The Expendable Man (20 page)

“Maybe so, maybe not.”

“At least a white doctor would be given the benefit of the doubt.” Hugh tried to keep his voice empty of emotion. “It wouldn't be taken for granted that a quixotic act had a sexual base.”

“I'm sure Hackaberry gives you that benefit. As sure as I can be about any man whom I know fairly well.”

“That's not the way Ringle and Venner see it.”

“Fortunately, it's Hack we have to convince. He knows that your story could be the way you've told it. But it's your unsupported story and it could be another way.” He looked directly at Hugh. “How do we go about proving the truth?”

He knew how. He didn't want to divulge it lest somehow the sound of his words would filter through the night and give warning to the hidden men. But this was his lawyer, the man he'd retained to help him. This afternoon had proven he would need all the help he could find. He said, “We must find two men. The one she came to meet and the one who committed the abortion.”

Skye thought about it before saying, “It won't be easy.”

“I know that. But if we can find the first man, he can give us the second.” The police would have ways of getting that information.

“We have no name, no description, no faint clue.” Skye was thinking aloud. “How do we find him?”

Ellen spoke. “Her father might have an idea.”

“From what he told the marshal, and the marshal believes him beyond doubt, this whole thing is entirely without comprehension to him. He had no idea that his daughter knew a man in Phoenix, much less that she'd been meeting him, shall we say, intimately?”

Hugh said morosely, “The way she lied about everything, as if lies were truth, it wouldn't have been difficult for her to keep it from him.”

Ellen suggested, “She may have known her father would disapprove of this man. Perhaps he does know but isn't aware of it.”

“That could be,” Skye accepted. “But he was most certain that she didn't know anyone in Phoenix. According to him, she hadn't been in Phoenix since she was six years old.”

“And that needn't be true,” Hugh added. “She could have told her father she was spending the weekend with a girl friend in Banning or Beaumont, and come to Phoenix plenty of times.”

Skye said, “If this man killed her to keep his wife from finding out, I don't believe he'd be seeing her in Phoenix.”

“If that is the case”—Hugh was figuring out loud—“he met her in Indio. Their affair was carried on in Indio. And he must have had some legitimate excuse to be in Indio. Either business or relatives.”

“And some of her girl friends must know who he is.” Ellen was suddenly touched with excitement. “I think we start there. With her friends. Girls confide in each other.”

Hugh's heart quickened. If they could get a name, they could start moving. All three were silent, examining the idea.

At last Skye said, “I think you're right. We start there. I'll arrange to fly Meg to Indio in the morning. She's young enough to talk to teen-agers on their own level, she won't scare them off as I might.” He interjected with some regret, “I wish we could have got to them before their mothers told them to say nothing, not get involved.”

“Even so they'll talk,” Ellen said, with certainty.

“As to the abortionist, don't think the police have settled on you, Hugh. That's the first action Hackaberry took, in concert with the Phoenix chief. The police have been out covering that ground since the autopsy results were announced.”

“They won't find out anything,” Hugh said.

Skye lifted his shoulders. “Perhaps not. The muck who are in that filthy business don't come out from under their rocks under average circumstances. With a murder, I doubt if anyone can lift enough rocks to find them. But it could be some informant will come up with something.”

“That's why we have to find the boy friend,” Hugh said. “He's the only one who can tell us who did it.”

“Suppose he won't.” Ellen spoke sharply. “How does one go about finding an abortionist? Let's say I wanted to find one. Where would I start?”

“It's an underground,” Skye began. “All word of mouth. It isn't something the police have much documentation on, it's even too secret for that. But they figure it starts, and my apologies to Hugh, in the medical profession. A girl is in trouble. She goes to a legitimate doctor. He turns her down. She tries another one, and so on until she finds a medico who's on the ethical borderline, let us say. He's straight but he knows someone who isn't. Perhaps a surgeon barred for malpractice, or a nurse or student who prefers money to ethics. Or it may be a doctor with criminal inclinations; there are such, as in any profession. Perhaps he's gone over the line into illegal operations for quick money. At any rate, she gets a name, and that's the beginning. The word is then passed around. In the office, on the campus, in the bars—God help us, wherever frail man and woman meet together. When the next fellow gets a girl in trouble, he or she doesn't have to go through the initial routine. They ask around and find a friend who knows a friend who has the word.” Skye took an angry breath. “The police problem is that neither side will talk. Unless the case becomes a murder, they don't ever hear of it.”

“What I was wondering,” Ellen said thoughtfully, “is how this man found an abortionist so quickly, after Hugh refused.”

“The police are wondering the same thing,” Skye stated. “It's not something you can discover in a hurry. It is most likely that he was a previous customer or that he had it set up before the girl came here. Certainly he knew where to go.”

Hugh thought aloud. “Iris had told him she was coming to Phoenix and when. She must have. She had none of the hesitancy of a girl who doesn't know whether or not she'll find someone waiting at the end of the journey.”

“But you believed she was holding a secret joke,” Ellen argued. “It could have been she meant to surprise him.”

“No,” Hugh denied. “She must have known he would be waiting for her. She couldn't take a chance on not finding him. She had no money.”

“How could she write to him? He couldn't have let her know where he lived.”

“They had some way to communicate.” Hugh was certain.

“By telephone,” Skye suggested.

“I doubt that. She couldn't have made a long-distance call from her father's without its showing up on the bill.”

“Reverse the charges.”

“Not to the man's home. The wife might have answered. And not at his job, unless he has his own business.”

It wasn't important now. Skye proceeded, “Somehow she sent word she was coming. And why. And he got ready for her.”

There was gall in Hugh's mouth. “He was ready, but when she told him how she hitchhiked to Phoenix with a doctor, he saw a way to save money.”

“But why did he kill her?” Ellen cried out. “Why go to the expense of an abortion if he meant to kill her?”

“Did he kill her?” Skye asked rhetorically. “Or did the abortionist kill her when he saw the operation was bungled? Right now that's the most important question for the police. Not the abortion, that problem is always at hand. When they catch one operator, there's a peculiar leniency in the laws that lets him free in no time. But murder's a different matter. It's the murderer they've got to find. They'll admit there may be a man she came to meet, as Hugh claims, but they aren't convinced that man killed her. The operation was a bad one, she was going to die—the logical killer is the abortionist.”

Before she could name him. Yes, it was logical. But he wouldn't need a wrench or some other car tool to complete what he had begun. He could make sure she was dead more easily than that.

Hugh flared, “How can they not admit this man? Surely they don't think I made her pregnant?”

“No, they don't think that. But they do think her pregnancy may have come from one of the many boys she knew in her high school. She was a free and easy girl, that's implied in all the information on her. She couldn't do anything about her trouble in Indio, the town is too small. But someone knew where to go in Phoenix. And in Phoenix no one knew her.”

“Or she had it arranged with me to take care of her between wedding parties?” The bitterness deepened.

“They don't go that far,” Skye said. “They figure it was coincidence she met up with a doctor on the way.”

“And the anonymous tip? What about the anonymous tip?”

“The marshal takes that seriously. Ringle and Venner think someone not connected at all with the murder could have recognized the description. Either an Indio boy visiting over here or a Phoenix boy who had met her over there. He wouldn't give his name because he didn't want to be involved in the mess. He was scared. Just like you were scared to identify her after you read that story in the paper. It's a normal reaction.”

It could be that way, although Hugh could not admit it. For the identification hinged on what she was wearing. The one who called the police must have seen her in Phoenix.

“How much time do I have?” Hugh asked hopelessly.

“The police don't rush into a murder arrest, Hugh. They want enough solid evidence for the D.A. to go into court and get an indictment. It's true they're in a hurry on this case because they're on a spot. Whenever a young girl is violated and murdered, the citizenry and the newspapers are prone to get hysterical.”

“They have enough facts right now for a case against me.”

“Not for murder, Hugh. For abortion, yes, perhaps. But that's something the law moves on with exceeding caution. Particularly with a doctor involved. They know that once that accusation is made, the man will never be quite free of suspicion of guilt.”

There was nothing more to be gained in worrying the perhaps and the ifs. It was past time to go. If he were to be keen tomorrow, to further his own investigations. The police might be looking into the local abortionists, but because they were police they'd get no answers. And didn't need them, they had enough material to fit the crime to Hugh.

Skye smiled, it was meant to be comfort. “I'm not worried, Hugh. I'm sure Meg will dig up what we need in Indio. We have an advantage just because we're not official.”

“I hope so.” He looked at Ellen. “We'd better go.”

“Yes.” She rose. “Just a moment while I get my things.”

While she was out of the room, Skye said, “I called your number while I was dressing. Hackaberry wanted to see you but I got him to put it off until morning. Ten o'clock. At his headquarters.”

“I'll be there.”

“I'll try to make it too,” Skye said. “But I may not be able to. My case was continued until tomorrow morning.”

Ellen's steps were returning and Skye lowered his voice. “Don't be afraid of them, Hugh. If you're innocent you don't have to be afraid of questioning. But anything you don't want to answer, keep quiet on advice of counsel.”

Hugh said again, “I am innocent.” Even his lawyer had doubts. By now probably Ellen too.

She joined them at the door. Skye said confidently, “We have a right to believe that when Meg gets back from Indio tomorrow, your troubles will all be over.”

“Let me go with her.” It wasn't a sudden thought, Ellen must have been brooding about it all evening.

She and Skye looked long at each other. And he shook his head. “You'd better not.” His voice was gentle. “You're too civilized.”

And what he said was true. Ellen could no more meet in rapport with the inhabitants of a small western town than with the desert lizards. She was too far removed even for intuitive knowledge.

And yet had she been white, Skye could have risked it. All three of them knew it; it was in the trio of silence which held them for that long moment. There was no reproach in Hugh, nor would there be in Ellen, for Skye's rejection. As there was no personal rejection from the lawyer. The silence was recognition of an unalterable fact.

There was little to say as Hugh and Ellen drove back to The Palms. It had all been said. He walked with her to her door.

She opened it and asked, “Will you come in for a stirrup cup, Hugh?” She didn't care much, her thoughts were miles away.

“Not tonight. I'm worn down.”

“You are sleepy?”

“It's funny, but I am. Without a prescription.” The want to take her in his arms was unbearable. He turned abruptly away. “Good night.”

She misinterpreted the reason for his sudden mood, for her thoughts spilled from her. “There must be something I can do! Some way to help!”

He turned back. “You've helped unbelievably.”

“There's so much to be done. I can't just stand aside—”

“How do you think I feel?” he cried. “But until we find—”

The ringing of the telephone in her living room was startling. For a moment equal alarm met in their eyes, then she whirled and rushed inside. He was on her heels, stopping only to close the door behind them. There was no logic in his following, undoubtedly it would be her family or friends calling. But it could be his family, with something so dire they would intrude on him here. Had Ringle and Venner come for him?

She had answered before he reached her side. He saw the expression on her face and snatched the instrument from her. A male slimy voice was speaking “. . . another babe shacked up with him . . .”

Hugh broke in harshly, “Who is this?”

“That you, Doc? Don't want to spoil your fun—”

Again Hugh interrupted, demanding, “Who is this? What do you want?”

The jeer went out of the voice. It became tough. Evil. “I'll tell you what I want. You better get out of town before something happens to you. Something real bad. You get the message? We don't like niggers mucking our—”

Hugh banged down the handset and started to the door. Before he was half across the room, Ellen caught him.