Part 35 (1/2)
A few minutes to half-past eight the next morning, Ken stopped his car at the corner of Marshall Avenue where he could see down the road. He waited a few minutes, then he saw Parker open his gate and come towards him.
The usual spritely snap had gone out of Parker's walk. He came towards Ken as if it were an effort to drag one foot after the other. He looked pale, haggard and depressed.
Ken got out of the car.
”I thought I'd give you a lift to the bank,” he said awkwardly.
Parker started and stared at him.
”Of all the d.a.m.n nerve!” he said angrily. ”You can't go to the bank! The police are looking for you. Now look here, Holland, you've got to give yourself up. I can't have you with me all day, not knowing when the police are coming to arrest you. I won't have it!”
”Keep your s.h.i.+rt on,” Ken said. ”I've been to the police and explained. They caught the killer last night, and I'm in the clear.”
Parker gaped.
”They got the killer? Then you didn't do it?”
”Of course not, you dope!”
”Oh! Well, I don't want anything more to do with you. You're a d.a.m.ned dangerous influence. You've ruined my home.”
Ken asked the question that had been torturing him for the past few hours: ”Did you tell your wife I went to see Fay?”
”Tell her?” Parker's voice shot up. ”Of course not! You don't think I'd tell her I gave you an introduction to a tart, do you? It's bad enough now, but she would never have forgiven me.”
Ken drew in a deep breath of relief. He suddenly grinned, and clumped Parker on his back.
”Then this lets me out!” he said. ”You'll keep quiet about this to Ann, won't you?”
Parker scowled at him.
”I don't see why both of us should be in the soup. It'd serve you d.a.m.n well right if I did tell her, but I won't.”
”Honest?” Ken said, looking at him.
”Yes,” Parker growled. ”No need for the two of us to be in the doghouse.”
”That's swell. Brother! I've been sweating it out since I had her letter. I heard this morning. She's coming back in five days' time. Her mother's going into a home. She should have gone weeks ago, and now Ann's persuaded her. She's coming back next Monday.”
Parker grunted.
”It's all right for you, but I'm in a h.e.l.l of a fix.”
”How's Maisie this morning?”
Parker shook his head.
”She's looking like a saint with indigestion. She's horribly quiet and polite and distant. I'll be in the doghouse for months before she gets over it.”
”Buy her an expensive present: a fur coat for the winter,” Ken suggested.
”That's right: spend my money for me. How can I afford a fur coat?”
”You were a mug to have told her, anyway. You needn't have. If you had used your head you could have cooked up some yarn.”
Parker nodded gloomily.
”I know. I've been thinking about that. I was a mug, but that sergeant rattled me.”
”We can't stand here all day. Get in if you want to.”
”Well, all right,” Parker said, and got into the car. ”But don't think it'll ever be the same between us, because it won't.”
”Oh, shut up!” Ken said shortly. ”You started the mess and you got what was coming to you.”
Parker gave him a surprised glance. He noticed Ken appeared to have acquired more character overnight. He looked tougher, more confident, and not the kind of man you'd push around.
”Who killed her?” Parker asked. ”What happened?”
”I know as much as you do,” Ken lied. ”I went to the police station, told the Lieutenant that I had been with Fay last night and waited to be arrested. He told me to go home as they had the killer. I didn't wait for a second invitation. I went.”