Give Up the Body (25 page)

Jeff nodded, agreeing with Tiffin. “But if it was more or less a spur of the moment crime I doubt if anyone would have planted them.” He glanced at Jocko, “What does Willow have to say?”

Jocko shrugged. “Denies it, naturally. He denies ever having missed them from his closet.”

“The fact that they are his clothes doesn’t prove anything,” I said. “Or maybe it does. It proves that Tim Larson couldn’t have worn them.”

“I can hardly see him squeezing into Willow’s trousers,” Jeff said.

“I have a picture of Mrs. Willow or dear Daisy getting in them,” I said. “You’ll have to admit either of them could.”

“For that matter,” Jeff said, “Frew and Hilton could get by if they had to. Neither of them is a big man.”

“A little tight here and there,” I agreed. “But wholly possible.”

Jocko glared at us. “Are you trying to clear Willow now?”

“No,” I said. “I’m just making sure you see all the potential suspects. So you won’t jump in too fast a second time.”

“And she’s making it obvious that the Larsons are a little too large,” Jeff said.

“Bah!” It was Tiffin.

I ignored him. I said to Jocko, “Is Willow in custody?”

“Not yet. But there’s more against him than there was against Larson.”

Jeff colored a little at the implication. He said, “But I can print that you’re still holding Tim Larson despite the invalidity of his confession, the obviously adverse recommendation of the coroner’s jury, and this new evidence.”

Tiffin started out of his chair again. Jocko grabbed his arm to hold him down. “You can print,” Jocko said, “that Larson is being released—for now. That’s all.”

It was dismissal and we took quick advantage of it. But even then we didn’t leave town right away. Jeff got to a phone and called The Press. I called Jud and broke the news that Tim would soon be free.

It was a big jolt when Jud said, “Why, Addy, Tim went by with his folks a half hour ago.”

• • •

“I think it was Jocko’s idea,” Jeff said as we bumped toward Teneskium. “By smuggling Larson out he saved the trouble of having a flock of newspaper vultures on him.”

“Don’t think Jocko was being humanitarian,” I said. “Nor Tiffin. They want to find Glory—and Tim will make as good a bloodhound as anyone.”

“Then we can expect him to head for Portland?”

“Or for Glory to start back to the ranch.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Jeff said. “I phoned the hotel when I finished with The Press. Glory was still asleep and I had a message sent up to her. I said, ‘Tim out.’ Okay?”

“Good enough,” I admitted. “Now if we can keep a close watch we might head off the police.”

“Not yet,” Jeff objected. “I want to know what she’s holding back. I think I know part of it. She saw Willow (since those were his clothes we found, we’ll say it was Willow) and she’s going to make him pay for her silence. I don’t know about the rest—Hilton and all.”

“If she’s trying to put the bite on Willow she may stay in town,” I said.

Willow and family had returned to Portland, we knew. And I supposed Frew had too as soon as Tiffin let him out of the office. Only the Larsons were left at the ranch. Hilton had taken the maid and gone back to the town house.

“The cops will be watching everyone connected with the case,” Jeff said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they picked her up before long.”

“If we’re lucky,” I said, “we may get her through Tim before the police do.”

Jeff just grunted at me. After a few minutes of silence I decided he was concentrating on some problem so I let him alone. Finally, he said, “I wonder how long Frew will behave? He’d turn Glory in if he got the chance.”

“If he dared,” I said.

Jeff grinned. “I didn’t really threaten him,” he said. “I just made a few suggestions pertaining to the value of having a newspaperman for a friend. The business he’s in depends a lot on good will and a good press.”

I had been wondering how Jeff had managed to get Frew to deny his statement to Tiffin. I patted Jeff’s arm, “You saved me a stint in durance vile, getting Frew to go back down that way.”

“I don’t know why I did,” Jeff said. “You’ll do something and get in trouble again right away.”

It was my turn to grunt and maintain a silence. I kept it all the way to Teneskium. When we got there we parked in front of the office and went in. Jeff gave Jud the details while I fed Bosco. She dined on a can of milk and topped it off with a few pieces of newspaper.

When Bosco was finished I picked her up. “Let’s go after Tim.”

Jeff was still haranguing Jud. “You go,” he said, “I want to talk a while. Besides, he knows you.”

“Watch out for Glory,’ I said warningly. I carried Bosco out and took my suitcase from Jud’s car. He came to the door and yelled at me. “Nellie is in your garage,” he said, pointedly. “Give my heap a rest.”

I made a face at him and went to my house. I was tempted to take a long nap but I talked myself out of it. A cold shower helped a little. I dug around in my closet and found a presentable slack suit. I distrusted Delhart’s ranch as far as good dresses went, but to play safe I packed my pajamas and good suit in my case. With Bosco in tow I went out to Nellie.

The sun was getting behind me as I drove out to the ranch. It was gone but for a lingering afterglow as I pulled into the yard and cut the motor.

I found Mrs. Larson and Big Swede home. They welcomed me in. There was no sign of Tim.

“Where is he?” I demanded bluntly. I had no time to waste if he had headed for Portland.

It was a relief when Big Swede waved a vague hand. “Out by the pond,” he said.

I left them abruptly and half walked, half ran toward the dam. I could see him when I was half way there. A flash of white and he was gone. Inside of two minutes he appeared again and then disappeared. I finally came close enough to understand what he was doing. He was diving off the dam into the pond. He was purposeful about it. He saw me when I was within twenty feet of him. He sat on the dam, his legs dangling, and waved at me.

He looked marvellous, a big, broad shouldered man, tapering to a fine waist. He was light-skinned without being pallid. His gold trunks matched the wet thatch of hair. Here, I thought, was something too fine to waste on Glory Martin. And I couldn’t help wondering if his physical beauty hadn’t been the thing to attract her.

“Find anything, Tim?”

He walked along the top of the dam and sat on the end so we weren’t over three feet apart. I lit a cigaret and passed it to him, and took one for myself as well.

“Should I?” he countered.

“A hat, maybe? Or a knife?”

“Now,” he said, “I should know exactly where I threw that knife.” He grinned easily at me. “You and Cook took the wind out of my sails, Adeline.”

“Why waste Tiffin’s time?” I asked. “Let him use it to hunt real evidence. That was a lousy confession, Tim. You’re no author.”

“If I had had the time you could have written it for me,” he said.

“What did it get you?”

“They still haven’t got her,” he pointed out.

“She didn’t do it,” I said.

He looked a little angry. “I don’t claim she did.”

“Then why …”

“Not now, Adeline,” he said firmly. “I want to finish my swim.”

“How about what you really did that evening, Tim?”

He didn’t answer me. He stood up and walked out on the dam a short way and dove in again. He came up blowing, took some air and went down again. There was nothing for me to do but wait him out. I knew just how tough a job he faced. I finished my cigaret, waited a while and lit another. It was smoked when he broke water, one hand held high.

He had the hat.

“You’ll find the knife farther out and to the left,” I said. He swam up and tossed the hat out. I pointed.

He found footing and rested, breathing deeply. He looked queerly at me. “You want my statement, Adeline?”

“Yes.”

“Did you get Glory’s?”

“Some of it,” I admitted.

“Then you know where she is.”

“I did know,” I said. “Is that it, Tim? You want to make a trade?”

His reaction set me back a little. He looked cold and angry and a little frightening. “No,” he said flatly. “I don’t want to know where she is.”

It shocked me and I showed it. He said, “I did a lot of thinking in jail, Adeline.” His words were harsh and he threw them violently at me. “If I knew where she was I’d be tempted to find her.”

“She wants to see you,” I said stupidly.

He paid no attention to me. “If I found her,” he said, “I’d probably kill her.”

T
IM TURNED AWAY
and swam fiercely into the pond. I stood and gaped after him. And then the questions came piling in, one after the other, and there was no one to answer them. He wasn’t there but his anger remained. I could feel it around me, cold and deadly, and I wondered if he wasn’t capable of murder.

I looked around, at the forest and the pond, still in the twilight, and the house so distant. And I was afraid of Tim Larson at that moment. I began to shiver, and I sat down and reasoned with myself until I was calmer. Tim was slow to anger, I knew that. And I was sure Delhart’s death had been the result of a quick temper, a flash of violence, madness. That would never be Tim.

I felt a little better then. But I realized that I had someone, if not Tim, to fear. Both Jeff and I. A murderer was still loose, and we had blatantly and publicly shown that we had information, that we knew things it was not safe to let us know.

I began to be afraid again and I rose and walked along the bank so I was nearer Tim than before. I watched him dive and come up and dive again. I cupped my hands to my mouth and shouted to him.

“More this way,” I directed. The sound of my voice pushed aside the sense of solitude I felt here, so close to the trees, so close to the place where Delhart had been killed. I shut my eyes. I could almost see the flight and the landing of the chopper when I had thrown it in. I was sure I could direct him if I went back to my former position.

“Wait, Tim,” I called out. I ran along the shoreline to the bridge and crossed to the other side and back down to where I had stood when Frew had seen me. Tim was near the shore now, watching me curiously.

“Come opposite me,” I called out. When he reached the place I had him swim out toward the center and tread water. I closed my eyes and beckoned him toward me a little. He dove.

In less than five minutes he clambered ashore with the knife in his hand. “Nearly cut myself on it,” he said. “It was down in the mud.”

“That’s everything,” I said. “Tiffin will love you for it and forgive me.”

“You sure had the spot,” Tim said.

“I put it there,” I confessed. “Jeff’s idea. I found it weighing down those clothes.”

Tim gnawed his lip. “Willow’s clothes, Adeline?” I nodded, waiting for him to go on. “Circumstantial evidence can cause a lot of trouble, can’t it?” he asked softly.

“It can; it does,” I said. “Tim—what did you see?”

“I think Glory had better be turned over to the police as soon as possible,” he said in the same quiet voice. He was much calmer than before and much more sure of himself.

“Glory will be taken care of,” I assured him. And suddenly it struck me what he meant. I said, “If she tries to blackmail Willow the police will pick her up quickly.”

He stood dripping water, the knife dangling by the thong on his wrist, looking as if I had slapped him across the face. And then he gave me a slow, rueful smile.

“Adeline, you always were one jump ahead of me in school.”

“Want to tell it your way, Tim?”

He shivered a little as a light breeze rippled the water and shook the trees gently. “Let’s go in,” he said. “It’s suppertime.”

I knew better than to push him faster than he cared to go so I nodded to him. We headed for the house. I had a chance to examine the hat now. There was nothing unusual about it. An old grey felt, once stiff brimmed but broken and drooping from use and water. I looked inside. The silk lining was still there, sweat stained and wet, but it showed me it had been a good make of hat. The size tab had been lost somewhere but I could easily imagine Titus Willow fitting it neatly to his round, bald head.

Mrs. Larson and Big Swede looked curiously at us when we came in bearing the knife and the soggy hat but they said nothing.

“Did you tell Tiffin about Willow borrowing your knife?” I asked Big Swede.

“Told him today,” he said. He looked worriedly at me. “Addy, don’t you go and cause us more trouble.”

Tim was heading for the bathroom doorway. He turned with a quick grin. “She’s trying to keep trouble away from us,” he said. He disappeared and when he returned he wore a light sport suit and sandals. He was still a fine, handsome-looking man. “Supper, Mom?”

“A bite,” Mrs. Larson said. She turned to me as the men moved toward the kitchen. “Addy, Tim’s funny since he got home. He doesn’t want to talk about Glory.”

‘“He will,” I said. “And you ought to know by now that you can’t ever learn anything from a hungry male.”

“You can’t tell me, Adeline O’Hara,” she said. “Come and eat.”

We had a fine bite, as Mrs. Larson called it. Cold meats and heavy rye bread, homemade potato chips, pickles, and beer. It tickled me to think of what Jeff was missing.

Tim expanded visibly after eating. We took our coffee and went into the living room. When we were all settled, Tim filled his pipe and leaned forward. We all watched him, none of us speaking.

“I want to say something, Adeline. It isn’t for publication. And, Mom, don’t get outraged. I’ve done a lot of thinking lately and I’m through being a blind bat.

“A lot of thinking,” he went on. “In jail you do that. It’s a good thing, I guess.”

Having established a base he built on it. He told much the same story to the point where Glory had sent him away. “Only,” he said, “I didn’t go. She was acting funny and I—well, I was jealous. I figured she was going to meet Hilton. And she did. He came across the little bridge and walked into the forest just as if it were all arranged.

“I guess it was.” He smiled ruefully. “Glory was there. I couldn’t hear what they said but I could see them. It was dusky but when they kissed I saw it plainly enough. It wasn’t any duty kiss, either.”