Stab in the Dark (16 page)

B
EEKER
was the first man aboard. Knox showed him the pile of empty film cans. He said, “The rest of it is oyer the side, Mel. Maybe it’s destroying evidence but you can understand.”

“Sure,” Beeker said. He was looking at what else lay in the hold with the cans. “Stowed them with Leo Auffer’s body,” he said wonderingly. “What were they saving it for?”

“Because they weren’t sure what it was doing here,” Knox said. “Tinsley was a careful man in some ways—or he would have had me shot out of hand when I first came aboard. It’s a refrigerated hold and he just stowed it here until an idea for disposal came to him. My guess, anyway.”

“Good enough,” Beeker said. He jerked his head toward the cabin where Cora lay being patched by a medical assistant from the cutter. Knox already had his splinter out and his arm bandaged. He was also dressed; he felt a good deal less conspicuous.

“You say that she shot all three of them?”

Knox led him to the cabin. Cora was awake again, her pain lessened under a slight sedative. Her eyes were clear and she smiled when she saw Knox.

“You might say that she saved my life,” Knox said. He looked somberly from her to Beeker. “She gambled and lost, Mel, but she was smart enough to copper her bet when she saw a chance.” He smiled. “That’s something Tinsley would appreciate. You see, when she picked me up across the island, I mentioned the Coastguard coming—I did it on purpose. She was smart enough to know that they were licked, and so she shifted back to my side. She did it well, too, Mel, making it look as if she had been with them under cover all of the time.”

From the bunk, Cora cried, “Paul!”

“I’m sorry, Cora, but that’s the way it is. You didn’t have to shoot Tinsley or Eddie Pillow. Pillow was going and he couldn’t have got away. Tinsley isn’t the type to kill. If he had been, he would have had me shot out of hand when I came aboard. Toll was the only physically dangerous one, really. But you killed all three, knowing that they could talk and upset your little retreat back to our side.”

He shook his head at Beeker. “I should have taken care of her, Mel. World Circle likes to take care of its own. But I’m no executioner. I couldn’t even let her bleed to death when I had the chance.”

“Paul! Are you mad?”

He turned fiercely on her. “Don’t worry, I can prove it. Leo wrote it down. I have that. I know that he was planning to turn your defection back on you after he learned you’d sold out to the other side. That’s why his hocus pocus in the sub basement. Only you were too quick for him. Salas had moved in on Leo and got his face smashed for his efforts. Leo caught you and dragged you across the hall to pump what information he could out of you. He was under pressure since Salas, at least, knew enough to try and get him.

“Only, as I said, you were too quick. Or you used that look you have that promises so much and he dropped his guard. Enough so that you could pull out your little skewer and let him have it in the eye. The same as you did Jock after phoning him and making a date. Jock wasn’t fooled by that chair trick and you thought you had to shut him He looked away from her. “I don’t know, Mel, but I’d guess that Cora finds it easy to kill. Maybe only after she killed Leo did she find how easy a solution it was. Maybe she’s been that way. But it’s easy for her. Her only trouble is dressing things up too fancy. Like she did setting up the fifth of whiskey and her panties in the table storeroom. Red herrings, she thought. Just foolishness, really. And using an ice pick on Leo and a knife on Jock after sticking them. Hoping to draw attention from the eye wounds, and only making them stand out more.”

“Toll killed Leo, Paul. He told me so,” Cora said.

Knox said, “Pardon me, Mel, but if you’ll come here.” He walked toward Cora, Beeker beside him. She had a sheet up over her since her blouse was gone. He pulled it down and pointed to the deep cleft in her breasts. Half covered by her brassiere was the leather sheathe. Knox reached down and got a hand behind her and twisted. The brassiere came free and the sheathe with it. The slender handle of the slim weapon it held showed now. Knox drew the sheet up as Cora swore ineffectually at him.

“Try this on those wounds for size,” he said. He pointed to his gun. “She was helping me, all right. There’s my gun she returned. But she was still playing it safely. She returned it to me empty.”

“It adds up,” Beeker agreed. His face was flushed. He turned the knife over in his hands. “You say she killed Jock, too? But she was with Catlin.”

“She gave him a mickey,” Knox said. “She used the poor guy to keep me occupied and maybe Leo. Then when she wanted to get at Jock, she used him as an alibi. It’s probably the last time he’ll mess with strange stenographers in hotels.”

“My God,” Beeker said. “Five people. My God.”

Cora was crying. Knox shut his lips tightly and started out. “I hope it won’t be too messy—on World Circle, I mean.”

“She won’t live long enough,” Beeker said. “Telling her that you knew was the same as killing her, Paul. She has no reason to get well now—except to hang. With that slug having chewed her up. there wasn’t much chance anyway. Now …”

“I know,” Knox said. “But it’s hell to feel glad about it.”

• • •

Riggs and his seaplane, stubbornly determined to finish the charter job, waited for Knox. Telling Beeker he would see him later, Knox went for the dinghy to row out to the ship.

Beeker said, “Business at the hotel, Paul?”

“Loose ends,” Knox said. He kept his expression from Beeker.

Beeker waited until he was in the little boat. Then he called, “By the way, Fogarty and his men found a sliding wall in that warehouse. They’ve got everything, film, cameras, the men. One of them was a Winton bellhop named Carl. He’s sore as hell at you.”

“I’m crying. Knox said. He looked toward the waiting plane.

Things were winding up. He considered the case as he flew toward the city. By the time he arrived at the anchorage, had Riggs paid off with a fat bonus thrown in, and was at the hotel, the last bit had dropped neatly into place. His report and Auffer’s would clean everything up at this end, he decided. The hard part to write would be that about Cora. He hadn’t decided what to say yet about Natalie Tinsley.

He tried calling her from the lobby. There was no answer. The desk clerk looked surprised when he inquired. “Miss Tinsley checked out very early this morning, Mr. Knox. I thought you knew.”

“What about luggage?”

“Why that went two days ago.”

“All prepared,” Knox said half to himself. He went up to his room. His arm hurt. He was hungry and he was tired. It was just past one in the afternoon but he felt as if he had been awake and moving for weeks rather than days. He looked at the blank television set, wondering if the game would be on. That reminded him again of Nat. That hurt too, her going without anything. It was understandable, but it hurt.

There was a knock at the door. A bellboy, a new one to Knox, had an envelope in his hand. On the face was written Knox’s name and room number. He paid for it and shut the door. It was thin.

Inside there was only one thing, a ticket to the football game. Knox stared at it for some time. Then, grinning, he hurried to change his clothes.

• • •

Knox was in his seat, a good one high up and near the fifty yard line, the kind of seat Tinsley would have bought, when he saw her coming. He had his lunch in his lap, three hotdogs and two cups of bad coffee. He nearly spilled it getting up. Then he changed his mind and sat down again, not looking even when she settled in the seat beside him.

“Thanks for the ticket, Nat.”

“Give me one of those,” she said. She took a hotdog and a cup of coffee away from him. “You’re a pig, Paul.”

He turned to smile at her. She had mustard on her mouth and hotdog in it. She chewed industriously. In a suit and fall coat, with a small hat perched on her boyish cut hair, she looked the personification of someone dressed for football. She even wore a mum on the coat with the initial of the California team on it

“No I’m not,” he said. “I’m satisfied with what I’ve got. I don’t want any more.”

“Thanks, Paul.”

“Your father’s dead, Nat. I’m sorry.”

“Cora Deane?”

“Yes,” he said. “Cora.”

“I’m glad you know,” she said. “Father never would have killed anyone or had them killed.” Suddenly she dropped her quiet tone, and although she talked lower there was an intensity in her voice Knox had never heard before.

“Believe me, Paul. I didn’t know. Dad didn’t know all of it, I’m sure. With us it was a big adventure. And because we had everything, there wasn’t much left but adventure—the thrill of being hunted, you could call it. It’s been fun and it’s been profitable. But this was ugly. I—I didn’t even know what we were doing until after you told me, Paul. Believe that, please. I don’t know how Dad ever got mixed up in something so vile except that he owed certain people a lot of favors.”

“The kind you repay or get killed for refusing,” Knox guessed.

“That kind,” Nat agreed.

Out on the field, the teams were lining up for the kick-off. Knox looked that way but spoke to Nat, his voice as low as hers. “I believe you, Nat, because I want to believe you. But I still don’t know why you came. To tell me?”

“To tell you. To learn how you felt about me. I knew that if I found you here, you’d won and that Dad was—through.”

“I’m sorry, Nat.”

“I don’t know if I am or not,” she said. “Later I might blame you for what happened to him.”

“And hate me.”

Her hand touched him, and the feel of her reminded him of too many things. “No,” she said. “I’m not that illogical.”

“What will you do now, Nat?”

“Go on,” she said. “There’s still nothing left but the adventure. The excitement. I’ll go on gambling and—and taking risks. Can you understand that, Paul?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I don’t like it but I can understand it.”

She stirred. “Paul!”

He looked. The university had the ball and on the first play of the game, a halfback broke loose and went the distance for a touchdown. In the midst of the roar that rose from the packed stadium, Knox heard her say, her lips close to his ear, “Here’s the hundred I owe you, Paul. I never welch on a bet.”

People were hammering at one another around them. Knox took advantage of the excitement and caught her to him. Their lips met. He tasted mustard and didn’t mind a bit.

“Nat, Nat,” he whispered.

She drew away as people about them settled down into their seats. Beside her, Knox stiffened.

“Nat, Beeker’s coming. I left word for him where I’d be. He’s not looking for you but …”

She said, “I have to go anyway, Paul. My transportation is waiting for me.” She smiled. “If you win the thousand, I’ll send it to you.”

“And if you win it?”

“Just wait,” she said. “I’ll come and see you some time.”

“I’m supposed to go to England next, I heard by the grapevine.”

“I love England,” Nat murmured. There was another roar from the crowd. Knox looked toward the field. When he looked back, she was gone.

He found his last hotdog, still wrapped, on the floor. He picked it up, unwrapped it, and settled back to wait for Beeker. He thought, that’s all I seem to do—wait for him.

Beeker settled beside him. “This seat vacant, maybe?”

“For the rest of the game,” Knox said. “Hold mine and I’ll go get you some hotdogs.”

Beeker began to open a sack. “I brought my own I thought I might stay for a while.” He began to eat. “I thought I saw Natalie Tinsley as I came down this way.”

“In this crowd?” Knox asked. He took one of Beeker’s hotdogs. He was very hungry and now, not at all tired.

“I could be wrong,” Beeker said. “I probably was.”

They sat comfortably together and watched the game.

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Copyright © 1956 by Louis Trimble.
Copyright © renewed 1984 by Louis Trimble.

Published by arrangement with Golden West Literary Agency.
All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

eISBN 10: 1-4405-4197-3
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-4197-1

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