'The way it looks,' Jeff said, deciding he might as well get it over with, 'someone walked in here and beat him to death.'
She leaned against the edge of the door, shoulders sagging. Her head sank lower but she said no more, and finally Jeff knew he had to tell what he had done. Because he felt too weak-kneed to stand there any longer he took her arm and gently led her round the desk so she could not see Grayson.
'I only came about five minutes before you did. I didn't know what happened either. I was here earlier and I came back-'
He checked himself because she no longer seemed to be listening. Her gaze was fixed on the hand which rested on
the desk, a gaze so intent that lie glanced down, seeing first the small dark stain on his shirt front and knowing he must have got it when he held Grayson's torso upright. Then, as his eyes moved on, he saw the back of his hand and the two scars on his knuckles. Already scabs had begun to form there and make them more noticeable than ever.
'Karen!' He reached down to touch her shoulder in an effort to make her look at him, 'I told you I was here before. We had an argument and both of us threw a couple of punches. But the only mark he had on him when I left was a lump on his jaw/'
And then he was talking fast, a little desperately, beginning from the moment he first walked into the office and relating each detail he could remember. Stopping only to take a breath from time to time, he gave her the complete story because it seemed so important to him that she understand what he had done and accept it as the truth.
She did not interrupt. Her eyes remained on his face and as he continued the doubt that had been there went away. He saw the change in her expression and took heart. When he finished he had the idea that if she did not believe him she at least wanted to believe him.
'That's it/' he said wearily. 'I just wanted to tell you while I had the chanced
'Chance? What do you mean?'
'I have to call the police, don't I?*
'With the blood on your shirt and those marks on your knuckles? How can you?* 1
He looked at her, brows screwed up and his eyes peering in his disbelief.
'What else can I do? Run?*
She put her chin out and her mouth grew firm. 'How long were you gone?' she demanded.
'I don't know. Maybe a half-hour. 9 *
'Did anyone see you?'
'No,' Jeff said and then lie groaned. 'Oil, Lord.'
'What is it?'
'Spencer.'
'Who?'
'Dan Spencer, the reporter we met last night. His paper is just down the block. I'd just left here and was standing across the street. He was on his way to get a beer. He asked me to join him.'
Karen shrugged her trim shoulders and made a face. 'Well, there you are. He's certain to remember that. He'll tell the police, and even if he doesn't they'll want to question you. They'll see your hand. How can you explain it? You haven't any alibi, have you? You even have a motive/*
'What motive?'
'You'd better think a little more,' she said with remarkable lucidity. 'You came down to ask your stepbrother to vote his stock with you. Did he agree?'
'No, but-'
'Don't you and your sister get that stock now that he's dead? He had to go to Boston to claim it, didn't he? It couldn't ever be his stock unless he went back. So it's yours now, isn't it?'
For a second or two Jeff could only look at her, a little astounded by the clarity of her thoughts and the way she expressed them. What she had said made sense, and having accepted this much, what finally decided him was the thought of something Pedro Vidal had said the night before in his Segurnal office.
This was not the United States. This was Venezuela and the law said a suspect could be held for thirty days without recourse, without a chance of freedom unless Vidal changed his mind. The thought shook Jeff as he considered its ramifications and suddenly he knew he had to take the chance this girl was offering him. What he might prove be-
g6 ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT
fore lie was caught seemed beside the point. He had to try to clear himself and lie could not do it in a cell. Julio Cordovez would help and that thought alone was encouraging. Karen would help too if she could. He knew it now as hie leaned forward and took both her hands in his.
They were firm but soft and she made no effort to withdraw tiiem; nor did her gaze falter as he looked into her eyes and said what he had to say,
'Thanks,' he said. 'Thanks for telling me the score. I'll get hold of Julio Cordovez. He can help if anyone can. But remember this: don't get yourself in a jam.'
T won't'
That thirty-day law of theirs applies to you, too. But if you want to call the police and tell them you walked in and found him like this— ' He hesitated as a new thought came. 'Does anyone else know you had this date?'
'His secretary. I made it through her.'
Then it has to be that way/' Jeff said. He released her hands and straightened up, some part of his conscience telling him that this was not the way but unable to find an alternative.
Til be on my way/* he said. 'You can telephone now if you like.' He gave her a lopsided grin. 'We seem to have an affinity for murder. Last night it was you and this time it's my turn.'
**Wait!' The word came sharply as he turned away and now she came suddenly to her feet. 'I just remembered,' she breathed. 'I came in a car and told the driver to wait. He's parked just outside. He'll be sure to see you,'
^Oh, fine/' Jeff said. 'Well, it was a good idea while it lasted,' he added resignedly, 'and don't think I don't appreciate it'
If she paid any attention to this admission of failure she gave no visible sign. For a second her young face was grave
with thought and then her eyes brightened and her lips
parted.
'I know/' she said. 'You come with me and stay just inside the downstairs doorway. I'll tell the driver to go for a policeman and when he gets far enough away you can slip out. . . . Why not?' she demanded, obviously delighted with the suggestion, even if it was her own.
Jeff looked at her and sighed, marveling a little that anyone so lovely-looking could think so clearly under pressure. He understood also that the plan might work if his luck was in and a policeman didn't happen to be stationed too close to the door. And if his luck was out, what difference could it make?
'Sure,' he said respectfully. 'Let's give it a try,' he said, and led the way through the office and down the darkened stairs.
11
KAREN HOLMES was a lot more worried than she cared to admit, even to herself, but she was excited too and confident that her plan would work. She felt Jeff's hand give her arm a final squeeze as he stood back in the doorway and then she was hurrying diagonally across the sidewalk to the taxi that had been parked with two wheels on the curb.
The driver sat up and touched his cap, smiling first and then blinking as she started to tell him what she wanted. Not until she saw his expression did she remember that he could not understand English.
<e Oh, dear/' she said to herself and then, putting down the quick surge of her consternation, she remembered a word, and then another.
'PoUcfaT she cried and pointed back to the doorway. 'Felicia! . . . Pronto, pronto!'
