“I was beaten up last Friday night by the man who employs the killer who probably killed the two Thayers. He warned me away from the case. I have a presumption, not provable, of who hired him: a man who got his name from an associate on speaking terms with many prominent criminals. This man is the person Peter Thayer was working for this summer. And I know the other guy, the one with the criminal contacts, has been seen with Peter’s boss. Ex-boss. I don’t know about the money, that’s just a guess. No one in that crowd would be hurt by sex scandals, and spying is very unlikely.”
“What about dope?” Gail asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “But anyway, that is certainly an illegal source of income for which you might kill to cover up.”
“Frankly, V.I. or Vic, or whatever your real name is, you haven’t convinced me. I don’t believe Anita’s life could be in danger. But if anyone disagrees with me and knows where Anita is, go ahead and betray her.”
“I have another question,” Ruth said. “Assuming we did know where she is and told you, what good would that do her-if everything you’re saying is true?”
“If I can find out what the transaction is, I can probably get some definite proof of who the murderer is,” I said. “The more quickly that happens, the less likely it is that this hired killer can get to her.”
No one said anything else. I waited a few minutes. I kind of hoped Annette would try to throw me out: I felt like breaking someone’s arm. Radicals are so goddamn paranoid. And radical students combine that with isolation and pomposity. Maybe I’d break all their arms, just for fun. But Annette didn’t move. And no one chirped up with Anita’s address.
“Satisfied?” Mary asked triumphantly, her thin cheeks pulled back in a smirk.
“Thanks for the time, sisters,” I said. “If any of you changes her mind, I’m leaving some business cards with my phone number by the coffee.” I put them down and left.
I felt very depressed driving home. Peter Wimsey would have gone in and charmed all those uncouth radicals into slobbering all over him. He would never have revealed he was a private detective-he would have started some clever conversation that would have told him everything he wanted to know and then given two hundred pounds to the Lesbian Freedom Fund.
I turned left onto Lake Shore Drive, going much too fast and getting a reckless pleasure from feeling the car careening, almost out of control. I didn’t even care at this point if someone stopped me. I did the four miles between Fifty-seventh Street and McCormick Place in three minutes. It was at that point that I realized someone was following me.
The speed limit in that area was forty-five and I was doing eighty, yet I was holding the same pair of headlights in my rearview mirror that had been behind me in the other lane when I got on the Drive. I braked quickly, and changed to the outside lane. The other car didn’t change lanes, but slowed down also.
How long had I been carrying a tail, and why? If Earl wanted to blow me away, he had unlimited opportunities, no need to waste manpower and money on a tail. He might not know where I’d gone after leaving my apartment, but I didn’t think so. My answering service had Lotty’s phone number, and it’s a simple matter to get an address from the phone company if you have the number.
Maybe they wanted Jill and didn’t realize I’d taken her to Lotty’s. I drove slowly and normally, not trying to change lanes or make an unexpected exit. My companion stayed with me, in the center lane, letting a few cars get between us. As we moved downtown, the lights got brighter and I could see the car better-a mid-sized gray sedan, it looked like.
If they got Jill, they would have a potent weapon to force me off the case. I couldn’t believe that Earl thought I had a case. He’d given me the big scare, he’d torn my apartment apart, and he’d gotten the police to make an arrest. As far as I could tell, despite John Thayer’s death, Donald Mackenzie was still in jail. Perhaps they thought I could lead them to the document they had overlooked at Peter Thayer’s, and not found in my apartment.
The phrase “lead them to” clicked in my brain. Of course. They weren’t interested in me, or in Jill, or even in that claim draft. They wanted Anita McGraw, just as I did, and they thought I could lead them to her. How had they known I was going to the campus tonight? They hadn’t: they’d followed me there. I’d told McGraw I had a lead on a lead to Anita and he had told-Smeissen?-Masters? I didn’t like the thought of McGraw fingering his daughter. He must have told someone he thought he could trust. Surely not Masters, though.
If my deduction was correct, I ought to keep them guessing. As long as they thought I knew something, my life was probably safe. I got off the Drive downtown, going past Buckingham Fountain as it shot up jets of colored water high into the night. A large crowd had gathered to see the nightly show. I wondered if I could lose myself in it, but didn’t think much of my chances. I went on over to Michigan Avenue, and parked across the street from the Conrad Hilton Hotel. I locked the car door and leisurely crossed the street. I stopped inside the glass doors for a glance outside, and was pleased to see the gray sedan pull up next to my car. I didn’t wait to see what the occupants would do, but moved quickly down the hotel’s long corridor to the side entrance on Eighth Street.
This part of the hotel had airline ticket offices, and as I walked past them, a doorman was calling, “Last call for the airport bus. Nonstop to O’Hare Field.” Without thinking or stopping to look behind me, I pushed in front of a small crew of laughing flight attendants and got on the bus. They followed me more slowly; the conductor checked his load and got off, and the bus started moving. As we turned the corner onto Michigan, I could see a man looking up and down the street. I thought it might be Freddie.
The bus moved ponderously across the Loop to Ontario Street, some twelve blocks north, and I kept an anxious lookout through the rear window, but it seemed as though Freddie’s slow wits had not considered the possibility of my being on the bus.
It was 9:30 when we got to O’Hare. I moved from the bus to stand in the shadow of one of the giant pillars supporting the terminal, but saw no gray sedan. I was about to step out when I thought perhaps they had a second car, so I looked to see if any vehicle repeated its circuit more than once, and scanned the occupants to see if I recognized any of Smeissen’s crew. By ten I decided I was clear and caught a cab back to Lotty’s.
I had the driver drop me at the top of her street. Then I went down the alley behind her building, keeping a hand close to my gun, I didn’t see anyone but a group of three teen-age boys, drinking beer and talking lazily.
I had to pound on the back door for several minutes before Lotty heard and came to let me in. Her thick black eyebrows went up in surprise. “Trouble?” she asked.
“A little, downtown. I’m not sure whether anyone is watching the front.”
“Jill?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. I think they’re hoping I’ll lead them to Anita McGraw. Unless I do, or unless they find her first, I think we’re all pretty safe.” I shook my head in dissatisfaction. “I don’t like it, though. They could snatch Jill and hold her to ransom if they thought I knew where Anita was. I didn’t find out tonight. I’m sure one of those goddamned radical women knows where she is, but they think they’re being noble and winning a great war against the pigs, and they won’t tell me. It’s so frustrating.”
“Yes, I see,” Lotty said seriously. “Maybe it’s not so good for the child to be here. She and Paul are watching the movie on television,” she added, jerking her head toward the living room.
“I left my car downtown,” I said. “Someone was following me back from the university and I shook them off in the Loop-took the bus out to O’Hare-long and expensive way to shake a tail, but it worked.
“Tomorrow, Jill’s taking me out to Winnetka to go through her father’s papers. Maybe she should just stay there.”
“We’ll sleep on it,” Lotty suggested. “Paul is loving his guard duty, but he couldn’t do much against men with machine guns. Besides, he is an architecture student and should not miss too many of his classes.”
We went back into the living room. Jill was curled up on the daybed, watching the movie. Paul was lying on his stomach, looking up at her every few minutes. Jill didn’t seem aware of the impression she was creating-this seemed to be her first conquest-but she glowed with contentment.
I went into the guest room to make some phone calls. Larry Anderson said they’d finished my apartment. “I didn’t think you’d want that couch, so I let one of the guys take it home. And about the door-I’ve got a friend who does some carpentry. He has a beautiful oak door, out of some mansion or other. He could fix it up for you and put some dead bolts in it, if you’d like.”
“Larry, I can’t begin to thank you,” I said, much moved. “That sounds like a beautiful idea. How did you close the place up today?”
“Oh, we nailed it shut,” he said cheerfully. Larry and I had gone to school together years ago, but he’d dropped out earlier and further than I had. We chatted for a few minutes, then I hung up to call Ralph.
