Part 11

“What I didn’t know was that they were pals and were actually together. Because they weren’t sitting that way. I mean, the tall guy was hunched over reading a newspaper; the little guy was sitting by himself at the other side of the room, slumped back, his hat over his eyes like he was half asleep. I probably gave him a quick look when I walked in but I never really saw his face.

“I undid the package and chucked the paper into a trash can. I tried the coat on and liked it and was about to throw the old coat on top of the wrapping paper too when I thought about this guy who didn’t have a coat. I turned around and asked him if he could use it. I said it was pretty dirty but it might not be too bad once he got it cleaned and he was welcome to it if he wanted it. He did. He thanked me, and as I started out I could hear the flight being called over the loud-speaker.”

He paused again, the blue eyes full of thought as his mind went back.

“But I was a little juiced by that time and feeling pretty good. I knew that the first call for a flight--and lots of times the second call--didn’t mean a thing, and since I was all cleared away I decided I had time for another drink. I heard the second call but I was just mulled enough to think I had plenty of time. Anyway I finished my drink, paid the check, and started for the gate.”

He took a breath and let it out slowly. He looked again at Hayden and that small smile was still there.

“I guess you know how it must have been and what happened after that.”

“I guess so,” Hayden said.

“It was a lot longer walk than I thought. This particular gate was way-the-hell-and-gone at the end of the corridor, and when I got there the attendant who had been checking off the passengers was just turning away. The gate was closed. I could see the passenger ramp being wheeled away from the plane and the door was shut. Two of the motors had already started. I knew I didn’t have a chance but I thought I’d try. I stuck my hand into my new coat pocket to get my boarding pass and the carbon to my ticket and my baggage check and--you guessed it--I’d forgotten to take them out of the old coat.”

“Ahh--” said Hayden as he visualized the picture. “By then it was too late--”

“Hell yes. I asked the attendant if everybody was checked aboard. He said yes, and by that time I was too disgusted with myself to put up a beef. I knew it wouldn’t do any good. It was my own damn fault, and I knew that skinny guy was sitting there in my seat, that he not only would get a free ride to New York but probably claim my suitcase.

“I was so damn mad I didn’t even go back to the counter and tell them what had happened. I wasn’t even sure I could make them believe it or prove what I said. I just stood there and watched the plane take off and then I went back to the bar, not thinking that I ought to call Marion and tell her I missed the flight. I tied on a pretty good one for the next hour or so and then I walked out of the terminal and across the road to this motel, paid for a room, and went to bed to sleep it off.”

He stood up, the tanned face grave as remembered thoughts came back to haunt him.

“If I’d hung around the airport a few more minutes I’d have known about the crash. But I didn’t. I got the word from a newspaper I bought when I went into the motel restaurant for breakfast the next morning, and I guess for a while after that I was in a state of shock. I still wake up scared some nights when I think of it. You can’t believe what a thing like that can do to you.”

He walked the length of the room and came back. “I should have been dead but I wasn’t. I kept thinking of that plane and how I’d seen it take off and the crazy twist of luck that kept me off it. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I read my name on the list of victims. I knew that Marion already had the word that she was a widow.”

He stopped pacing to look at Hayden. “The idea that there was my chance to make the break that was long overdue didn’t come all at once. It grew a thought at a time as that feeling of shock and unreality began to wear off. I didn’t have any plan then. I only knew that here was a chance I’d never get again to start a new life not only for myself but for Marion. There was no love for us any more, no future together. She wouldn’t grieve much. She’d already had the shock of knowing I was gone for good, and now she’d have seventy-five thousand bucks, more than I could ever have left her any other way.”

He paused again and said in slow accents: “Only one guy on earth besides myself knew that I hadn’t gone down with that plane. The little guy in the men’s room.”

“Adler.”

“Right. I thought about him before the day was out, but in my mind he was only some itinerant bum, and the odds that he could foul up my scheme were a million to one.” He stepped to an open doorway, reached in, and snapped on a light. “But that’s the second part of my story and it can wait.”

He disappeared inside the room and Hayden could see enough of the interior to know that this was a bedroom. Presently he heard a telephone being dialed and then Corbin’s voice.

“Connie? I’m coming over for a few minutes.... Yeah.... No, I can’t tonight but I have to see you. Yeah, right away.”

He came back to the living room and headed for the outside door.

“I told you I’d probably go back with you,” he said. “You can count on it. Not just for you and Marion either.”

“For Connie?” Hayden said, hazarding a guess.

“Yeah.” The grin came slowly, the teeth white against the tanned muscular face. “I guess I’ve been kidding myself too long.... I’ll be back in a half hour,” he added. “Stick around.”

_16_

John Hayden remained in his chair for several minutes after the door closed, his drink forgotten and his mind evaluating the story he had heard. Even in retrospect he could not quarrel with it. It held, somehow, a ring of truth, and he found he could accept the incredible twist of fate that had saved Corbin’s life on that January night more than two years ago. There was much he did not understand about what had happened since that time, but even now he found it difficult to blame Corbin for what he had done.

He had thought earlier that he understood Marion’s original attraction to the man. He was of the same opinion now. For while Corbin was obviously no mental giant, he had, in addition to his good looks, a charm that was forthright and basically friendly. The motives which influenced his disappearance were simple and uncomplicated. He was willing now to face the music without fuss and, on balance, Hayden could not help but like him. This thought helped to bolster his own confidence, and as his mind went on, he rose and started aimlessly about the room.

The light was still on in the adjoining bedroom and he stopped in the doorway to glance inside. That was how he happened to see the suitcase which stood at the foot of the double bed. There was nothing unusual about the case. It was a brown canvas-covered bag, man-sized, lightweight, and medium-priced by the look of it. If he had not so recently made a flight from New York he might not have wondered about the baggage tag which still hung from the handle.

He knew it was the passenger’s half of the baggage check that the attendant had not bothered to remove when the suitcase was reclaimed. He also recalled that Corbin had been away. The suspicious character in the filling station had said something about Corbin and a trip North. This knowledge prompted Hayden to move inside and step closer to the suitcase, but it was simple curiosity rather than suspicion that made him examine the tag.

Not understanding yet the implications of his discovery, he simply read the large block letters imprinted on the thin white cardboard. The abbreviations told him at once that this suitcase had been checked from New York to Mobile. The top numbers meant nothing but there was a flight number that did. This had been written in with a blue crayon, and as he repeated the number aloud he knew that this was the same flight he had taken that morning.

He straightened slowly, his angular face twisting absently and his dark gaze puzzled. He stood that way for long seconds, knowing that Corbin must have been in New York recently. Then, stooping again, he flipped the tag over and saw the date that had been stamped there. Only then did he realize that Corbin had taken the same flight South that he had, but exactly twenty-four hours earlier.

Why?

That is what he asked himself as he grappled with his new-found information. He let his breath out slowly, not knowing that he had been holding it. He considered the days of the week and a curious feeling of tension began to work on him as he realized that Corbin had probably been in New York the night Sam Adler was killed. The assumption was sound but it was still only an assumption. Corbin could have been in New York for any number of reasons. But when had he arrived? How long had he stayed and what--?

The sound of the car moving in from the street to park alongside the porch jerked his thoughts back to the moment, and his immediate reaction was swift and impulsive. Not really thinking, not even sure what prompted the move, he quickly loosened the cord that held the tag. When he had a loop he slipped the piece of cardboard through the opening and it came free in his hand. Even as he straightened again a new thought came to disturb him but he dismissed it arbitrarily. Maybe Corbin would miss that tag and maybe not, but it was too late now for doubts, and he was back in the living room, the tag safely in his pocket, when the door opened.

The big man’s grin seemed genuine as he entered the room, and there was no indecision in his manner as he started for the bedroom, stopping only long enough to pick up his glass and the whisky bottle.

“Bring your glass,” he said. “Water if you want it. I’d better start packing.”

Hayden followed him to the door, a nervousness assailing him as Corbin picked up the suitcase and tossed it on the bed. He watched the big man pour a small drink and toss it off, saw him put the glass aside and open the suitcase. When he turned to pull out a drawer in the chest, Hayden gave a small and silent sigh of relief, emptied his own glass, and started to relax.

“You were going to tell me about Adler,” he said. “And why you came to Mobile.”

“Yeah,” Corbin said, “and the last part is easy. Once I finally decided to make the break I thought of it right off and for three reasons: I didn’t know anybody here and that meant nobody would know me, I liked the country, and it was far, far away from New York.”

“You’d been here before?”

“One summer while I was in college I worked for a while on the docks. I liked to hunt and fish even then, and this country gives you both. Deer, quail, dove, turkey; even ducks if you want to go west a hundred miles.”

He stopped to consider the things he had already packed and when he continued there was a noticeable enthusiasm in his voice.

“As for fish, you name it, we’ve got it. I don’t mean you can just toss out a line and get the limit any time you want to, but if you like to fish this is the place. Fresh water, salt water. Lakes and rivers, the Bay, Mississippi Sound, the Gulf. I’ll never forget a trip I took that summer with four guys from the docks. We chartered a boat at Bayou La Batre. We were out three days and we had fishing that was fishing.

“Anyway,” he added, as though aware that he was digressing, “I decided this was the place for me. I mean, after I finally decided to run and that took a while. I remember I went from the motel over to the air terminal and found out what I could about the crash. I was still sort of in shock and I bought myself a bottle in a liquor store there and I sucked on it from time to time. Maybe what I got out of that bottle gave me the courage I needed. I got a bus into town and I had this fifteen hundred bucks in my pocket and I knew that was all I was going to have until I got down here and got a job. I found out I could get a bus that afternoon that would take me here by way of New Orleans, so I got myself a seat. But, what the hell, you don’t want details.”

He again glanced about the room to see if he had forgotten anything.

“I picked the name Cannon--don’t ask me why--and I used it that afternoon. I’ve been using it ever since. I got a room in a small hotel and started looking for work. I couldn’t use my Social Security card or driver’s license or anything like that, so when I got a chance to go to work for this filling station at sixty bucks a week I told the guy I never had had a Social Security card. I told him I’d always worked on a farm, but he needed help and he wasn’t too fussy. I got a new card and eventually a new driver’s license.

“After I’d been around awhile,” he said, “I got to like Fairview and I finally got the job with Quinn. I hung onto my dough, and when the next fall came around I did pretty good betting on the football games again. I rented this place and got me a small boat, and before long I found out that Quinn had a very attractive kid sister.”

“Connie?” Hayden asked.

“Connie,” Corbin said, and the smile in his eyes told Hayden how the big man felt about the girl. “Quinn and I got along and I saved my dough and now I’ve got a third interest in that filling station. I thought I was all set. I had it made. The past was kicked and then that son-of-a-bitch Adler turned up.”

“He must have known all the time,” Hayden said, having only a vague idea of how such a thing could happen but understanding that this was so.

“Hell yes, he knew.” Corbin stopped his packing and the blue eyes were suddenly cold and resentful. “He started snooping and figuring that first day. He didn’t have any angle then, but he could tell from what I did that I had one. He wouldn’t let it go. He couldn’t figure out why I acted the way I did and it bothered him. He had to find out what I was after and if there was anything in it for him. He said it was curiosity at first.”

“You got the story out of him?”

“I got it. He’d have made a damn good detective,” he added bitterly, “especially a dishonest one.”

“He saw his pal get on the plane,” Hayden said.

“Sure. But what you have to understand, the thing that gave Adler a chance to follow up was that I didn’t know these two were together. How could I? I told you I was a little juiced when I walked into that men’s room. I’m interested in trying on a new coat and getting out of there. I notice a little guy slumped in the corner, his hat half over his eyes like he’s trying to sleep. I see this other guy at the opposite end of the room, reading a newspaper that looked like it had been picked out of a trash can. This is the guy I see. This is the fellow I gave the trench coat to.”

“When he found the ticket and your boarding pass in the pocket,” Hayden said, “he decided to take a chance on using them and see if he could get away with it.”

“Right.... They were horse players,” Corbin said, “and they were trying to get to Florida or New Orleans, but they had only enough dough between them to get one of them down there. They were hanging around trying to keep warm and waiting for something to happen. The minute they realized they had a chance to get my seat they pooled their cash and Adler took it, the other guy figuring if he can make New York he’s got friends who can give him a hand.

“And because I have to have a couple more drinks,” he added savagely, “and I’m stupid enough to think maybe the plane will wait for me, they pulled it off. Adler keeps an eye on me, at first to see if I’m going back to the airline counter to make a beef and after that just because he’s got that kind of curious, conniving mind. He follows me over to the motel and knows that I register and go to my room. He comes back to the terminal building and a few minutes later he gets word of the crash. He’s got nowhere to go and nothing to do so he hangs around. All he knows then is that his pal got a bad break and that I’m a very lucky guy.”

He took a breath and said: “He’s still there the next morning when I come in. He knows the score. He wonders what I’m going to do. He sees me get the pint from the liquor store, and he can’t figure out why I should be acting like that, so when I get a bus back to town, he’s on it. By the time I get to the bus terminal in town I know what I’m going to do. I buy a ticket to Mobile in the name of Ted Cannon, and since he’s going South anyway he decides to come along.”

“You didn’t recognize him?” Hayden asked.

“I didn’t know he was alive,” Corbin said. “To me he’s a little guy--he’s got dark glasses on now--I’ve never seen before. We even have a little conversation on that trip because by now he knows I’m doing a run-out and he’s beginning to smell a payoff somewhere. He goes to the same cheap hotel I do, and a couple days later when I get a job he finds out where I got it. After that I don’t see him again until a couple of months ago when he turns up at the filling station.”

Hayden was ready to accept this much. He also knew that Corbin knew a great deal about Sam Adler and somewhere in his mind a small seed of suspicion began to put out shoots.

“But how could he know about Marion?” he asked.

“How could he miss with a mind like his? He read the papers, just like I did. It was all there if you wanted it--names and addresses of victims, those that had been identified, those that weren’t. Because they didn’t know what caused the crash for a while, the insurance angle came out too. Adler not only knew my New York City address but he knew that Marion was going to collect seventy-five thousand dollars. That was all he needed to get the idea that maybe someday there’d be some dough in it for him.”

He closed the top of the suitcase and said: “I don’t mean he made a career out of this during the next two years, but he always had it in the back of his mind. And remember he was a horse player. New Orleans, Hollywood, Miami in the winter; Aqueduct, Belmont, Narragansett, Suffolk Downs in the summer. He may have had a little help in New York--he didn’t say--to keep a check on what Marion did. On one trip he found out she got married. He found out where you lived. He never forgot that she had collected seventy-five thousand dollars and he eventually found out that you had your own business and were doing pretty well in it. When he got ready he made his first move.”

“How?”

“He drove into the filling station one day,” Corbin said. “I knew I’d seen him somewhere but I didn’t remember him. I thought he was just another customer I’d seen before. He took that snapshot of me without me knowing it. While I was working on the car I must have put my hand on the hood because later he got somebody to lift those fingerprints and photograph them. I didn’t know anything about it until he showed up one evening and made his pitch.”

“Here?”

“Right in that other room. He showed me the two snapshots. He told me when he’d taken them and why. He told me the story and it didn’t make any difference whether I believed him or not; the point was he knew what had happened. He knew I was Ted Corbin. He knew about the insurance and he knew about Marion.”

He yanked the suitcase from the bed with a quick and angry movement. He set it on the floor and when he turned there were hard bright glints in the narrowed blue eyes.

“I told you he’d been snooping,” he said, “and not just about Marion and you. Somehow he knew I had an interest in the gas station. He knew about my car and my boat and Connie. He had to guess about one thing--that we planned to get married--but he was right.”

“How much did he want?”

“Five thousand. He said he’d take twenty-five hundred now and I could get the other twenty-five hundred up in six months or whenever I could.... I should have killed him then,” he said savagely. “I’d have been acquitted in this county. He was carrying a gun and I could have sworn that he threatened me.”

Hayden considered the statement in the brief silence that followed. He wondered about the phrasing of certain words but he did not dwell on them because he had to know the rest of it.

“What _did_ you do?”

Corbin shrugged. He gestured emptily with one brown hand. His gaze seemed distant and withdrawn and when he spoke the savagery had gone from his tone.