Part 7

“No,” Erickson said. “He maintains that he was in the motel office from shortly after seven until he found Adler at around nine-thirty.”

“Did he just happen to find him?”

“He admits he was jealous. He was afraid Doris Lamar might be thinking about running off with Adler. He’d been brooding the night before and all that day, and he finally decided to go down to Adler’s room and have it out with him. He got no answer when he knocked but the lights were on and he could hear the radio playing and Adler’s rented car was there. When he could get no reply to his knock he was too upset to give up, so he used his passkey and unlocked the door. He found Adler on the floor and called the State Police.... Now if you don’t mind, Mr. Hayden,” he added, “let me get back to my hypothesis.”

He paused to be sure there would be no interruption and said: “Adler, who was a known gambler and confidence man, comes to Morrisville the day before yesterday. He makes inquiries at the gas station and Jerry’s Tavern about John Hayden. He wants to know where you live, what you do, and how you’re doing. Why?”

“It’s your hypothesis,” Hayden said coldly.

“On the basis of these two pictures which came from Mobile, it suggests that your wife’s first husband is still alive. Otherwise there would be no point in Adler coming here since he had nothing to sell. We know that he _did_ come to this house and he _did_ talk to your wife. She maintains that he represented himself as a book salesman and yet there was no physical evidence on Adler’s person, the motel room, or his car to support any such contention. Book salesmen simply don’t go around without samples, or at least without some advertising literature describing the books.”

Marion stirred in her chair and Hayden was a little amazed that she could make her rebuttal sound so calm and disinterested. “I saw no books and no literature,” she said. “I only know what he said.”

“Freeman says that Adler made a call to this number,” Erickson continued. “You deny you received such a call.” He turned his attention to Hayden. “You went to Mr. Denham’s house at eight o’clock for a meeting of some kind. Mr. Denham, as your attorney, has refused to discuss the substance of your conversation and he cannot be forced to do so at this time. He says you left around eight-thirty and that he understood you were going to stop at the tavern and get a drink before you went home.”

Hayden gave Denham another good mark for his loyalty and circumspection as he said: “And that’s exactly what I did.”

“You were seen to leave the tavern and walk in the direction of the motel but you say your car was parked there. You got in and drove directly here.”

“That’s right.”

“My hypothesis suggests another possibility. It indicates that Adler came to Morrisville with blackmail on his mind. He came to see Mrs. Hayden, not to sell books but to offer proof that her first husband was still alive. Since we know that there were two negatives and two prints in his Mobile apartment it seems reasonable to assume that he brought an extra set of prints with him to substantiate his claim.”

He hesitated, his gaze moving from Hayden to Marion and back again. “It’s useless to speculate at this point as to how Adler knew that Mr. Corbin escaped that fatal plane crash, but the only logical assumption is that he never boarded that plane. If Adler knew this much, he could also know that the insurance companies paid seventy-five thousand dollars to your wife on the death claim. He wanted some of that money and he was willing to keep silent for a price.

“Following this assumption, I suggest that you went to see Mr. Denham to get his advice. Whatever the outcome of that discussion, you went to the tavern and from there to room twelve in The Shady Maple Motel. You either entered that room and had an argument which resulted in Adler’s death or you went in and found him already dead.”

“You said the door was locked.”

“Either way,” Erickson said, as though he had not heard, “you found the two photographs Adler had brought and destroyed them. Had it not been for the alertness of the Mobile police, there would not be the slightest reason for us to assume that your wife’s first husband was still alive.”

“It’s a good hypothesis,” Hayden said, “but it doesn’t happen to be true.”

“Very well.” Erickson rose and the movement brought Garvey and Ball to their feet. “When we get word from Washington tomorrow about those fingerprints we’ll start looking for Ted Corbin. Because of his connection with that fatal plane crash we may get some help from the FBI.” He glanced at the insurance man who had been listening to all this attentively. “I have an idea Mr. Simpson’s company will utilize their resources as well.”

“They sure will, sir,” Simpson said.

Hayden watched the trio put on their coats and pick up their hats. He knew he was expected to say something but nothing came to mind. This silence seemed to increase the State’s Attorney’s frustration and his mouth was tight and his eyes grim as he delivered his final statement.

“We will need a statement from you as soon as we hear from Washington. A formal statement, Mr. Hayden. One that you will be expected to sign and which may be used against you.”

Hayden nodded. He said that he would do whatever Roger Denham told him to do and started for the front door. When he opened it the three filed out without further comment.

Back in the living room Denham and Simpson were on their feet and Denham said: “You’ve probably had your fill of questions for one afternoon, John, but I think you ought to hear what Mr. Simpson has to say.”

“I haven’t any hypothesis, Mr. Hayden,” Simpson said, “but I have to make an assumption.”

“That Ted Corbin is alive?”

Simpson nodded and gestured with one hand. “Naturally nothing can be done until we have the facts, but if it happens that we do locate Corbin, my company will expect to be reimbursed for the payment made to your wife.”

“In full?”

Simpson’s brows lifted. “How do you mean?”

“That seventy-five thousand was paid to my wife in good faith and she accepted it in good faith. She later turned that money over to me and I put it into my business. Suppose I couldn’t raise that amount all at once?”

“We could probably get a judgment.”

“That would be something for Mr. Denham to handle,” Hayden said. “But let me ask you a question.” He offered a small, humorless smile. “A hypothetical one again. Suppose that someone came to you and offered to prove that Corbin was alive. Suppose they offered to produce him for a price. To get a chance at recovering your seventy-five thousand you would pay pretty well for that information, wouldn’t you?”

“That would depend on a lot of things, but offhand I’d say yes, we would pay for that sort of information.” Simpson tipped his head slightly and one brow lifted. “Oh, I see what you mean. You think the seventy-five thousand dollars should be reduced by whatever amount we might have paid to get the information we need.”

“Something like that,” Hayden said. “Mr. Denham will have to do the negotiating, but if Corbin is located I’ll try to reimburse your company to the best of my ability. I’d simply like to get the best deal I can.”

“I have no authority to make deals,” Simpson said, “but I can give my superiors the picture. I could tell them that you would be willing to repay the amount less, say, ten per cent.”

“Let’s not get into figures yet,” Denham said. “You find Corbin and we’ll work something out.”

Simpson reached for his coat and hat. “Don’t think we won’t try. All I wanted to do today was to get some idea about Mr. Hayden’s attitude.”

“You’ve got it,” Denham said.

“Fair enough.” Simpson nodded to Hayden and to Marion. “Thanks for your co-operation.... Good-by, Mrs. Hayden....”

When Simpson had gone Roger Denham put on his coat. Hayden, feeling the reaction in his muscles, watched his wife stand up, and now, with no need to maintain an outward display of composure, the strain was beginning to show on her face and her mouth was slack.

“What are we going to do, Roger?”

“Nothing for now, I’m afraid.”

“What about those statements the State’s Attorney spoke of?”

“Well”--Denham shrugged--“you’ll have to make them. Naturally, I’ll be there with you, but I think there’s one thing you might as well start getting used to.”

“What’s that?” Hayden said.

“I think Corbin is probably alive, and once the various law-enforcement agencies start looking for him, they’ll find him. It will just be a question of time. That’s what makes it bad. It could happen quickly. It might take years.”

“Meanwhile,” Marion said with undisguised bitterness, “we just go along as usual and pretend everything is all right.”

“You do the best you can,” Denham said as he started for the door, “and hope the police can find out who killed Adler. The sooner the better.”

_11_

John Hayden stood in the partly open door until the taillights on Denham’s car vanished down the road, and when he came back to the living room Marion was still standing. He could see that reaction had begun to relieve the tension which had been with her for so long, and this, he told himself, was a good sign. There was a little color in her cheeks now, and when she repeated the question she had asked Denham, her voice no longer sounded so disconsolate.

“Well,” she said, “at least they’ve gone. But what do we do now?”

“Get a drink.”

“All right. I’ll get the ice.”

He slid his arm around her waist as they went into the kitchen. He stopped her for a moment before she turned toward the refrigerator. He said he was proud of her.

“You were wonderful.”

“Was I, John?” She glanced up at him, the hazel eyes softly shining. “I tried awfully hard. But so were you, the way you talked to that State’s Attorney. He didn’t like it though, did he?... I think I’ll have a Scotch and soda.”

He made the drinks and they sat down in the kitchen alcove. When he had a cigarette going he took out the photograph of Ted Corbin, his mind busy now with an idea that until then had been nothing more than a vague and nebulous possibility. His frown deepened as the seconds passed, and presently she covered his hand with hers to claim his attention.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Him.” He touched the picture.

“What about him?”

“I’m going to look for him.”

“For Ted? Where?”

“In Mobile. That’s where Adler made his headquarters. I think it’s the best place to start.”

He could tell that she thought the suggestion was farfetched. A frown made little bunches in the smooth brow and her eyes were puzzled as they inspected him. But she did not belittle the thought and her reply was rational and intelligent.

“How big is Mobile?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been there. As a guess I’d say a couple hundred thousand.”

“And won’t the Mobile police be looking for Ted?”

“I should think so.”

“And the insurance people?”

“Sure.”

“Then what makes you think you could find him, even assuming that he’s there, before they do?”

“Maybe I can’t but I think it’s worth a try. See that?” He pointed at the photograph and her eyes followed his finger as he indicated the insignia on the coveralls Ted Corbin wore. “See that insignia? Suppose I can get this picture blown up--”

“Blown up?”

“I can get it copied. I can have an enlargement made from the new negative. I think there’s a good chance that we may be able to read the words on that insignia.”

“Oh--”

“It’s possible, isn’t it? If this picture was taken fairly recently, and according to Adler it was, Corbin must be working in some filling station. If he’s in that area, I’ve got an idea I can locate it. If I can do that, I can find him.”

She did not ask him how but the frown was still there and her eyes were thoughtful now. “And what would you do if you did find him, John?”

“Do? I’d try and talk him into coming back with me.”

“Why should he?”

“I don’t see that he has much choice. If he doesn’t want to do it that way, all I have to do is pick up the telephone and call the Mobile police.”

She was still watching him intently but concern had now replaced the thoughtfulness in her eyes and this was reflected in the cadence of her voice.

“You mean you’d go now?”

“Tonight, if I can get out.”

“But--what about the police? I mean the State’s Attorney and those two detectives? They’ll think you’ve run away. Won’t that make it look as if you were guilty?”

“Of stabbing Adler?”

“Well--yes.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but I intend to leave word where I’ve gone and why--after I’ve gone.... Come on, drink up.”

She obeyed him and then, digressing, said: “I haven’t done anything about dinner.”

“We’ll eat out. I’ll find a place where we’re not known. All you have to do is put on a coat and you’ll be ready. I’ll call Johnson and see--”

“Who’s Johnson?”

“A photographer. He does most of our work down at the plant--you know, for advertising folders. He’s got a studio in South Norwalk, and if I can reach him I think he’ll make a copy of this print and then make the sort of enlargement I want. If I’m right and that picture can be blown up so that we can read what’s on that insignia I’m going to Mobile.

“But first I’m going into the study and get that portable typewriter of mine and write a note to State’s Attorney Erickson with a carbon to Roger Denham. I’ll simply tell them that I’m not running away. I’ll point out that I have an idea I can locate Corbin, that whether I do or whether I don’t, I’ll be back in a couple of days. Let them think what they want. I can mail those letters special delivery. I can drive to New York, leave the car in a garage, and get a taxi to the airport and--”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I don’t mean to Mobile. But why can’t I drive you into town?”

“No.”

“But I want to. Please, John. It will be much simpler that way and then you won’t have to worry about the car.... You go ahead,” she added quickly as though to forestall further argument. “You call your man Johnson and I’ll get your typewriter ready and some paper and carbon.”

* * * * *

Hayden had no trouble getting Johnson to take the after-hours assignment. He had a small studio in back of his house and Marion waited in the station wagon while the work was being done. It did not take long because Johnson made his enlargement from the wet negative on which he had copied the original snapshot. Hayden left this negative with the photographer, and when he came back to the car he had the original print and a second one that had been cropped to show only the upper part of Corbin’s coveralls. The insignia which had been sewn there was fuzzy but readable and showed a star with the word Quinn above it and Cannon below.

They stopped in town to mail the two letters Hayden had written and they had dinner at a small restaurant not far from the parkway. While Marion was having her coffee Hayden stepped into the phone booth and called the New York Airlines Terminal to find out what he could about flights to Mobile. When he came back to the table he said that there were two which would do.

“Both are out of Newark. One is at one-thirty--”

“In the morning? What time would you get there?”

“Around five-thirty.”

“What about the other one?”

“I’d have to stay in New York overnight. It leaves at nine-thirty in the morning, but it’s a jet with only one stop and puts me into Mobile a little after one in the afternoon.”

“Take that one,” Marion said with no hesitation. “The other way you sit up all night without any sleep and then when you get there you have to wait around until the middle of the morning before you can expect to find out anything.”

What she said made sense. He might waste a couple of hours that way, but he would be rested when he got to Mobile and ready to start looking for a service station that apparently was run by people named Quinn and Cannon. He said he had reservations on both flights and would confirm the morning flight when he got to New York, but as they got into the car he voiced his doubts about her determination to accompany him to the city.

“You really shouldn’t come at all,” he said.

“I’d like to know why not.”

“Furthermore,” he added, “I’m running out on you when things are toughest. That State’s Attorney is bound to question you tomorrow and you’ll have to take it alone.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” She pushed her chin out at him a fraction of an inch and her mouth was determined. “And anyway I won’t be alone. Roger will be there. All I have to do is repeat what I’ve already told those detectives.”

“And what about me?”

“I’ll say you packed a bag and made me drive you to the railroad station. I’ll say you said you’d be gone a couple of days and told me not to worry. You refused to tell me where you were going; you simply left. How can anyone prove otherwise?”

Her reply reassured him and helped to bolster his own determination to follow this one lead he had in the hope that it would take him to Ted Corbin. He knew how his disappearance would look; he had to admit his trip might be both ill-timed and futile. Even so it seemed worth the risk, and her spirit and co-operation reminded him again of how much he loved her.

“Okay,” he said. “Just stick to that.”

“I intend to.... Where will you stay tonight?”

He said he would pick some hotel not too far from the West Side Terminal and she accepted this as they came up on the parkway and headed toward the city. For a few minutes then nothing more was said and he gave his attention to his driving. This soon became automatic, and with his mind free to think again, he reluctantly examined a thought that had lodged there the night before and continued to fester ever since. He was not sure this was the time to bring the thought out into the open. He was worried about how she might take it, but he knew he would worry even more if he left without knowing the truth. He reached out with his right hand until he found her knee. He squeezed it gently and she put her hand on top of his. He took a deep breath and decided he was as ready as he ever would be.

“I have to ask you something before you drop me off,” he said. “I don’t want to but I haven’t any choice, baby. Where did you go last night after I went to see Roger?”

The silence that followed alarmed him. At first he wondered if she had heard him and then, when she removed her hand from the back of his own, he knew she had. She moved her knee and he put his hand back on the steering wheel. When she finally spoke her voice was small and uncertain.

“I--I’m not sure what you mean. What makes you think I went anywhere?”

He told her how he had come into the garage the night before and stumbled in the darkness when he started for the light switch.

“I put my hand on the hood of the station wagon to get my balance,” he said. “It was warm. The radiator shell was even warmer. It was a fairly cold night.”

“I see,” she said in the same small voice. “And all this time you’ve been thinking I went to see Adler.”

“I didn’t know what to think. I guess I was afraid to ask. Look, sweetheart, I’m not the State’s Attorney, I’m your husband. This is something we have to work out together.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I wasn’t going to say anything about it.”

“You told me Adler called you. So what, exactly, did he want?”

“Just about what I told you before. He said he wanted to see me. I told him that you were probably on your way there and he said that was all right too. He said maybe it would be better if the three of us talked things over together. I guess that’s why I decided to go.”

Hayden did not understand what she meant. He said so.

“I was afraid,” she said in an effort to explain. “Not for myself, for you.”

“For me?” he said in slow astonishment.

“Because I was afraid of what might happen. You have to try to understand--”

“I _am_ trying.”

“You don’t know how you looked when you left the house to see Roger. You don’t get angry very often. Hardly ever. But what I saw was something more than anger. If you could have got your hands on Adler then I don’t know what you would have done. I didn’t think talking to Roger would help much and you had never seen Adler; you didn’t know what he was like. He could be arrogant and insulting and impossible. I thought if I was there when you came, at least there wouldn’t be any violence.”

“All right,” he said, accepting the explanation and trying to bring some order to his thoughts. “I’m not criticizing. I’m not blaming you. I just want to find out what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” she said, her voice forlorn. “I wasn’t there long enough. I knew the minute I walked in that it had been a mistake to come.”

“What did he do?”

“Nothing much. He offered me a drink. He said that women always liked Tom Collinses and he was about to make one. He started to squeeze a lemon--”

Hayden interrupted as a new thought came to him. “Did you see him cut that lemon?”

“Yes.”

“Where did he get the knife?”

“I think he took it from a cabinet drawer.”

“What did he do with it after he finished?”

“Well, I guess he put it back.”

“All right,” he said, not wanting her to think too much about his questions. “He offered you a drink. Then what?”

“I told him I didn’t want one. He came over to help me off with my coat. I told him I’d leave it on, but he must have thought I wanted to be coaxed.... Oh, why do I have to explain all the details?” she cried, a break in her voice. “I simply couldn’t stand him. I knew I’d been a fool to come at all. I pushed him away and got out of there as fast as I could.”

“That’s all?”

“I think it’s more than enough.”

“Okay, okay. It’s over now. You went there because you thought you could be of some help to me. When you realized it was a bad idea you got out. Now did anyone see you?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Where did you park?”

“Around the corner.”

“Good. Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” she said in quick exasperation. “How can you say that?”

“I mean, if no one saw you how can anyone suspect you?”

“They suspect you, don’t they?”

“Yes, I guess they do.”

“Then unless the police find out who _did_ kill Adler they’ll keep right on suspecting both of us.”

“They’ll find out,” he said with a confidence he did not feel. “They usually do.”

“I don’t even see how finding Ted is going to help. He might even have sent Adler.”

“Whoa!” He again reached out and found her knee. He squeezed it. “Take it easy. Let the police worry about the murder. Just hope I get to Corbin and bring him back. You and he and I have some things to straighten out, remember?”

There was no reply to this, and as he turned off the West Side highway at Fifty-seventh Street he could feel her shoulder relax against his. A corner street light cast its rays momentarily on her face and he saw that she was watching him. He could not read her eyes but her mouth looked soft and he thought she was trying to smile.

“I’m sorry I got so worked up, darling,” she said. “I’ve been worried sick. I wanted to tell you before but I was afraid to.”

“I’m glad you did.” He made the turn on Ninth Avenue and started slowly south, his glance inspecting the lighted rooftop signs until he saw a hotel he had heard of but never patronized. He pointed it out to her as he made a left turn and started crosstown toward Seventh Avenue. He said he guessed he’d try it and she said why not, and was he sure he had everything he needed?

The question prompted him to review his hurried preparations. He was purposely traveling light because he felt he would succeed quickly or not at all. The overnight case contained clean linen, an extra pair of shoes, a robe, neckties, handkerchiefs. The blue-fabric flight bag held his toilet kit, pajamas, and a clean shirt.