Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 38, No. 13, Mid-December 1993

Hal’s gun remained trained on me. Only a couple of feet separated us; I waited for it to waver by a millimeter.

“I think you should take a closer look at my old pal here,” Hal addressed Jeff again. “For instance, how’s he been financing the good life?”

Hal was so intent on convincing Jeff that, for a crucial instant, his grip on the gun slackened. I tensed my muscles for a leap and was glancing around for a place to dive when the look on Sandy’s face stopped me. In that instant, when he thought no one but Hal was looking, he was smirking, pale eyes alight with unholy glee. He looked — triumphant.

By the time Jeff turned toward him, Sandy’s freckled face showed only puzzlement and a sort of pity. “Investments,” Jeff was replying in a Sahara-tinged voice. “You’ve been away a long time, professor. It’s all been checked and doublechecked.”

Our friend Sandy turned his gaze to where I stood rooted, staring at him. He shook his head slightly, inviting me to share his distress at a fine mind gone round the bend. Abruptly my world righted itself and I wasn’t cold any more.

Mutt tiptoed around the corner of the house, approaching Jeff and Sandy from behind. Hal ignored him, and Jeff, who must have seen his colleague’s sneaking approach out of the corner of his eye, did the same. “Professor, give us one fact,” he said softly, “to choose between the pair of you.”

Carly’s Checker lurched down the sandy track and staggered to a halt at the end of Hal’s drive. She emerged with a waterfall of curious cats and strode toward us.

“I stopped by Deenie’s, but there was no one—” She noticed Deenie’s husband then. “Hi, Sandy,” she nodded casually at him while she stopped to remove a half-grown Abyssinian from her pants leg. “Boy, was I ever relieved to see you with Deenie this afternoon. She’s been driving me crazy with her whining. Is she here?”

The silence that greeted her was deafening. One of the older cats was exploring Sandy’s ankle and mewling to itself. He shoved it away impatiently. “I’ve been in the boathouse ever since I got here,” he said irritably.

At the club, I suddenly remembered, Carly had said Deenie might have stayed home with—

“Where did you see them?” I demanded, deciding to take a hand in this game. The men were making a mess of it.

“On the beach behind their house.” Carly, cuddling the angular feline under her chin, seemed to become aware of the tension for the first time. She stared at me, but my body blocked her view of Hal. “I was fishing off the point. What’s—”

“Must have been someone else,” Sandy insisted, kicking at the long-legged tom, who had developed a passion for his ankle.

“Oh, come on, Sandy.” Carly looked disgusted. “How many tall, red-headed men could be cuddling Deenie on her own beach? Just because my hair’s gray doesn’t mean I’ve gone blind.”

I turned to Jeff. “Was Sandy with you earlier this afternoon?”

Jeff shifted uncomfortably. “We’ve been tailing the professor. After the other morning—”

Red patches showed on Hal’s cheekbones and the gun really and truly shook now. “You’re slime, do you know that, Sandy?” He almost choked on the words. “This won’t be murder; it’ll be an execution.” He raised the gun in two hands, elbows braced to aim at his former friend.

Mutt and Jeff were playing statue, letting the two men have it out. Carly was too far away to intervene. I hesitated — remembering Hal lying bound on that shed floor and Deenie’s limp form in the ambulance — and folded my arms.

Sandy’s calm fled as he stared wild-eyed at Hal, then at the unmoving Jeff. “You can’t!” he squeaked. “They’ll kill you for it!”

“What do I have left to live for?” Hal demanded coldly. “Besides, I can plead insanity, can’t I? Thanks to you.”

“I didn’t mean to kill the kids,” Sandy babbled, freckles standing stark against his paling cheeks. “Deenie didn’t tell me Sharon was going to drive your car. I never meant to hurt them!”

Mutt broke his pose and took a step forward, but Sandy, sensing the movement, dodged sideways before Jeff could react. Hal swung the gun to follow his target and bashed me in the collarbone, sending me reeling against the lemon bug. Cursing, Hal tried to correct his aim, but by then Mutt and Jeff were only steps behind the fleeing man as he sprinted down the driveway toward Carly and the open door of her sedan.