fact that her husband had been dead for five years.
“What time was it you saw this prowler?” I asked.
“Just at daybreak.” She shook her head. “The police were so funny about my story. They acted as though they didn't believe me. One of the officers had the effrontery to ask if I might have been dreaming. Dreaming! I get little enough sleep as it is without some policemen...”
“Please, Mrs. Kellerman; what did you see?”
“It was just an accident I happened to see him at all. But I heard a noise; it's funny how nervous a woman gets in a house, without a man, I mean.” She giggled, twitching her body.
“What kind of a noise?”
“Sort of footsteps, shuffling footsteps. I can tell you it frightened me.”
It was like pulling teeth. I wanted it, though. I said: “What did you do?”
“I went to the window.” She paused, looking at me to see if I was impressed. “And there he was.”
“Who?”
“I don't know. How would I? He looked like a priest.”
“Like a priest?”
“He had on black robes, like priests wear. And he carried a staff.”
“I never heard of a priest with a staff.” Mrs. Kellerman giggled. “Neither did I. And his face didn't look like a priest's. It was so pale and-uh-sinister-looking.”
“What did he do?”
“He just shuffled by the house and disappeared.”
“In back.”
“Yes, in back.”
“Would you know him again, Mrs. Kellerman?” She thought. “I don't know. It was so early. It wasn't very light.” She giggled suddenly. “And I was so frightened.”
I asked some more questions, but that was all I could get out of her. A man in a black robe with a staff had shuffled by her house. I began to see why the police didn't think much of the story. You don't sec many guys like that, and if you do, other people see them, too. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Kellerman.”
“Won't you have some coffee? And a piece of cake. My husband used to say my cake was wonderful.”
“I love cake, Mrs. Kellerman; I really do. But I have an appointment.”
From there I went around to the Drive-It garage to say that the sedan had been stolen. I told the manager I had parked it in front of the Arkady about eleven the night before and hadn't been able to find it when I came out this morning. He took down the details and said he would report it to the police. He didn't seem worried. I suppose the insurance and my deposit took care of him.
I had to wait a long time in McGee's outer office. He was busy on the telephone. I almost fell asleep in the wicker chair. Finally the girl said: “He will see you now, Mr. Craven.”
McGee leaned over his desk and shook my hand. His skin felt clammy. “Have you heard the news?” he asked.
“I don't know,” I said.
His eyes, in the triangles of flesh, were bright. “Caryle Waterman,” he said slowly, “was killed in the gun battle at Joyland.”
“Yeah? Who's he?”
“The son of our richest citizen.”
I whistled. “That's something!”
“Yes. I've been talking with a representative of the Governor. The Governor's going to blow the town open ... if he can.”
“Why can't he?”
He began to wash his hands. “He'll find it difficult... as I have.” He smiled and tapped his yellow teeth with a fingernail. I got the feeling he wouldn't be too pleased if the Governor did get somewhere.
“But what about Miss Grayson?” I scowled at him. “What are we going to do?”
“I think it would be better if we did nothing for a time, Mr. Craven. It is possible the Vineyard will become involved in the investigation. If it does, and mind you, I'm not saying it will, we will have something to talk to Miss Grayson about.”
I thought this over. It didn't seem like a bad idea. “I may be able to throw a few things to the Governor,” he said, smiling again. “A few very interesting things.”
“Well, we'll give it a couple of days,” I said. “When'll I come to see you again?”
“Would you like to go out to the Vineyard on Sunday? That's the day Solomon's body is on view.”
“That would be fine.”
“I'll pick you up at your hotel.” He made the Washing motion with his hands. “Say, about ten o'clock?”
“It's a deal, “I said.
