7
John Hayden took another slow and deliberate swallow of the beer and reached for a cigarette. He knew then that he was as ready as he ever would be for the questions and it pleased him to see that the flame from their table lighter was steady when he held it up. He could still feel his pulse but it was no longer racing, and he frowned deliberately at the end of the cigarette before he replied.
“Adler?” he said on a note of puzzlement.
“You don’t know him?” Ball asked.
“I don’t think so. At least I don’t remember anyone by that name.”
“He was staying at The Shady Maple Motel.”
Hayden frowned again for their benefit. “What about him? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“Not any more.”
“Someone stuck a knife in his back,” Garvey said. “According to the medical examiner he probably died somewhere between eight and nine o’clock tonight.”
Hayden heard them out and then, nothing showing in his face, he rose and moved over to close the door to the inner hall.
“My wife went to bed early,” he said. “She’s four months pregnant and I’d like her to get her rest.” He came back and sat down. He looked right at them. “I don’t know anyone named Adler,” he said, “but I’m curious to know why you came here at all.”
“We’ve been making a lot of inquiries, Mr. Hayden,” Ball said. “From things we’ve heard we got the impression that you did know Adler.”
“To the best of my knowledge I never laid eyes on the man.”
“George Freeman—he’s managing The Shady Maple—” Garvey began.
“I know him.”
“—found the body around nine-thirty, or so he says. He couldn’t tell us much about Adler except that he was a stranger who registered yesterday afternoon.”
“We started to check on him,” Ball said. “We put some men on the main street to see what we could find. You know Lee Cramer at the filling station, don’t you?”
“Know him well.”
“He remembered Adler. He had some conversation with him yesterday afternoon and Adler asked if he knew you. He asked where you lived and Cramer told him. Now why would Adler do that if he didn’t intend to get in touch with you?”
“Cramer told me about that conversation,” Hayden said and was pleased that his voice sounded so steady and unruffled. “He described the man but he didn’t mention any name.”
Garvey, who had been examining a small, leather-covered notebook, looked up. “We made some inquiries at Jerry’s Tavern,” he said. “The way we get it you stopped in there twice tonight.”
“That’s right.”
“You had some conversation with the waitress there—Doris Lamar—”
“That was around a quarter of six.”
“Mind telling us the substance of that conversation?”
“It was mostly about her and George Freeman.”
“Did she tell you that a man named Sam Adler had been making some inquiries about you?”
Hayden hesitated but not for long.
“Yes, now that I stop to think of it. She said she and George had had an argument about something. Adler made a play for her the night before and she decided to put Freeman in his place. They went dancing later at the Log Cabin and Freeman came in and took a swing at Adler and Adler beat him to the punch. When I saw Freeman he was wearing dark glasses. He looked as if he had a shiner.”
“He did,” Ball said. “It was a beaut.”
“So Adler asked Lee Cramer if he knew you and where you lived,” Garvey continued. “Cramer told him. Tonight Doris Lamar told you the same thing. But you still say you don’t know Adler?”
“That’s right.”
“He didn’t come here to see you?”
“He did not.”
“And you have no idea what he wanted?”
“No.”
“Where were you this evening?” Ball asked.
Hayden suddenly found it difficult to meet the unremitting steadiness of the county detective’s dark gaze. The uneasiness was growing in him now and for some reason his thoughts moved off on a tangent and he found himself comparing these two with the detectives he had seen on television and in the movies. He had never been questioned by a policeman about anything, but the detectives he had seen on the screen were hard-nosed, tough-talking characters who threw their weight around and wore down suspects by intimidation and threats. In contrast, these two men spoke quietly and in matter-of-fact tones. They were polite, and at the moment well mannered, but he understood that they would be relentless in their pursuit of any information they thought pertinent.
He thought about the two photographs he had in his pocket and was thankful that they could not know about them. There had been moments of misgivings when he left the motel room, but he was glad now that he had acted the way he did. They might pin him down on this or that, but without those pictures which linked him and Marion with the past there was no motive—unless they somehow located the original negatives.
“I had an appointment with my attorney at eight o’clock.”
“Who would that be?” Garvey asked.
“Roger Denham,” Hayden said and mentioned the address.
“You went to his house?”
“That’s right.”
“When did you leave?”
“I’d say around eight-thirty.”
“Then what?”
“I stopped at Jerry’s Tavern.”
“For a drink?” Ball asked in his customary even tones.
“Naturally.”
“What did you order?”
“A double brandy and water,” Hayden said, and even as he spoke he knew that the announcement would bring forth additional comment.
“Was that the usual thing for you at that time of the evening?” Garvey asked.
“No. I felt like a double brandy and I ordered it. I drank it and drove home.”
“Jerry said that when you left you started across the street toward the motel,” Ball said.
“Sure,” Hayden said, “because my car was parked on that side of the street.”
“You got home about when?”
“Nine, or a little after.”
Ball leaned back and exchanged glances with the lieutenant. Apparently this was sufficient for a silent meeting of the minds because when he continued he seemed to speak for both of them.
“We’d like very much to speak to your wife for a few minutes, Mr. Hayden,” he said. “I know it may seem to you like an imposition and I appreciate her condition, but in a murder case it’s important that we find out as much as we can and as quickly as we can. Perhaps if you explained—”
He did not finish the sentence but stopped abruptly, his gaze shifting and the dark eyes opening. In the next instant he started to rise and so did Lieutenant Garvey. The reaction was so surprising that Hayden turned; not until then did he realize that his wife was standing in the doorway, her hand still on the knob.
“I thought I heard voices,” she said. “Is something wrong, darling?”
He got to his feet as she spoke, and even with all the confusion in his mind he had time to notice how pretty she looked. She had never been a girl who went to bed with cream on her face or curlers in her hair, except when it had just been washed; now her face had a clean, scrubbed look, and her dark hair was caught at the nape with a ribbon. The hazel eyes had a sleepy look and the dark blue robe she wore was long and tailored. He found his tongue as he stepped to her side and drew her into the room.
“Marion, this is Lieutenant Garvey and Detective Ball—my wife.”
The two men said: “How do you do, Mrs. Hayden,” and looked impressed.
“Police officers, darling?” she said with just the right inflection. “But why?” She smiled at them. “Please sit down. Tell me about it.”
“A man named Sam Adler was killed sometime this evening at The Shady Maple Motel,” Hayden said before the two detectives could reply. “Someone stabbed him. They seem to think we might know him.”
He saw the effect of his words on her as she sat down. The long lashes lifted and her eyes were suddenly wide open and staring at him. He watched the slackness working on her mouth and the color slowly drain from her face. It was a frightening thing to see, this change in her face, and he was terribly afraid that she might blurt out the things she knew before she had a chance to think. He knew she was about to speak, and he could not stop her, and it came to him then that the look of shock and fear in her eyes was concerned not with the two officers but with him.
She knows that I was going to see Adler, he thought. She’s wondering if I killed him and how can I tell her I didn’t?
“Stabbed?” she said in a tone that matched the look on her face. “How awful.”
She looked at the two men on the divan. She looked back at Hayden. The paleness was still in her cheeks but her eyes had narrowed slightly and were no longer unguarded. She frowned, and he knew this was deliberate. He was grateful for the intelligence and resiliency that enabled her to regain her composure and her wits so quickly. Her voice sounded just right when she continued.
“But I don’t understand,” she said. “Surely”—she looked at Garvey and then at Ball—“you don’t think we know anything about it.”
“We’re just checking now, Mrs. Hayden,” Ball said. “We know he arrived in town yesterday afternoon and we know he asked some questions about your husband.” He went on to repeat the information he had given to Hayden. He took time to let her digest what he had said before he continued. “What about you, Mrs. Hayden?”
“Me?”
“Did you know Adler?” He hesitated and when she did not reply he said: “Doesn’t it seem a little odd that this man should come into town and ask where the Haydens live and then not bother to look them up?”
He apparently expected no answer and Garvey took over. “In cases like these we sometimes get a break,” he said. “Like tonight for instance. In trying to get a line on Adler and find out what he was doing here we talked to a lot of people. We spent some time at Jerry’s Tavern and there was a fellow at the bar who overheard what we were saying to Jerry and the waitress.”
“His name is James,” Ball said. “He runs a television repair shop and he had to make a call on your road this afternoon. As a matter of fact it was at the Lamsons’.” He took time to direct his steady gaze at Marion and then at Hayden.
That gave Hayden time enough to brace himself because he knew what was coming. He did not know the details but he knew that the Lamsons lived no more than sixty or seventy yards down the road and he understood that Ball would not take this line of questioning unless he already knew enough to prove his point, whatever it was. There was nothing to do but sit there and wait for the detective to continue and presently he did.
“This fellow James asked about Adler. He wanted to know what he looked like and what kind of a car he drove. The reason for his curiosity was that when he had finished his service call and was putting the ladder on his truck he noticed this sedan with the New York license plates.”
He paused, as though waiting for some reaction before he said: “Before he drove off he noticed this man come out of your house and get into the car. He described the man and the description fitted Adler. We took him over and let him look at the body. He says that’s the man he saw this afternoon.”
Again Hayden could only wait and hope. Because he was afraid to watch his wife’s face he reached for another cigarette and fumbled with the light. He wanted desperately to help her, but as he tried to think of something to say she proved she needed no help.
“Oh—is that the man you’re talking about?” she said with just the right emphasis. “Yes. He was here this afternoon.”
Garvey said: “Ahh—”
Ball said: “What did he want?”
“He was a book salesman.”
The reply seemed to stop them for a second. They took time to peer at her before they exchanged quick glances.
“What kind of books, Mrs. Hayden?” Ball asked.
“Some children’s encyclopedia.”
“He just happened to stop here?”
“Not exactly. He said a friend—he wouldn’t give any name—told him we might be interested in such a set.”
“Did he show you the set?”
“He was hardly here long enough for that. I told him we weren’t interested.”
“That’s funny,” Garvey said.
“What’s funny?” Hayden said, proud of his wife’s response and hoping to take the pressure off of her.
“Book salesmen usually carry books,” Garvey said. “A lot of them have sample bindings. The idea is that when they hook you for a set they try to sell you the most expensive binding they can. But you didn’t see any books, did you?”
“No.”
“Or any sample bindings?”
“No.”
“There were no books in Adler’s room,” Ball said, making the sentence sound like an accusation. “No samples of any kind. There were no books and no bindings in his car either.... Maybe he showed you some literature about that set of books,” he added, “like some circulars or folders.”
Hayden cut in because he could not keep silent any longer. Marion’s composure had been steadfast and magnificent, but he could see the strain showing in her face and he was not sure how long she could maintain her self-control in the face of such persistent questioning.
“Look, gentlemen,” he said. “It’s late. I’ve told you about my wife’s condition. We’ve tried to co-operate with you—”
“We appreciate that,” Ball said.
“A man named Adler was stabbed to death,” Hayden continued, his words quick and aggressive now. “You seem to think we know something about it. I’ve told you I don’t know the man. You heard what my wife said. It seems to me you might make more progress concentrating on someone who had a motive for murder.”
“If you mean Freeman,” Garvey said, “we intend to. But we also have to find out all we can about Adler and the sooner the better.”
“Bear with us for another minute or two,” Ball said. “A couple of questions and we’ll take a recess until tomorrow. We’re curious about a phone call Adler made.” He paused, as though wanting to be sure they understood him.
“The rooms at The Shady Maple have telephones,” he said, “but calls have to be made through the office. At around eight-fifteen a call came from Adler’s room. He asked Freeman for a number. Freeman wrote it down and dialed. Now, according to him, he makes a point of never listening in on a conversation once the connection is made, so this time he waited just long enough to hear the number answer before he cut out. This call was completed. A woman answered. We checked the number. It’s listed in your name, Mr. Hayden.”
He paused again to give Marion his attention and Hayden was afraid to look at her. For it seemed now that this was the answer to the warm radiator on the station wagon. Adler had phoned her and Marion had apparently gone to see him, and now the truth would come out....
“What did he want, Mrs. Hayden?” Ball continued.
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
“There was no such call.”
“But Freeman—”
“I don’t know Mr. Freeman, but I’m afraid he was mistaken about this number.”
She was looking right at Ball when she answered and her chin was up. At that moment she had command of her emotions and Hayden was both surprised and pleased by her defiance. He also knew that the two officers did not believe her. Their expressions said so. As their glances met, Garvey gave a faint shrug and Ball tried once more.
“You’re sure of this?” he asked.
“Quite sure.”
They stood up and started to button their coats and Garvey said: “You were here all evening, Mrs. Hayden?”
“That’s right.”
“What time did your husband leave?”
“Well”—she frowned to show that she was considering the question—“he had an appointment at eight.”
“With Mr. Denham?”
She hesitated just long enough to give Hayden a quick glance before she said: “Yes. I suppose it was about ten or twelve minutes of eight when he left.”
“And what time did he come back?”
“I’m not quite sure.”
“Oh?”
“You see, I haven’t been feeling too well. I went to bed shortly after John left.”
“You didn’t hear him come in then?”
“I sort of heard him. I mean I was about half asleep and half awake when I heard his car come into the garage. I didn’t turn on the light then or look at the clock.”
She stood as she finished and straightened the robe. She gave them a polite nod and said she hoped they would excuse her. When she turned away, Hayden started for the front door and the two officers followed. As they stepped out into the night they thanked him again for his co-operation. They said they would be in touch with him tomorrow and it was possible that the State’s Attorney might want to question him and his wife again.