"I tell you Johnny didn't do it!" she said sharply.
"I'm afraid it isn't very important what you and I think, Gilda," O'Brien said seriously. "The facts are he threatened to kill her before going into the home. As soon as he comes out, she's murdered. I only hope they catch this tall, dark guy in the grey suit. If they don't, someone may remember that Johnny could be a suspect, and because he's your brother, they may try to make something out of it."
"Surely the police will find this man," Gilda said anxiously.
"I hope so." He gave her a crooked little smile. "Let's get our minds off this for a moment. Lunch is ready."
She shook her head.
"I want to go home now, Sean. I have things to do."
"You are going to have lunch with me," he said firmly, and took her arm, walking with her down the passage to the dining-room.
An hour later, after she had driven away in her sports coupe, the telephone bell rang.
O'Brien picked up the receiver.
"Tux here," the hard, rasping voice said. "It's okay, boss. He was there, and I've got him."
O'Brien's face hardened.
"Where?"
"On the Wi
"Fine. I'll be over in half an hour," O'Brien said. "Stick close to him, Tux."
He hung up.
II
Ken Holland closed the front door and walked with shaky legs back to the lounge. He rested his hands on the back of an easy chair and leaned his weight on them. His heart was still pounding. He still felt the suffocating fear that had gripped him at the sight of the two detectives as they had come up the path.
What an escape! he thought. Did they notice how scared I was? I've got to pull myself together. If they ever get on to me I'll give myself away if I behave like that again.
He suddenly thought of Parker.
He must be warned.
He hurried to the telephone, dialled and listened to the ringing tone.
Hurry up! he thought feverishly. They'll be around to you any moment. Hurry up!
There was a click on the line, and Mrs. Parker's chilly, pedantic voice asked who was calling.
"This is Kenway Holland. May I speak to Max?"
"Well, he's in the garden," Mrs. Parker said dubiously as if her husband
was in China. "I'll see if I can get him. Hold on a moment."
Ken waited in an agony of suspense.
"Are you there?" Mrs. Parker asked after a long wait. "I'll get him to call you back. He's talking to two men at the moment. I can't imagine who they are, but I don't suppose he'll be long."
"Thank you," Ken said, and hung up.
He went over to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a shot of whisky and drank it. He lit a cigarette and sat down. There was nothing he could do now but wait.
What would happen to Parker? Would he be able to bluff Donovan? Would he admit knowing Fay Carson? Would he tell Donovan he had given Ken Fay's telephone number? Would Parker remember that Ken owned a light-gray suit ?
Unable to sit still while his mind was crawling with alarm, Ken got up and went into the garden. He went down the path to the gate and stared up and down the street. He wanted to walk to the corner to see if the police car was still outside Parker's house, but he was scared the detectives might see him.
After a long moment of staring up and down the street, he returned to the bungalow.
Then from nowhere a sudden paralysing thought came into his mind.
He turned hot, then cold when he realized he had no idea what had become of the book. Until this moment he had completely forgotten about it.
He remembered slipping it into his hip pocket while he talked to the car attendant, but after that he had no recollection of what he had done with it.
It hadn't been in the suit. Before he had taken the suit back to Gaza's store, he had gone through the pockets most carefully.
Then where was it?
Had he dropped it in the street?
If it were found it would be recognized. The owner of every car entered in the book would be investigated, and his car number was in the book!
He looked around wildly. If he had dropped it somewhere in the bungalow, Carrie might have found it and put it away as she put everything away.
He began a feverish and futile search.
It was growing dark by the time he satisfied himself the book wasn't in the bungalow. He was in a panic as he stood staring around the now disordered lounge.
Had the book slipped out of his pocket while he had been driving home?
What a fool he was!
Of course that was what must have happened. He should have looked in the car first.
He went to the front door, opened it and started down the path towards the garage when he saw Parker at the gate.
He stopped short, looking at Parker who came up the path in the gathering dusk, his head held low, a stoop to his shoulders.
"I want to talk to you," he said as he came up to Ken.
"Come in," Ken said, and led the way into the lounge. He turned on the light. "I'm sorry the place is in such a mess. I lost something, and I've been hunting for it."