Part 16
Somehow he managed to pull his horrified gaze from Marion, who had instinctively ducked forward to lower her head in her lap. He saw Lieutenant Garvey and the plainclothes man named Malone at the end of the room. He saw their service revolvers snap up and swing toward Denham. He heard two voices, the two quick, hard commands spoken simultaneously.
“Hold it!... Drop it!”
There was no hesitation on Denham’s part. Training, instinct, desperation, whatever it was that fed the impulse, made him wheel to meet this new threat. There was no doubt in Hayden’s mind now that the man intended to shoot and apparently there was none in the minds of the officers.
And so, stunned and powerless to interfere, he simply watched in morbid fascination as the three shots hammered in the room, and he knew instantly the results of that exchange. Denham was an expert of sorts but so were Garvey and Malone. They must have fired a fraction of a second quicker because they stood in their tracks, nothing changing in their faces, ready to shoot again but holding their fire.
Denham took both slugs, one high up in the arm which seemed to recoil. The other apparently struck him in the thigh because the leg started to collapse. He made one final effort to bring the gun to bear but could no longer hold it, and as it dropped from his limp fingers the leg gave way and he fell lopsidedly to the floor.
Hayden was never sure what happened in the next three or four minutes. He had but one thought in mind now, and when he could move he went directly to the divan and sat close to Marion, his arms enveloping her. She came to him immediately, leaning her weight against him, her face buried in the corner of his neck. He could feel her trying to get her breath while her body was racked by small convulsive sobs she could not control. He spoke softly, comforting her, conscious of his own muscular weakness as reaction released the tension that had been punishing him.
“It’s all right, sweetheart. It’s all over.”
He said other things, and he could feel the sobs stop and her breathing grow more regular. When she was ready, she released herself. She brushed the wetness from her cheeks and tried to smile at him.
“I’ll behave now.”
“You’re wonderful,” he said. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I am now.”
“Don’t you want to go into the bedroom and lie down for a while?”
“I couldn’t. Not now. I can’t even sit still. Isn’t there something I can do?”
“How about making some drinks?” he asked, giving words to the first thought that came to mind.
“No.” She stood up and straightened her dress. “But I’ll make some coffee.”
“Good.” He walked part way to the kitchen door with her. “I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.”
When he looked about he saw that Lieutenant Garvey was just hanging up the telephone. Malone had collected the guns from Freeman and Denham, and he had now hunkered down in front of Denham and was helping straighten the wounded leg as Denham leaned back, his shoulders against the front of the divan.
“There’ll be a doctor and an ambulance here in a few minutes,” Garvey said.
Denham watched him, his bespectacled eyes painridden and sullen. “You two are quick with your guns,” he said morosely, “but you need practice.”
“I thought we did pretty well,” Garvey said. “We didn’t have much time. We don’t like to shoot to kill if we can help it.” He glanced at Freeman. “How are you, Mr. Freeman? Can you hold on?”
Freeman was sitting in a straight-backed chair, the heel of his left hand pressed beneath the right shoulder. The round face was no longer chalky and stiff, and his eyes were dull and disinterested.
“I think he busted a collarbone but I’m okay. It’s a damn good thing you got here when you did. I never even shot a gun before.”
“We’re all lucky,” Hayden said. “What brought you back anyway?”
Garvey considered the question, and for the first time since Hayden had met him he saw the lieutenant smile. It was not a big smile but it was pretty good for Garvey. He seemed pleased about what he had to say.
“Did you think we’d forgotten about the knife, Mr. Hayden?”
“Oh?”
“It took a while but we definitely traced it to you. Without the Lamar woman’s statement we had what we call a pretty airtight case against either you or your wife or both.”
“Did you ever consider Denham?”
“We considered everybody,” Garvey said. “With Denham we had no motive, but in this business when you have the facts to warrant an arrest you make it and let the motive develop later.”
He took a moment to glance at the wounded man on the floor before he continued.
“We spent a lot of time on Freeman but we couldn’t crack him. He had no reason to take that knife from your house or any opportunity. Neither did Mr. Corbin. It didn’t take us long to check him out tonight, and what they told us at Jerry’s Tavern was enough to start us thinking in another direction. There wasn’t anybody left but Denham and we came back to pick him up.... I still don’t know what the motive is, do you?”
“I know,” Hayden said, “but it goes ’way back and it’s not too easy to understand.”
The sound of a siren fading outside took Garvey to the front door, and Hayden moved into the kitchen and swung the door behind him. He moved up beside his wife, who was standing by the sink, and slipped his arm about her waist. Again she leaned her head against his shoulder and he said: “How’s the coffee coming?”
“It should be perking any minute.”
“How about the baby?”
“He’s fine too,” she said and digressed with a sigh. “I’m awfully glad it wasn’t Ted.”
“Me too.”
“What will they do to Roger?”
Hayden said he did not know. “He’s a lawyer and he’s got plenty of money, but from now on it’s up to the State’s Attorney and the courts. We’re not going to worry about Roger and we’re not going to worry about us because everything’s going to be fine. We’ll have a divorce in no time and after that--”
He let the sentence dangle and turned her by the shoulders until she faced him.
“You don’t mind marrying me again, do you?”
He saw the answer in her eyes as she put her hands on the back of his neck. She kissed him hard and passionately and almost as quickly stepped back.
“I’d like to, Mr. Hayden.”
He grinned at her and then gave her a firm but affectionate slap on the rump as she turned toward the stove. He said they’d probably have to be poor for a couple of years until the insurance money was repaid, and when she said it didn’t really matter she sounded as though she meant it.
A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GEORGE HARMON COXE _was born in Olean, New York, and spent his youth there and in nearby Elmira. After a year at Purdue and one at Cornell, he worked for five years on newspapers in California, Florida, and New York, and did advertising for a New England printer for five years more. Since that time he has devoted himself to writing--for two years with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, then as a free-lance, selling numerous short stories, novelettes, and serials to magazines as well as to motion-picture, radio, and television producers._
_He is a past president of the Mystery Writers of America._
SEPTEMBER _1962_
A NOTE ON THE TYPE
The text of this book is set in Caledonia, a Linotype face designed by W. A. Dwiggins, the man responsible for so much that is good in contemporary book design and typography. Caledonia belongs to the family of printing types called “modern face” by printers--a term used to mark the change in style of type-letters that occurred about 1800. Caledonia borders on the general design of Scotch Modern but is more freely drawn than that letter.
Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Hyphens in some words have been silently removed to improve consistency. Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.