train, you saw me at the station, and there I hear about Edward being killed in an accident. It upset me, like I said, I admired him. In the afternoon they come and arrest me. You see it's a frame. They kept asking can anyone prove I was at home all night That's silly—they right well know I live alone.”
“Did you tell Roberts about the 'old goat'?”
“Sure. I told him exactly what I told you.”
“Where's the medicine bottle the doc gave you, the stuff that put you to sleep?”
“What bottle? He gave me one pill.”
I tried to think of something else to ask but my mind was going in circles. “I don't believe they have anything on you that will stand up in court, a jury will find you not guilty and....”
“But in the eyes of the Harbor I will always be a murderer! Bad enough for me in town up to now.... Even if I'm free, I will have to leave the Harbor.”
“Jerry, you either have to fight this or give up. First step is to get a lawyer, a young kid just starting out, if you can. A Riverside lawyer. A kid will act like a legal-eagle because an acquittal means good publicity for him. You want Bessie to find a lawyer for you?”
“All right, I'll get one.”
“Okay, but do it at once. Did anybody in End Harbor, or in any of the other burgs around here, have any reason for killing the doc? Did he have any enemies, any at all?”
“No, no. Edward is— was—the only doctor in the Harbor, a big man in the town.”
“But you just told me the Harbor didn't have much use for him either.”
“I don't like to repeat... gossip. They keep this quiet because Barnes was the mayor at one time, an important man in the church... but he told them all to go plum to hell, even his wife.”
“Told them to go to hell about what?”
“You know how the town got its name, End Harbor?”
“I suppose because it's at the end of the bay.” He shook his head. “A long, long time ago a tribe of Indians lived there, part of the Shinnecock Nation, called Endins—sounds like Indians. That was a couple hundred years ago. When I first came to the Harbor there were still several Indian families, but they moved away. Only one family left, Joe Endins and his daughter Jane. Jane grew up to be a fine girl but there was nothing for her in the Harbor, no job, no man to marry —because she's Indian. All she can do is work as a maid. Her papa died and she still hung around, maybe she's twenty-three, twenty-five, a very lonely young woman. Then the story starts she is going with Doc Barnes. That was about ten years ago. This is all gossip, you understand, but this I do know, Edward trained her to be a nurse and took her on all his calls. His wife is mad as the devil and the town is buzzing with whispers. After a year or so, Jane stops working for the doctor. She still lives in the Harbor but works in a Hampton factory. But the doctor, he keeps seeing her, you can usually find his car parked boldly in front of the Endin house a few times a week. Gossip is the devil's tongue in a small town. Because Priscilla Barnes helped Art Roberts, sort of kept an eye on him when his mother died, why some dirty people hinted....”
“Wait up, Mrs. Barnes and Chief Roberts are an item?”
“No, no! She's old enough to be his mother. I merely show you the evil power of gossip... and how well I've known that power!”
“But this other bit, Doc and an Indian gal, jeez! Changes everything, gives the doc's wife a motive for the killing.”
Jerry patted my knee, as if he was talking to a kid. “Indeed not. You shock me, Mr. Lund. But of course you don't know Priscilla Barnes. A very quiet and meek woman. If she stood the cross of gossip all these years, when Jane was working in the Barnes home—Edward had his office in the house—why should she get angry sow, when the affair, if it was that, seemed to be dying out?”
“Some people carry a long fuse and you never know—when....”
The attendant rapped on the bars. “Time's up.”
“Think hard: the doc didn't give you any hint as to who the 'old goat' might be? Didn't say in which direction he was driving to see the goat, for example?”
“Nope. He said it in passing; you know.”
“Let's go, break it off.” The cell block attendant opened the door.
“Whatsa the bigga rush with you?” Jerry mumbled.
“When you get that lawyer, I want to see him. And don't talk to anybody but the lawyer,” I told him.
“What is there to talk about?”
I stood up. “Maybe I'll be back to see you tomorrow, or the next day. Need any cigarettes, cigars—anything?”
Jerry shook his head. “I am glad you came, Mr. Lund,” he said, getting up and shaking my hand. “You made me feel better—a little.”
Bessie was sitting in the car, puffing on a cigarette, bags of groceries on the rear seat. She started pumping me with questions and I said, “Relax, Jerry is fine. Bessie, the whole Harbor is lying in their carefully brushed teeth.”
“But why? It's such a peaceful community—I know they dislike Jerry, but to frame him for murder—that I can't understand.”
“Let's get going, I have a lot of work to do. The why is the usual old one: your pillar of the community, Doc Barnes, was carrying on for years with an Indian woman, a descendant of the tribe that founded End Harbor. Name is Jane Endin. You know her?”
“No. We tourists rarely get to know anybody but the storekeepers. You think this Indian woman killed him?”
“She had more reason than Jerry. Not to mention the doc's wife, who's been having the affair flung in her face all these years. But this explains Chief Roberts' attitude —from the go he knew darn well it was murder but all he can think of is the Harbor doesn't want a scandal. In a small town everybody is close friends—especially Mrs. Barnes and Roberts. He's even willing to call it an accident and let it go at that. Then enter the clown—me—who has to shoot off his big mouth. Now the Harbor has to call it murder but they find a custom-made patsy—the doc was known to have visited Jerry, the village bogeyman.”
“But to put Jerry on trial for his life, Lord, how can they be so heartless!”
“Honey, that's the angle, the reasons Roberts doesn't give a fat damn his evidence is weak and circumstantial— he knows Jerry won't be found guilty. So what? The mess is over, hushed without any scandal. I told you I was the joker in the deck, well, honey, I'm going to knock over their can of peas, bust this wide open!”
“Matt, I knew you would!”
“You didn't know a mumbling thing, and neither did L Frankly, I only went to Riverside this morning to go through the motions. But that's all changed now—I
The odd thing was I said this rah-rah pitch cold sober, actually meant every word. Listening to Jerry I'd decided to goose End Harbor wide open, expose all the petty scheming and hatreds, a kind of concentrated form of big city vice. If I was doing it for Jerry, I was also doing it for my own ego. And all the time I knew I was showboating; a four-flusher—for the case was a set-up and I would knock it over with the speed of a fiction private eye.
Bessie wanted to know what I had in mind but I merely puffed on my pipe with great self-importance, told her I couldn't discuss it at the moment, but I would need the car.
She said I could have it and even managed not to talk all the way back to the cottage. I gave Matty his lunch in three seconds flat and with Bessie watching with admiring eyes I dashed off—the great detective about to run himself ragged.
Roberts was out but the boy-cop was holding down the desk. He told me Roberts was working. I asked, “Did you know the doc was deaf?”
“Yeah. Everybody knew that, he had one of them transparent hearing buttons stuck in his ear.”
“You know why Jerry was loud-talking him, why the doc was shouting back? The hearing device wasn't working that night.”
“That so? There wasn't enough left to say if it was working or not Who told you all this?”
“Jerry. Didn't you fellows question him at all? He claims Barnes had another call to make—which means Jerry wasn't the last person to see the doc alive.”
Junior fooled with his red tie, almost yawned in my face. “Guess that would change things—if you can prove it. We grilled old Jerry, but who can understand the way he talks? After a couple questions he wouldn't say a damn word. To my way of thinking, this proves Jerry guilty— for he'd sure as hell make up a story about the doc having another call. Mrs. Barnes says he only had to see Jerry.”
“She might say anything. Jerry says the doc told him he was on his way to see the 'old goat.' Any idea who that would be?”
He showed a mouthful of teeth in a big grin. “Offhand that could be anybody over the age of thirty. There's a summer population of around 2800, not to mention the 1468 actual residents of the Harbor, and at least half of them are over thirty—you plan to question about 3000 people, mister?”
“I might, to save a man's life,” I snapped, knowing I was wasting time: the End Harbor police weren't interested in finding the killer. “Where does Jane Endin live?”
“Out on Bay Street, couple houses past the entrance to Tide Beach. So you know about her?”
“I sure do,” I said, starting for the door.
“All this rushing about will tire you out, man your age.”
I spun around. “Don't let that pansy uniform go to your head, sonny. I've put in more years as a cop than you have weeks!”
“Take it easy, mister. I'm only trying to save you work. She ain't home. We been trying to locate her since
