why the antagonism? “Were there any prints on those plates?” I asked.
“No,” he said curtly. “Of course not. And there wouldn’t have been any in the room, or on those jugs. You think the man who worked out that operation was a fool, or an amateur? But never mind him; let’s get back to you.”
“Why?”
“I want to know who the hell you are, and what you’re doing here. He went to all that trouble to use your plates Why?”
The message was for me,” I said. I told him about the telephone call warning me to leave, and the earlier call to her and my efforts to find the booth with the noisy fan.
He walked over in front of me. “In other words, you’re, not in town thirty minutes before you’re up to your neck in police business. You’re a trouble-maker, Chatham; I can smell you a mile off.”
“I reported it to this office,” I said. “And I was kissed off. You’re trying to slough off this acid job, too, but you can’t quite make yourself do it entirely. What’s with it? I’ve seen dirt swept under the rug before, but you don’t look quite the type for it.”
Just for an instant there was something goaded and savage in his eyes, and I thought he was going to hit me. Then he had it under control. “Nobody is being kissed off here,” he said. “And nothing is being swept under the rug. The description of that man, and his car, have gone out to all adjoining counties and to the Highway Patrol. I know where the acid came from—”
“You do?” I asked.
“Shut up,” he said, without raising his voice. “You shot off your mouth, and I’m telling you, so listen. The chances are a thousand to one he’ll never be picked up. Green Ford sedans are as common as Smiths in a raided whore house. So are men answering that description. Even together, you haven’t got much, and by now he’ll be in a different car altogether. In a place this size, he had to be from out of town. That means he was probably hired for the job, and he could be from anywhere within a thousand miles of here. The acid itself is a dead end. A truck was hijacked a few weeks ago just east of here, and one of the items on the manifest was ten gallons of sulphuric acid. I just looked it up. The hijackers were never caught, and none of the stuff’s been located. The bulk of it was paint, that could be sold anywhere. So try to come up with a lead there. That just leaves you.”
“What do you mean?”
He jabbed a forefinger at me. “You stick out of this mess like a blonde with a pet skunk, and the more I look at you the wronger you get. For some reason, it happens the very day you show up. You’ve got some cock-and-bull story about a mysterious telephone call. If you’re lying about that, you’re mixed up in it. If you’re not lying and somebody is trying to get you out of here, you’re mixed up in something else. I don’t like trouble-makers and goons that wander in here for no reason at all and seem to wind up out there at that motel. We’ve still got the stink from the last one.”
“I thought we’d get back to that,” I said. “In other words you don’t care what happens to her, or how she gets pushed around. You’ve got an unsolved murder on your hands and as far as you’re concerned she’s guilty, whether you can prove it or not. Well, you’re right about the smell around here. And it’s about time somebody found what’s causing it.”
He leaned over me with one hand on the corner of the desk. “Get this, Chatham,” he said harshly, “and get it straight the first time. I don’t know what you’re after around here, but I know you. We don’t need any meddlers, and we’ve got all the trouble we need. You make one phony move, and I’m going to land on you, and land hard. Now get out of here, and do your best to stay out.” I stood up.
“Okay. I can hear you.”
Magruder had come over, and was standing in the doorway. He stared coldly. Redfield nodded for him to let me out, and he moved to one side. “Big shot,” he said.
I ignored him, and spoke to Redfield. “I’m not stupid enough to