He looked at Miranda, who seemed not to have moved a muscle. 'You may not get a chance to talk to that judge/' he said. '1 think you'd better talk now. You'd better answer one question, and you'd better be right. Someone used the house telephone and called Baker's room at one minute after eight. Was it you?'
'Yes,' said Miranda and his breath came out with the word.
'To make sure no one was in the room before you went up.'
'Yes/'
That was the answer Jeff needed and he went quickly ahead, the tension still with him but confident now that he had what he needed. He spoke mostly to Spencer, but from where he stood he could also watch the woman with the gun.
'Baker was already dead when Miranda went into the room. You were in the closet, all right, Spencer, and you saw him take the money. You didn't dare make a move, either, because it meant you'd be tagged for murder.'
'That's what you say,' Spencer said. 'I say Baker was dead when I got there. Maybe you can prove he wasn't.'
'I don't know what you mean by proof/' Jeff said, 'but I can give you some facts you may have forgotten. Follow me,' he said. 'See how they sound/'
He swallowed and said: 'Baker came down to the desk about ten minutes of eight and left his key. You admit you took it. He went into the bar and ordered a martini and then discovered he had forgotten his wallet. He went to the desk and got a duplicate key at about five minutes of eight and went to his room,
'I say he walked in on you instead of Miranda, who did not come until after one minute after eight. You're the one who had the gun you'd found in the drawer, and Baker, being the sort of man he was, tried to take it. He was shot close-up, so maybe the gun did go off in. the straggle. I'm not saying you killed him deliberately, but—'
'You're not saying anything that makes any sense,' Spencer said defiantly. 'You've got nothing to back it up.'
'I haven't finished,' Jeff said. 'But this much I know: a man who leaves a martini on a bar to go get his wallet would have only that one thing in mind: to get that wallet and come back for his drink. Baker went to his room but he didn't get the wallet. It was still in the pocket of his other suit where Ramon Zumeta found it. I say the reason he
didn't get the wallet Is because lie ran into something in his room that stopped him.
'I say someone was there. Not Grayson, not Webb, not me, not Miranda who could have been there at that time. You, Spencer! You were there and you got trapped. You were still there a couple of minutes later when Miranda walked in on you.' He looked at the lawyer. 'How did you get in?'
'1 got a key from a maid/* he said. 'Later I paid her handsomely to forget she had given it to me.'
'Baker was dead?'
'Yes. I did not know how or why.' He hesitated and his gaze dropped. When he continued his tone was embarrassed and uneven. 'I had not done this but I knew I could be involved. But I was not thinking of that, but of Muriel and your stepbrother, and the money. I took the envelope from the traveling bag.' He sighed heavily. 'It was a great mistake. I know that now.'
Spencer's sallow face was shiny and his defenses were cracking. His eyes had a hunted look and he had trouble keeping them still. All he had left now was bluster and he tried it again,
That's not proof,' he said nastily. 'That's theory '
'Its sound, though,' Jeff said. 'And maybe there's more.' He moved closer, his dark gaze intent and his mouth grim. 'Grayson didn't die from the beating Miranda gave him. The report says he died from asphyxia.' He glanced at Cordovez. 'What about the coat, Julio?'
'As you suspected, there were bloodstains.'
Jeff spoke of the jacket he had seen on the office floor. 'I think you smothered him, Spencer. You sneaked in to get the money, thinking he was dead or unconscious, and he fooled you. He was in bad shape by that time, but he must have made a grab for you and you had to silence
him. Maybe you didn't mean that either—not that it matters.
'The autopsy showed one more thing/* he said. 'Bloodstains and bits of tissue and fine hair under Grayson's fingernails. Stick your hands out/* he said. 'Let's see the backs of your hands and your wrists.'
Spencer hesitated a moment, his gaze challenging. Slowly then, his manner as deliberate as it was defiant, he extended both arms, palms down. 'Take a look/* he sneered. 'Go ahead.'
Jeff could tell then that there were no marks here and that left him only one more chance. He took a breath and continued doggedly.
'O. K., Spence. But you were quite a sport-shirt guy when I first saw you. You had one on that night at the Tucan. You wore one when I saw you in front of Grayson's office, but that evening you had on a white shirt and a tie. Why, Spence? Because Grayson got one hand on your throat before you could quiet him?'
He was reaching for the reporter even as he spoke. He got his fingers inside the white shirt near the collar and yanked before Spencer could duck back.
Two buttons popped and the shirt came open as Spencer was half lifted from his seat. That left the hairy upper part of his chest exposed as it had been when Jeff first saw him in a sport shirt. It was much the same now except for the two inch-long scars that stood out vividly at the base of the throat.
Jeff let go of the shirt. He took one look at the sallow face. When it began to crumble he stepped back, his job was done and he felt all used up inside. For that instant he forgot the threat of death that still hovered over the room and what happened occurred so swiftly that he had no time to understand.
Intent on Spencer, he had his back to Muriel Miranda
ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT
and did not realize he no longer blocked her line of fire until he heard her cry out, a wild, despairing sound that shocked his nerve-ends and made his scalp crawl. Instinctively he wheeled and for that next instant time stood still. He saw the leveled gun, the contorted face, the blur of motion at one side as Miranda, who had moved much closer to his wife, struck hard at her wrist with the heel of his hand before she could fire at Spencer.
The gun went off as it spun from her fingers and she cried out in sudden pain. It hit the floor near Jeff's feet, skidded and bounced as he reached for it and missed. Then Spencer had scooped it up and was straightening on the edge of his chair, his gaze still frightened, but with dangerous glints in the amber eyes where none had been before.
Jeff took a backward step as he stared into the muzzle. He glanced at Cordovez, who had not yet moved. He looked over at Karen who sat white-faced and still on the divan, her eyes round with shock and amazement. Finally he looked at Miranda.
He had his arm around his wife now, his face close to hers. He spoke soft words that no one else could hear and now, as reaction hit her and sanity returned, her eyes had a dazed look, and she whimpered like a little child while she massaged her wrist.
'You hurt me/' she said, her face slack as she let herself be led to the divan.
When he had his emotions in hand, Jeff considered Spencer. He remembered things Carl Webb had said. A mouse who would never fight back unless cornered, and too fast on his feet for that.
The gun made the difference. For Spencer had killed twice, not with premeditation but because he had been trapped. He was still trapped. He was still afraid, his amber eyes said so. But that did not make the threat less
real. And so, because lie could think of nothing else at the moment, Jeff began to talk.
'Why did you smother Grayson?' he asked in a voice that was hard to keep steady.
'He grabbed me.' Spencer wet his lips and one hand moved absently to the scars at the base of his throat. 'I thought he was unconscious. The envelope was on the desk. I had my back to him and he grabbed my ankle.**
He swallowed and said: 'I came down on top of him and the chair came with me. He rolled free and tried to get the gun from the desk and I knocked him back and then he started to yell. I—I guess I panicked. I grabbed the coat. I tried to shut him up and he grabbed my throat. I held the coat over his face. I put my weight on it. I had to.'
'And what are you going to do with that?' Jeff said, indicating the gun.
'If somebody makes a move I'm going to use it. I've got to get away.'
'Where? Your only chance would be the back country and you wouldn't last a week.'
