out with a Negro’s anti-kink solution. You wouldn’t be away a week.”
“Yes, I know,” I said. “But if they thought I was dead, they wouldn’t look very hard. Not in that way.”
It startled him. He had the drink in his hand, and now he put it down and looked at me. “All right,” he said. “Let’s have it.”
“There’s a man up there in the head of the lake where I was fishing the other day who’s wanted for murder and escape. I ran into him, thought his face was familiar, and tonight I looked him up in the files. You can verify this by looking yourself. His name is actually Lewis Farrell, but he’s going under the name of Shevlin now. He’s been on the run since 1943. Now, if I took one of the county cars tomorrow morning, drove down to the foot of the lake, rented a boat and motor, and went up the lake to arrest him and never did come out, what would be the natural conclusion after your searching parties found the abandoned boat floating around in some God-forsaken part of that swamp? Remember, this man is dangerous, and he’s wanted for murder, not petit larceny or crap-shooting.”
I could see the idea take hold of him. “By God, that sounds all right, Jack.” And then doubt began to show itself in his eyes, and he shook his head. “It’s good, all right, but it’s going to look like too much of a coincidence. Two weeks ago, or even last week, it would have worked all right. But now—”
“No,” I said. “You haven’t looked at all of it yet. I couldn’t be running from anything that’s going to happen here, because I don’t have the faintest idea anything is going to happen. Bernice is gone. Waites has never said a word because they told him not to, the letter is down there where he dropped it, and I’ve never seen it.”
“Say, you’re right!”
“Of course he’s right,” Dinah said excitedly. “Mr. Marshall, that’s good.”
Buford thought about it for a minute. “But how about this Farrell or Shevlin, or whatever his name is? If he gets caught—”
“There’s practically no chance of it,” I said, wondering just how much he was guessing now. “The man’s no fool, or he couldn’t have dodged everybody all these years. And if I get careless and let him give me the slip as I’m bringing him in, do you think he’s going to hang around for me to make a second run at him? He’ll be clear out of the country in less than a day. And then, when he reads in the papers that he’s being hunted for killing me, he will make himself scarce.”
Buford nodded his head approvingly. “You’re right about that, too. That would take care of you, all right, but how about me? So I tell them that this deputy of mine who just got himself killed was a crook, that I’m sure he was because he’s not here to defend himself, so everybody has a good laugh.”
“Yes I know,” I said. ‘There has to be more to it than your unsupported word. That can be taken care of.”
“And there’s Louise. Do you think she’s going to hold still for it? Obviously, in a setup like this, you can’t take her with you, unless you expect the grand jury to believe that she was both clairvoyant and a practical believer in suttee. So she’ll be here, yelling her head off to get on the stand and deny that you ever took anything.”
“Yes. I’m coming to that.” I leaned forward in the chair and looked at both of them, and particularly at Dinah. I didn’t know how she was going to take this. “But suppose Louise suddenly lost interest in defending my good name, if she has any anyway. Remember, she doesn’t know I turned any money over to you. All she knows is that I didn’t give it to her. Suppose it turned out that all this time I had been paying the apartment rent and buying Lincoln convertibles for a girl friend named Dinah.”
Buford put down his drink. “Well, I’ll be damned!”
But I was more interested in Dinah’s reaction. Her eyes met mine very gravely except for a flutter of humor far back in the depths, and she inclined her head. “Mr. Marshall was such a nice gentleman and I appreciate everything he did for me, and I’m sure I never had the faintest idea he was married.”
Sixteen
Buford