bungalow; holding his parcels under one arm, he scanned the headlines of the paper.
There it was in the stop press.
He stopped, his heart hammering, to read the heavy print:
ICE-PICK SLAYING IN LOVE NEST EX-DANCER MURDERED BY UNKNOWN ASSAILANT
He couldn't bring himself to read further, and folding the newspaper, he continued up the road, sweat on his face.
As he reached his gate, Mrs. Fielding, his next-door neighbour, bobbed up from behind the hedge to beam at him.
Mrs. Fielding was always bobbing up from behind the hedge.
Ann had tried to convince Ken that Mrs. Fielding meant well and that she was lonely, but Ken thought she was an old busybody always on the lookout for a gossip or to stick her nose where it wasn't wanted.
'Just back from town, Mr. Holland?' she asked, her bright little eyes staring curiously at the two parcels he carried under his arm.
'That's right,' Ken said, opening the gate.
'I hope you haven't been extravagant now your wife's away,' she went on, wagging her finger at him. 'I know how my dear husband used to behave as soon as I went away.'
I wonder if you do, you silly old fool, Ken thought. I bet he kicked the can around as soon as he got rid of you.
'And you're keeping such late hours.' She smiled archly at him. 'Didn't I hear you come last night after two?'
Ken's heart gave a lurch.
'After two?' he said. 'Oh, no. Couldn't have been me. I was in bed by eleven.'
Her bright smile suddenly became fixed. Into her eyes came an inquisitive, searching look that made Ken's eyes give ground.
'Oh. I looked out of the window, Mr. Holland. I am quite sure it was you.'
'You were mistaken,' Ken said shortly, caught with the lie and having to
make the best of it. 'You'll excuse me. I have to write to Ann.'
'Yes.' Still the bright eyes stared fixedly at him. 'Well, be sure to give her my love.'
'I will,' Ken said, and forcing a smile, he hurried up the path, opened the front door and entered the hall.
He stood for a moment in the quiet hall, listening to the thud of his heart.
If the police took it in their heads to question her, she could give him away. He might have known she wouldn't have been asleep when he drove back last night. She would have to get of bed to spy.
She had seen the two parcels. If she remembered and if the police questioned her, how was he going to explain them away?
He now had a trapped feeling, and he went into the lounge, opened the liquor cabinet and poured himself out a stiff drink. He went over to the couch and sat down. After a long pull from his glass, he read the short paragraph in the stop press.
Early this morning, Fay Carson, one-time dance hostess at the Blue Rose nightclub, was discovered by her maid, stabbed to death and lying naked across her bed. The murder weapon is believed to be an ice-pick taken from the murdered woman's ice-Sox.
Sergeant Jack Donovan of the Homicide Department, in charge of the investigation, stated that he had already several important clues, and that an early arrest could be expected. He is anxious to interview a tall, wellbuilt man, wearing a pearl-grey suit and a grey slouch hat who returned with Miss Carson to her apartment last night.
Ken dropped the paper and shut his eyes.
For a long, horrible moment he felt suffocated by the wave of panic that urged him to get in his car and get as far away as he could before they came after him.
A tall, well-built man in a pearl-grey suit and a grey slouch hat.
What a damn fool he had been to buy a suit exactly like the one he had left in the store. He had bought it because Ann would have missed it, but now he realized he would never dare wear it.
He ran his and over his sweating face.
Should he make a bolt for it?
Where would you go, you fool? he thought. And how far do you imagine you'd get? Your one and only chance is to sit tight and keep your nerve. It's your only hope. You've got to sit tight for Ann's sake as well as your own.
He got to his feet, finished his drink and set the glass down on the table. Then he unpacked the two parcels and carried the shoes and suit into his bedroom. He put them in his wardrobe.
He returned to his sitting-room and poured himself out another drink.
He thanked his stars Ann wasn't here, and that he could face this business on his own, but in six more days she would be back. He didn't kid himself this business would be over by then or, if it were, he would be in jail.
He set down his glass to light a cigarette. A movement outside made him look up towards the window.
