Negro, if he could have a table in the restaurant. The Negro said he would fix it. In the meantime, how's about a drink?
Harmas said he would have a large Scotch on the rocks and he sat at one of the high stools at the bar. He asked for the evening newspaper.
The Negro got him the drink and the paper and then went to the far end of the bar to phone the restaurant. The front page of the Pru Town Gazette was given up to the Barlowe murder.
The barman came back to say a table would be ready in ten minutes.
'That's a horrible thing,' he went on seeing Harmas was reading about the murder. 'These two were out here a couple of hours before it happened.'
Harmas put down the newspaper.
'Is that right? It surprises me they went out to Jason's Glen. After the first murder you would have thought they would have kept clear of such a lonely place.'
The barman rolled his eyes.
'That's just what he said. He didn't want to go. They argued about it for nearly twenty minutes, but she wanted it. Man!
When a dame like that wants something, she gets it!'
'So he didn't want to go out there?'
'That's a fact. They came in here for a final drink. It was around half past nine. At one time I thought they would blow up, they got so heated. Finally, he said the hell with it: if she wanted to go that bad, then he would take her. Then she went to the Ladies' Room and kept him waiting for more than ten minutes. I saw he didn't go for that either!'
'Too bad she didn't take his advice,' Harmas said, his mind busy. He finished his drink. 'I guess I'll go and eat,' and tipping the barman generously, he went in towards the restaurant.
He crossed the lobby and paused outside the ladies' room.
The doorman glanced at him, then stiffened to attention as Harmas beckoned to him.
'Would there be a telephone in there?' Harmas asked and took out his wallet. From it he selected a five dollar bill.
The doorman eyed the bill the way a gun dog eyes a falling grouse.
'Yes, sir.'
'Automatic or does it go through a switchboard?' 'A switchboard, sir.'
'I'd like to talk to the operator,' Harmas said. He took out his card and let the doorman examine it. Then as he took the card back, he handed over the five dollar bill.
'I can fix that,' the doorman said. 'Come this way.' He took Harmas to a small office where there was a switchboard and a blonde thumping a typewriter. The blonde was young and pretty and she looked at Harmas as the doorman said,
'This gentleman wants a little help.' He winked. 'You help him... he'll help you.' To Harmas, he said, 'You go right ahead, sir. You'll find May ready to help helpful gentlemen,' and he went away. Harmas sat on the edge of the desk. 'Is that right, beautiful?' he asked and took out his wallet. He felt this was the right time to be extravagant. He knew Maddox would willingly meet any expense to save the company paying a phony claim.
The blonde, snugly curved, with big baby blue eyes looked with alert interest as Harmas fished out a five dollar bill.
'For that, handsome,' she said, 'you could go a very long way.'
'That's good news,' Harmas said, grinning, 'but right now all I want is a little information. Do you keep a record of the out-going calls you handle?'
'Yep.' She looked him over. 'Are you a private eye?' 'I'm private,' Harmas said. 'I'm trying to trace a call made from here on September 30th around half past nine ... made by a woman.'
The blonde got to her feet and swung her neat hips over to the switchboard. She consulted a notebook.
'Here we are ... must be the one I can't remember if it was made by a woman, but on that night I wasn't busy. I had only four calls. Three of them between seven and half past eight ... the other was around nine forty. Elmwood 68009.'
'Could I have the other numbers?'
She gave him the numbers and he wrote them down, then he thanked her and passed over the five dollar bill.
She smiled happily as she tucked the bill away. She was pretty, pert and sexy and for a brief moment Harmas regretted he was married, then he waved away such thoughts and went into the restaurant.
Later, he called police headquarters. The desk sergeant told him Lieutenant Jenson was still out.
'You could help me,' Harmas said and introduced himself. 'I want to know who operates on Elmwood 68009.'
The desk sergeant told him to hold on. After a delay he came back on the line.
'That's a public call booth on highway 57. If you have a Survey map of the district, the call box is in zone A.3.' Harmas thanked him, and hung up.
Around ten o'clock the same evening, Harmas walked down the long corridor that led to Jenson's office through the usual smell of disinfectant and sweat of a cop house.
Jenson, looking dirty and tired, was talking to someone on the telephone. When he saw Harmas, he said, 'Well, keep after it... yeah ... yeah ... call me back,' and he hung up. He frowned at Harmas who was now sitting astride one of the hard backed chairs. 'What do you want?'
'I'm just back from seeing Maddox. He sends his love. How are you making out?'
Jenson rubbed the back of his neck. He looked like a man who had been under pressure for more hours than he likes to remember.
'One of my men was shot to death by a hold-up thug who cleaned out the Caltex cash box on the Brent highway a few days back. The same gun that shot my man, killed Barlowe.'
Harmas drew in a long, slow breath.
'So what now?'
'We're checking on every bald-headed man in the district. We're hunting for the gun,' Jenson said, his expression grim.
'I have every man I can spare on the job.'
'How much did the hold-up thug get away with?'
'A little over three thousand.'
'Did you get a description of the guy?'
'Yeah ... not the same guy who shot Barlowe. This one was tall,' Jenson leaned back into his chair, took a cigar from his desk drawer and lit it. 'Here's something odd. We had a report from the Marlborough hotel that a hat and coat were stolen on the night of the robbery. The hat was Swiss style with a cord and feather ... the gunman had the same kind of hat. Could mean something. I had an idea that the gunman was passing through, but now I am beginning to wonder if he wasn't a local man.'
'Who gave you a description of this guy?'
'The gas attendant.'
'Could be he was in such a panic he has the description wrong. Could be the gunman is our sex killer.'
Jenson blew smoke to the ceiling.
'I guess.'
Harmas brooded for a long moment, then said, 'I'd appreciate it if you'd take me out to Jason's Glen tomorrow morning.
I have an idea ... I could be wasting your time, but I don't think I am.'
Jenson wiped his sweating face.
'I want to go out there myself. Okay, I'll pick you up. What's your idea?'
Harmas got to his feet.
'It'll keep ... then see you tomorrow,' and he made for the door.
As Jenson was about to pull into the lay-by at the bottom of the dirt road leading to Jason's Glen, Harmas said sharply,
