and keeping tabs on her, and she was so worried she thought she was going to go out of her mind.
So maybe he wasn’t going to Brazil, I thought. Maybe he wanted to get out on bail so that he could do a little spadework on his own. Maybe he had it all figured out already and he was coming home to wring her neck for her.
And maybe he had me tied into the picture, as far as that went. Hell, if he were thinking it out, he would hit the possibility of my involvement sooner or later. Everything connected with Milani started after my arrival in town. He might not write that off as coincidence. He might put two and two together until he came up with something.
I tried to remember if anyone had been following me lately. If they had been, I hadn’t noticed them—not that I had been looking too hard. But I hadn’t done anything suspicious. I was clear enough.
“Listen,” I told her. “It’s only natural, for God’s sake. You and I and Murray are the only ones in the world who know he’s being framed. You and I know because we did it. He knows because it was done to him. He’s going to be suspicious all over the place. He may have you tailed, but nobody can dig up anything that will make you look bad. Don’t worry about it.”
“I can’t help worrying, Wizard.”
I thought quickly. “He’s coming home Monday,” I said. “Tomorrow is Saturday. Can he have visitors?”
“Of course. I see him once a day.”
“Could I see him?”
“Certainly. I’m surprised you haven’t gone already. His other friends have been there. Most of them, anyway.”
“I think I’ll go, then. Tomorrow afternoon, say. I should be able to draw him out a little and find out what he’s planned. At least I can find out whether or not we’ve got anything to worry about.”
That seemed to reassure her a little. She asked me to make fresh drinks. I told her no, that if the house were being watched, it wouldn’t look good if I stuck around too long. A sympathy call was fine, but you couldn’t extend it for too long a period.
She came to me, wanting to be kissed. I didn’t want to kiss her. But she pressed herself against me and my arms circled her and our mouths met.
It was funny. I didn’t even like her anymore. She was my partner in a crime I was not proud of. I didn’t want to have anything to do with her. I wanted to finish things up, tie the ends neatly and never see her again.
But the electrical impulses still worked. The contact set us off again. Just as the contact had always done, and animal need came on like gangbusters. I fought with myself. And, for a change, I won. I pushed her away and left and strode quickly to the Ford. Once behind the wheel, I started the engine and pulled away. There were no cars with people in them parked on the block. If Murray were having her watched, it wasn’t on an around-the-clock basis.
Did Murray really suspect anything? I didn’t want to think about it. Joyce and I had one of those set-ups that was perfect until someone started to pick at it. As soon as anyone suspected us, we were through.
It was easier to agree that Murray was ready to run for Brazil, or that he was resigned to going to jail for the shortest time possible. I hoped Brazil was his answer. Jail would be bad for him. And despite all my previous attempts, I couldn’t make myself hate the guy, couldn’t even dislike him a little—even though he had irritated me with his smugness to begin with. But it’s no fun jobbing someone who has helped you. With luck you can make yourself despise your mark long enough to con him and get him out of the way.
But now the reverse was happening. The further the scene developed, the more I liked Murray Rogers.
And the less I liked myself.
13
They were holding Murray Rogers at the city jail along with the drunks and the sex criminals. I drove down there shortly after noon. The jail was a bulky old building, a massive structure as inviting as a Gothic novel. I walked up a flight of high stone steps and opened a heavy door. There was a big cop behind the desk. I told him who I was and what I wanted and he nodded. He called a guard and relayed the information to him, and the guard led me up creaking wooden stairs to the second floor.
We walked down a long hallway. Most of the cells were clean and modern, but most of the inmates were last night’s drunks and they had spent the night puking on their shoes. In one cell a man was singing
Murray Rogers was all the way down at the end of the corridor. The guard and I stopped in front of his cell and he looked at us, his face breaking into a smile when he saw me.
“Bill,” he said hoarsely, “I’ve been waiting for you to drop around. How’s it going?”
I said something pleasant. The guard opened the cell door with a key and locked me inside with Murray.
“Ten minutes,” he said. “That’s all I can give you, Mr. Maynard.”
The guard left. Murray rose to his feet, pumped my hand enthusiastically. He had made a rather dramatic recovery since the day of the indictment. His handshake was firm and his face had its color back again.
“Sit down,” he said. “This little hole isn’t much, but it’s comfortable enough. And I’ll be out of here Monday.”
“Joyce told me.”
“You’ve seen her?”
“Last night.”
“Poor kid,” he said. “It’s been hell for her, Bill. And for the girls. But I think the worst of it is over. The suddenness shocked them all, but you’d be surprised how much a human being can stand once he or she learns to accept it.” He waved his hands at the cell. “This, for example. I was going stir-crazy, Bill. I was in a state of traumatic shock and all I could think about was that I wanted to be free again. I denied everything, of course. I couldn’t explain all their evidence, and I just denied it.”
He offered me a cigar. I shook my head and he unwrapped one for himself and bit off the tip. “They won’t let me have a cigar cutter,” he said. “Afraid I’ll open my veins with it. The damned fools.”
I gave him a light. He blew out a cloud of smoke and winked at me through it. “I gave Nester a hell of a time at first,” he said. “I kept denying everything like an idiot. Now I’ve always felt that any man who can’t play straight with his own lawyer isn’t worth the powder to blow him to hell. You know, when you’re established and respected and well-to-do, you can’t believe you could ever get in legal trouble. The mind refuses to accept it. But the indictment did something to me. You were at the grand jury session, weren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Well, that was the turning point. That day in court damn near killed me, Bill. Knocked me for a loop. So Thursday night and Friday morning I did a lot of careful thinking. And when Alex Nester came in to see me I leveled with him finally. I told him there was no sense playing games any more. I killed Milani. Now all he had to do was get me off.”
I was sitting on the edge of his army cot. Murray was next to me. When he finished his last three sentences I almost fell off the cot. My face must have changed expression. That much was all right—it was okay to be surprised, but I couldn’t let myself be incredulous.
I said, “Then you did kill him?”
“Of course I did. What did you think, Bill?”
“I believed you.”
“That it was all a frameup? I suppose you and Joyce were the only people in the world who did believe me, then. Maybe a few other close friends who couldn’t imagine me being capable of murder. That’s nonsense. There isn’t a man in creation who isn’t capable of murder once you give him the means and motive and opportunity. I’m hardly the murderous type, Bill, but I killed August Milani as sure as God made little green apples. I didn’t have much choice. My back was up against the wall.”
I managed to light a cigarette.
There were a few possibilities that occurred to me. Maybe Murray was crazy—maybe by now he managed to believe that he had killed Milani, that everyone else was right about it and Murray was wrong. Or else he was going for the safe play, hedging his bet by copping the plea and trying for a temporary insanity defense. I asked him if he
