'The night of the murder? Where is the upper road?'
Both men told him with gestures.
'Where can I find this man? What's his name?'
'Name was Ruiz. He moved away. He's not around any more. We don't know where he went,' they said.
CHAPTER 12
Nan drove fast. Wind whipped their hair.
Dorothy said, 'Aren't we going to Riverside?'
'We are not.'
'Calm down, hon.'
'You listened to that horrible creature!'
'If Clinton McCauley didn't kill his wife,' began Dorothy mildly.
'I don't care who killed his wife!' cried Nan. 'Dick didn't!'
'Good idea to be sure,' said Dorothy cheerfully.
'You can stop talking hke that,' Nan said, 'Or you can get out of this car. And go home.'
Dorothy looked at her white profile.
'I'm going right straight to Dick and tell him what that sickening woman is saying,' Nan cried.
'Good idea,' said Dorothy gently.
Nan roared up the Bartee's private road and into the half-circle among the trees. Brakes screamed. Nan tumbled out.
Dick Bartee popped out of the front door. 'What's the matter?' Nan raced up the wooden steps into his arms. 'Now, hush.' He held her and stroked her hair, and looked at Dorothy.
As Dorothy came slowly up, Blanche came out of the house. 'What is it?' Blanche asked nervously.
Nan was sobbing. 'Johnny and some horrible woman-saying you killed Christy.'
'I knew this would happen,' said Dick with a heavy sigh, 'I wanted to tell you last night but your boy friend talked me out of it. Love, love, this is an old story.' He held her a httle away smiling down.
'You—you knew about it?'
'Of course, I knew about it. People on McCauley's side, fighting to save him. Love, this was said about me, tested and settled, years ago.'
'Oh,' said Nan weakly.
Blanche said tensely, 'We just must forget the whole thing.'
But Dorothy said, 'If there's a man in prison who says he didn't do it . . .'
'All men in prison say they didn't do it,' snapped Blanche. 'But he did. For heaven's sakes, come inside.'
They went in as far as the hall.
Dick still held Nan in his arms. 'I asked John Sims, last night, if he had heard this story about me. He said he had. I wish I'd done what I wanted to do. Told you about it. Don't be upset, love.'
Nan wept, and it seemed as if she wept for herself, now. Dick, over her head, smiled at Dorothy.
'They proved you didn't do it, eh?' asked Dorothy brightly.
Blanche said stiffly, 'Clinton McCauley did it. Will you please—'
'There must have been a to-do about you, though,' said Dorothy to Dick. 'Aunt Emily had heard this story.'
Nan half turned; Dick shifted her within his arms. His gray eyes rested on Dorothy's face.
Dorothy said boldly, 'Jo^^^^y did go to the hospital, the night he was called.'
Nan took her head from Dick's breast.
'What did Aunt Emily tell him?' Dick asked in a cool, hght voice.
'Why, I suppose she remembered from the newspapers. She certainly knew your name had been connected with a murder. That's why she flew home. She really didn't Hke the idea of Nan marrying a murder suspect.' Dorothy smiled. Tou can't exactly blame her.'
He didn't move. He just looked at her.
'Why didn't Johnny say sol' Nan stormed. 'Why is Johnny acting the way he is! I despise it!'
'Johnny got this job,' said Dorothy, 'to—well, natin-ally, since it isn't Dick who went to jail, I mean, Johnny isn't saying Dick is guilty—'
'Damned white of him,' Dick said dryly.
'It was,' said Dorothy staunchly, 'white of him to try and see how much there was to the story before he spilled it out and upset Nan.'
Nan wept.
