As he finished shaving, he thought bleakly that Burnett couldn't have been found otherwise Joe would have telephoned. He thought of that nice Mrs. Burnett, and he felt sorry he had so far failed her. But what more could he have done? he asked himself.
When he entered the morning room, he found his wife, Caroline, a large matronly looking woman, reading the newspaper headlines.
'Is it right this poor man is a mental case?' she asked, handing Terrell the paper.
'I guess,' he said and sat down. 'Trust the papers to get hold of the details. Now they will be scaring everybody out of their wits.'
'But he isn't dangerous?'
Terrell shrugged.
'He's a mental case.'
He sat and read, and finally tossed the paper aside in disgust.
'Where the hell can he have got to?' he said more to himself than to his wife. 'What's he been doing all this time?'
As if to answer these questions, the telephone bell rang. Terrell put down his cup of coffee and hurried across the room. He lifted the receiver.
'Chief? This is Joe.' Beigler's voice sounded tense. 'We have trouble out at Ojus. A murder reported.'
Terrell scratched his forehead. A murder! He hadn't had a murder in his territory for the past eight months.
'Any details, Joe?'
'The owner of the Park Motel phoned through. He reports a dead woman in one of his cabins. She's been badly cut up.'
'Okay. Come out for me. Any news of Burnett?'
'The boys are still searching,' Beigler was obviously bored with Burnett. A murder was much more important to him. 'I have the team together. We'll be out for you in ten minutes.'
Terrell hung up and returned to the table to finish his coffee. He told Caroline about the murder, but this didn't interest her. She wanted to know about Burnett.
'He's still missing,' Terrell said irritably. 'It's my guess he's miles away from where he smashed up the car. He must be. He probably had a blackout and has just gone off into the blue.'
As two police cars pulled up outside Terrell's bungalow eight minutes later, and as Terrell was putting on his jacket, the telephone bell rang.
'Chief, this is Williams. We've found Burnett. He was wandering along the North Miami Beach highway. We have him here in our car. What shall we do with him?'
Aware that Beigler was standing in the doorway, scarcely restraining his impatience, Terrell said, 'How is he?'
'Well, he acts as if he's been knocked on the head. He doesn't know where he's been nor what he's been doing.'
'Stay right where you are,' Terrell said. 'I'll call you back.' He broke the connection and then dialed the number of the Spanish Bay hotel. As he waited, he said to Beigler, 'They've found Burnett. I have to fix him first. You go on to the Park Motel. I'll come on after you.'
Beigler nodded and hurried down the flagged path to the waiting car.
When Terrell got to the hotel, he asked to speak to Travers.
'Mr. Travers? Police Chief here. We've found Mr. Burnett. He seems in a dazed state. He is right at this moment in a police car out on the North Miami Beach highway: that's about thirty-five miles from you. I don't think it would be wise to bring him back to the hotel. He'd have to face the newspapermen who are waiting there. I suggest my men drive him straight to Dr. Gustave's sanatorium. Mrs. Burnett and you could meet him there. What do you think?'
'Yes,' Travers said. 'Thank you. We'll go over there right away.'
'He'll be there within an hour,' Terrell said. He broke the connection and got back to Williams. He gave him instructions, then briefly telling his wife what was happening, he hurried out to his car and drove fast towards the Park Motel at Ojus.
Ojus on U.S. highway 4 was originally an Indian trading post. Its name, in the Indian language, means 'plentiful', and the town of some six hundred people was named so because of the luxuriant vegetation surrounding the place.
Just outside the town, on the main highway, was the Park Motel: second rate, but conveniently situated on the direct route to Miami. It consisted of forty small, shabby wooden cabins, a bathing pool. a Self-Service store, a children's sandpit and playing ground and a square of flattened ground where visitors could dance to the blaring swing coming from loud speakers strung up in the trees.
Terrell arrived at the motel five minutes after the police team had pulled into the vast parking lot.
Fred Hess, in charge of the Homicide team, said Beigler was in the Reception office, talking to the owner.
Terrell told him to wait until he was ready and then walked across the rough grass that led to the cabin over which was a large neon sign that read:
PARK MOTEL
VACANCIES
Some ten to twelve men and women in holiday garb were standing near the office, gaping. They stared at Terrell as he entered the office, and there was an immediate buzz of conversation.
The hot, small office was divided by a counter on which lay the register, a telephone, several ballpoint pens and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. Beyond the counter was a desk, three chairs and on the wall a large-scale map of the district.
Beigler sat in one of the chairs, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Behind the desk sat the owner of the motel: a tall, thin man, around fifty-five, with a mop of iron-grey hair and a sallow complexion. His face was thin with an over-long nose. His shabby grey Alpaca suit looked as if it was meant for a man of much heavier build. His white shirt was grubby and his string tie greasy.
'This is Henekey,' Beigler said, getting to his feet. 'Okay. Henekey, go ahead. Let's have it all over again.'
Terrell nodded to Henekey who gave him a quick, uneasy stare. Terrell took a chair near Beigler.
'Well, like I told the Sergeant,' Henekey said, 'this girl had a call in for 7.30 a.m. I called her. There was no answer, so I went over and found her.' He grimaced. 'So I called headquarters.'
'Who is she?' Terrell asked.
'She booked in as Sue Parnell. She's from Miami. She arrived at eight o'clock last night: a one night stand.'
'Ever seen her before?'
For a split second, Henekey seemed to hesitate, then he shook his head.
'Not as far as I can remember. We get a lot of people here during the season. No, I guess.’
'Did she have any visitors?'
'I wouldn't know. I'm in this office from seven-thirty in the morning to one o'clock at night. Then I shut clown and go to bed. I've no means of knowing what goes on in any of the cabins.'
Terrell got to his feet.
'Let's take a look at her.'
'It's cabin 24,' Henekey said and put a key on the desk. 'If it's all right with you, Chief, having seen her once, I don't care much to see her again.'
'That's okay,' Terrell said as Beigler picked up the key. The two men left the office and walked across to the double row of cabins some fifty yards ahead of them.
The group of tourists straggled after them, but came to an abrupt stop as two uniformed policemen stepped into their path. The rest of the Homicide team, with their cameraman, moved from their parked cars to join Terrell and Beigler.
They arrived at Cabin 24 and Beigler unlocked the door.
'Wait here,' Terrell said to his team and he and Beigler entered the cabin which was a twenty-foot square room with a shabby carpet, two lounging chairs, a TV set, a hanging closet, a dressing-table and a double bed.
The stench of death made both men grimace and Beigler, after one look at the bed, went to the window and hurriedly opened it. Terrell, his hat tilted to the back of his head, looked at the naked body lying across the bed.
Sue Parnell had been twenty-eight or nine, blonde and strikingly attractive. She must have taken good care of herself, Terrell thought, for her finger and toenails had been recently manicured and her hair was attractively arranged. She had obviously been a sun worshipper for her body was heavily tanned.
Whoever had slaughtered her had done so with the frenzy of a madman. Four stab wounds made purple mou
ths in the upper part of her body. Lower down, she had been ripped. The sight of her made bile come into Terrell's mouth in spite of years of hardened experience.
Beigler said hoarsely, 'For God's sake!' and feeling his stomach begin to revolt, turned hurriedly and left the cabin.
Terrell looked around. On one of the chairs stood a blue and white suitcase. He passed the bed and opened the door leading into a tiny shower room. On the glass shelf stood a bottle of perfume, a tube of toothpaste and a tablet of soap. On another shelf by the shower was a yellow sponge and a shower cap.
He moved back into the room. Keeping his eyes away from the bed, he walked out on to the narrow veranda where his men were waiting.
'Get a sheet,' he said to Hess. 'Doc arrived yet?'
'He's on his way,' Hess said. 'Should be here any second now.'
As he spoke a car pulled up and Dr. Lowis, the police M.O., came hurrying over, his bag of equipment in his hand.
'Go right on in,' Terrell said. 'She's all yours, and you're welcome.'
Dr. Lowis, a short, fat man, gave him a questioning stare and then entered the cabin.
Terrell called his men together.
'When Doc's through, go over the place as if you're looking for a speck of dust. I want everything that can tell us anything. This is one of those jobs that has to be cleared up fast. A foot-loose sex killer usually strikes again.'
He went back into the cabin and picked up the blue and white suitcase.
'Enjoying yourself?' he asked Lowis without looking at the bed.
'I've seen worse,' Lowis said mildly. 'Nice looking girl.'
'You mean she was a nice looking girl,' Terrell said and went out into the sunshine.
chapter three
Dr. Felix Gustave came into his waiting room where Val and her father were standing by the open french windows.
It was an impressive room. Nothing had been spared to give it an atmosphere of luxury and confidence.
Dr. Gustave was a large, heavily built man, immaculately dressed, with a bald, high dome of a head, fleshy jowls and clear, alert black eyes.
As Val and her father turned, he came across the vast room, his face expressionless as if he knew a smile wouldn't be welcomed.
'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting,' he said. 'Chris is in bed now.' He used the Christian name without affectation. Watching him, Vat felt a surge of relief that he really was on Christian name terms with her husband. 'Before you see him I suggest we have a little talk about him.'
Travers said sharply, 'What has he been doing all the time he has been missing?'
Gustave took Val by her hand and led her to a chair.
'Let's sit down,' he said, and ignoring Travers' hostility, he lowered his bulk into a chair near Val's.
Travers hesitated, then he came over and sat by Val.
'You ask me what he has been doing?' Gustave said. 'He doesn't know. Later, he may remember, but at this moment, it is better not to ask questions. Periods of complete loss of memory are to be expected from time to time. Frankly, this nice person is for the moment very unhappy, and he has every reason to be. He has suffered serious injuries to the brain, and yet he has long periods when he is practically normal. Now this has happened, it may happen again, and he knows it.'
'Is there no cure then?' Travers said impatiently. 'This state of affairs has been going on for nearly two years. We thought he was showing some signs of improvement... now this!'
'Daddy ... Please!' Val said.
Travers made an irritable movement.
'My dear, if Chris isn't going to recover, you...'
'A moment, Mr. Travers,' Gustave said quietly. 'Nothing has been said about him not making a complete recovery. This is a matter of patience.' He moved slightly to look directly at Val. 'While I talk to your father, you would like to see Chris, wouldn't you?'
Val nodded.
'Then go up and see him. There's a nurse in the hall. She'll take you to him. He needs affection. You are the one to give it to him.'
Val got to her feet and went out into the hail. She heard a protest from her father, but she ignored it.
The elderly nurse who was waiting, took her up a flight of stairs and into a room where her husband lay in bed.
Chris Burnett was thirty-six years of age. He was a handsome man with dark hair and eyes, a firm mouth and nearly as tall as his father-in-law. Before the car crash he had been regarded by those in the know as a worthy successor to Travers' financial kingdom.
Her heart beating painfully, Val paused in the doorway.
'Chris ... darling.'
He looked up and her heart sank. His mild, indifferent expression and glazed eyes told her at once that this awful wall that had grown up between them was still there.
'Oh, hello, Val,' he said. 'I'm sorry about this. We don't seem to have much luck, do we?'
Vat moved into the room and closed the door.
'You don't have to be sorry,' she said, controlling her voice with difficulty. 'Are you all right, darling?' As he said nothing, she went on, 'I've been so worried.'
'It only wanted this, didn't it?' he said listlessly. 'Quite something to be brought to a looney-bin by two cops. Of course the real fun of it all is that I just don't know what I have been doing. I've been blacked out for hours. I could have done anything... murdered someone… anything.'
'But you didn't, Chris,' Val said gently as she moved to a chair by the bed and sat down. 'You mustn't worry.'
'That's what Gustave keeps telling me. So all right I'm not worrying.'
She watched the nervous tick that kept twitching at the side of his mouth.
'Chris ... do you want to come back to the hotel?'
He shook his head.
'I'm quite happy here. Gustave seems sensible. I rather like him. It would be better for me to stay here.'
'I thought you liked the hotel,' Val said, trying not to sound desperate. 'Can't we go back there together. This well, as you said, it was unlucky.'
'How's your father?' Chris asked, looking away from her. 'I suppose he knows about this?'
Val hesitated, then said, 'Oh, yes. He's downstairs talking to Dr. Gustave.’
The glazed eyes moved in her direction.
'You don't mean he has dropped all his important work to come down here? How odd! He must be having a whale of a time. How he must hate me now!'
'Of course he doesn't,' Val said a little sharply. 'You mustn't ...'
'Oh, but I'm sure he does. He's as bored to death with me as I am myself. Your father is a remarkable man, Val. He hasn't got this soft centre that I have. You know what I mean ... a soft centre? It's something that can happen to anyone who is just ordinary. You think you are all right; that you are making a big success of life, that you have all the confidence, ambition and determination to beat the best, then suddenly the hard core that is in you, the hard core that you just must have if you're to get anywhere in this life ... suddenly turns soft. That's what's happened to me. It could never happen to your father. His core is made of steel.'
'Please, Chris,' Val said, her hands turning into fists. 'You had this accident and you ...'
'If it had happened to your father, he wouldn't be acting the way I'm acting,' her husband said. 'Val, I've been thinking. We'd better part. I mean this. It would be better for us both if we got a divorce and you forgot about me. I know this is what your father wants and he is absolutely right.'
Val sat motionless for a long moment while Chris stared impersonally at her.
'Could we wait a little while?' she said finally. 'I don't want to lose you, Chris. I think if we both have patience, it'll work out.'
'That reminds me,' Chris said and he rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, 'I've lost that cigarette lighter you gave me. I had it with me at the hotel. I'm not all that far gone not to remember that. I had it in my jacket pocket. When the police brought me here, they tell me I wasn't wearing a jacket, so I suppose I've left it somewhere. I'm sorry about that lighter.' He
looked away from her. 'I'm sorry about everything. You'd better not keep your father waiting. You leave me here, Val. I'll be fine. Talk to your father about a divorce. He'll fix it. There's nothing he can't fix.'
'I don't want a divorce,' Val said quietly. 'I want to be with you always.'
'That's odd ... most girls would jump at the chance of getting rid of me. You think about it. I expect you'll change your mind. I'm sorry about the lighter. It had memories for me. I remember when you gave it to me. We were happy then, weren't we?'
'I'm still happy,' Val said.
'That's fine. So long as one of us is happy. I want to sleep now. Do you mind? You talk to your father ... he's a wonderful fixer.'
He shifted further down in the bed and closed his eyes. Val remained still, watching him.
The man she was looking at wasn't the man she had married; now he was a complete stranger. After a few minutes, she saw by his regular breathing that he was asleep.
She got silently to her feet and left the room.
***
'Let's see what we've got,' Terrell said.
He and Beigler were in one of the vacant motel cabins. On the table was the blue and white suitcase.
Latimer, one of the Homicide men, had just completed an inventory of the suitcase's contents. He stood back while Terrell and Beigler examined the various articles laid out on the table. They were few: a pair of green nylon pyjamas, stockings, underwear, a contraceptive and a green and gold embossed address book.
Terrell sat down with the address book. Beigler tossed the articles back into the case, closed it, then went out to see how the rest of the team was progressing.
Ten minutes later an ambulance arrived and two interns went into the murder cabin. They came out within a few minutes with the dead woman, covered by a sheet on a stretcher. The stretcher was loaded into the ambulance while the group of staring tourists watched from a distance. The doors were slammed and the ambulance drove rapidly away.
Dr. Lowis came into the cabin where Terrell was still studying the address book.
1964 - The Soft Centre Page 3
