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  ‘How do you know he killed her?’ Terrell asked. ‘Hardy could have killed her and this guy you talk about could have walked in and found her.’

  ‘Think so? I say different. When he went into the cabin he was wearing a sports jacket. When he came out, he was carrying the jacket, inside out… why? He gave me the knife. It was wrapped up in her pants. He said, “You’re lucky. I’ve fixed it. You have no more worries the way I have.” I found the knife and her pants in my handbag the following morning when I got, sober. There was blood in my bag, on the knife and the pants. I put the bag and pants into the basement furnace… he killed her all right.’

  ‘Let’s look at it another way,’ Terrell said. ‘Suppose this, convenient nut never existed? Suppose you went into the cabin and failing to make Sue Parnell part, you killed her. That would be a lot more simple, wouldn’t it?’

  Gina finished her drink. She sneered at Terrell as she put down her glass.?‘That’s a cop all over. You hear so many lies, you don’t believe the truth when you hear it.’ ‘I like it better this way. I think you’re trying to talk yourself out of a murder rap.’?‘That’s right. Take it the easy way,’ Gina said. ‘It would suit you to pin this on me, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have to look further. You wouldn’t have to hunt for this boy friend, would you?’

  ‘For the record,’ Terrell said, ‘let’s have something more about this boy friend. If you saw him again, would you recognise him?’

  ‘I’d know him anywhere. He was the kind you couldn’t help but know again … a real doll!’ ‘Let’s have something to work on: what was he like: give me a description of him.’?‘He was tall, handsome and dark. He had everything. He was sympathetic. He was the kind of man you would tell your frankest secrets to.’

  ‘You said he was a nut. Why do you say that?’?‘Of course he was a nut. He wouldn’t have gone in there and ripped her unless he was a nut. I provided him with an excuse to kill a woman. I guess I was lucky he didn’t kill me.’

  Terrell looked at Beigler who lifted his shoulders. Gina’s story sounded as corny to him as it did to Terrell.

  ‘I still think Hardy could have done it and you’re drunk enough to dream up this story.’ Terrdll said. ‘But you’ll come to headquarters and we’ll work all this over. Come on… let’s go.’

  Gina grimaced.?‘My road stopped when Lee died,’ she said. ‘I’ve had all I want from life and it hasn’t been all that hot. Lee didn’t kill her. Can’t you get that fact into your thick skull? It was this nut who did it.’

  ‘We’ll go over it again at headquarters. Let’s go,’ Terrell said, getting to his feet.

  Gina shrugged and stood up.?‘Excuse me while I spend a dime,’ she said. ‘My back teeth are floating.’ She walked unsteadily across the bedroom and into the bathroom. As she shut the door, Terrell said, ‘What do you make of this story, Joe?’

  ‘She’s lying,’ Beigler said. ‘It’s my bet…’

  The violent bang of a gun, coming from the bathroom made both men start to their feet. As one, they rushed to the bathroom door. Beigler drove his massive shoulder against the panel and burst in.

  Gina lay face down on the floor, a smoking gun in her hand. Her brains made a white and red stain on the bathroom tiles.

  As Terrell came in from a quick lunch, he met Beigler looking hot and irritable, getting out of his car. The two men walked fast up the steps into police headquarters.

  ‘How’s it coming?’ Terrell asked as he led the way to his office.?‘Got something,’ Beigler said. He entered the office and lowered his heavy frame on to one of the upright chairs. Terrell went behind his desk and sat down. He poured coffee from the flask.

  ‘Go ahead.’?‘The day before the murder, a woman, Ann Lucas, reported her handbag stolen. That afternoon, a woman calling herself Ann Lucas hired a car from the U-Drive Depot for five days. The guy who handled the deal wouldn’t know her again without the sun goggles and the scarf she was wearing. It’s my bet this woman was Gina Lang.’

  Terrell rubbed the end of his nose with the butt of his pen.?‘So she wasn’t lying.’?‘That’s it, but here’s something you’re going to love,’ Beigler said. ‘Sam Karsh turned up at the U-Drive joint two days after the murder. He told them he had found one of their cars… the car rented by Ann Lucas or Gina Lang dumped in a clearing on a dirt road off the North Miami Beach highway. He told Morphy… he’s the manager of the joint… he had found the car and thought it had been dumped. He asked questions, got a description of this Ann Lucas or Gina Lang and then faded away. I’ve contacted Ann Lucas. She tells me that on the night Karsh contacted Morphy, she got a mysterious telephone call from a guy who questioned her about the loss of her driving licence. After she had admitted losing her licence and as soon as she began questioning him, he hung up. That could have been Karsh.’

  Terre1l said, ‘What are we waiting for. Let’s get Karsh here.’

  Beigler grinned.?‘Jacobs is already picking him up. He loves Karsh.’?‘Okay. Joe, nice work. I want to think about all this. When Karsh arrives let him sweat it out. I may not be ready for him for an hour.’

  When Beigler had gone, Terrell sat for some time thinking, then he abruptly reached forward and flicked down a switch on the inter-corn.

  ‘I want the file covering Chris Burnett’s disappearance,’ he said.

  When an officer brought in the file, Terrell studied it. Then he took a large scale map of the district from his desk drawer and studied that.

  The inter-corn came to life.?‘We have Karsh here, Chief,’ a voice said.?‘Let him stew. I’m not ready for him yet.’

  Terrell sat for another half-hour going over the file, making notes, studying the map, then he called for Beigler.

  Beigler came in, sat down and lit a cigarette. He looked at expectantly at Terrell.?‘This could be a sweet one,’ Terrell said, pushing back his chair and crossing his legs. ‘I’m getting persuaded that Chris Burnett killed Sue Parnell.’

  Beigler sucked his cigarette, his eyes widening.?‘You tell it,’ he said.?‘We know Burnett is a nut. Gina Lang claims to have picked up a nut who was tall, dark and handsome. That description fits Burnett. The time he was missing and the time she picked him up also jells. He was picked up by our men about a mile from where Morphy claims the U-Drive car was dumped. We know Karsh found the car. We know Burnett wore a jacket when he left the hotel and it was missing when he was found. It’s my bet Karsh found the jacket in the car and there was blood on it. You don’t rip a woman the way Parnell was ripped without getting messy. It looks to me that Karsh took the jacket to Hare who promptly put the bite on Mrs. Burnett. This would explain why she parted with twenty thousand dollars. Why else should she give him that amount of money unless he had her where he wanted her?’

  Beigler whistled.?‘Can we prove any of this, Chief?’?‘Not yet, but we’ll have Karsh in and we’ll sweat him until he does talk.’?‘But suppose he doesn’t?’

  The telephone bell interrupted what Terrell was about to say. He lifted the receiver.

  ‘Thresby here,’ the manager of the Florida Banking Corporation said. ‘I thought you would be interested. This morning, Mrs. Burnett paid the twenty thousand dollars back into her account… the money we thought was blackmail money.’

  Terrell scowled and ran his fingers through his greying hair.?‘The same numbers?’?‘Yes. She paid in the exact bills we issued to her.’?‘Thanks. I don’t know what it means, but it looks as if we’ve got off to a false start.’ ‘That’s what I think. Suppose we forget it? A man like Travers… you know what I mean.’ ‘Yeah. Okay. Henry, be seeing you and thanks for calling.’ Terrell hung up.?‘So what now?’ Beigler asked.?‘Mrs. Burnett paid the money she gave to Hare back into her account… so that let’s Hare out. Now, why in hell, did she do that? How did she manage to get the money away from Hare?’

  ‘Do we still talk to Karsh?’

  Terrell hesitated.?‘We haven’t a thing to go on. We can’t bring a charge against Hare for blackmail no
w. If we start something we can’t finish with Burnett, we’ll have Travers on our necks. Don’t let’s rush this.’

  He picked up his pen and began to make holes in his blotter with it.?‘Has the U-Drive car been checked for prints?’?‘Sure… it’s been wiped clean. No prints.’?‘If we could find Burnett’s prints in the motel cabin we would be getting somewhere. Did you check the knife for prints?’

  ‘Only the Lang woman’s and yours.’?‘Send Jacobs to Gustave’s sanatorium right away. Tell him to see Gustave and get Gustave to give him something Burnett has handled. Then get Hess to check through his list of prints in the cabin and see if Burnett was there.’

  Beigler left the office. Terrell kept making holes in his blotter until Beigler returned. ‘He’s on his way. How about Karsh?’

  ‘Yeah. Let’s talk to the creep. Maybe he’ll open up.’?‘Maybe: the same way as he’ll join the Salvation Army.’ Beigler said.

  Karsh was brought in. He was pale, worried and jumpy.

  Terrell asked him about the U-Drive car.?‘So what’s it to you?’ Karsh demanded indignantly. ‘I’m getting sick of the way you cops keep shoving me around. I happened to be driving in the district and I found the car. I told this jerk it looked as if it were dumped. Can’t I do another guy a good turn without you stamping all over me?’

  ‘How did you find it?’?‘I tell you… I was driving around. The frigging car was dumped. I was curious … it’s my nature to be curious… so I checked the tag, found it belonged to the U-Drive outfit and as I was passing, I dropped in and told them. I was doing them a good turn.’

  ‘Imagine you doing anyone a good turn,’ Beigler sneered. ‘If you think we believe a yarn like that, you need your head examined.’

  ‘Okay, so I need my head examined.’?‘What did you find in the car, Karsh?’ Terrell demanded, leaning across the desk and glaring at Karsh.

  ‘What do you mean? I didn’t find a goddamn thing!’?‘I think you did. You found a sports jacket with blood on it!’

  Karsh was too wily a bird to be caught with that one. Although sweat began to appear on his narrow forehead, he went through the act of looking amazed.

  ‘Blood? Jacket? Look, Chief, honest to God I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ ‘There was a blood-stained jacket in the back of that car and you found it!’?‘I found nothing! I don’t know what you’re talking about! If I had found anything, I’d have turned it over to you. I saw this car, I thought it was dumped. I tipped off the U-Drive people.’ Karsh shifted in his chair. ‘I swear to God…’

  ‘You found out the name of the woman who hired the car and you telephoned her, didn’t you?’

  Karsh rolled his eyes.

  ‘Wait a minute… just out of curiosity, I did ask Morphy who had rented the car, but I didn’t telephone her. Where did you get that from?’

  ‘You telephoned this woman and you asked if she had lost her driving licence, didn’t you?’ ‘Not me, Chief. You’re confusing me with someone else. Not me.’

  For the next hour, Terrell and Beigler battered away at Karsh, but they didn’t break him. Finally, in disgust, Terrell had to admit defeat. He had no proof. He was sure Karsh was lying, but he knew he was wasting his time trying to get him to admit anything.

  ‘Get him out of my sight!’ he said finally and walked over to the window, turning his back on Karsh as Beigler hustled him out.

  There was another irritating wait, then Hess came in.?‘Nothing, Chief,’ he said. ‘Jacobs gave me Burnett’s prints, but they don’t show on my list.’

  Terrell grunted and waved him away. He looked over at Beigler who was drinking coffee. ‘Well, that’s it. It’s my bet Burnett did the job, but we can’t nail it on to him … anyway, not yet. Maybe not ever.’

  Beigler picked up the Sue Parnell file.?‘We keep this open then?’?‘That’s it,’ Terrell said as he began to fill his pipe. ‘You never know. We may have some luck. I don’t know how long he’ll stay in the sanatorium. As long as he’s there, he’s safe, but if he comes out, he could do it again. If he does, then we’ll have him. These killers usually try it again. Yes keep the tile open.’

  Dr. Adolf Zimmerman was short and excessively fat. His eyes, like green gooseberries, dwelt behind horn rimmed, thick lensed glasses. He had the quiet soothing manner of a priest in a confessional box.

  He came into the lounge where Val had been waiting for the past two hours. She had heard a murmur of voices outside the door before he came in. She had heard Dr. Gustave say, ‘If you would rather talk to her alone… then go ahead,’ and she had flinched, feeling sure the operation had failed. But when Zimmerman came in to find her tense and white-faced, he smiled assuringly.

  ‘I am satisfied the operation is a success,’ he said. ‘Now don’t look so worried. I am sorry to have been so long, but I have to work very carefully.’

  He sat down near her. ‘I won’t bother you with technical details, but your husband is going to be quite normal in a few weeks. There was pressure on the brain. This has been removed. It should have been done before. It would have saved you a lot of anxiety. I wish I had been consulted sooner. However, it is done now.’

  Val drew in a deep breath.?‘You really mean he will be normal again?’?‘Yes. In two weeks, he can leave here. I think it would be a good idea for you two to go right away somewhere… a sea trip. Why not the South of France? Relax, laze, get to know each other again. Then when you return, all this will be in the past forgotten. You will be able to start a new life together… it will be exciting.’

  ‘There is no chance that he will ever become violent?’

  Zimmerman smiled. He looked very sure of himself. Again Val was reminded of a well fed priest giving comfort to a penitent.

  ‘I can understand that question. You are frightened. Of course… that was an unpleasant moment for you. It was caused by pressure… the pressure is no longer there. I assure you… you have nothing to worry about.’

  Val thought of the blood-stained jacket that was now white ashes disintegrated by the wind. Nothing to worry about. She knew now, in spite of her faith in Chris, that he had killed this woman. Even this news that Chris would be normal again couldn’t take the cold fear away that some day the police might find out he had done this awful thing.

  Zimmerman got to his feet.?‘I have a plane to catch. I arrive… I leave… I never seem to have any time for myself. Don’t worry about anything. Have patience. In two weeks, you and your husband can be completely carefree. I envy you, Mrs. Burnett. It is always an adventure to begin life again.’

  When he had gone, and as she was about to leave the room, Dr. Gustave came in.?‘Well, Mrs. Burnett,’ he said, smiling at her, ‘you must be relieved. In a few days you may see your husband. Dr. Zimmerman is very confident. I think you can look forward now to a future of happiness.’

  But there was something in his manner that made Val! look sharply at him.?‘Dr. Zimmerman tells me Chris will be quite normal again,’ she said. He said there was pressure…’

  ‘Dr. Zimmerman is always optimistic,’ Gustave said quietly. ‘He has to be. I am less optimistic because I see so many after effects of difficult brain operations. We are fortunate if we are successful in one case out of three. So I don’t want you to be too hopeful until Chris is

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  September 3rd.

  I haven’t written up this diary now for more than a mouth. I just haven’t had any reason to keep a day-to-day account of what has been happening to me since Chris left the sanatorium. That fat old brain specialist said it was always an adventure to begin life again. But is it? What kind of an adventure? He promised Chris would become normal. I suppose he is, but he isn’t the man I married. I can’t help it… and I do try… but I keep thinking of that woman. Her memory… the awful way she died, makes it impossible for me to continue to love him. Every time I look at his slim, fine hands, I think of the knife hacking at that woman.

  I was glad he didn’t want to go to the South of
France. I am sure now 1 couldn’t have faced such a trip with him alone. When he suggested we should come back to the Spanish Bay hotel and spend two more weeks here while he convalesced, I was relieved. We have been here now for ten days. We do a lot of bathing. We sit in the sun. We read. Chris is back on Dickens again. I am sure he knows that I know he killed this woman. We can’t relax together. We’re polite. We smile at each other. We are both very anxious not to disagree with anything either of us say. I now know it can never be the same as it was before this ghastly accident. He tells me how anxious he is to return to New York. Dr. Gustave doesn’t want him to go back for another week. He looks curiously at Chris when he comes here to talk to him. I have this feeling he isn’t sure about the operation, but he won’t commit himself… what doctors ever do? I walked with him to his car yesterday. Chris watched us from the terrace. Dr. G said I mustn’t expect too much. … what does that mean?

  Last night… I suppose this really is wily I have begun to write up this diary again… after Chris and I had sat on the terrace, watching the moon light up the sea… he came to my room. He wanted to make love to me. This was the first time he had these feelings for me for more than two years. During those two years I had lain in my lonely bed, aching for him, aching for him to take me, to feel him move into my body, to feel his face against mine. But seeing him come into the room, lit only by the moon, I felt terrified. I thought of his hands and the knife and the woman. He sat on the side of the bed and he put his hands in mine. But the touch of his hands turned me cold and sick. I suppose the expression on my face warned him to go no further. He smiled at me… I thought of Mona Lisa… it was that kind of smile, and he said, ‘We’ll get adjusted. You’ve been patient with me. I can be patient too.’ But I felt that he was disappointed and even suddenly bored with me. When he had gone back to his room, I cried. I now know I can never bear him to touch me. Is it what that fat old man calls an adventure to begin life again?