The Expendable Man (26 page)

Night had come down; there was a cold freshness to the white of the stars. Hugh breathed deeply of it.

Skye suggested, “You follow to my house.”

Without seeming to move, Ellen was at Hugh's side. “Yes, we'll follow.”

Skye waited until they were in Hugh's car, then roared away. His rear lights were pinpoints far up Scottsdale Road when the stop lights held the white car.

Ellen spoke for the first time. “They didn't arrest you.” She lit a cigarette and passed it to Hugh.

“It was close. Until Skye came in like the Marines.” Why couldn't his appreciation for the rescue be unalloyed? Because Skye had touched Ellen and Ellen had accepted it as if accustomed? Because he wasn't used to dependency on a white man, on a lord of the manor? The light changed, and as he drove on he briefed Ellen factually on what had happened. In silent apology, making Skye the strong man, the hero.

Ellen was excited. “So Meg did find someone who'd talk.”

“Evidently. And got the information to Skye in time. Two Marines.”

The pinpoints were ahead, cutting a left turn at the sound of Hugh's approach.

Ellen was confident. “They'll have this Fred O. by tomorrow.” Her intonation was that it was all over, just this small detail to be attended.

They'd find the man. This he did not doubt. But it was then that Hugh's acute danger would commence. The steps Fred O. had taken might be crude but they had already proved effective in smearing Hugh with guilt. The man had had plenty of time to concoct the story he'd tell; its culmination would be that Hugh was the abortionist and the murderer. He wouldn't have to prove it, only to accuse and let circumstantial evidence convict.

The foolish days when Hugh had thought the finding of Iris' friend would exonerate him seemed as distant as another life. The car was approaching Skye's place, Skye's car had already turned through the gate.

Hugh tried to speak with enthusiasm. “I'm sure they will.” Perhaps Ellen accepted it as such. Perhaps not. She wasn't easy to deceive.

Skye waited at the door for them. “Meg's here.” That would be the third car parked by the house. “A good thing she had sense enough to phone me when she landed. Without her information I don't know how I could have talked Hack out of it tonight. What about that wrench under the fender?”

“It was put there. Plenty of chances.”

They had entered the living room as they spoke. Meg uncurled from a large chair. “I thought you'd never get here,” but her voice fell away as their faces revealed they hadn't been idling. Hesitantly she asked, “Is everything all right?”

“Temporarily,” Skye said and stopped. By then they all had seen the little girl on the couch.

Meg said, “This is Lora.”

The girl bobbed her head. She was looking from Skye to Ellen and Hugh, then toward Meg for direction.

Meg said, “Lora, this is Mr. Skye Houston, the lawyer. Miss Hamilton and Dr. Densmore.”

Again the head nodded but didn't understand. She hadn't expected Negroes. She'd doubtless never before been in a living room with them. She was a homely little thing. She didn't look more than ten, but she must be in her early teens, to be a confidante of Iris—Bonnie Lee. Her hair was in a long unfashionable braid down her back; she had a gopher mouth and eyes set too close together.

Houston said, “You didn't tell me you brought her with you!”

Meg said, “It was a surprise. I thought you'd prefer to hear her story first-hand. It's quite interesting.”

“Wait till Hack finds out about this!” But some communication passed from Meg to him and he turned to the bewildered child with his most charming smile. “I'm delighted you could come, Lora. What do you say we have something to eat and then you can tell us all about it.” He swerved to Ellen and Hugh. “You haven't had dinner!”

“It isn't important,” Hugh said.

“Nonsense. Of course it's important. You can't think when your energy's depleted. As a doctor you should be telling me. Go along. We've got a lot of thinking to do tonight.” He herded them toward the kitchen. “See what's in the icebox, Ellen. I'll take the orders here.”

Ellen opened the icebox as if she were at home. “What kind of sandwich would you like? There's everything.”

Hugh said, “I'd like to take you to dinner—” breaking off as Skye joined them.

“Ice cream and chocolate sauce for the girl and a Coke. God. They've had dinner. Meg just wants coffee.” Skye wasn't helpless in the kitchen, like some men; like Hugh's own father, for one. He turned the coffee making over to Hugh and set himself to helping Ellen with the sandwiches.

The intuitive knowledge of each other which had been evident in the first meeting of Ellen and Skye seemed heightened as they worked together. It didn't come from the words they spoke, the meaningless light phrases, it simply was there. It set Hugh silent, apart. If they noticed they would believe it was the weight of tonight's near thing. Not the jealousy which he grudgingly admitted. Not the self-pity he was fighting with every atom of his pride. These two could be gay as tropical fish; they weren't truly in this. Whatever happened wouldn't happen to the personal them. And why shouldn't Skye be conscious of Ellen's charm? He wouldn't be a man if he didn't respond. Being married didn't make him a eunuch.

There was no touch of impropriety in his attention. He could admire without touching. He knew Ellen wasn't a slave wench; she was Judge Hamilton's daughter, of impeccable background. There was no sanity in Hugh's jealousy. Ellen wasn't his. He too dared not touch.

He carried the coffee tray to the living room. Lora imperceptibly shrank back into the cushions as he placed it on the coffee table before the couch. He knew he hadn't been explained to her; she was puzzled, unsure of his presence. She could accept him servicing the tray, but not sinking into the cushioned chair after Meg said, “I'll do that,” and took the cord to plug in the urn. The little girl was more disoriented when Ellen and Skye returned, when they all ate together.

Meg eased into the story they waited for. “I didn't have any luck today until I met Lora.” The girl preened and smoothed the garnet and pink flowers of her skirt. “I'd talked to all the high school crowd at the malt shop but none of them knew anything about Bonnie Lee having a secret boy friend.”

“She only told me,” Lora boasted.

“I was about to give up—most of the crowd had gone home—when Lora came up and whispered to me that she could tell me about Fred.”

“I didn't want them to know about it,” Lora explained as she must have over and again to Meg. “I promised Bonnie Lee I'd never tell. And I wouldn't have only—”

“Only she wants to help us catch the man who killed her friend,” Meg said for her.

Lora nodded vigorously. “I certainly do. It's simply awful what happened to her. You don't know who'll be next.” It might have been her mother speaking. “It might be me!”

“That's why Lora was willing to fly to Phoenix with me. To tell you the story in person, Mr. Houston.”

“I'm grateful, Lora.” Houston lived up to Meg's shaping of the scene.

“At first my mother wasn't going to let me come,” Lora prattled. “She was afraid it might be a ruse to get me killed too. But after Meg called the Judge—”

Meg's eyebrows were expressive. “I remembered Judge Long was from Indio. Fortunately he was at home and we drove down there, Lora and her mother and I. And fortunately he remembered me from when he was working on that extradition case with you, Skye.”

“I just had to come,” Lora sighed. “I'd never ridden in a plane before.”

Hugh remembered from service days, how many of the boys had never been in a plane before the call-up. In the winged century, if they traveled it was as far as their cars would take them, no more. Most had never been on a railroad train. It was as true for the city dwellers as for the country cousins. He understood Skye's amazement, he'd felt the same reaction.

Houston was growing impatient but he covered it with the practiced smile at Lora. “Bonnie Lee actually told you about this man, this Fred?”

“Oh yes. She told me about all her boy friends. She was terribly popular. Probably she was the most popular girl at school.”

Bonnie Lee had to have someone she could talk to; girls were like that in their teens. Hugh's sisters were always rhapsodizing to friends over the phone. Lora was the safe confidante because obviously she wasn't one of the popular crowd. And just as obviously she'd never betray the secrets entrusted to her. Bonnie Lee was her ideal; it was in her voice and shining face as she remembered the girl.

“But Fred wasn't in your school?”

“Oh no. He was older.” To Lora twenty years would be old. “He was from Phoenix. But he used to come to Indio two or three times a week.”

“On business?”

“I don't know.” Young people never thought of such matters. To Lora, Fred came to Indio to see Bonnie Lee.

“Where did she first meet him?” Hugh asked.

By now she'd accepted Hugh as part of the room and she answered with recollected excitement. “It was terribly romantic. It was during the Christmas holidays when she was working at the ten-cent store, you know, to make extra money, and this gorgeous blond guy came in to buy some candy and she waited on him. It happened just like that! They took one look at each other and fell madly in love.” For the moment she'd forgotten the murder. “He was waiting for her when she finished work.” She came back to them. “That's how it started.”

A married man, picking up an easy girl. To pass the time. Not thinking then of murder.

“Did she know he was married?”

“Of course not!” Lora was indignant. “She wouldn't go with a married man.”

Houston said, “You saw him.”

“Yes, I did.”

“With Bonnie Lee?”

“Of course.”

“Did you meet him?”

“How could I? I'm not allowed to go out on dates. My family's so old-fashioned,” she interjected. “Besides, they never went where anyone might see them.”

To his motel room? The back of a car?

“It was a secret romance,” Lora dreamed.

“Why?” Ellen asked. “Did she tell you why?”

“She didn't want her father to find out she was running around with an older man. Besides, he had been cracking down on her going out school nights and Fred only came over during the week. So she had to tell Mr. Crumb she was baby-sitting, and if she and Fred had been seen around town, her father might have found out she wasn't.”

It might have been part of it, Bonnie Lee herself might have believed that the secrecy was her idea. But it wasn't hard to believe that it had been initiated by Fred.

“She lied to her father,” Houston stated.

“Yes, but she had to or she couldn't ever have seen Fred.”

“How did you get to see him?”

Lora smiled. “I knew she had a date with him that night. It was last February, the night before Washington's Birthday, just before he stopped coming to Indio. There wasn't any school next day so I stayed up reading in my room until I heard them come home. They were laughing it up, not loud enough to wake anybody who wasn't awake, but I heard them. And I looked out my window, I live just across the street, and there he was.” She sighed. “Just like she'd described him. Tall, pretty tall, and blond hair with a ducktail, and the leather jacket—”

“You'd recognize him if you saw him again?” Houston put in abruptly.

Lora's mouth drooped. “Well, I didn't see his face, only his back. On the porch.” It wasn't good enough. She knew she'd disappointed them. Hopefully she offered, “I'd know him from the back. There's a street lamp at the corner. I had a real good look at him.”

Houston helped her regain status. She might be all they'd have to link the unknown man to Bonnie Lee. “You're sure his name is Fred?”

“Oh yes. Bonnie Lee wrote his initials all over her school-books. F.O. Sometimes O.F. Of, you know, in case anyone got nosey.”

“But she never mentioned his last name?”

“No, never. But it starts with an O for sure. She was always swooning Fred O, Fred, O Fred, O Fred! She never said the last name though.”

And was this too something the man had thought up?

Lora was wound up now, pouring it out, not knowing how much of Bonnie Lee she gave away. A wild girl, the envy of the other girls at high school, the wisecracks of the dirty boys. A girl of whom Lora's parents disapproved yet pitied, remembering a half-neglected child keeping her father's house when she wasn't more than eight years, when the mother left them. A girl who got away with murder—wrong word—when her father was down-town working the night shift at the railroad. A girl who could lie her way out of anything.

“She must have been caught out sometimes,” Houston said.

“She was. She was always in trouble at home and at school. But she didn't care as long as it worked out first the way she wanted it.”

Lora was right on that. Bonnie Lee, who called herself Iris romantically, wasn't a psychopathic liar; she lied for convenience. After she'd attained what she wanted, she didn't care that the lies were discovered. It wasn't her fault she was what she was; she'd never had a chance to grow up straight. Maybe she would have been a wild kid, anyway. But maybe she wouldn't have been if a mother had been there to help her through adolescence. Men didn't have the gift of mothering. Her father must have tried but he wouldn't know how, and there'd be the job to hold, and all the problems of the household that ordinarily could be shared with a wife. If there'd been someone at home to give the child love and guidance and security. As Hugh's mother gave his sisters. If there'd been someone to talk to other than this unformed worshipping neighborhood child, someone to tell Bonnie Lee that there was a right and a wrong. Someone to say, “Wait” and “Be careful” and “Darling, don't go away yet. Be a little girl just a while longer.” Someone to care what happened to her.