Rankin grabbed hold of my arm and jerked me out of the room. We went down the stairs together, out on to the terrace, down the path to where three police cars were parked. Neither of us said anything. As we moved beyond the gate, the police car that had collected me from the bungalow came down the road and pulled up.
Candy got out and came over to us.
“Find anything?” Rankin asked.
“Another gun: recently fired with four slugs out of the magazine: a .38,” Candy said, and took Bridgette’s gun out of his pocket.
“Where did you find it?” I said.
He looked at me.
“Under your bed . . . where you put it.”
I shook my head.
“I didn’t put it there, but I don’t expect you to believe me.”
Rankin was frowning at me.
“I’m taking him to headquarters,” he said to Candy. “I’ll get the gun checked. There was nothing else?”
“No.”
“Take one of the other cars and get off home,” Rankin said. “The Captain’s got all the men he wants here.”
“Okay. You taking Brandon in on your own?”
“Yeah.”
They looked at each other. I thought Candy’s left eyelid flickered, but I could have been mistaken. He went off into the darkness.
Rankin waved me to one of the police cars.
“You drive.”
“Come again?” I said, surprised.
“You drive.”
“In handcuffs?”
He took his key out and took the handcuffs off.
I got in under the driving wheel and started the engine. He slid in beside me, took out his pack of cigarettes and lit one.
“Go ahead,” he said.
As I drove up to the mountain road, I said, “You’ll be careful what you do with that gun, Lieutenant.” I slowed, looked to right and left, then got on to the highway. “It belongs to Mrs. Creedy.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“What’s the idea of taking me in this way?” I asked. “This must be the first time on record a prisoner has driven himself to jail with a cop smoking at his side.”
“I’m not taking you to jail,” Rankin said. “This is Katchen’s idea of acting smart. He thinks by now you’ve had such a scare thrown into you, you’ll get out of town and stay out. I’m supposed to give you a chance to escape.”
I was so surprised I didn’t say anything for the next two hundred yards, then I began to think again and I suddenly laughed.
“Well, he certainly threw a scare into me,” I said, “but not big enough to make me run away. Were you supposed to tell me this?”
“I was supposed to look the other way while you ran for it,” Rankin said, his voice bored. “It occurred to me you might not run.”
“I wouldn’t have. I’m not risking a bullet in the back. This is Creedy’s idea, of course. Having tried to buy me off with a hundred and fifty thousand bucks, now he’s trying to frighten me off.” I blew out my cheeks. “How did you know I had been to Thrisby’s place?”
“Creedy’s got one of his stooges watching the place,” Rankin said. “The stooge called him, told him he’d seen you go in and Creedy called Katchen and told him to slap a breaking and entering charge on you. He told him to scare you silly, give you the treatment and then run you out of town. We just missed you and found Thrisby. Katchen decided to scare you with a murder charge.”
“Not giving a damn who really killed Thrisby?”
Rankin shrugged.
“Oh, he’ll get around to it in his own time,” he said indifferently.
“Didn’t the stooge see the killer?”
“No. He only comes on duty at night.” He took Bridgette’s gun from his pocket and turned it over in his hand. “This the gun that killed Thrisby?”
“Yes.”
“Did she kill him?”
“You’d better ask her. I’d say no.”
“You don’t ask Creedy’s wife questions like that. You don’t ask Creedy’s wife any questions come to that if you want to keep your job in this town.”
“No man should have that amount of power. So Creedy has done a deal with Judge Harrison?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t so hard. The Judge hasn’t a dime to call his own and an extravagant wife. Creedy paid him off so he’s ready to pull out of the political racket. It’ll be in the newspapers tomorrow.”
“The Courier will be pleased.”
“Nothing they can do about it. You can drive back to the bungalow. Then you’d better pack, take your car and beat it.”
“I’m not ready to go yet,” I said, coming off the mountain road on to Franklyn Boulevard. “I’m leaving when I’ve cleared up Sheppey’s death and not before.”
“You’d better clear off tonight, Brandon. Katchen has given orders about you. If you’re not out of town within two hours you’ll be in trouble. Katchen’s prowl boys are expert at staging an accident. You could lose a leg in the kind of smash they can manufacture.”
I stared at him.
“Are you kidding?”
“I’ve never spoken a truer word,” he said soberly. “Be out of St. Raphael within two hours or you’ll be a hospital case. There’s nothing you can do about it. These boys come up on you so fast: we have thirty prowl cars in this town, and any one of them could nail you. Just don’t kid yourself. You wouldn’t have a chance for a kick back. You’d be lucky to survive. They are professionals at the job.”
I thought about that while we bumped over the uneven road that led to the bungalow.
As I pulled up and got out of the car, I said, “You want that gun, Lieutenant? I might be able to make use of it whereas you possibly won’t.”
“You still after Creedy?” Rankin asked, turning his head to look at me.
“I’m after Sheppey’s killer. The gun could have a connection. I’ll let you have it back.”
He hesitated then shrugged.
“Okay: it’s not much use to me. Katchen would lose it as soon as he found out it belongs to Mrs. Creedy.”
“Well, thanks, Lieutenant. You’ve been quite a pal. Here’s hoping you will get your promotion,” and I offered my hand.
He shook hands, gave me the gun, then slid under the driving wheel.
“You can’t buck this system, Brandon,” he said seriously, looking at me through the car window. “These punks are too big, too strong and too well organized for a loner to tackle them. I know. I’ve given up trying. Get out fast and stay out.”
He nodded, then U-turned and drove rapidly away into the darkness.
II
As I turned towards the bungalow I saw the headlights of a car coming fast down the rough road. Rankin’s car swerved aside and the other car passed it, and came on towards me.
