21
For several seconds after the outer door closed there was nothing but silence in the room. Each seemed busy with his own thoughts and their glances were averted. In his own mind, Hayden was aware of his tangled ideas and an odd sense of frustration mingled with the relief that had come when he knew Doris Lamar had told her story. He also knew what he wanted to do but he was not sure how to go about it, and when the air of depression that hung in the room finally made itself felt he broke it abruptly and with determination.
“I need a drink,” he said, and looked at his wife.
She nodded, took a breath with lips tight, and expelled it forcibly. “Me too, please.... Roger?”
Denham went back to his chair, his smile diffident as he considered the invitation. “You know how it is with me but—well, all right. A weak Scotch and soda.”
Hayden wheeled and headed for the kitchen. It seemed strangely cool as he entered, but he did not wonder about it until he was back at the sink working on an ice tray. When he finally became conscious of the change, he turned slowly and noticed that the door to the breezeway was ajar. He closed it automatically without thinking any more about it, and went on to pour the drinks. He had them made before his glance touched the knife rack and stopped to focus there as he saw the one empty space.
Denham thanked him for the drink, and Hayden went over and sat down beside his wife. He wanted to say “Cheers” but found the word distasteful, so he merely lifted his glass, nodded, and drank as Marion responded. She lowered her glass and sighed again, the hazel eyes still despairing.
“I simply can’t believe it,” she said. “Maybe it’s because I don’t want to believe it.”
“If you mean Corbin,” Denham said, “he looks to me as if he could be a pretty rough character with the proper provocation.”
“I suppose he could be. But that poor girl—”
“Did he know she had offered to give you an alibi for a price?”
“Why”—she glanced at Hayden—“yes, I guess he did.” She spoke of their conversation in the station wagon when they had parked on the back road. “I told John and Ted the same thing I told you.”
“I suppose he felt he couldn’t take a chance,” Denham said. “She admitted being in the motel bathroom when Adler was murdered. Maybe Corbin thought she might have known something else that would incriminate him. If he had that in mind it would be easy enough to ask someone where she lived. It’s only a couple of blocks from the motel.”
Marion shook her head and remained unconvinced. She had her chin up and her mouth had a stubborn twist that Hayden had seen before when she was upset about something.
“I’ll never believe it,” she said. “With that man Adler it could have happened. He might have threatened Ted or pushed him too far. But not that girl. I lived with him three years. I should know what he was like. He wouldn’t hurt a woman, not deliberately. No.” She gave her dark hair another toss. “I don’t believe it.”
Hayden took a small breath and knew it was time for him to give her some help. “Neither do I,” he said.
“Oh, come now.” Denham’s smile was superior, his tone condescending. “It’s not what you want to believe that matters. All facts point to Corbin and you both know it. If he didn’t, who did?”
“I think you did, Roger,” Hayden said. “I think it had to be you.”
He heard Marion’s small gasp, saw the grin fix itself on Denham’s face. Behind the glasses the pale eyes had strange lights in them as they narrowed coldly.
“That’s not very funny.”
“I agree,” Marion added. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m saying Roger killed Adler.”
Again he heard the quick words of protest, and when he made no comment a sort of delayed reaction set in and he felt the tension start to build in the room as they realized he meant what he said. He could feel his wife’s eyes upon him, but he was watching Denham and he heard him laugh derisively.
“You’re out of your mind,” he said finally. “Why should I do that?”
“Because you’re sick,” Hayden said. “You must have been sick for a long time.”
“Sick?” Denham said. “You’re babbling. I was healthy enough to lead a Ranger outfit in Korea and I’ve kept myself fit ever since. I’m in better shape right now than you ever were.”
“The sickness I’m talking about is in your head, Roger. Who was it you hated most? Was it Marion, or me, or both of us?”
“John!” Marion said, her voice sharp. “Look at me.” She waited until Hayden obeyed. “You’re wrong. Roger couldn’t hate us. He was my friend.”
“That’s what we thought,” Hayden said.
“But why should he kill Adler? He never knew the man, never even talked to him.”
“That’s what made the plan so good. But if he killed Adler, and I say he did, there can only be one motive.” He looked at Denham. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“Not particularly.” Denham leaned back and crossed his knees. “But if you insist I’ll listen.”
“You were in love with Marion once,” Hayden said, “if anyone as cold-blooded, self-centered, and stiff-necked as you could ever be in love. She must have sensed that because, while she accepted you as a friend and companion, she wanted no part of you physically. You couldn’t get to first base and you couldn’t understand it. You had a fine background, social position, money, intelligence, and reasonable good looks, and what happened? She married someone from the other side of the tracks who had nothing much to offer except that physical attraction and a certain personal warmth.
“That marriage didn’t work out,” he added quickly, “and that must have pleased you. After that plane crash you stood by as the family friend and you probably figured that this time you could get what you wanted. Instead of that, she married someone who, according to your standards, didn’t have much more to offer than Corbin. So the hate and bitterness kept eating away at you and there was nothing you could do about it, nothing. No way you could pay Marion back until Sam Adler showed up and gave you a chance.”
He took a breath, aware of Denham’s bright and narrowed stare but no longer bothered by it. “It wasn’t enough that he could prove Corbin was alive and complicate our marriage until something could be worked out. It wasn’t enough that I would have to go into debt for a long time to repay the seventy-five thousand dollars Marion had collected. You saw a chance to make one or both of us stand trial for murder. You were going to hang something on us that we’d never live down, and you might have made it if it hadn’t been for Doris Lamar. Sam Adler meant nothing to you. You’d killed men before in Korea. Adler was only a means to an end, and you killed him the same way you set up the frame for us—cruelly, deliberately, without compunction, without pity.”
“John!”
Again Marion interrupted him and he saw that her face was pale, the eyes stricken by what she had heard.
“You’re guessing,” she said. “You’re making it up.”
“All right,” Hayden said, “I’m guessing. But I’m not making up the fact that Adler was killed with a knife from our kitchen. Is that right? That’s what the police say, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but—”
“So who but Roger could have taken that knife? Not Corbin. He didn’t get into town until that evening. Not George Freeman.”
He could tell by the look on her face that he had scored this time and he continued, ignoring Denham.
“Only you and I and Roger knew why Sam Adler was here and what he wanted. Roger was your good friend,” he added, unable to keep the bitterness and resentment from his tone. “You told him everything. He knew where Adler was staying. He knew about the photographs Adler had. He knew I was coming to see him and he felt sure I would go to the motel to have it out with Adler after I’d left him. When I came home Tuesday night and went out to the kitchen to make a drink that knife was missing. I didn’t think much about it then. I didn’t even consider it until you told me the police thought it came from our kitchen.
“You had already had a drink when I came in Tuesday,” he added. “Roger had been here and knew the story. You’d had a drink with him, and he must have been in the kitchen with you. That’s when he took the knife. That’s the only time he could have taken it, so he must have known then that he was going to kill Adler and frame us if he got the chance. I don’t know what his original plan was, but I made it easier for him.”
He looked at Denham. “Didn’t I, Roger? When I left you Tuesday night I told you I was going to stop at the tavern and get a double brandy before I went over to have it out with Adler. I wanted a little time to pull myself together and that was all you needed. You must have followed a minute or so later. You knew exactly where to find Adler. What you had to do couldn’t have taken more than another minute or two. You thought the police would find the snapshots on him and discover what they meant. You knew they’d eventually trace the knife. You were on your way home before I even left the tavern. Luck was with you all the way except for one thing—Doris Lamar.”
He paused again, the tension winding a little tighter inside him and the bitterness he could no longer control edging his words.
“Marion still counted on your help and she told you the proposition Doris made. She said so a few minutes ago when you asked if Corbin knew about Doris. You were going to kill her too, not because she could put the finger on you, but because you knew that if she talked she would give us both alibis and that might make the police consider you. With her dead we would be in exactly the same position you set up for us. One or both of us would probably eventually have stood trial for murder and that was what you wanted. That was what you had to have. Two minutes longer and you would have made it, but you didn’t dare go after her until it was dark and I got there before you could finish the job.”
Denham uncrossed his legs and sat up. If he was concerned by what he heard it did not show. His control and reactions were superb, and except for a tightness around the mouth and the bright, pitiless glints in his eyes there seemed to be no outward change in his appearance.
“What was all the business with Ted Corbin for?” The words were measured and sardonic. “What was the idea of trying to make a case against him with the police?”
“What I said about him was true,” Hayden replied. “But when the police check him out at the tavern they will probably find out he is in the clear and that will bring them back to the knife again, Roger. I’ve read about people who brooded over some injustice, real or fancied, and built up a personal private hate until it became a phobia or a fixation or a neurosis. I wanted to find out how it was with you. I wanted Marion to know the truth about you once and for all.”
The remarks did not seem to bother Denham. He ran his fingers through his short, brown hair, and from what he said then it was apparent that he had not heard much of what Hayden had just said.
“You said I had a bad break with Doris Lamar,” he said. “I made one other mistake and that was about you, John.”
“Yeah,” said Hayden. “I’ve got the picture. I live a well-ordered life. I have no real drive, no spark; I’m dull, conventional, law-abiding. A peasant.”
Again Denham did not seem to hear him. There was, somehow, a far-out look in the cold, bespectacled eyes. They were directed at Hayden, but he was not sure they actually saw him, and the look was suddenly disturbing.
“I misjudged you,” Denham said in the same, toneless voice. “I fixed the door latch so you could walk in on Adler. I thought when you did and found out what happened you’d be too shocked—maybe stupid is the word—to do anything but call the police. That’s what the average levelheaded citizen would do. Why not you?”
“I wasn’t very levelheaded at the time,” Hayden said. “I was thinking of Marion, and myself, and Ted Corbin. I looked for the snapshots and I found them. I might have destroyed them and called the police then. That’s what I wanted to do—until I remembered that if there were snapshots there had to be negatives. When I couldn’t find them in the room—”
“That was smart,” Denham said. “And the Mobile police did find the negatives. But that took a little time. That gave you a chance to get down and locate Corbin.”
The disturbance which had been caused by Denham’s strange behavior had ominous side effects, and with them came a warning Hayden could no longer ignore. It seemed now that the sickness he had mentioned still lingered in Denham’s mind, and he suddenly wanted to be rid of the man. He took a swallow of his drink and put the glass down. He stood up.
“I think the police will eventually catch up with you,” he said. “But you’re a lawyer; maybe you can talk your way out of it. Maybe it would be simpler if I called them now and got them over here.” He started to turn away, then stopped abruptly as Denham spoke.
“Not just yet, John.”
Still sitting erect in the chair and not hurrying, he shifted his weight to one hip. He slid his hand down past the raised hip and found something between the cushion and the chair. When his hand came up it held an automatic pistol. There was a certain familiarity in the way he handled the gun, and now he pointed it at Hayden.
“I took this from Sam Adler,” he said, and a small, mean smile twisted one corner of his mouth. “Now I’m rather glad I kept it. Let’s talk a little more, John. You sit over here.” He gestured with the gun. “I’ll sit with Marion and keep an eye on you.”