'Do I?' Rush was smiling a rather nasty smile.
'We had a way of getting out of the school at night,' Johnny said in a moment. 'And nobody wiser. You probably did too.'
'Could be,' Rush admitted.
'You think he could have killed that woman?' demanded Johnny.
'What woman?' Rush stalled.
'In the Bartee house.'
'If Dick had been there,' said George Rush owlishly, 'and she crossed him. This is a strictly unsentimental character. Wouldn't bother him, if he had, I'll tell you that.' The
man shifted on the bar stool. 'I'm just talking. Actually, they got the one who did it.'
'Was Bartee out?' said Johnny xurgently.
Rush didn't answar.
'You still afraid you'll be expelled?' sneered Johnny.
Rush said, 'For all I know, he was in his bed, like the Colonel said.' He raised his glass.
'For all you know,' Johnny pounced. 'You can't swear ... ?'
'I'm swearing to nothing,' said George Rush irritably, 'and why don't you give up? Face it, this Bartee, he's got what it takes and poor slobs like you and me, we just haven't got what he's got. Just kiss her good-bye.'
Johnny looked at the weak bitter face and wondered. He couldn't help remembering the big blond man smiling, saying the decent thing.
'How old was he? Fifteen? What would he do if he went out? Date? What girls did he know?'
'Try the phone book,' said Rush. ''He was six feet already, and big. He dated. He had a car. His father Hed for him. You know that? The school didn't know about his car. That's what I mean, how he always got away with stuff. Catch my old man lying for me.'
'Did you lie for him?' Johnny said. -' • ''
George Rush sHd off the stod. '^ope.' he said. He swayed a httle. 'I Hed for myself,' he said. 'My old man would have skinned me alive if I'd have been expelled.'
Johimy said, 'You were out that nightl Wait . , . Listen ...'
'I don't know you,' Rush said. 'But Dick Bartee, I know. So don't dream, brother.' He leaned closer and his breath was bad. 'If I could have proved he was out that night, his trouble might have been worth my trouble. See?' He showed his teeth. 'Give up—that's my advice.' He hiccupped. He went away.
Johimy sat in the bar a while longer. There was something wrong with Bartee's alibi? Or was there? This George Rush was mahcious, envious, about as untrustworthy a witness as Johnny could imagine. One thing he'd said Johnny believed. If Rush could have made trouble for Dick Bartee—seventeen years ago or now—he would have enjoyed it.
CHAPTER 7
Monday, just after noon, they buried Emily Padgett.
After the ceremonies, Johnny followed Charles Copeland out to the curb. The lawyer was putting a slim blonde, sun-tarmed woman into a car. She was rolling her eyes, seeming distressed, saying, 'Please, Charles, don't be late tonight. Please?'
'I must go to the oflBce,'' he told her. 'Have a good lunch. Forget it.'
Johnny said, as he turned, 'May I come back to yoiu: oflBce, sir?'
'You're John Sims, aren't you? Sad about Emily. Funerals upset my wife.'
'ril follow you, sir.'' The lawyer looked at Johnny's tight face and said no more.
In the o?Bce, the lawyer told his switchboard to hold all calls. 'Well?'
'I've been to see Clinton McCauley.'
'Ah . . .' The lawyer sagged. His gray hair was a little startling above a sun-browned face. 'I've been worrying about that ever since the boat docked. Emily turned to you, then? What does McCauley say?'
'What do you say,' asked Johnny, 'about this engagement?'
'I am horrified,' said Copeland quietly.
'You think Bartee is the killer? You think McCauley is right?'
'No, I do not. But that makes no difference. I am horrified, just the same.'
Johnny felt a little surge of confidence in the man. Still, he said severely, 'What were you thinking of when you introduced them?'
'I couldn't help that,' Copeland said. 'I'll tell you about it. Dick Bartee came up one day last fall, to deliver a letter from his grandfather by hand. First time I had met
him. He was pleasant. I was cordial. That was that.
'About two months ago, he popped in again. Wanted advice. What did I know about some business people around this town? While we were talking, right here, Nan Padgett happened to come in with some papers. You know she's in the stenographer's pool, but she is rather my protege. I be-Heve she said, Tou wanted these, Mr.
