Talk Of The Town Part 13

She regarded me thoughtfully. "It's odd, though. I have the strangest impression I've seen you somewhere before.

I caught my party expression before it could slide off onto my s.h.i.+rt, and propped it up again. "Well-that is, I have been around here for a day or two."

"Maybe that's it." Then she smiled charmingly. "You've had that feeling, haven't you, Mr. Chatham. I mean, that you've seen someone before?"

"Oh, sure," I said. I suppose everybody does at times."

I was furious, and uneasy at the same time because I couldn't see what she was up to. So she hadn't been asleep. Then she knew it was purely accidental and that I'd fled the moment I saw her.

"How do you like our garden?" she asked. "Don't you think Kelly's done a wonderful job?"

"Yes," I said. "It's very good."

Maybe she was crazy. It was another minute or two before I could get away with any grace at all. Redfield said nothing, except to thank me curtly for helping him with the bricks.

"You must must come back, Mr. Chatham," she said graciously. come back, Mr. Chatham," she said graciously.

"Of course," I said. "Thank you."

I went out to the station wagon, wondering if I was leaving blood tracks on the driveway. What was the matter with her, and what had she been trying to do? Why the knife? Or had it been that at all? Maybe she was just bouncing her nude body against me for kicks. Or as an invitation.

In the presence of her husband? Redfield? Redfield? If she liked to live that dangerously, why not take up Russian roulette with If she liked to live that dangerously, why not take up Russian roulette with all all the chambers loaded? the chambers loaded?

When I got back to the motel, Georgia Langston was behind the desk in the lobby, making entries in two big ledgers. Josie was muttering indignantly. "I jest can't do nothin' with her, Mr. Chatham."

"I can," I said. I closed the ledgers, took her by the arm, and walked her into the bedroom. Stacking the two pillows, I told her firmly, "In you go."

She sighed with exaggerated martyrdom, but lay back. I removed her sandals, dropped them by the bed, and sat down in the armchair. She turned her head then, and smiled. "You're a bully. But nice."

"I happen to think you're pretty nice too," I said. "And I don't like picking up the pieces of people I'm fond of, so you stay there. I want to talk to you, anyway."

She made a face. "Well, do you think I could smoke, Doctor?"

I lit a cigarette for her and one for myself. "How well did you and your husband know the Redfields?" I asked.

"Not really well," she replied. "We rarely entertained at all. You just can't, and operate a motel. I think we played bridge together two or three times. But he and my husband went fis.h.i.+ng together quite often."

"That's something else I wanted to ask you about," I said. "Weren't you worried about his going fis.h.i.+ng alone? I mean, with a history of two heart attacks?"

She nodded. "Of course. But he practically never did, because of the way I felt about it. The only reason he went alone that day was that Redfield had to go out of town at the last minute and he couldn't get anybody else-"

"Hold it," I said quickly. "Back up a minute. You mean he and Redfield had planned to go together, but Redfield had to cancel? Tell me exactly how it happened."

She stared at me questioningly. "The day it all happened was Thursday, you know. They'd had the trip planned since the previous Monday, or something like that. But around noon on Wednesday Redfield called here. He was leaving town right then, going up into Alabama somewhere, I think, to extradite a prisoner, or some other police job. He said he was sorry he hadn't called sooner."

"He talked to you?" I asked. "Not your husband?"

"Yes. Kendall was out somewhere."

"And you gave him the message? You're sure of it?"

"Of course. But why are you asking me all this?"

"Frankly, I don't know," I said. "But there's something about it that keeps needling me. You say Redfield apologized because he hadn't called sooner? Did he say it was because he hadn't known about it sooner, or he'd just forgotten to?"

She thought about it "Wait. I remember now. I'm pretty sure he said it had just slipped his mind."

I nodded. "Well, wait a minute. You say Redfield questioned you, along with the Sheriff. The next day, I mean. Was his trip called off, or something, or had he gone and come back?"

"Let's see," she said. "They took me into the Sheriff's office about nine-thirty that morning, I think. Redfield wasn't there then, I know. He came in around noon, or one o'clock."

So he had gone out of town, apparently. And he'd known about it prior to noon the day before, possibly early that morning. I began to feel excited. Then it went flat. What possible connection could it have had with Langston, even a.s.suming my wild guess was right?

"Do you know anything about Mrs. Redfield at all?" I asked. "Where she comes from originally and how long they've been married and so on?"

"No-o. I don't know much. As I say, I only met her a few times. But she seemed very nice. She was a school teacher, and I think they've been married a little over two years."

"Is she a native?"

"I think she came here from Warren Springs. That's about sixty miles. But she does have relatives here; you'd never believe it if you've met her, an attractive girl like that, but she's a cousin of that horrible Pearl Talley-"

"Talley?" I said sharply.

"Umh-umh." She smiled. I gather, from the way you said it, that you've met him?"

Twice," I said. I told her about it.

"That's Talley, all right. The lipstick thing is typical. A lot of people think he's amusing-you know, a character-but to me he's revolting. Those depraved girls he lives with-And it isn't as if he were stupid and didn't know any better. He's very intelligent, and probably the shrewdest business man in the County. He owns a half-interest in the movie theatre, and a junk yard, and I don't know how much real estate."

I know," I said. "Or at least, I've heard about his farms. But what else do you know about Mrs. Redfield?"

"Well, I gather you've met her too," she said coolly. "She is about the most attractive girl in town, isn't she?"

"Let's say the second most attractive," I interrupted. "But here's what I'm driving at. Everybody agrees Strader came up here to see some woman. And from what I've heard of him, the chances are it wasn't Gravel Gertie."

She stared. "You couldn't mean her?"

"Why not?"

"I don't know-but she just doesn't seem the type. And they've been married only two-"

"Let's take another look at the record," I said. "You don't exactly seem the type yourself. And you'd been married only one one year. But that didn't seem to bother anybody when it came to hanging Strader around your neck. So why can't we try him on Mrs. Redfield, just for size?" year. But that didn't seem to bother anybody when it came to hanging Strader around your neck. So why can't we try him on Mrs. Redfield, just for size?"

"But what do you have to go on?"

"Mostly coincidences and wild guesses, so far. He always stayed here, and she lives about a quarter of a mile behind the place. We know Redfield was out one night, at least-"

She looked worried. "Bill, do you have any idea how long you'd stay alive if you ever said that aloud in this town?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm afraid so."

It could have been Redfield in that loft. His saying he'd been out there later didn't mean a thing. I'd already told him I'd gone out there, he knew I was a trained cop and would have seen those things, so he had to explain them some way. What could be subtler and more convincing than that buddy-buddy mutual-admiration pitch that we were both both pretty good. pretty good.

Mrs. Redfield appeared to be in an absolutely impregnable position.

11

Then it began to fall apart.

"Wait," I said. "We could be a mile off the beam. We both have some idea of the kind of man Redfield is. So why are we taking it for granted he'd s.h.i.+eld her if he knew she'd cheated with Strader? He'd be more likely to kill her."

"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "If he knew." knew."

I nodded. "There. You've got it. He doesn't know, and he doesn't want to. That fits all the way round and explains everything he's done. So far, he doesn't have any more doubt than he can bury and try to ignore, and as far as he's concerned it's going to stay that way. Maybe it's very little. Say those other two dates that Strader was up here-"

"The sixth and the twenty-ninth of October."

They came out, of course, when they were questioning you," I went on. "So suppose Redfield checked back and found he'd also been out of town overnight on both the sixth and twenty-ninth of October?"

She thought about it. "That's still rather flimsy evidence to cause a man to suspect his wife."

"Sure," I said. "So he must have more. But not too too much more. He's an intelligent man and a very hard one, so there's a definite limit to the amount of self-delusion he can come up with, or live with, no matter how desperately he's in love with her-or infatuated with her, if you want to put it that way." much more. He's an intelligent man and a very hard one, so there's a definite limit to the amount of self-delusion he can come up with, or live with, no matter how desperately he's in love with her-or infatuated with her, if you want to put it that way."

"But what are you going to do?" she asked apprehensively.

"I don't know yet," I said.

It was deadly any way you looked at it. Redfield was a police officer, and a highly respected one. He had sources of information everywhere. I was already marked because of my connection with Georgia Langston. Anything I did or any questions I asked would get back to him within an hour. Even if she were completely innocent, he could kill me with no more penalty than a routine hearing. This was the South, and the small-town South at that; you didn't go around publicly inquiring into the morals of another man's wife unless you were already tired of living.

And why was there any reason to a.s.sume she even knew Strader? How could you prove it if there were? And if we did find out she was actually Strader's girl friend, what possible connection did it have with Langston's death? There simply was no motive for their killing him. And who was the man who was trying to drive Georgia Langston insane or run her out of business? And why? Where was the connection between him and Mrs. Redfield? Was it Talley? Merely because they were cousins? That didn't make sense.

And in the end, it was not only deadly, but utterly futile. If we did learn beyond a doubt she was the one Strader had come to see and that there was a connection with Langston, where did we take our charge? To Redfield? Why, naturally. He had jurisdiction, didn't he?

Redfield, old boy, if you've got a minute to spare, I've just learned your wife is a tramp and, I'd like to have her arrested for adultery, and murder, and a number of other things-let's see, I've got the list right here- Right here where you just emptied the clip.

Well, we had to do something."Do you know," I asked, "if there's any chance the Sheriff may be back on the job any time soon?"

She shook her head. "Practically none, from what I've heard. I think they did learn the stomach condition he went up there for wasn't malignant, but he's over sixty and the ulcers are so bad the doctors told him he'd just have to retire. Redfield will probably remain in charge and run for the office next election."

"Okay," I said wearily. "Let's take it from the top again. Mrs. Redfield. What else do you know about her?"

"It's sketchy, as I told you," she said. "Her first name is Cynthia. I'd say she was twenty-eight or twenty-nine, and I think they were married two years ago last June, just after school was out. It seems to me she taught third grade, and just for the one school term, and that somebody once told me she came here just before school started in September. That would be 1954. I don't know whether she came directly from Warren Springs or not, but somehow I have the impression that was the last place she taught."

"You don't know what her maiden name was? It might have been Talley, but not necessarily."

"No-o, I'm sorry."

"Well, that one's easy, anyway," I said. I went out to the desk and called City Hall for the name of the local Superintendent of Schools. He was a Mr. J. P. Wardlaw. I looked up his number, and called him at home.

"I'm trying lo locate a Miss Talley, or Miss Tanner," I said. "She teaches one of the elementary grades here, or used to, and I thought perhaps you could help me."

"Hmm, no," he replied, "I don't have any records here at home, of course, the name's not familiar at all."

I laughed sheepishly. "Well, to tell the truth, Mr. Wardlaw I could be all fouled up on it. You see, she's an old friend of my wife's was supposed to call on on my way through here, but I've lost the slip she gave me. All I can remember is that her first name was Cynthia and I think she taught the third grade-"

"Wait. I know who you mean. That would be Mrs. Sprague. Cynthia Sprague. She's married now to a Mr. Redfield. Kelly Redfield. You can find her in the book."

"Thanks a million," I said.

I called the garage to see if my car was ready yet. The girl was sorry, but there'd been a little delay in getting the radiator from Tallaha.s.see. It should be ready tomorrow morning. She was sorry again. I came in on the second chorus and was sorry with her.

I went back to the bedroom. Georgia Langston looked at me inquiringly. I couldn't figure out why just seeing her always gave me a lift. "Besides being a very honest and deserving girl with exquisite feet," I said, "you also have a station wagon I've been driving for the past few days. Can I drive it again?"

She smiled. "I'm an invalid; so how could I stop you? Where are you going?"

"Warren Springs," I said. "Cynthia Redfield was married before. To a man named Sprague. Somewhere, if we go back far enough, we might find a tie-in with Strader. If I'm late getting back, keep Josie here with you."

I was going out the door when she said, "Bill." I turned.

"Be careful," she said simply.

I was within ten miles of Warren Springs before it dawned on me at last that I was an idiot on a wild-goose chase. I hadn't even thought of it before, but there was no chance at all Cynthia Redfield could have been the woman who called me on the phone to set me up in that barn. Her voice was deeper, down in the contralto range, and the inflection and accent were entirely different.

Well, meat-head, I thought, law enforcement certainly didn't lose anything when you got out. I shrugged and went on; there was no point in turning back now.

Warren Springs appeared to be slightly larger than Galicia. It was built around a square where magnificent old trees did their best to hide a turn-of-the-century courthouse that set your teeth on edge. At two-fifteen on a Thursday afternoon in July it was less than hectic. I had no difficulty in finding a parking place, and ducked into the nearest drugstore. Ordering the inevitable c.o.ke, I went back to the phone booth. There were two Spragues listed. There was no answer at the first, and at the other I raised a charmer who sounded as if she were talking through a wide gap in her front teeth and who said Mommy was gone to the store and that she'd never heard of Cynthia Sprague.

I got some more dimes and tackled it through the Superintendent of Schools. When I'd run down his name, I called his home. He was out of town, and his wife didn't know whether a Cynthia Sprague had ever taught here or not.

"What you ought to do is call my husband's secretary," she said. "She's been with him for fifteen years or longer, and she'd know whatever it is you want."

"Fine," I said. "Where can I get hold of her?"

"Her name's Ellen Beasley, and in the summer she always works vacation relief at the telephone-company business office. They're on Stuart Street, just off the north side of the square."

"Thank you very much," I said.

Ellen Beasley proved to be unmarried and forty-ish, with a pet.i.te face, a small bud of a mouth, and earnest but friendly blue eyes. She looked up at me from her desk and smiled inquiringly.