Part 9 (1/2)
”You got in a gunfight without a gun?”
”I wasn't in a fight. I was shot at twice and I ran. Not that I'm really stupid enough to need two to start me, but I was flat on my back.”
”Who was this man?”
”I told you. I never did see anything of him except one leg and a hand. I think he was wearing overalls, faded ones. And it was a pretty big hand. The shotgun was a double barrel, and it was probably an expensive one. Doubles with the type of ejectors I heard don't come in cereal boxes.”
”Did you kill him? Where's the body?”
”No, I didn't kill him. I would have tried, if I'd had a gun.”
”Describe this place again.” I described it again.
They looked at each other and nodded. ”The old Will n.o.ble place,” Magruder said. ”There's a hundred spare miles out there you could hide a body in.”
”I think that had occurred to him,” I said. I lit a cigarette. The big redhead leaned down casually and slapped it out of my mouth.
”Step on it,” he said.
I stepped on it. I wondered where Redfield was. Not that he would be in any sweeter frame of mind than they were, but if you had to sit there endlessly answering questions while your head hurt and the man who'd tried to murder you went home and went to bed, at least it helped if they were intelligent questions.
”Where's the car?” Magruder demanded.
”Out at the motel,” I said.
Magruder nodded to the redhead. ”Take a run out there and shake it down. Gun, bloodstains-”
”If you'll look carefully you may find a bloodstain in the front seat,” I said. ”I drove it nine miles with my scalp and one arm sliced open.”
”You haven't got any on your clothes.”
”I changed them. You'll find the others in the bathtub. Or would, except that of course you wouldn't dream of searching a room without a warrant. They're b.l.o.o.d.y for the same reason.”
”So you say.”
”There's enough of it to type. Or would that be the easy way?”
”I could get enough of this guy,” the redhead said.
”Where have you been?” Magruder asked him.
I was feeling worse all the time, and didn't much care what they did. ”What's the penalty in this state,” I asked, ”for being shot at with a rifle? I might change my plea.”
They ignored me. ”While you're out there,” Magruder said to the other one, ”run on out to that old barn and look it over.”
The redhead left. I forgot the house rides and stuck another cigarette in my mouth and lit it. Magruder slapped it out. It was a change, anyway. He stepped on it.
”Thanks,” I said.
He sat down at the desk and stared coldly at me. I stared longingly at the cigarette. ”Am I under arrest?” I asked. ”And if so, what's the charge? Target illegally in motion?”
”Let's just say you're being held for questioning till he gets back.”
”About how long do you think it'll take him to search that hundred square miles? Half an hour, maybe? I've got a date at five.”
”With your lady friend? I thought she was c.r.a.pped out with the jim-jams.”
”She's in bed from complete nervous and physical collapse,” I said politely. ”That might be what you meant.” It didn't dent him, but it was probably just as well. I was in a very poor position to be trying to provoke him. I'd just get my ears tenderized with a gun barrel, and thirty days in jail.
I heard footsteps as someone came down the hall. It was Redfield. He had his hat on and had apparently just come in. He looked hot and bad-tempered. Leaning in the doorway, he stared bleakly at me for nearly thirty seconds before he said anything at all.
”All right. Who did you kill?”
”n.o.body,” I said. ”I haven't been in a gunfight, and I don't-”
”Shut up,” he said tonelessly. ”We'll get to that in a minute. I thought you might be interested to know, Chatham, that I just got an answer from San Francisco.”
”Yes?” I replied.
”Unofficer like conduct. Has a nice sound, doesn't it?”
Magruder perked up his ears, and I realized it was news to him that Redfield had even sent a wire. ”What's that?” he asked quickly. ”Was this monkey kicked off the force back there?”
Redfield nodded. ”He's a real bully boy; he beats 'em up. Probably gets his kicks that way. So when San Francisco can't hold him any more, he comes over here to give us the benefit of his talents.”
”Well, what do you know?” Magruder asked, his eyes bright. ”You suppose he can catch, as well as pitch?”
Redfield ignored him. ”Well, Chatham, you have anything to say?”
”No,” I said.
”Oh, come now,” he said. He was smiling faintly, but his eyes were bitter.
”If they sent you a telegram,” I said, ”they told you the whole thing, not half of it. So if you want to ignore the rest of it when they tell you, why should I bother?”
”Oh, sure,” he said contemptuously, ”they said you resigned. Don't they always?”
”I did,” I said. ”And voluntarily. I drew a thirty-day suspension, but before it was up I decided to get out altogether.” Then I wondered why I bothered to explain; I seldom did to anybody. It was odd, but in spite of everything he was the kind of cop you instinctively liked and respected.
”Of course. And you weren't guilty of the charge, anyway.”
”Yes,” I said. ”I was guilty.”
He looked at me strangely, but remained silent for a moment. Then he went on, hard-faced, ”So now you're a free-lance muscle boy. A professional trouble-maker. What's your connection with Mrs. Langston?”
”There is none. Except that I like her. And I'm beginning to have a great deal of admiration for her. I like people with her kind of poise under pressure.”
”c.r.a.p. What's she paying you for?”
”I told you, Redfield, she's not paying me for anything.”