The Guilty Are Afraid

“I have something I want you to take care of,” I said, and took Bridgette’s gun from my holster. “Will you put this in your safe and keep it until I ask for it?”

“Sure.”

He took the gun, looked at it, lifted the barrel to his nose and sniffed at it. Then he looked sharply at me.

“This couldn’t be the gun that killed Thrisby?”

“It could be. That’s something I’ve got to find out. I don’t want to lose it and I think your safe is the place for it.”

“Shouldn’t the police have it?”

I shook my head.

“No. They might lose it.”

He tossed the gun from hand to hand as he asked, “Would you know the owner?”

“I have an idea, but that doesn’t mean the owner shot Thrisby.”

He dropped the gun into his pocket.

“Well, okay. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. If I have any luck I’ll have a story for you by tomorrow. That gun may be the star turn of the story.”

“Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“Stay in the office all day tomorrow. I may want you in a hurry, and I want to know where I can find you.”

He looked earnestly at me, a worried expression on his face.

“I have an idea you know more about this set-up than you’re telling me. You could be on thin ice, Brandon. How would it be if you told me what you know now so we could both work on it?”

I shook my head.

“I’m not ready yet. I have a fistful of theories, but no real facts.”

“Why not give me the theories? Suppose before you’re ready to talk, you run into trouble? There are plenty of ways in this city for anyone with an inquiring mind to get into trouble. Suppose you were silenced before you can talk? That’s not going to help us, is it?”

I was tempted to tell him what was going on in my mind, but I knew I wasn’t ready. If I were going to pull the rug from under Creedy’s feet, I had to be absolutely sure of my facts.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said. “That’s the best I can do.”

“Well, look, don’t stay out here on your own tonight. You’re a good mile from anyone and anywhere. Anything could happen to you out here and no one would be the wiser. Why don’t you come back to my place for tonight? You can doss down on my settee.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’m all right here. Nothing’s going to happen to me until tomorrow. By then I hope it’ll be too late for anything to happen.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, okay. But it seems to me you’re taking an awful chance.” He produced his wallet and found a card and gave it to me. “That’s my home telephone number. If you want me I’ll be there until eight o’clock tomorrow morning, and from then on I’ll be at the office.”

“Take care of that gun.”

“I’ll go to the office now and park it. Be seeing you.”

“Some time tomorrow.”

“And watch out.”

“Oh, sure.”

I watched him walk down the steps, across the sand to his car. He turned and waved his hand, then he got in the car and drove away. I stood on the verandah watching his red taillights until I lost sight of them.

Chapter 14

I

The moon rode high over the palm trees casting long black shadows. The sea was like a silver mirror. There were only the distant sounds of the traffic passing along the promenade and the gentle movement of the sea.

Standing there on the verandah, looking at the lights of St. Raphael, I had a sense of complete isolation, and I wondered if I shouldn’t have gone with Hepple. If anyone was planning to wipe me out, this lonely bungalow was the place in which to do it.

I put my hands on the verandah rail and hunched my shoulders. I was feeling tired, and it was an effort to drive my mind. I could see the lighted windows of the School of Ceramics away to my right, and I wondered what Hahn or, to give him his real name, Jack Bradshaw, was doing at this moment.

I now knew the mystery behind the match-folder, but knowing that still didn’t make me absolutely sure of Sheppey’s killer. I had a feeling I was right on the brink of knowing who killed him, but there was one piece in the jigsaw puzzle to fall into place before the picture was complete.

There was no point standing out there in the dark. I told myself I might just as well go to bed. There was nothing further I could do until tomorrow.

I turned around and went into the lounge. I shut the french doors and locked them, took the two glasses Hepple and I had used over to the bar and put them down. I looked around to make sure no cigarettes were burning in the ashtrays, then I walked over to the light switch by the door. As my hand reached for the switch, I heard a very faint sound that told me instantly that I was no longer alone in the bungalow.

For a full second I remained motionless, aware that I was frightened and that my mouth had suddenly turned dry. I remembered that I had no gun: Rankin had taken mine, and I had given Bridgette’s gun to Hepple. I recalled what Hepple had said: You’re a good mile from anyone and anywhere. Anything could happen to you here and no one would be the wiser.