred had had all she wanted. She’d managed to work the catch on the inside of the lid of the luggage compartment, probably by using a jack handle. Anyway, she’d managed to get the lid unlatched. The minute I stopped the car, she raised the lid of the luggage compartment, jumped to the ground, and ran like a deer.”
“What happened?”
“I called to her and said, ‘It’s all right, Lola.’”
“What did she do?”
“She kept right on going.”
“Then what?” Mason asked. “Was Allred dead?”
“No, but he was still unconscious. He was breathing, a deep, heavy breathing. You could hear it all over the car as soon as the motor was stopped.”
“You had Allred’s gun?’
“Yes.”
“Why were you so afraid of Allred? If you had the gun, why didn’t you simply leave the car on the pavement, get out and start walking and …”
“And where would I have walked?” Fleetwood asked. “It was a cold, misty night with a nasty drizzle. Everything was wet, and up in the mountains it was cold. I wanted a place to sleep and I didn’t intend to be wandering around on the highway. And I didn’t want to dump Allred out in the rain. I wanted to leave him the car so he could recover consciousness and drive himself home. I just wanted to get clean away from him, but I thought it would be swell under the circumstances if I could keep on with that amnesia gag. I had a girl friend, this Bernice Archer, and—well, I thought amnesia would be a pretty slick thing all the way along the line.”
“Hadn’t you been making a play for Patricia Faxon?” Mason asked.
“It depends on what you mean by a play. She is a pretty swell dish. I looked her over pretty carefully, and tried to find out if she wanted to play.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Didn’t it go farther than that?”
Fleetwood said, “I’m no tin angel. I probably would have thrown Bernice Archer overboard and married Patricia if Patricia had given me the green light. I thought for a while she was going to do that, but she didn’t. Patricia has dough of her own, and her mother is lousy with the stuff. The man who marries Pat Faxon doesn’t need to worry about work, and if he knows a little something about mining investments, he can cut himself quite a piece of cake. However, that’s neither here nor there. I’m giving it to you gentlemen straight. Bernice Archer was my girl. She still is. She’s a sweet kid.”
“You’ve seen her since you’ve been here?” Mason asked.
“Of course, I’ve seen her,” Fleetwood said. “She came to me first thing when she knew I was here. She was with me for nearly an hour. She’s a sweet kid.”
“And did you tell her this story?” Mason asked.
“No,” Fleetwood said. “I kept on with the amnesia gag. I thought it was the best way out of a lot of things.”
“Did you fool her?”
“I don’t know. You never can be too certain about Bernice that way. She pretended to be fooled.”
“You didn’t tell her anything at all about what had happened up there?”
“Certainly not. I told her I couldn’t remember a thing that had happened from the time I was struck on the head there at Allred’s house until I recovered consciousness just as I was being taken to the police station.”
“All right,” Tragg said impatiently, “never mind about your love affairs. Tell me the details of what happened. Mrs. Allred jumped out of the baggage compartment. Was the lid of the baggage compartment still up?”
“No. It slammed down when she jumped out. She didn’t push it up far enough for it to remain in an upright position.”
“And t
hat blood in the baggage compartment?”
“The blood must have come from her bloody nose,” Fleetwood said. “That’s the only way I can account for it.”
“So what did you do?”
“I’d got out of the car. I’d left Allred in it. Allred was still unconscious, but he was beginning to stir around a little bit and show signs of regaining consciousness.
“I knew I was within a short distance of Overbrook’s house. I got out and listened. I could hear a dog barking and it sounded pretty close. I walked around the car and when I got in front of the car, I took the gun by the barrel and threw it just as far as I could throw it out into the darkness. I made a pretty good job of it. It seemed quite a while before I heard it hit the ground. Then I started walking toward the sound of the barking dog. I guess it was about three or four hundred yards before I came to the house. I knocked on the door. After a while Overbrook got up and wanted to know what I wanted. I told him that I guessed I’d been in an automobile accident or something because I found myself walking along the road with no idea of where I was or how I’d got there.
“Overbrook was a little suspicious. He looked me over pretty carefully. Finally he said he just had a bachelor’s place there, that there was a spare room that had a cot in it, that it was just a cot and there were blankets on it but there were no sheets. He said that if I wanted to stay there that night, I could. I told him that would be fine, that I thought I’d have my memory back in the morning. I went into the bedroom and waited until he’d gone back to bed again. I had an idea of slipping out and listening to see when Allred regained consciousness and drove the car away. But I reckoned without the dog. Evidently Overbrook had told the dog to watch me, because when I tried to open the door a crack, the dog was standing right there in front of it with his lips curled back, and he gave a low growl.
“I went back and sat on the edge of the cot and I must have been there for about half an hour before I could hear the sound of a motor starting, and then the car drove away.”
“What time did Allred get out to the Snug-Rest?” Mason asked.
“You’ve got me,” Fleetwood said. “Allred had previously taken, not only my watch, but everything I owned except my money. When I pretended that I was suffering from amnesia, Allred had been smart enough to see that I didn’t have anything that would prove my identity in case I appealed to some stranger. I didn’t have a watch. He’d even taken my handkerchief because it had a laundry mark on it, cleaned me out slick as a whistle.”
“But he didn’t take your money?”
“Not only did he not take my money, but I think he must have put at least a couple of hundred dollars more in the roll of bills I was carrying in my trouser pocket. He wanted me to have lots of money and nothing else.”
Mason looked at Tragg.
Tragg shrugged his shoulders.
“How about Mrs. Allred’s suitcase?” Mason asked.
“What about it?”
“When she packed up at her husband’s request, she put this suitcase in the car?”
“Yes.”
“And,” the lawyer said sarcastically, “when she jumped out of that luggage compartment and started running for her life, do you want us to believe she was lugging this suitcase?”
“No, she wasn’t, Mr. Mason. She was carrying a jack handle, or some metal rod; that’s all. I could see that jack handle in her hand. The light from the tail light showed me that.”
The lawyer smiled triumphantly. “When the car was found, her suitcase wasn’t in it.”
Fleetwood’s face showed dismay. “The hell it wasn’t! Of course, I couldn’t see her too clearly.”
Mason said scornfully, “It’s a hell of a story. She’s in danger of her life, yet she comes back for her suitcase.”
“Wait a minute,” Fleetwood said. “I’ll tell you what must have happened. Mrs. Allred was trying to hitchhike back to town. Allred recovered consciousness, knew I’d given him the slip. He started to drive back to town. He met his wife on the road. She may even have tried to thumb a ride, not knowing who was back of the headlights. When he stopped the car and tried to force her to get in, she hit him with the jack handle. It was then she got her suitcase out of the car and drove it over the grade. He must have overtaken her right about at the place where the car went over the grade.”
“Bosh!” Mason said.
“Believe me,” Fleetwood said fervently, “Allred got what was coming to him, and if Mrs. Allred ran that car over a bluff, she certainly was acting in self-defense. I’ll bet if you get her to tell the truth, you’ll find that her husband picked her up, that he tried to manhandle her and she cracked him over the head with a jack handle. She …”
The phone on Tragg’s desk rang.
Tragg hesitated a moment, then picked up the receiver, said, “Yes … who? Oh, yes, hello, sheriff … that’s right. I’ve just got a new angle on it … okay, go ahead …”
Tragg held the phone to his ear for some twenty seconds, listening attentively. He frowned thoughtfully at Fleetwood while he was listening. Then he said into the mouthpiece, “I wish you’d take a look at them yourself, sheriff, and I want to go along. It may be important … I can start in ten minutes … I think we’ve got something there. I think this business is all beginning to fit into the component parts of a perfect picture … Okay, I’ll be over. I want to ask a few questions and then I’ll get in touch with you. You be all ready to go, will you … Okay, good-by.”
Tragg hung up the phone, regarded Fleetwood thoughtfully for a few seconds.
“Where did you stop this car?” he asked.
“I told you, about a quarter of a mile from Overbrook’s house.”
“I know, but what sort of a place was it?”
“Well,” Fleetwood said, “it was not too good a place. It looked all right from all I could see driving along with the headlights. It was a nice level place off the road. But when I got into it I found the going was pretty soft. It wasn’t so bad at first, but up where I left the car, it was fairly soft.”
Tragg said, “Now look, Fleetwood, you’ve played tag with us long enough. This is the second or third time you’ve changed your story. Now, if you try to cut any corners on me, I’m going to throw the book at you.”
“I’m clean now,” Fleetwood said. “This is it, Lieutenant.”
“I hope it is. Now you say Mrs. Allred jumped out of the car and ran?”
“That’s right.”
“Did she come back?”
“Come back!” Fleetwood said, and laughed. “You couldn’t have dragged her back to that car with a block and tackle.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, of course. She was afraid of her husband, and she had reason to be.”
“Did she know her husband was unconscious when she was running away?”
“I called to her,” Fleetwood said, “but she kept on running.”
“What did you say?”
“I don’t know. I told her to come on back. And then I yelled and said, ‘I’ve got his gun and he’s lying unconscious here in the car.’”
“What did she do?”
“I think she kept on running. But by that time, she’d gone far enough so I couldn’t see. Remember, she was running from the rear of the car, away from the illumination of the headlights.”
“Where were you?”
“I’d just started to walk around the car. I was standing right close to the headlights.”
“Then she could see you in the illumination of the headlights?”
Fleetwood thought a minute, then said, “Yes. Certainly, of course she could. I was standing right in front of the headlights. From where she was standing, she could see me clearly.”
“So you don’t know that she kept on running after you called to her?”
“No, to tell you the truth, I don’t. The night was dark. There was a cold drizzle falling and you couldn’t much more than see your hand in front of your face. I had quite a time stumbling along
getting to Overbrook’s house. I couldn’t see a thing. All I could do was walk toward the sound of the barking dog.”
Tragg nodded. “I have a hunch you’re doing all right for yourself, Fleetwood. But you’re going to have to remain in custody for two or three hours.”
“It suits me,” Fleetwood said. “I’m clean now. And believe me, Lieutenant, it’s a load off my mind.”
“You’re sure you threw that gun away?”
“You’re damn right I threw it away. You can check on my story if you want, Lieutenant. You can find the place where I left the car, and you certainly should be able to find the gun. I threw it ahead of the car and to the left, and it must have gone about—well, a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet. That ground was soft and I must have left tracks there.”
“The tracks have been discovered,” Tragg said drily. “I’m going up to take a look at them. They tend to corroborate your story a hundred percent. Now think carefully. You shut off the ignition on the car when you stopped it?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you switch out the headlights?” “No, I left the headlights on.”
“So the position of the car could be seen quite clearly?”
“Yes.”
“And when you walked around the car, you walked in front of the car?”
“That’s right.”
“Where were you when you threw the gun away?”
“Standing right in front of the car.”
“So the headlights were on you, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“So anyone who was standing some distance back of the car could watch and see plainly what you had done?”
“Yes.”
Tragg looked speculatively at Mason. “Your client tell you anything about this?”
Mason hesitated a moment, then shook his head.
“She should have,” Tragg said.
“What do you mean?” Mason asked.
Tragg said, “Now I can begin to put the whole thing together. Your client ran down to the roadway, Mason. She stopped there. She heard what Fleetwood said about her husband being in the car and being unconscious. She waited. She watched Fleetwood walk around the front of the car and stand in front of the headlights. She saw him throw the gun away. Then she saw him start toward Overbrook’s house. She waited. She had a jack handle in her hand. She knew her husband intended to kill her. She stood there in the drizzle, and in the darkness, waiting. When she saw Fleetwood didn’t intend to come back, she tiptoed back to the car to make sure what Fleetwood said was correct. She found out it was correct. Her husband was just regaining consciousness.
The Case of the Lazy Lover Page 16