“I want the papers he stole,” Keach said.
“What papers?”
“That is none of your affair.”
“I’m afraid it is. Anything that concerns Jason Stone is my affair, since I’m supposed to have murdered him.”
“I can tell you nothing.”
“But you will,” Cornell said grimly.
“I don’t have to stay here. I can call the police and—”
“Go ahead,” Cornell said quietly. “They ought to be interested in your part in last night’s business, too, Congressman.”
“I didn’t kill Stone!” Keach snapped.
“Can you prove that?”
“Well, I—”
Cornell said, “It’s a stand-off, Congressman. You know the cops want me for Stone’s murder, but you also know I didn’t do it, and under oath you would have to testify that I had just arrived at Overlook when you were leaving and Stone was already dead. On that score, if you call the police, you will have to answer some pretty awkward questions yourself.”
Milly lit a cigarette and walked between them, her hips loose. “I’ve got a question of my own, Mr. Keach. What made you come here alone, if you knew my husband was at Overlook? Why didn’t you go to the police with your information?”
“I—” Keach paused and mopped his face with a damp handkerchief. His hand trembled, and he looked ill. “I don’t want to be involved, if I can help it. I’m willing to—ah—co-operate, shall we say. Perhaps none of us is guilty of murder, but we would have difficulty convincing the authorities of our innocence. It is embarrassing, to say the least. I am willing to say nothing about Cornell’s being in the locality.”
“Thanks for nothing,” Cornell said.
“On the other hand, I must have the papers Rulov stole from Stone’s study last night.”
Milly snapped, “Yvan isn’t a thief! He didn’t have any papers with him when he came back last night.”
“He could have hidden them,” Keach suggested.
Cornell said, “What’s in those papers that makes them so important to you, Congressman?”
“I’ve already told you, I cannot say.”
“Do they concern you personally?”
“Yes, they do.”
“Did you plan to kill Stone to get them back?”
“I did not kill Stone!”
Cornell said, “Then Sam Hand, perhaps.”
“Hand was there,” Keach nodded. “But I don’t know the man too well, except insofar as I dealt with Stone through him. I didn’t see where Hand went after Stone broke off my interview with him. I don’t know if Hand killed Stone or not. I am only interested in those papers.”
Cornell looked at Milly. The blonde watched Keach impersonally, but she smoked her cigarette with quick, nervous gestures, and her mouth was taut. Keach stood in silent indecision. It was obvious that whatever plans he’d had were knocked into a cocked hat by Cornell’s appearance. Cornell thought grimly that Keach must feel as if he had a tiger by the tail.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden loud groan from up above. The groan was followed by a heavy thump and then silence. Milly whirled to face the stairs. Her face was white. Her lips moved, and she whispered. “Oh, my God, Yvan.”
Cornell was only a step behind her as she darted for the stairs. He got his hand on the bedroom door first, but it was Milly who flung past him into the room. Rulov lay on the floor beside the bed, spread-eagled on his back. A loud snore came from him.
Milly said, “Thank goodness, he just fell out of bed. For a minute I thought…”
The slam of a door echoed sharply from below. Milly dropped to her knees beside Rulov and tried to lift him as Cornell went to the single window and raised the green blind. Keach had taken the opportunity to escape. He could see the gaunt, white-haired man moving with swift and anxious strides across the street. He didn’t look back, and in a moment he was out of sight.
Turning, Cornell stared at Rulov. The man was muttering to himself, only half conscious. Milly sat on the floor beside him, her arms supporting his weight, rocking slightly to and fro. She seemed totally unaware of Cornell’s presence. Her eyes had a queer, far-away look.
“Milly, Keach is gone,” Cornell said.
“So what?”
“He may be going for the cops. I have to leave. I’d suggest that you and Yvan do the same.”
“No,” she said.
“He may come back with the police.”
“I don’t care.”
He hesitated, and decided there was nothing more he could do here. Milly knew her danger as well as he knew his own. He crossed the room, stepping around the man and the girl on the floor. Milly didn’t say anything to stop him. She was making soft crooning noises over Rulov’s drunken mutterings. Cornell went downstairs and out through the door into the sunlight.
Cellini, the cat, staggered out after him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THERE were long shadows in the woods when Cornell turned down the road to Pheeney’s Landing. It was past four in the afternoon, and the oppressive heat seemed heavier. No one had interfered with him along the way back through the village.
A squirrel chattered from a treetop, and the deadly silent shape of a hawk glided higher overhead. He walked with a long stride, wondering if Sally had somehow made her way back to the cabin. Occasionally he glimpsed the glittering Chesapeake when the road crossed salt-water inlets on crude wooden bridges. At other points the road cut through deep, tangled vegetation that defied penetration. He was only a hundred yards from the Landing when he caught the wink of light on metal from a car backed off the road into the screen of foliage.
He paused abruptly. There was no sound except for the scolding squirrel. He could see nothing on the road or to either side of it, and after a moment he stepped across the ditch beside the path and carefully entered the underbrush, circling toward the glint of metal he had seen. In a moment he had a clear view of the man who sat waiting in the car. His first fear that it was a police blockade vanished. The car was familiar, long and sleek and expensive. It belonged to Kari Stone. The man who waited in it was Paul Evarts.
Evarts didn’t hear his approach. He waited, looking for other cars in hiding, but he could see no one else. Somewhere nearby a brook gurgled, but that was all. Evarts’ big face was flushed with the heat, his eyes irritated as he watched the road. The big blond man was digging for a cigarette when Cornell spoke quietly from behind him:
“Waiting for me, Paul?”
The man started, twisting in his seat. His mouth went slack for a moment, then he grinned.
“You gave me a scare, Barney.”
“I’ll have a cigarette, too,” Cornell said. He slid into the car beside Evarts and accepted a cigarette from the pack in Evarts’ hand. “What are you doing here?”
Evarts said, “It looks as if everybody around here knows where you are except the police, Barney. It’s insane for you to have stayed here. You won’t last another day.”
“Maybe,” Cornell said. “Who told you I was here?”
Evarts looked annoyed. “A shabby little man named Kelly got into the Inn and contacted Kari. He told her where you were hiding and said he’d keep his mouth shut, but he needed money.”
Cornell nodded. “Yes, Kelly would, How much did he ask for?”
“A thousand dollars, to start with,” Evarts said grimly.
“Did you pay him?”
“Kari and I gave him everything we had. I had only two hundred in cash on me, but Kari gave him her earrings. They’re worth several thousand, you know.”
Cornell felt anger in him. “It was a mistake. Kelly will inform the police about me whenever he thinks the time is ripe.”
“There was nothing we could do. It was blackmail, of course, but we were relieved to find out about you, and we had to make sure he’d stay quiet until we could talk to you, Barney.”
“Where is Kari now?”
“At your cabin. Waiting.”
Cornell said angrily, “You shouldn’t have let her take such a chance.”
“She insisted, Barney. We have to know where we stand in this mess, and I don’t see any easy way out of it. We had to risk contacting you. Kelly is safe enough for today, anyway.” Evarts hesitated and studied his cigarette, his fingers long and pale and tapering, and when he looked up again, his eyes were embarrassed. “Kelly said you were registered as a Mr. and Mrs. Smith. He said there was a girl with you.”
Cornell said, “He would.”
“Well, is there?”
“A girl? Yes.”
“Kari was surprised. You work fast, Barney.”
Cornell’s grin was hard and reckless. “Why not?”
“You always did have an eye for the girls, didn’t you?”
Cornell said, “Disappointed?”
“Now, Barney—”
“You never made a pass at me, Paul. A good thing.”
“Barney, you—”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cornell felt the anger leave him and he moved back a little, as if easing pressure on Evarts at the same time. He remembered having thought about the personnel problems in the department earlier. It was true, then. It was all true, and in following his own straight path, no suspicion about Paul Evarts had ever touched him. He looked at Evarts. True, yes. His words just now had been a long shot in the dark, and a real man would have hit him for saying them. Evarts just sat there in the gloom, doing nothing. Cornell drew a deep breath.
“The girl is helping me,” he said. “It doesn’t concern you, Paul. Or Kari, either.”
“Of course.”
Cornell felt a growing irritation at the man’s attitude. “There are more important things at the moment. Why didn’t you get Kari away from here last night? And who called the police so fast? I only got away by the skin of my teeth.”
Evarts said, “We didn’t call the police, Barney. It must have been Keach who did that.”
“Or the murderer,” Cornell said.
“Maybe Keach is the murderer,” Evarts said.
“And maybe not. Let’s take our gloves off, Paul. I’m asking you bluntly if you or Kari killed Jason Stone.”
“Barney, you are insane.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not!”
“What about Kari?”
“She says no.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Don’t you?”
Cornell said, “I don’t know what to believe.”
“Barney, you’re upset.” Evarts was suddenly placating. “I know you don’t really suspect Kari or me. Kari and Stone had a row, sure, but she wouldn’t kill him, no matter how much she loathed him. Especially not with a knife, the way it was done.”
Cornell relaxed a little. “Sorry. You’re right.”
“And I didn’t do it, either,” Evarts insisted.
Cornell shifted tactics. “What about Sam Hand? He has an alibi in Washington for last night, but I can produce two witnesses who saw him at Overlook just when Stone was killed.”
Evarts was startled. “Hand?”
“The hatchet man,” Cornell nodded.
“I never thought—” Evarts looked pale. “He must be the one who got away with Stone’s blackmail file!”
“Blackmail?” Cornell rapped. “That’s the first time I heard it described like that.”
Evarts shrugged. “I don’t know anything definite, Barney. But it’s common knowledge that Stone used human tools to bludgeon his way up.”
“Did you see those papers last night?”
“I never went into the house,” Evarts said. “What about you? You were inside. Did you see them?”
Cornell shook his head and pinched out the cigarette. Something about Evarts’ bland neatness made him uneasy and angry. The man should never have let Kari come down to Pheeney’s Landing. The thought of Kari in the tourist cabin made him impatient.
“I’d better get along,” he said.
“Kari wants you to come back with us,” Evarts said. “I had to park here, to avoid attention. I’ll wait.”
“I can’t come back,” Cornell said.
“We plan to smuggle you out of here, Barney. You’ll be a lot safer. The police won’t stop us, since they seem satisfied with our story. It’s your best chance, Barney.”
“I’ll talk to Kari about it,” Cornell said.
She looked oddly out of place in the plain little cabin. She was as strikingly beautiful as an artfully posed photograph, with her fine auburn hair braided into a regal coronet, her tall figure composed, wearing an expensive white sharkskin suit. She looked cool, although the little cabin was stuffy and hot. There were faint violet shadows under her uptilted eyes.
“Barney,” she said.
He closed the door and she came toward him swiftly, then halted, a curious little smile on her lips. Her hands touched his shoulders, then dropped. Cornell said, “You shouldn’t be here, Kari.”
“I had to come.”
“Are you all right?”
“Of course, Barney.”
“This is too dangerous,” he said. “You can’t stay.”
“I don’t intend to stay. Paul and I came to get you. He’s got the car nearby.”
“I saw him.” He paused, wondering at his awkwardness. It was nothing new, this feeling that Kari was really a stranger to him, no matter how quick and high their recent attachment had flown. The cabin seemed too crowded by her presence. And Sally wasn’t here. Things were as they had left them. He frowned and said, “How long have you been waiting?”
Kari’s slanting eyes smiled briefly. “Not very long, Barney. But now that you’re here, there’s no point in wasting further time. I don’t trust Kelly. I don’t think he will keep quiet.” She looked at his gaudy sport shirt and smiled again. “Where on earth did you pick up that outfit, Barney?”
“It was bought for me,” he said. “Kari—”
“Nothing you have to pack? We can leave right now.”
Cornell said, “I’m not going, Kari.”
Her smile vanished. For a moment she turned away and picked up her white gloves from the dresser. Her face was a lovely, blank mask when she looked at him again.
“Is it the girl?” she asked quietly.
“No,” he said. “Yes.”
“It’s partly the girl. She’s missing.”
“Make up your mind, Barney.”
“Why should she concern you?”
“If she’s in trouble, she got into it on my account. It’s up to me to get her out of it.”
Kari said, “You’re hardly in a position to do anything for anyone—even yourself. You’re not being sensible, Barney.”
“I’m not going,” he said.
Kari said, “Who is she, Barney?”
“She came from nowhere,” Cornell said. “And I don’t know where she’s going. But she pulled me out of a nasty spot last night. She didn’t have to help me, but she did, and she found this place for us.”
“Very cozy.” Kari smiled.
Remembering last night and Sally, he made no defense. Peculiarly, he had no wish to defend himself or Sally. It was not Kari’s business. It came to him suddenly that it didn’t really matter what Kari thought about it. Nor did he think she was at all concerned about Sally as a rival. He didn’t believe Kari worried about it, even though she pretended now to be underplaying a difficult situation for herself.
Kari said, “I guess you’re really beginning to understand me, Barney.”
“This isn’t the time to talk about it. I’m staying here until the girl comes back, or I find out what happened to her.”
“You’re being quixotic, Barney. I didn’t think your New England blood was capable of such behavior.”
“Don’t be like that, Kari. I’m apt to have a noose put around my neck any moment. I think I’m the best judge of what I should do.”
Abruptly she said, “Did you kill Jay, Barney?”
“That’s nonsense, and you know it.”
“Very well. Do you think I did it?”
His grin was bleak. “Did you?”
She pulled on her gloves. “I’m not sorry he’s dead.”
“Nobody is sorry. But everybody is worried lest the police turn up Stone’s missing papers.”
Her glance shot up from the long white gloves. “What do you mean?”
“Do you know about the papers?”
“The police asked me about them last night,” Kari said. Her voice sounded brittle and unfamiliar. “Barney, I don’t like the way you’re thinking about this. You’re not yourself. It’s not that I’m being jealous about this other girl. You know better. It’s simply that you’ve always been rational and cool, and it should be plain to you that Paul and I are in the best position to help you—not some unknown girl who picked you out of the swamp last night. If you have Jay’s papers, you ought to give them to me now.”
“Why?”
“I’ll give them to Paul.”
“Why not to the police?”
“Eventually, Paul will give them to the police.”
“Eventually?”
“There is political dynamite in those papers. I know how Jay operated. Those papers can blast a score or more of innocent lives. If you have them, you should put them in a safe place until everything is cleared up.”
“Give them to you, in other words,” Cornell said.
“Yes. Where are they?”
“I don’t have them.”
Something changed in the limpid clarity of her strange eyes. For a moment he thought he saw bitter anger in their jade depths. It was only for a moment, however; then she smiled and moved toward him, her hands reaching for his shoulders.
“Barney, darling. Let’s not quarrel.”
He felt shocked. “I’m not quarreling,” he said.
“Do whatever you think best about the papers.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t have them. I don’t know where they are.”
She seemed satisfied with that. Quite suddenly she was brisk, moving toward the door, then returning to him.
“I’ll kiss you for luck, darling,” she whispered.
“Cut it. Don’t pretend to go feminine on me now,” he said brusquely.
State Department Murders Page 11
