Eileen Vickers. Dead. Too late to do anything about it now.
Could there be two murderers? Could Hal have killed Jack, then killed Eileen, and been in turn killed with his own gun there in the room? A great possibility, except that there was no sign of a struggle. Eileen’s nude body. Was she professionally prepared to receive a visitor and surprised when her old lover walked in! Why? Why? Why?
Where was the secret to all this hidden? Who did it? It wasn’t in Kalecki’s apartment; not in Jack’s, unless I couldn’t read signs any more.
Was there an outsider?
Hell. I finished another bottle of beer and set the empty down at my feet. I was slowing up. Couldn’t think any more. I wish I knew just where George Kalecki came in. That tie-up would prove important. To me, it looked as if the next step would be to find him. If Hal were alive…
I cut my thoughts short and slapped my leg. Damn, how could I be so simple. Hal hadn’t operated out of the city. He had been going to school. If he had any record of his operations they were there. And that might be exactly what I needed.
As quickly as I could, I dressed. When I had my coat on I shoved an extra clip of cartridges in my pocket and phoned the garage to bring my car around.
It was almost midnight, and a sleepy attendant drove up as soon as I got downstairs. I stuffed a dollar bill into his hand, hopped in and pulled away. Luckily, there was no traffic to worry about this time of night. I beat out a few lights and turned on the West Side Express Highway and headed north. Pat had told me the town the college was in. Ordinarily it was a good three hours’ drive from the city, but I didn’t intend to take that long.
Twice the highway patrol came out of a cutoff after me, but they didn’t stay with my overpowered load very long. I was a little afraid that they might radio ahead to try to throw up a road block to stop me, but nothing happened.
The signs told me when to turn and I got on an unkept country road that had so many ruts I had to slow down, but when the counties changed, so did the road. It changed into a smooth macadam, and I made the rest of the trip going full out.
Packsdale was five miles ahead. The chamber of commerce sign said it was a town of thirty thousand and the county seat. Huba huba. The college wasn’t hard to find. It sat on a hill a mile north of town. Here and there some lights were lit, probably those in the corridors. I slammed on the brakes in time to swing into a gravel drive and roll up to an impressive-looking two-story house squatting a hundred feet back on the campus. The guy must have been in the army. Along the drive he had a yellow and black sign that read: “Mr. Russell Hilbar, Dean of Men.”
The house was completely blacked-out, but that didn’t stop me. I put my finger on the bell and never took it off until the lights blazed up in the place and I could hear footsteps hurrying to the door. The butler stood there with his mouth open. He had thrown on his working jacket on top of a nightshirt. Most ridiculous sight I ever saw. Instead of waiting to be admitted and announced, I pushed into the room and nearly knocked over a tall, distinguished guy in a maroon dressing robe.
“What is this, sir? Who are you?”
I flashed by badge and he squinted at it. “Mike Hammer, Investigator from New York.”
“Aren’t you out of your territory?” he stormed. “What do you want?”
“You had a student here named Harold Kines, didn’t you? I want to see his room.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. Our county police are handling the affair. I’m sure they are capable. Now if you’ll please . . .”
I didn’t let him go any further. “Listen, buddy,” I pounded on his chest with a stiffened forefinger, “it’s quite possible that right now there’s a murderer loose on this campus. If he isn’t a murderer he’s liable to be one if you don’t use your knob and tell me where I can find the room. And if you don’t,” I added, “I’ll smack you so hard you’ll spill your insides all over the joint!”
Russell Hilbar backed up and grabbed the edge of a chair for support. His face had gone pasty white and he looked ready to fault. “I—I never thought . . .” he stammered, “. . . Mr. Kines’ room is on the lower floor in the^ east wing. The room number is 107, right on the southeast corner. But the county police have closed it pending a further investigation and I have no key.”
“The hell with the county police. I’ll get in. Turn these lights off and don’t move out of the house. And stay away from the phone.”
“But the students—will they . . .?”
“I’ll take care of them,” I said as I closed the door.
Outside I had to orientate myself to find the east wing. I picked a low rectangular building out to be the dorms and I wasn’t wrong. The grass muffled any sounds I made, and I crept up on the corner of the wing. I prayed silently that my hunch wasn’t wrong and that I wasn’t too late. As much as possible, I stayed in the shadows, working my way behind the bushes set against the wall.
The window was shoulder high, and down all the way. I took off my hat and put my ear close to the pane, but I couldn’t detect any sound from inside. I took the chance. My fingers went under the sash and I pushed the window up. It slid without a creak. I jumped, and pulled myself into the room, then slid off the sill and landed on my face.
That fall saved my life. Two shots blasted from the corner of the room. The slugs smashed into the window sill behind me and threw splinters in my face. For a brief moment the room was lit up with the weird red glow of the gunflash.
My hand darted under my coat and came out with my rod. Our shots came almost together. I let three go as fast as my finger could pull the trigger. Something tugged at my jacket and I felt my ribs burn. There was another shot from across the room, but it wasn’t directed at me. It went off into the floor of the room and the guy that fired it followed it down.
This time I didn’t take a chance. I jumped the gap between us and landed on a body. I kicked for the gun and heard it skid across the floor. Only then did I switch on the lights.
George Kalecki was dead. My three shots had all caught him in the same place, right in the chest around the heart. But he had time to do what he came to do. In one corner, and still warm, was a pile of ashes in a green metal box.
The next second there was a furious pounding on the door and voices raising cain outside. “Get away from that door and shut up,” I yelled.
“Who’s in there?” a voice demanded.
“Your uncle Charlie,” I shot back. “Now can that chatter and get the dean up here fast as you can and tell him to call the police.”
“Watch the window, fellows,” the voice hollered. “The door is still sealed and he must have gone in that way. That’s it, Duke, take the rifle. No telling who it is.”
These crazy college kids. If one of them got jumpy with that rifle I’d be a dead duck. I stuck my head out the window as four of them came tearing around the corner at top speed. When they saw me they stopped in a flurry of dust. I waved to the big tow-headed kid carrying a .22 repeater. “Come here, you.”
He marched up to the window with the gun out in front of him like he was going to bayonet somebody. He was scared stiff. I palmed my tin and shoved it under his nose. “See this badge?” I said. “I’m a cop, New York. Now keep your noses out of here. If you want to do something, post a guard
The kid bobbed his head eagerly. He was glad to get away from there. The next second he was shouting orders all over the place. Good ROTC material. The dean came running up blowing like a sick horse. “What happened?” His voice nearly broke when he spoke.
“I just shot a guy. Call the cops and be sure the kids stay out of here.” He took off like a herd of turtles and I was left alone save for the curious voices outside the door. What I had to do had to be done before a lot of hayseed county cops took over.
I let George lay where he had fallen, taking time only to notice the gun. It was a .45, same as mine, and the one he had in his room when I searched it. I recognized a scratch on the butt.
The green box was my next step. I sifted the ashes carefully, trying to determine what they had been. The blackened cover of a note pad lay on the bottom, but it dissolved into dust at my touch. These ashes had been one
