Part 15

Marion shook her head and remained unconvinced. She had her chin up and her mouth had a stubborn twist that Hayden had seen before when she was upset about something.

“I’ll never believe it,” she said. “With that man Adler it could have happened. He might have threatened Ted or pushed him too far. But not that girl. I lived with him three years. I should know what he was like. He wouldn’t hurt a woman, not deliberately. No.” She gave her dark hair another toss. “I don’t believe it.”

Hayden took a small breath and knew it was time for him to give her some help. “Neither do I,” he said.

“Oh, come now.” Denham’s smile was superior, his tone condescending. “It’s not what you want to believe that matters. All facts point to Corbin and you both know it. If he didn’t, who did?”

“I think you did, Roger,” Hayden said. “I think it had to be you.”

He heard Marion’s small gasp, saw the grin fix itself on Denham’s face. Behind the glasses the pale eyes had strange lights in them as they narrowed coldly.

“That’s not very funny.”

“I agree,” Marion added. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’m saying Roger killed Adler.”

Again he heard the quick words of protest, and when he made no comment a sort of delayed reaction set in and he felt the tension start to build in the room as they realized he meant what he said. He could feel his wife’s eyes upon him, but he was watching Denham and he heard him laugh derisively.

“You’re out of your mind,” he said finally. “Why should I do that?”

“Because you’re sick,” Hayden said. “You must have been sick for a long time.”

“Sick?” Denham said. “You’re babbling. I was healthy enough to lead a Ranger outfit in Korea and I’ve kept myself fit ever since. I’m in better shape right now than you ever were.”

“The sickness I’m talking about is in your head, Roger. Who was it you hated most? Was it Marion, or me, or both of us?”

“John!” Marion said, her voice sharp. “Look at me.” She waited until Hayden obeyed. “You’re wrong. Roger couldn’t hate us. He was my friend.”

“That’s what we thought,” Hayden said.

“But why should he kill Adler? He never knew the man, never even talked to him.”

“That’s what made the plan so good. But if he killed Adler, and I say he did, there can only be one motive.” He looked at Denham. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Not particularly.” Denham leaned back and crossed his knees. “But if you insist I’ll listen.”

“You were in love with Marion once,” Hayden said, “if anyone as cold-blooded, self-centered, and stiff-necked as you could ever be in love. She must have sensed that because, while she accepted you as a friend and companion, she wanted no part of you physically. You couldn’t get to first base and you couldn’t understand it. You had a fine background, social position, money, intelligence, and reasonable good looks, and what happened? She married someone from the other side of the tracks who had nothing much to offer except that physical attraction and a certain personal warmth.

“That marriage didn’t work out,” he added quickly, “and that must have pleased you. After that plane crash you stood by as the family friend and you probably figured that this time you could get what you wanted. Instead of that, she married someone who, according to your standards, didn’t have much more to offer than Corbin. So the hate and bitterness kept eating away at you and there was nothing you could do about it, nothing. No way you could pay Marion back until Sam Adler showed up and gave you a chance.”

He took a breath, aware of Denham’s bright and narrowed stare but no longer bothered by it. “It wasn’t enough that he could prove Corbin was alive and complicate our marriage until something could be worked out. It wasn’t enough that I would have to go into debt for a long time to repay the seventy-five thousand dollars Marion had collected. You saw a chance to make one or both of us stand trial for murder. You were going to hang something on us that we’d never live down, and you might have made it if it hadn’t been for Doris Lamar. Sam Adler meant nothing to you. You’d killed men before in Korea. Adler was only a means to an end, and you killed him the same way you set up the frame for us--cruelly, deliberately, without compunction, without pity.”

“John!”

Again Marion interrupted him and he saw that her face was pale, the eyes stricken by what she had heard.

“You’re guessing,” she said. “You’re making it up.”

“All right,” Hayden said, “I’m guessing. But I’m not making up the fact that Adler was killed with a knife from our kitchen. Is that right? That’s what the police say, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but--”

“So who but Roger could have taken that knife? Not Corbin. He didn’t get into town until that evening. Not George Freeman.”

He could tell by the look on her face that he had scored this time and he continued, ignoring Denham.

“Only you and I and Roger knew why Sam Adler was here and what he wanted. Roger was your good friend,” he added, unable to keep the bitterness and resentment from his tone. “You told him everything. He knew where Adler was staying. He knew about the photographs Adler had. He knew I was coming to see him and he felt sure I would go to the motel to have it out with Adler after I’d left him. When I came home Tuesday night and went out to the kitchen to make a drink that knife was missing. I didn’t think much about it then. I didn’t even consider it until you told me the police thought it came from our kitchen.

“You had already had a drink when I came in Tuesday,” he added. “Roger had been here and knew the story. You’d had a drink with him, and he must have been in the kitchen with you. That’s when he took the knife. That’s the only time he could have taken it, so he must have known then that he was going to kill Adler and frame us if he got the chance. I don’t know what his original plan was, but I made it easier for him.”

He looked at Denham. “Didn’t I, Roger? When I left you Tuesday night I told you I was going to stop at the tavern and get a double brandy before I went over to have it out with Adler. I wanted a little time to pull myself together and that was all you needed. You must have followed a minute or so later. You knew exactly where to find Adler. What you had to do couldn’t have taken more than another minute or two. You thought the police would find the snapshots on him and discover what they meant. You knew they’d eventually trace the knife. You were on your way home before I even left the tavern. Luck was with you all the way except for one thing--Doris Lamar.”

He paused again, the tension winding a little tighter inside him and the bitterness he could no longer control edging his words.

“Marion still counted on your help and she told you the proposition Doris made. She said so a few minutes ago when you asked if Corbin knew about Doris. You were going to kill her too, not because she could put the finger on you, but because you knew that if she talked she would give us both alibis and that might make the police consider you. With her dead we would be in exactly the same position you set up for us. One or both of us would probably eventually have stood trial for murder and that was what you wanted. That was what you had to have. Two minutes longer and you would have made it, but you didn’t dare go after her until it was dark and I got there before you could finish the job.”

Denham uncrossed his legs and sat up. If he was concerned by what he heard it did not show. His control and reactions were superb, and except for a tightness around the mouth and the bright, pitiless glints in his eyes there seemed to be no outward change in his appearance.

“What was all the business with Ted Corbin for?” The words were measured and sardonic. “What was the idea of trying to make a case against him with the police?”

“What I said about him was true,” Hayden replied. “But when the police check him out at the tavern they will probably find out he is in the clear and that will bring them back to the knife again, Roger. I’ve read about people who brooded over some injustice, real or fancied, and built up a personal private hate until it became a phobia or a fixation or a neurosis. I wanted to find out how it was with you. I wanted Marion to know the truth about you once and for all.”

The remarks did not seem to bother Denham. He ran his fingers through his short, brown hair, and from what he said then it was apparent that he had not heard much of what Hayden had just said.

“You said I had a bad break with Doris Lamar,” he said. “I made one other mistake and that was about you, John.”

“Yeah,” said Hayden. “I’ve got the picture. I live a well-ordered life. I have no real drive, no spark; I’m dull, conventional, law-abiding. A peasant.”

Again Denham did not seem to hear him. There was, somehow, a far-out look in the cold, bespectacled eyes. They were directed at Hayden, but he was not sure they actually saw him, and the look was suddenly disturbing.

“I misjudged you,” Denham said in the same, toneless voice. “I fixed the door latch so you could walk in on Adler. I thought when you did and found out what happened you’d be too shocked--maybe stupid is the word--to do anything but call the police. That’s what the average levelheaded citizen would do. Why not you?”

“I wasn’t very levelheaded at the time,” Hayden said. “I was thinking of Marion, and myself, and Ted Corbin. I looked for the snapshots and I found them. I might have destroyed them and called the police then. That’s what I wanted to do--until I remembered that if there were snapshots there had to be negatives. When I couldn’t find them in the room--”

“That was smart,” Denham said. “And the Mobile police did find the negatives. But that took a little time. That gave you a chance to get down and locate Corbin.”

The disturbance which had been caused by Denham’s strange behavior had ominous side effects, and with them came a warning Hayden could no longer ignore. It seemed now that the sickness he had mentioned still lingered in Denham’s mind, and he suddenly wanted to be rid of the man. He took a swallow of his drink and put the glass down. He stood up.

“I think the police will eventually catch up with you,” he said. “But you’re a lawyer; maybe you can talk your way out of it. Maybe it would be simpler if I called them now and got them over here.” He started to turn away, then stopped abruptly as Denham spoke.

“Not just yet, John.”

Still sitting erect in the chair and not hurrying, he shifted his weight to one hip. He slid his hand down past the raised hip and found something between the cushion and the chair. When his hand came up it held an automatic pistol. There was a certain familiarity in the way he handled the gun, and now he pointed it at Hayden.

“I took this from Sam Adler,” he said, and a small, mean smile twisted one corner of his mouth. “Now I’m rather glad I kept it. Let’s talk a little more, John. You sit over here.” He gestured with the gun. “I’ll sit with Marion and keep an eye on you.”

_22_

The sight of the gun held John Hayden stiff-legged and immobile for a moment until he realized it had been hidden in the chair some time earlier. Now, accepting the situation, he was surprised to find that he felt no great sense of shock. He glanced at Marion and saw that her face was slack and incredulous. She seemed unable to pull her gaze from Denham, but if there was any feeling of fear inside her it did not yet show. She was, it seemed, not yet ready to accept the fact that this man was indeed sick, and Hayden was glad for that.

“All right,” he said, and began to move toward the dining end of the room while Denham circled cautiously toward the divan. “Let’s talk. You took the gun from Adler. Is that what you used to slug Doris Lamar?”

Denham nodded as he sat down. “I imagine a laboratory test or a spectrographic analysis may prove it. That’s why I brought it when you phoned.”

“You intended to plant it?”

“It seemed like a good idea. If Doris failed to recover--and I thought she might--the authorities would have to keep the pressure on you. I felt sure they’d make another search here. If they found the gun it might help clinch the case.”

Hayden eased down on the edge of the chair, the back of his neck tightening. For he understood beyond all doubt that Denham’s mental instability was no longer academic, and in the brief silence that followed while he tried to collect his thoughts he turned his head slightly, wondering if he had heard some faint sound from the kitchen or whether it was his imagination.

Denham, seeing the movement, mistook its purpose. “Don’t try anything, John,” he warned. “I’ve gone too far to make any more mistakes.”

“Roger!” Marion found her voice but a look of awe tempered the alarm that now showed in the hazel eyes. “Why, Roger? Why should you hate me so? What did I ever do--?”

“You laughed at me,” Denham said, and for the first time there were signs of strain and vindictiveness in his voice as his thoughts focused on the seeds of his sickness. “I tried to be nice, to make love to you, to make you treat me like a man wants to be treated, and you laughed.”

“No, Roger.”

“I say you did. I had things to offer that most girls want,” he added, his words low and ragged now. “But you took Corbin, and Hayden. You wouldn’t let me touch you--”

“I didn’t laugh, Roger. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. When we were young I liked and admired you. I trusted you. Later I had to be more careful because I knew how you felt. I tried to make you understand that I didn’t feel the same way about you. I couldn’t help how I felt but I tried to disguise it because we were friends. I tried to explain that the physical thing between a man and a woman is something that is either there or it isn’t. It isn’t enough for a man to be handsome or considerate or generous. There has to be something very special, and if it’s not there you can’t pretend that it is; at least I couldn’t.”

“You laughed.”

“No. I liked you too much to tell you that I couldn’t stand to have you kiss me. I tried to play it lightly and hoped you’d finally understand. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I thought if you’d only accept the fact that I could never be serious about you that way, you’d start looking for someone who could give you what you wanted willingly. Maybe I should have come right out a long time ago and told you. Maybe I should have told you that I could never love you physically, that something about you repelled rather than attracted me, but I didn’t want to hurt you--and--”

“That’s it,” Denham cut in. “You couldn’t stand me. You cringed when I touched you, as if there was something rotten inside me. That’s what you thought, isn’t it?”

“I never stopped to think what it was, Roger. I know now that it must have been something hard and arrogant that made me uneasy and sometimes a little frightened.” She caught her breath. “But why did you pretend to be my friend all these years when you hated me?”

“I told you,” Hayden said. “He’s sick. He’s always had exactly what he wanted except you. He couldn’t take it. His ego hurt him. He had to get even.”

“I waited a long time,” Denham said, his voice low but sinister now. “I thought you’d learned your lesson when you and Corbin made such a mess of things. I thought the accident would wake you up and give me another chance. I was even ready to be second choice. I took care of all the details for you. I collected your insurance and nothing had changed. You still pulled away from me when I tried to be affectionate. To make it worse you married Hayden. You turned that money over to him--”

Hayden interrupted. He did not know what Denham’s plans were, or if he had any, but he wanted to get the pressure off Marion. He knew that the man would not hesitate to use the gun if he made up his mind, but somehow he was no longer afraid of it.

“Sure,” he said, “and that must have burned you plenty. It not only gave me a chance to buy into a business but the business is doing fine.”

Denham ignored him. It was as if he had not heard what was said. Whatever lay in his mind was a corrosive thing that was undermining his sanity and there was no room left for digressions.

“Adler gave me the chance I was waiting for,” he said, still watching Marion. “When you told me what he wanted and why he was here I knew how to get even.”

“You took the knife when you were here,” Hayden said.

“I planned to get him right _after_ you’d seen him, but when you said you’d stop for a drink at the tavern I decided I could do the job then.”

“It didn’t bother you a bit, did it?”

“Why should it? I killed better men than him in Korea. He was nothing, a human leech. It was all over before he knew what had happened.”

“He never had a chance.”

“No chance at all,” Denham said, and something about the connotation of the words made them sound as if he were enjoying the thought. “We used to have to do it at night. We had to be quiet. We had to be careful or get killed. But the technique was the same.”

The grin that warped his mouth showed his teeth, and to Hayden it seemed that the bright gleam in the pale eyes was no longer rational.

“If I had a knife I could show you, John,” he said. “I could demonstrate how easy it is to spin a man around and get your left hand over his mouth from behind while you do the job with your right--”

“Oh, Roger--” Marion buried her face in her hands and for a moment Hayden thought she was going to break down. He heard the muffled sob as she caught her breath, and then she dropped her hands and her face came up, white and stricken. But she was looking right at Denham now when she spoke and her voice had an outraged sound. “How could you?”

“It was almost the same with Doris Lamar,” Hayden said, and wondered again if he had not heard some faint whisper of sound from the kitchen. “After you slugged her--how come she didn’t get a look at you?--you used the stocking from behind, the way they taught you in the Rangers, hunh?”

“If it had got dark a few minutes earlier I’d have made it.”

“You couldn’t let her talk, could you? If she told the truth, and you knew she probably would, we’d have been in the clear and you’d have done your killing for nothing. The fact that she was a woman who had never done anything to you made no difference at all.”

“Why should it?” Denham said. “As a woman she was no better than Adler. She was amoral, promiscuous, common. She was nothing but a tramp and--”

That was as far as Denham got and Hayden knew that he had not been wrong about the faint sounds he had heard in the kitchen. He heard the sudden violent rush of someone coming through the open door, and even before he could turn he knew who it was, who it had to be. For only one person had a deep and personal feeling about what happened to Doris Lamar, and as he twisted and got a glimpse of George Freeman he knew why he was here.

Later, when he had a chance to think, he understood the compulsive and perhaps irrational drive that precipitated the outburst. To Freeman Doris Lamar was none of the things that Denham had just mentioned. Freeman was in love with the girl; he had already proved it when he tangled with Sam Adler at the Log Cabin.

He could not know then whether Doris would live or die, but he had sworn to kill whoever was responsible. To give himself that chance he had sneaked away from her cottage earlier. He had known that they were all coming here and the door to the breezeway, which had been ajar earlier, was evidence of how he had entered. He knew now that Denham was responsible. He had heard the woman he loved maligned and slandered and he was ready for the showdown.

Hayden could not stop him. He saw the gun that Freeman had threatened him with before. The round face was chalky and stiff and the eyes held that same wild, unseeing look. He was yelling now as he snapped up the gun and the words made no sense to Hayden.

There was only time for him to feel the full impact of a paralyzing fear that was directed not at himself but at Marion before the gun kicked in Freeman’s hand and the sound of it slammed through the room.

He knew at once that Freeman had missed. He heard the second shot, but by then Denham, who had been under fire before, was moving.

He rolled sideways off the end of the divan and came to a stop in a crouch. The sound of a door opening somewhere in the distance caught Hayden’s ear, though he did not understand it, and with it Denham squeezed the trigger.

Hayden saw the gun buck in Denham’s hand. He heard Freeman’s third shot and knew that Denham had still not been hit. But Freeman had. The bullet struck him somewhere high on the right side, the impact jerking his shoulder back and staggering him slightly.

Denham, still in the crouch, a gleam of some inner satisfaction brightening his bespectacled gaze, seemed about to fire again when Hayden heard the shouts of warning.