The Zebra-Striped Hearse Part 18

"With men?"

"I dunno about that. This is the first man she ever brought up here, leastways that I saw. What did the two of them have in mind?"

"They talked about getting married."

"Is that a fact?"

"You sound surprised."

"It's just that I never thought of her as the marrying type. I got a sister teaches school in Porterville, she's the same way. She's still living at home."

"Miss Blackwell isn't. How were the two of them getting along when you saw them?"

"I didn't see them together. She came up to the door by herself, wanting the key to the lodge. He stayed in the car." Sholto pushed back his cap and scratched his freckled hairline, as though to promote the growth of an idea. "They did sit out in the car for quite a while after. The wife thought they were having an argument."

"Did you hear any of it?"

"I didn't like to listen," he said delicately. "Besides, I had the radio on."

"Did your wife hear any of it?"

"She must of, or how would she know it was an argument?" He raised his voice: "Molly!"

The woman appeared at the back door with the baby on her hip. From the cover of her other hip, the twelve-year-old peered out resentfully.

"What is it, Hank?"

"Last night, when Miss Blackwell came for the key, and they were sitting out in the car after-did you hear anything they said?"

"Yeah. I told you they were having a battle."

I moved to the foot of the back steps. "Did he hit her?"

"Not that I saw. It was just talk. She didn't want to go to the lodge. He did."

"She didn't want to go?" didn't want to go?"

"That's what she said. She said he was trying to use her or something, said he was taking advantage of her love. He said he wasn't. He said that he was working out his des-destry?"

"Destiny?"

"Yeah, destiny. He said he was working out his destiny or something. I dunno what he meant when he said that. They were talkin' pretty high-falutin'."

"How did his voice sound? Was he excited?"

"Naw, he was real cool and cold. She was more hysterical like."

"Did he threaten her, Mrs. Sholto?"

"I wouldn't say he threatened her. More like he soothed her down. She was okay when they drove off."

"Who was driving?"

"He was. She was at the wheel when they were sitting there, but he changed places with her. He did the driving."

"What time did they leave?"

"I dunno. The clock broke. When are you going to get me a new clock, Hank?"

"Sat.u.r.day."

"I bet," she said serenely, and retreated into the house.

Sholto turned to me. "It was twilight when they left here, nearly night, I'd say around eight o'clock. I didn't know there was nothin' wrong or I'd of phoned her father. You think the guy did something to her, eh?"

"We have some evidence that points that way. Was Miss Blackwell wearing a hat when you saw her last night?"

"Yeah, a little hat with a veil. I noticed it because the girls don't go in for hats around here much."

"I found her hat in the lake just now," I said. "With blood and hair on it."

His eyes went almost out of sight in their twin nests of wrinkles.

"The man she was with, Campion, is implicated in two other murders. One was his wife. Her maiden name was Dolly Stone, and she's supposed to have spent some time here last Summer. Did you ever hear of a Dolly Stone, or Dolly Campion?"

"No, sir. No siree."

"What about Q. R. Simpson?"

"Come again."

"Quincy Ralph Simpson. His wife told me he was up here a couple of months ago."

"Yeah," he said matter-of-factly, "I knew Ralph. He worked for the Blackwells for a little while, in May I think it was. The Colonel opened the lodge early this year, in April. He told me he wanted to give his new little wife a chance to watch the spring come on." He paused, and glanced at the declining sun as though to reorient himself in the present day. "Did something happen to Ralph Simpson?"

"He's the other murder victim. We don't know for certain that Campion was responsible. The chances are he was. What sort of work was Simpson doing for the Blackwells?"

"Chief cook and bottlewasher, while he lasted. He didn't last long."

"Why not?"

Sholto kicked at one of the sawhorses. "I don't like to pa.s.s it on about a dead man. There was talk around that Ralph took something. I didn't put much stock in it myself. Ralph may have been a gamblin' fool, but that don't make him no thief."

"He was a gambler?"

"Yeah, he can't stay away from the tables. It was my belief he gambled away his money and got stuck here and had to take any job he could get. He must of had some reason for hiring himself out for a cook-a young fellow with his brains. Now you tell me he's dead," he said with some resentment.

"Did you know him well, Mr. Sholto?"

"We shot the breeze a couple of times when I was doing repair work at the lodge. The kitchen linoleum buckled, and I had to piece it. Ralph Simpson was a likable fellow, full of ideas."

"What kind of ideas?"

"All kinds. Man in s.p.a.ce, the atom bomb, he had an opinion on everything. Reincarnation and the hereafter, He had a great understanding. Also, he had a system to beat the tables, for which he was trying to raise the capital."

"How?"

"He didn't say."

"What is he supposed to have stolen from the Blackwells?"

"I dunno. I never got it straight."

"Who did you hear it from?"

"Kito. He's houseboy in one of the other lodges. But you can't always trust these Orientals."

"Still I'd like to talk to Kito."

"He isn't around any more. The family closed the place up last month and went back to Frisco."

"Do you know their address in Frisco?"

"I have it written down in the house."

"Get it for me, will you?"

He went in and came out with a Belvedere address written in childish longhand on the back of an envelope. I transcribed it in my notebook.

"Is there anything else you can tell me about Simpson?"

"I can't think of anything."

"Or anyone else who can?"

"Well, he did have a girl friend. It wouldn't be fair to pa.s.s that on to his wife. Matter of fact, he never mentioned a wife. I thought he was a single man."

"It hardly matters now," I said, with my ball-point poised over the open notebook. "What's the girl friend's name?"

"He called her Fawn. I don't rightly know her last name. I saw her a couple of times in the clubs with Ralph, and once or twice since." He added, with a rueful glance at the house: "I don't go there to gamble. I can't afford to gamble, with my family. But I like to stand around and watch the excitement."

"Can you describe the girl?"

"She's a pretty little thing. She looks something like a real fawn-she has those big brown eyes."

"What color hair?"

"Light blonde, palomino color."

That didn't make it easier. Palomino fillies browsed in herds on the Tahoe sh.o.r.es.

"You say she's little?"

"Yeah, about five foot two or three." He held out a hand at shoulder level. "I call that little in a woman."

"What does she do for a living?"

"I dunno where she works, or if she works. She may not even be here any more. We have a floating population. They drift in and out. I been here for years myself, come here from Porterville when State Line was nothin' more than a wide place in the road."

"When did you last see Fawn?"

"A couple weeks ago, I think think it was at the Solitaire. She had some older fellow on the string and they were playing the machines, leastways it was at the Solitaire. She had some older fellow on the string and they were playing the machines, leastways she she was. He kept buying silver dollars for her. Yeah, I'm pretty certain it was the Solitaire." was. He kept buying silver dollars for her. Yeah, I'm pretty certain it was the Solitaire."

chapter 16

SHOLTO DEPOSITED ME in front of the club and b.u.mped away in his pickup. The main street of State Line was an unstable blend of small-time frontier settlement and big-time carnival. The lake seemed artificial seen from here: a man-made lake dyed a special shade of blue and surrounded by papier-mache mountains. In this setting it was hard to believe in death, and life itself was denatured. in front of the club and b.u.mped away in his pickup. The main street of State Line was an unstable blend of small-time frontier settlement and big-time carnival. The lake seemed artificial seen from here: a man-made lake dyed a special shade of blue and surrounded by papier-mache mountains. In this setting it was hard to believe in death, and life itself was denatured.

I went inside the club, where the late afternoon crowd were enjoying themselves, if gamblers can be said to enjoy themselves. They wheedled cards or dice like sinners praying to heaven for one small mercy. They pulled convulsively at the handles of one-armed bandits, as if the machines were computers that would answer all their questions. Am I getting old? Have I failed? Am I immature? Does she love me? Why does he hate me? Hit me, jackpot, flood me with life and liberty and happiness.

A number of men and a few women were hanging around the bar. I waited my turn with one of the overworked bartenders and asked him where the security officer was.

"I saw Mr. Todd on the floor a minute ago." He scanned the big room. "There he is, talking to the character in the hat."

I made my way down one of the aisles of slot machines. Todd was an athletic-looking man in an open-necked s.h.i.+rt. He had iron-grey hair, iron-grey eyes, a face that had been humanized by punishment. The other man, who wore a white Stetson with a rolled brim, was drunk and fat and furious. He had been robbed, the machines were fixed, he'd see the management, invoke his influence with the governor.

With gentle firmness Todd steered him to the front door. I stepped out after Todd, away from the din of the gamblers, and showed him my photostat. He smiled as he handed it back.

"I used to be with the California Highway Patrol. Looking for somebody?"

"Several people." I gave him full descriptions of Campion and Harriet.

"I don't believe I've seen 'em, at least not together, I can't be certain. The turnover in this place is something for the book. Sometimes I think it's the bottleneck where the whole country pa.s.ses through sooner or later." His eyes were on the drunk, who was weaving across the street through light traffic.

"Try something easier," I said. "A girl named Fawn something. She's a small girl with beautiful brown eyes, I'm told, pale blonde hair. Fawn has been seen in your place."

Todd said with more interest: "What do you want with her?"

"I have some questions to ask her. She knew a man who was murdered in California."

"She involved?"

"I have no reason to think so."