Figure it Out For Yourself

'I wanted to ask him something, Mrs. Dedrick,' I said, but as he isn't here it doesn't matter. Could I have his New York address?'

'Is it so important?'

'It's something I want to ask him. I could telephone him.'

'He is going away. This - this business has upset him. I don't think you could reach him,' she said after a long silence.

I drank half the whisky, set down the glass and stood up.

'It doesn't matter. It isn't all that important.'

She looked at me now, surprise in her eyes.

'But can't you tell me what it is?'

The day after your husband was kidnapped, Mr. Marshland called on the woman who said she was your secretary, Mary Jerome. The meeting took place at the Beach Hotel, where the woman was staying. I wanted to ask him what was said and how he knew she was there.'

'My father?'

She stood so still she could have been a statue.

'Yes. He gave his name to the hotel clerk, who would be able to identify him.'

'But I don't understand. How could it be my father? He doesn't know the woman.'

'He's seen her and talked to her. I want to know what was said. If he won't tell me, I'll have to put the information in Brandon's hands.'

Her eyes lit up.

'Are you being threatening?'

'Call it that if you like.'

'My father flies for Europe this evening. He's probably gone by now. I have no idea where he is spending his vacation. He often goes off like that when he wants a rest'

'He's gone at a convenient time - for himself.'

She moved to the terrace window and stared out into the garden.

'You have no idea why he went to see her, have you?'

'No.'

'You can't even guess?'

'No.'

I joined her at the window.

'Mrs. Dedrick, there's a question I would like to ask you.'

She continued to stare out of the window. The flamingoes were looking towards the house, stiff, upright and crochety.

'Well?'

'Do you think Nick Perelli kidnapped your husband?'

'Of course.'

'Why of course? Why so sure?'

She made an impatient movement.

'I don't wish to talk about it. If there is nothing else you want, perhaps you will excuse me.'

'I don't think Perelli kidnapped him,' I said. 'Has it occurred to you that your father has a very sound motive for getting rid of your husband?'

She turned swiftly. Her face had drained of colour. Fear looked at me out of her big eyes.

'How dare you! I won't listen to you. You have no right to come here making insinuations and asking questions. I shall complain to the police.'

She went out of the room. She was crying as she mounted the stairs.

I stood there, brooding out into the twilight. Why had she been frightened? Did she know for certain that Marshland had engineered the kidnapping?

A faint cough behind me made me turn.

Wadlock was waiting at the door.

I crossed the room, paused before him.

'Apparently Mr. Marshland has gone off to Europe,' I said.

The old eyes were expressionless as he said, 'Apparently, sir.'

'Was it Souki who told you about Dedrick or did you find out for yourself - that he was a reefer-smuggler?'

I got past his guard, as I meant to. It was a shame to do it to him; he was a little too old to control his reflexes, but I wanted to know.

His mouth fell open and his eyes popped.

'Why, Souki told me…'

He stopped; a little late. A faint flush rose to his face: but he was too old to be really angry.

'Your hat, sir.'

I took it and slapped it on the back of my head.

'Sorry about that,' I said, and meant it. 'Think no more about it'

He closed the door behind me. Looking back, I could see him watching me through the glass panels. I felt he was still watching me by the time I reached the end of the terrace.

If Souki had told him, Souki had also told Marshland. I wasn't getting ahead very fast, but I was making progress. I got into the Buick, started the engine and stared across the garden at the Pacific. I couldn't go on like this. I would have to do something that would bring the secrets out into the open. But what?

I lit a cigarette and flicked the match out of the car. Then I drove slowly down the private road, thinking.

Perelli had told Francon he was playing card with Joe Betillo at Delmonico's bar on the night of the kidnapping. He had said he left Betillo at ten-thirty. Betillo had said it was nine-thirty. Why? Was Betillo in this or was bribed. If who was bribed, who had bribed him? The evening was before me. Maybe it might be a good idea to check Perelli's alibi. I was in the mood for trouble. Two girls had been murdered this day. A tall, unknown gentleman in sunglasses had tried to lay me among the sweet peas. The fourth richest woman in the world had told me a number of lies. It might be an idea to top off the day with a visit to Delmonico's Bar, the toughest dive on the Coast.

I felt in the mood to be tough. I decided to go there.

II

Paula's cool voice floated over the line: 'Good evening. Universal Services.'