by Ben Benson
“You find anything yet?” Walsh asked him.
“Nothing new since I spoke to you on the phone, Fred,” Angsman said briskly. “The Reeces came home at seven-thirty. As they were getting out of their car they saw this figure run out of the house and head for the woods in back. They went inside and found Manette dead in her room, shot through the head. They called us. We had a squad car here in less than two minutes.”
“You think the suspect is still in the woods?”
“I wouldn’t know. He was seen running in there. It’s a patch of about three or four square miles. I’ve got it surrounded and cut off. Now we’ve got to sit and wait for daylight before we can go in. Unless that bloodhound of yours can do something. When is he coming?”
“He should be here any minute,” Walsh said. “I called them over an hour and a half ago. He has to be brought from the Andover barracks. In the meantime we ought to keep the back yard cleared so the dog can pick up a scent.”
“I did what you told me,” Angsman said in a clipped voice. “I’ve tried to keep my men out of the yard.” He stared at me. “Lindsey, what do you know about this Manette Venus?”
“She never told Lindsey anything,” Walsh cut in. “He knew her only a week.”
“Mrs. Reece said he phoned the girl this afternoon.”
“But she wasn’t home,” I said.
I turned around because I heard a car approaching. It was a pale-blue State Police cruiser with a matching two-wheeled, metal-covered trailer hooked to it. I saw the meshed aperture in the side of the trailer and I knew that Corporal Sam Dutra had arrived from the Andover substation with the bloodhound, Nick.
Dutra stepped out and came over to us. He was wearing a woolen lumberjack coat, rubber knee boots, khaki pants and leather gloves. On his belt were clipped a flashlight and his holstered service revolver.
There was a conference. When it was over Dutra scratched his short sandy hair dubiously.
He said, “What was the weather here?”
“Intermittent rain,” Angsman said. “Foggy and warm.”
“Any downpours after the suspect ran into the woods?” Dutra asked.
“No downpours,” Angsman said.
“That helps,” Dutra said. “I don’t suppose the killer left anything behind so we can get a scent from it.”
“No,” Angsman said.
“Well, we’ll try,” Dutra said. “Let me see the spot where the killer was last seen.”
We went into the back yard, crossing the wet springy grass. At the edge of the woods, Captain Angsman stopped. “About here,” he said. “This is where the Reeces last saw him.”
Dutra asked, “Could they see what he was wearing?”
“No,” Angsman said. “All they saw was a shadow run from the house and flit into the woods. It was too dark to see anything.”
Dutra went down on his knees, his flashlight moving back and forth along the ground. “There’s some bent grass here, Captain,” he said. “But it’s spread all around.”
“Some of my men,” Angsman said brusquely. “They were here looking before I stopped them.”
Dutra’s young face was serious. “Then this here is no good, sir,” he said. “I’ll have to go farther into the woods.” He pushed into the underbrush. We waited. I could see his flashlight bobbing around in the blackness. He moved to the left in a rustle of leaves. His flashlight stopped bobbing and focused steadily. Then it went off. He came out toward us. His jacket and pants were wet.
He wiped moisture from his face. “There’s some broken twigs in there, like somebody went crashing through. I marked it. Now we’ll see what the dog can do with it.” Dutra went back to the trailer and opened it. He brought out the bloodhound. The dog whined eagerly. He was a big dog, black and tan, his legs fairly long. He was a purebred hound, yet his tail curled up in peculiar fashion.
Dutra fastened a leather harness to the dog’s chest. He uncoiled a twenty-foot strap and hooked it to the harness. Then he picked up the dog in his arms.
He came back into the yard. Walsh handed me a flashlight and said, “You’ll go with him, Ralph. Signal us if you find anything.”
Dutra went into the woods, carrying the dog. I followed him, snapping on the flashlight. Dutra twisted his head. “I wouldn’t use the flashlight, Ralph,” he said. “You’ll only distract the dog. Your eyes will get used to the dark in a few moments.”
I snapped off the light. Now I couldn’t see anything. I stumbled into tree branches, scratching my face. Globs of water were dampening my uniform.
I trailed behind Dutra by ear and my eyes became accustomed to the darkness. I saw Dutra put the dog down, but he held the leash taut, keeping the head high. He walked the dog about twenty paces. Then he stopped and peered down. He lifted the dog so that the front legs were off the ground. He held him there for a few minutes. Around me I could hear the dripping of the trees.
Dutra dropped the dog. The dog sniffed, turning his head from side to side, snuffling close to the ground. Dutra stroked the dog’s long ears. He crooned, “Come on, Nick. Good boy. Find him, boy.”
The dog strained at the leash and trotted deeper into the woods. Dutra twisted the strap around his wrist and followed him. He called back to me over his shoulder. “I think he’s picked up something.”
I took my gun from its flap holster and fell in close behind. The trail was tortuous and slippery. I tripped and stumbled over rocks. Ahead of me I saw that Dutra now had his gun by his side.
The woods thickened. In the eerie half-light, fantastic shadows loomed up at me. I heard branches crackle and the wind moaned through the trees. The dog moved with intent certainty through the scrub pines and underbrush, his head close to the ground. The trail twisted. Once the dog stopped, circled and came back again. There was a dull ache in my side. I felt my legs tiring. The big revolver grew heavy in my hand. The bottom edges of my puttees were cutting into my heel tendons and my breeches were now soaking wet. My mouth was parched and my breathing was labored. Dutra didn’t falter. His sturdy back moved steadily ahead of me.
The trail grew more erratic and the dog circled more. Whenever he stopped, Dutra would talk to him encouragingly.
We came to a small glade in the woods. It was dotted with broken trees and stumps. At the far edge of it was a small ramshackle hut with a single window and a hanging, gaping door. The dog whined. Suddenly he increased his speed and started straight for it.
Dutra pulled on the leash and stopped him. The dog turned on his haunches and whined again, softly and reproachfully.
I came up. Dutra adjusted the gun in his hand. “The killer may be in there,” he said quietly.
“Cover me,” I said, breathing heavily. “I’ll find out.”
“No, wait here. It’s my job—” Dutra started to say.
“This one happens to be on me,” I said. I ran forward along the edge of the glade, my gun cocked.
“Ralph,” he called hoarsely.
I didn’t answer him. I moved from tree to tree. I ran across the open space to the side of the hut.
I flattened against it and looked in the tiny window. There was no pane. In a shadowed corner of the hut I saw a darker shadow. The shadow took image—a huddled figure on the floor. I saw a pale arm dangling out, a revolver clutched in the fist.
I waved to Dutra to come on. I saw him dash across the clearing, the dog leaping with great strides ahead of him.
I ran for the door and broke in. A startled white face rose in the corner and screamed shrilly. I dove for it, my hand going for the revolver, knocking it out and away. I heard Dutra’s footsteps outside. Then there were three sharp revolver shots as Dutra signaled the others.
The figure screamed again as I bore in and pinned it down to the floor. But something was wrong. It yielded too easily. I was conscious of a soft, slender body against mine. A scent of perfume.
I reached out and pulled the head up. I looked at the shocked, glazed eyes, the freckled nose and the black, lustrous ha
ir. The blood pounded fiercely in my temples, and I closed my eyes and opened them again.
The face hadn’t changed. It was Ellen Levesque.
CHAPTER 6
SHE was slumped against the wall, head lolling, eyes dull and unseeing under the beam of the flashlight. She was in a state of shock and she couldn’t make out who I was. When I spoke to her she clutched at me and said, “I didn’t mean to kill her. I didn’t mean to kill her.” She kept saying it over and over again.
Dutra picked up the revolver and put it in his pocket. He patted the dog absently. “I never figured it would be a girl,” he said in a puzzled voice. “You’ve been talking to her like you know her, Ralph.”
“Yes, I know her,” I said bitterly. “I know her well.”
“Oh,” Dutra said uncomfortably. In embarrassment, he rubbed the big red welts on his hands. He took the gun from his pocket and examined it with his flashlight. It had a two-inch barrel and a pearl handle and I knew immediately where it had come from.
I lifted Ellen in my arms. I went by the dog, sitting quietly by the door, his tongue out, panting. I carried Ellen out of the shack and started across the glade. I met the other men hurrying toward us.
They took her to Danford Police Headquarters, to the women’s detention ward. They made me wait outside the room. I paced the cold floor. A Danford detective leaned against the wall, chewing a toothpick, eying me stolidly.
Captain Walsh came out, his face hard and rigid. I went to him. “How is she?” I asked.
“She’s snapped out of it,” he said in a cold, flat voice. “She’s made a confession. They’re going to book her for murder. No bail, of course.”
“I have to see her, sir,” I said.
“Why? Isn’t it enough of a goddam mess?”
“I have to see her,” I said tonelessly.
He looked at me for a moment, his mouth pinched. “All right, come on.”
We went down the corridor. There was a steel mesh door and a pale, middle-aged woman in a blue uniform coat and skirt. She opened the door. We were in a bare, gray-walled room. There was a long oak table and six hard oak chairs. There were a half-dozen men standing in a corner of the room, one of them Captain Angsman.
Ellen was sitting at the table alone. When she saw me she jumped up and ran to me. Her arms went around my neck. “Ralph,” she said simply. She buried her little freckled nose in my uniform.
I looked around at the impassive faces.
“Please,” I said to them. “Leave me alone with her. Give me a few minutes.”
Feet scraped uncomfortably. I could hear Captain Walsh talking to them in a low voice. He came over to me and said, “They’ll give you five minutes. And the matron will have to stay at the door.”
We sat at the plain wooden table. The matron leaned against the door, her arms folded in front of her.
“A cigarette?” I asked Ellen.
She took the cigarette. As she bent forward for a light I saw the bedraggled skirt and the muddy coat. There was a smear of dried blood on the collar.
“You hurt?” I asked. “Did they hurt you in any way?”
“Not them,” she said. “I’m all right now.” She breathed the smoke deeply.
I swallowed hard. “To come into that shack in the woods and find you—” I swallowed again. “I mean, sixty miles from home, in a patch of woods in Danford with a gun in your hand, a suspect in a murder. Everything happening fast like this, all at once. You’d think I was having an opium dream.”
“It was horrible,” she said. “Horrible. Manette Venus is dead, and I killed her. It makes a tragic triangle, doesn’t it?”
“But how could it happen? How did you get there?”
“I wish I had my lipstick,” she said distractedly. “They took my bag away. All I have is a receipt. You’d think they’d leave me my lipstick.”
I wanted to put my hands on something, to break something. “I don’t give a damn about your lipstick,” I said hoarsely. “Listen to me, Ellen. This is serious. What happened?”
“I know it’s serious,” she said tonelessly. “The truth is I’m scared, Ralph. Really scared. Acting this way is a little bit like hysteria—”
“You’d better tell me quick. They’ve given us only five minutes together.”
“I came to Danford to see her,” Ellen said.
“Who?”
“Manette Venus. No, not on my own. After last night when we talked, I knew it was all over between us.”
“Rut it wasn’t,” I said. “You never gave me a chance to explain—”
“Let me finish,” she interrupted. “A girl wants to marry a man with a certain strength of character. If he takes up with a barroom hussy, if he’s attracted to that type, even if it’s just an interlude, it could happen again and again. Worse still, it could continue after we were married. If it’s in you to stray, to seek that type of entertainment, it doesn’t make for a rosy future, especially when you plan to have children. No, I couldn’t marry a man who’s away from home all week, and have to worry who his new conquest is—and what new blonde is going to strike his fancy.”
“But you’ve blown this up too big,” I said. “You have it all wrong.”
“Everything is wrong now,” she said. “But I didn’t come to Danford on my own. I was talking to your father today, after you left. Your folks knew you were acting strangely and they started to question me. It came out about Manette, about your thinking of leaving the troops, everything. Your father was terribly upset. He said it was an infatuation, nothing more. And if you were so confused you couldn’t think for yourself, we had to stop you. He knew you belonged in the State Police, and anyplace else you’d be like a fish out of water. Then he said he had to go to Manette Venus and explain it to her. He asked me to take him to the train in his wheel chair. He’s not well at all, Ralph, and, of course, we couldn’t let him go. And the only way to stop him was to go myself.”
She drew on the cigarette. Her hand trembled, shaking the ash from the tip. “So I called Staley Woolen and got Manette Venus’ home address. I took the train to Danford. I got to the station at seven tonight. It was raining and very windy. I took a cab to Glen Road. It was dark and lonely out there. The house was in the woods. I told the driver not to wait because I didn’t know how long I’d be.”
There was a scrape of feet as the matron at the door changed her position and looked at the big wall clock. Ellen went on hurriedly. “I rang the front bell. There was no answer. There were lights on in the house, but the wind was howling so, I thought nobody could hear the ring. I called out. Then I tried the door. It was unlocked. I went in. There was nobody downstairs. Then I heard a man talking on a radio upstairs. I went up. There was a light coming from under the door of a room. I knocked at it. The radio went off and a girl’s voice asked, ‘Who is it?’
“I told her it was Ellen Levesque, a friend of Ralph Lindsey’s. She opened the door after a moment. It was cold in the room. The window was open and the curtain was whipping around. The rain had come in because the floor was wet. Manette was wearing a quilted housecoat. I expected her to be pretty and she was. I expected her to be nervous, too, and she was. We stood there sizing each other up like a couple of alley cats. She asked me what I wanted and I started to tell her. She wouldn’t listen. She asked me frantically to leave. I told her I wouldn’t go until I talked. I wasn’t traveling a hundred and twenty miles to be kicked out before I had my say. She started to sob and ran for the dresser. She opened a drawer and took out a pearl-handled revolver. She pointed it at me and screamed for me to get out.
“I was mad as anything. I did a silly thing, probably. I made a grab for the gun. I got it away from her and we started to fight over it. The gun went off. Just then I slipped on the wet floor. The next thing I knew there was a flash of lights in my head and I lost consciousness.”
The matron came over. “It’s way over five minutes, trooper,” she said to me. “The girl hasn’t been processed yet.”
&nbs
p; “A few minutes more,” I said. “She’s only a kid and she’s a long way from home.”
“Well,” the matron said uncertainly. “I’ll give you another couple of minutes.” She went back to the door.
“I woke up,” Ellen said, “with the revolver still in my hand. There was a bump and a cut on the back of my head. Manette Venus was lying on the floor. There was blood all over her face and she was dead. I got up and went to the window. I was dizzy and my head was hurting. Outside, I heard a car drive up to the house and stop. I got so scared and panic-stricken that I ran. I ran down the stairs and out of the house. I didn’t know where I was. I kept running, that’s all. Then I found myself in an empty shack somewhere and the gun was still in my hand. You know the rest, Ralph.”
“When they brought you here,” I asked, “did they threaten you or anything?”
“No. Just questions over and over again.”
“Did you admit firing the gun?”
“Yes, I did.” She looked at me. “But there was something strange about it. After the gun went off, we kept struggling.”
“For how long?”
“At least a few seconds. I don’t understand—”
I shook my head. “People have reflexes, Ellen. Even after they’re shot they don’t usually drop in that split-second.”
She rubbed her eyes. “It was so confusing. I wish I could really remember what happened. Anyway, I swear it was an accident. I wouldn’t want to harm her. I would do anything to rectify—”
“I know,” I said softly. “We’ll see what we can do.”
“But now,” she said urgently. “I mean now. I can’t stay here—”
The matron came over then and tapped Ellen’s arm. “Sorry, dearie,” she said. “I’m going to catch it as it is. Time’s up, and we’ve got things to do. Maybe you can talk to him again tomorrow.”
“Listen,” I said to Ellen. “I’ll do all I can. Anything—”
“Why?” she asked in a muted voice. “Because I killed your girl friend?” She stood up and moved listlessly to the door. “Just do one thing. At least, call my father and mother. Please.”
