Shooting Star/Spiderweb

“I’ll talk to Harry. I don’t know how much he promised you for doing this, but I’ll see that he pays you every penny, in full. You don’t have to keep on just for the money.”

“It isn’t the money alone, believe me,” I said. “And I don’t expect to be paid off unless I deliver the goods.”

She poured her third drink. This time she was slow about it, and careful. Nothing spilled, but when she turned to face me I could see she hadn’t lied. She was jumpy, and her voice held an unnatural edge. “Quit talking about delivering the goods. I mean it. The minute I see Harry, I’m going to get him to stop you. This has gone far enough.”

“It’s going further, I’m afraid.” I stood up. “Listen to me, Daisy. Stopping me won’t help matters now. This is a police job, because of the murders. You can take me off the case, but they’ll go on.”

“Let them. They haven’t done anything so far.”

“How do you know? Don’t underestimate the police. And they may turn up something any minute now. If they do, good. If they don’t, things won’t change. The murderer, whoever he is, will still be at large. If he has any future plans, he’ll go through with them whether I’m involved in the case or not. Seems to me you’d want my help. The more help you’ve got, the sooner we’ll settle this thing.”

“Mark, there’s something you’re not telling me. Some reason why you insist on risking your life, our lives, taking crazy chances. What is it?”

I tugged at my eye-patch. “I can’t tell you, Daisy. Let’s just say that I’m a crusader, shall we? And let it go at that?”

“Crusader?” She slammed her glass down on the table. “Well, I’m talking to Harry, wait and see. He’ll have you off your horse in no time. So you might as well stop, right now.”

I shrugged. “When he tells me to quit, I quit,” I said. “Until then—”

“Where are you going?”

“Got to see a guy about breaking a lance with the heathen.” I headed for the door. “Tell Harry I’ll call him.”

“Mark...”

She wasn’t angry any more. She was very soft. Soft and clinging.

“What is it?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.

“Do you have to go?”

“I have to go. I’m sorry, Daisy. Really, I am.”

“So am I. I—I’m not putting on an act, this time. I like you, Mark.”

“I like you, too, Daisy. That’s why I’m going to try and save the family fortune.”

She sighed. Standing where she was, I could feel it as well as hear it. “All right, you stubborn idiot! But couldn’t you at least kiss me?”

“No,” I said. “I couldn’t at least kiss you. As you damned well know.”

“Maybe you’re right, at that.”

“I know I am. And so do you. See you, Daisy.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful?”

“I’m always careful. You’ve just had a demonstration.” I left her standing there and went out through the hall. The fresh air outside had its points, but I preferred the perfume I’d left behind.

Driving away, I wondered what was the matter with me. Old age setting in? Perhaps; although I hadn’t noticed any of the symptoms when Daisy Bannock put her arms around me.

Then what was it? Why did I deliberately walk away from that setup and head for trouble?

Why was I stopping at this drugstore? Why did I call Apex and ask for Mr. Kolmar? Why did I bother to find out he was at home this afternoon instead of at the studio? And why did I get back in my car and head off to the San Fernando Valley?

I’d already had the San Fernando Valley. Enough to last me the rest of my lifetime, however long that might be. Going out there again might shorten it considerably.

And remembering fat little, redfaced Abe Kolmar, I couldn’t understand why I’d prefer his company to Daisy’s. Daisy had red-gold hair and white sateen pajamas. Why, Kolmar was baldheaded, and I bet he didn’t have a pair of white sateen pajamas to his name.

So why was I going?

Mark Clayburn, crusader, riding his rusty steed into the Valley. Into the Valley of Death rode the six hundred. Bring on your heathen, your infidels. Here comes Clayburn, ye true and parfait knight. Dig the stance of that lance. Onward, Christian soldiers!

It was hot in the Valley this afternoon. I was sweating. I didn’t stop perspiring as I passed Trent’s place, either. No signs of life, though. There wouldn’t be. And what about signs of death?

No police cars, either. I was glad of that. Maybe I’d be sorry, later on. A police car in the neighborhood might come in handy.

I kept driving. Kolmar lived way out. He was a good five miles away from Trent. But come to think of it, that wasn’t very far. A man could cover the distance in a very short time. I might ask Kolmar about that.

Then again, I might not. I’d have to wait and see.

I waited and saw his ranch loom ahead.

This was the genuine article. Kolmar did have a ranch, and it was big enough to serve as a location for his oat operas. Come to think of it, here’s where Dick Ryan died. Here’s where Dick Ryan died, and Tom Trent got it only five miles away. Very interesting.

The car entered the gateway between the fence posts and climbed a long hill. The big house was set way back from the road. I could see a corral and outbuildings, baking under the sunlight.

A new Hillman-Minx was parked in the driveway alongside of a veranda. Somebody was polishing the fenders with a rag.

I pulled up behind the car and let the motor die. Then I climbed out. The car-polisher glanced up, then walked around to meet me.

“Who you looking for?” he asked.

I stared, then stiffened. “You,” I said. Then I took two steps forward and my right came up. There was a dull sound, a grunt, and another sound as he flopped at my feet.

I stood there, gazing down at the face of the little man who had come after me with Fritz.

My knuckles hurt. I started to rub them, then looked up as I heard a sound. A man appeared in the doorway of the house, a chunky man with a bald head. “What’s the big idea?” he murmured.

“Just squaring a debt,” I said. “I’ve owed this guy a punch on the jaw ever since he roughed me up the other night.”

“You’re Clayburn, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“I’m Abe Kolmar.”

“I know. I was coming to see you.”

“Is that any reason for assaulting one of my employees?”

“Told you why I hit him. He’s one of the two guys who tried to kill me.”

The man in the doorway shook his head. “Better take another look,” he said. “This man couldn’t have attacked you. I happen to know where he was at the time you were abducted. And so do the police, because that’s where he was—at headquarters.”

I stared down. The man at my feet began to mumble and stir. I eyed his features closely. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Maybe I did make a mistake—”

“This is Joe Dean,” said Kolmar. “My chauffeur. You made a mistake all right.”

“I’m sorry, I could have sworn—”

Kolmar nodded. “A big mistake,” he said. “Suppose you come inside now and let me straighten you out.”

“Well—”

“Come inside.” Kolmar made an impatient gesture with his hand.

I looked at it. He was holding a revolver.

“This way,” he said.

I went this way.