The Guilty Are Afraid

I wondered if it would pay off to go to his place, wait until he went out then search the house. I might turn up something that would give me the key to the mystery. I wondered if he had a servant living with him. I thought it would be a good idea to go out there this night.

I was lighting a cigarette when I heard the telephone bell ring. I got up and went into the lounge, lifted off the receiver and said, “Hello.”

“Is that you, Lew?”

Margot’s voice.

“Why, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” I said. “Where are you?”

“I’m in my apartment. I’ve been thinking about that match-folder.”

I sat on the arm of a lounging chair, holding the telephone on my knee.

“I’m pretty sure it belongs to Jacques Thrisby,” she went on.

I didn’t say I thought it might too.

“What makes you say that, Margot?”

“I remember now that he was sitting opposite me at the table. I remember he took out his cigarette case. It had a lighter attached and the lighter wouldn’t work. He took this match-folder out of his pocket, then a waiter came up and gave me a light. He left the match-folder and the cigarette case lying on the table beside him. He left them there when he danced with Doris. I am pretty sure now I took the folder to light my cigarette. It’s quite possible I put the folder into my bag without thinking. I can’t say definitely that I did so, but I am sure Jacques put a folder of matches on the table.”

“It adds up,” I said. “I let him see the folder when I went out there this afternoon. He reacted like a man who has sat on a tack.”

“Did you talk to him, Lew?”

“Bridgette was there. I arrived at the dramatic moment when she was about to shoot him.”

“Shoot him?” Margot’s voice went up. “Oh, Lew, surely not!”

“She may have been planning to scare him, but I had the idea she meant to give him the full treatment. He had just handed her a pretty brutal brushoff.”

“She must be out of her mind! What are you going to do about it, Lew? You haven’t told the police?”

“No. I doubt if Thrisby would admit she tried to kill him. I’d only be landing myself into more trouble, and I can’t imagine the police filing a charge against her. Did you know she had a gun?”

“No.”

“I think she was the one who hired Sheppey. Thrisby said so. I talked with her this afternoon, but she says Thrisby is lying. He told me he was going around with Thelma Cousins, the girl who was murdered. Bridgette found out and hired Sheppey to watch them. That’s his story, but she denies it.”

“This is fantastic. Will the police find out about it?”

“They could do. It’s something you’ll have to face up to, Margot. This is a murder case.”

“Do you think Bridgette had something to do with Sheppey’s death?”

“I don’t know what to think at the moment.”

“What are you going to do?”

I could hear a note of alarm in her voice.

“Tackle Thrisby again. Do you know if he has a servant at his place, Margot?”

“Yes: a Filipino, but he doesn’t sleep there. He comes in early, and leaves around eight o’clock.”

“I’ll go out there tonight and take a look around.”

“What do you expect to find then, Lew?”

“I don’t know, but it’s surprising what you can dig up if you take the trouble to look. When am I seeing you again, Margot?”

“Do you want to?”

“You mustn’t ask trifling questions. You wouldn’t like to come out here after half past ten? I might be able to tell you what I’ve found in Thrisby’s place.”

She hesitated, then said, “Well, I might be able to.”

The thought of seeing her again this night sent a hot wave of excitement through me.

“Then I’ll expect you around ten-thirty.”

“All right. Be careful, Lew. Don’t go near the house unless you’re sure he’s out. Don’t forget what I told you: he’s dangerous and ruthless.”

I said I wouldn’t forget and she hung up.

I sat and thought, then after a while I called St. Raphael police headquarters. When I got a connection, I asked if Lieutenant Rankin was in.

After a pause, Rankin came on the line.

“What do you want?” he growled when I told him who was talking.

“Traced that icepick yet?” I asked.

“What do you think I am—a miracle worker? You can buy those picks anywhere in town. There must be hundreds of them lying around.”

“Sounds to me as if you’re making no progress.”

“I’m not, but it’s early days yet. This isn’t going to be a fast job. Have you got anything?”

“Only a pain in the neck for you,” I said. “I’m beginning to think it wasn’t Creedy who hired Sheppey. It looks as if his wife did.”

“Why do you say that?”

“From the odd talk I have picked up. Would you know if she has a gun permit?”

“What are you getting at, Brandon?” There was a rasp in his voice. “Don’t you know you’re fooling around with dynamite with the Creedys?”

“I know that, but dynamite doesn’t scare me. Has she a gun permit? It’s important, Lieutenant.”

He told me to hold on. After a long delay, he came back on the line.

“She has a permit for a .38 automatic: serial number 4557993. She’s had the permit now for three years,” he told me.

I reached for a scratch pad and jotted down the number.