The fury and the hate were very exhilarating. Actually, Peter felt better than he’d felt for many long months. There was in him a kind of perverted happiness that was wholly unreasonable. He took the .38 from his pocket and pointed it at Foresman.
“Oh, I’ll pay,” he said. “I’ll pay in full.”
He shot him twice in the chest and watched the succession of fear and shock in the dentist’s face, watched with pleasure the collapse and terminal twitching of the big body that would go no further to fat. Then, swiftly, before blood could stain the carpet, he heaved the body into his arms and carried it the length of the living room and into a bedroom and across the bedroom to a window overlooking the alley. Depositing the body on the floor with its back against the wall in a sitting position, he raised the window and unfastened the screen and saw that there was a narrow strip of grass between the building and the alley. Some low-growing foundation shrubs had been planted close to the building. Pushing the body through the window, he lowered it to the ground behind the shrubs. Then he refastened the screen and closed the window and went back through the bedroom and living room into the hall and outside. He saw no one. So far as he knew, no one had seen him. Or heard him. He had gambled on sound-proofing and apparently won.
On the side street, he turned his car into the alley and stopped behind the Bellmar. Still moving swiftly and with the blind assurance that precluded in his mind the possibility of detection, he dragged Foresman’s body from behind the shrubbery and onto the rear floor of the car. Behind the wheel, he drove on down the alley, emerging on the side street at the far end and turning back onto Northeast Boulevard.
Behind the lodge, he stopped beside a weathered plank shed and went inside. Fumbling in almost total darkness, he found a spade and a pick-ax and carried them out to the car. He leaned the tools against the car and turned his attention to the rear seat. Under persuasion, the beginning of the last that he would be subjected to, Dr. Norton Foresman slipped out.
The body was cumbersome and elusive, a monstrous burden that bore down upon him with terrible weight and threatened with every step to slip from his shoulder. Climbing the slope against which the lodge was built was grueling labor, but after that, beyond the crest, it was easier going, downgrade a short distance into a dry gulch. In the gulch he dropped the body with a dull, sodden thud and stood for a minute with his chest heaving, gulping the cold night air. Then he returned to the car for the tools.
CHAPTER 10.
He went into the lounge of the hotel that had been designated and looked around for an empty booth or table, but there wasn’t any, so he sat instead at the bar on a stool with a vacancy on the left. He could see the entrance from the lobby reflected in the bar mirror, and after about ten minutes spent with a bourbon and water he could see Etta in the entrance. The vacancy still existed on the left, and she came across and filled it.
“Darling,” she said, “I thought it would take forever.”
“There was a lot to do. Assets to liquidate, debts to pay. The old man had a lot of debts. I didn’t dream he owed so much.”
“I told you that. Remember? I said we’d need the insurance.”
“Well, we’ve got it. A hundred grand.”
“I considered getting in touch with you, but I didn’t think it would be wise.”
“It’s just as well you didn’t.”
“Will they ever find him?”
“I don’t think so. I’m sure of it.”
“You did it well, darling. I’m proud of you.”
He drained his glass and waited again for the bartender’s bit. Then he said, “Well, it’s over now. All over and done.”
“The bad part. The good part just beginning. Are you free to go away?”
“Yes. Everything’s been taken care of.”
“Good. I’ll take a plane south tomorrow. You follow in a couple of weeks. You know where to meet me.”
“I know.”
Then he lifted his fresh drink and looked up into the reflected, red-rimmed eyes of the fat little man named Smalley.
“Good-afternoon, Mr. Roche,” Smalley said. “I don’t believe I’ve met your stepmother.”
Peter looked at Etta and felt for a second a thrill that could not be sustained and died almost instantly. She was sitting very upright on the stool with her chin lifted and her cheeks burning with color. Her eyes, focused unwaveringly on Smalley’s reflection, were shining with a bright, hot light. Unable to bear the sight of her terrible excitement, he turned his own eyes down to the untasted drink before him and said dully, “So you’ve known all along.”
Smalley looked startled and shook his head. “On the contrary. I haven’t been very smart in this business, Mr. Roche. I didn’t suspect a thing until after Dr. Foresman disappeared.” He sighed and drew the fingers of one hand across his eyes. “It’s no credit to me that I know anything now. It was really Dr. Foresman himself who put me straight. You see, we went through his office files when he disappeared, and we found a certain dental chart there. A kind of map of a person’s teeth, you know. It was clearly labeled as being Mrs. Roche’s, and it was not identical with that of the woman who died in the accident at all. Not even similar. That tore it, of course, and a child could have reconstructed what had actually happened. That was lucky, I guess, because otherwise I’d probably never have been able to do it. Naturally, we kept quiet until you got around to leading us to your collaborator. Which you have. And now if you
