“You’re Peter Bushnell,” she said. “I’m Peggy Castle. I want to talk with you.”
She stepped past him into the apartment, turned, smiled reassuringly, and waited for him to close the door.
“Won’t you — won’t you sit down?” he said. “It’s rather late, but—”
“I wanted to talk with you about Stella,” she said.
His face showed consternation. “I–I have nothing to say.”
“Oh, yes, you have. I know some of the facts. In justice to yourself and in justice to Stella’s memory you’ll have to give me the rest of them.”
“What facts?”
“For instance, the weekend at the Seaswept Motel. You registered under your own name. Why did you do that, Pete?”
“Why not? The car’s registered in my name. Why shouldn’t I have used it?”
“Because you registered Stella as your wife.”
“Well — so what?”
“Suppose Frances found out about it?”
“How would she find out?”
“I found out about it.”
“How?”
Peggy merely smiled. She said, “Tell me about Stella, Pete.”
“Who are you anyway?”
“I’m an investigator.”
“With the police?”
“No. I represent the company Stella worked for. You don’t want Stella’s name dragged through the mud, and we don’t want it dragged through the mud. You were in love with her, weren’t you, Pete?”
He nodded. His face showed anguish.
“Now, then, let’s get down to brass tacks,” Peggy Mid. “You married Frances. Stella was going with Bill Everett. You went on weekend parties together, didn’t you?”
He said, “That was before I was married to Frances. Then Fran and I got married and — well, I found out it was a mistake before we’d been married three months.”
“Why was it a mistake, Pete?”
“Because I had been in love with Stella all the time and hadn’t realized it. You have no idea what it was like to be out with Stella. She was such good company. She never sulked, never got mad, never complained. She took everything just the way it came, and she always had such a good time that you had a good time too. She enjoyed life. She got a kick out of everything.
“Fran was just the opposite. Fran had to have things just so. When she was with a foursome she hid behind Stella’s good nature so you didn’t see her real character. After we were married and it was just the two of us — well, it showed up then.”
“What happened?”
“I wanted a divorce, and Fran wouldn’t give me one. She knew by that time I was in love with Stella and did everything she could to block us. She swore that if she couldn’t have me, Stella couldn’t.”
“So you and Frances separated, and you and Stella started living together?”
“Well, in a way. Not quite like that.”
“Why didn’t you live together all the time, Pete? Why those surreptitious weekends?”
“Stella was afraid of Fran. She didn’t want Fran to find it out, but — well, in a way we were married.”
“What do you mean?”
“We went down to Mexico and had a marriage ceremony performed.”
“When?”
“Four or five months ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police about this?”
“Well, I was trying to make up my mind. That’s what I was doing when you rang the bell. I don’t know what to do. Fran, of course, would have me right where she wanted me, but under the circumstances — I just don’t know.
“Fran can be a bearcat. She’s been married before. The man she was married to wrote me a letter. He said Fran was poison, that she wouldn’t give him a divorce, that she was a dog in the manger.”
“What did you do?”
“I hunted him out and beat him up.”
Peggy, looking at the anguished face, was thinking rapidly. There had to be an angle — there had to be!
“You knew Stella was going to have a baby?”
“Yes. Our baby. She’d only just found out herself. She told me Saturday.”
Meeting his eyes, Peggy said, “Pete, she really was your wife. Your marriage to Fran was illegal. Fran had never been divorced.”
“She told me she’d been divorced.”
“Did you check on it?”
“No, I took her word for it.”
“You were married to Stella, in Mexico. That marriage was legal. Stella was your legal wife. Now tell me about Bill Everett.”
“That crook! He ran with a gang. They all got caught on that stickup in Cofferville.”
“Had he been in touch with Stella recently?”
“Not that I know of. Not since he got out of prison.”
“You haven’t seen him?”
Pete shook his head.
“Did you know Stella had asked Don Kimberly to meet her at the Royal Pheasant?”
“No, I didn’t. She didn’t say anything.”
“Do you know where Bill Everett is?”
“No.”
“You have no idea how I could locate him?”
“No.”
“How long had he been mixed up with the gang, Pete? Was it just one slip or—”
“One slip, nothing,” Pete said. “The guy was just no good right from the start. He’d been lying to us all the time. That’s the way he was making his money — he was a member of a stickup gang. He thought he was smart, thought he was beating the law.”
“Do you know the other members of the gang?”
He shook his head. “Guess you could find out who they were from the court records. They were all caught on that service-station stickup.”
“They’d been working together for some time?”
“Apparently so,” Pete said. “I don’t know too much about it. Anyway, I’m all broken up. I can’t think good.”
Peggy said, “Try and think. Tell me everything you know about Bill.”
Pete said. “The gang used to communicate with each other by ads in the personal column of a newspaper. Bill told me that once. They’d arrange meeting places and things of that sort. That’s all I know.”
Peggy said, “Pete, I want you to do exactly what I am going to tell you.”
“What?” he asked.
“This,” she said, “is the way to clear the thing up, provided you do exactly as I tell you. I want you to go down to the morgue and claim the body of Stella Lynn. Claim the body as that of your wife. Do you understand? You’re her husband.”
“But,” he said, “our marriage — well, you know, it wasn’t—”
“How do you know it wasn’t? You have Stella’s memory to think of. Do exactly as I tell you. Go down to the morgue at once. Claim the body on the ground that you’re Stella’s husband. Don’t let anyone get you to admit that there’s even the faintest doubt in your mind about the validity of that Mexican marriage. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“Do you have any money?” she asked.
“Enough.”
“I can help—”
“No. This is on me,” he said. As he pushed back his chair his manner showed the relief of one who has had a load lifted from his shoulders.
In the newspaper office Peggy consulted the back files, carefully scanning the Want Ad section.
In a paper of four days before she found the ad in the personal column:
“Fran, get in touch with me on a big deal. I can’t handle it alone, but together we can make big dough. Call Essex 4-6810 any time day or night. Bill E.”
Pieces of the jigsaw puzzle were beginning to fall into place in Peggy’s mind. The next question was whether she should pour her story into the ears of Detective Fred Nelson or get some additional evidence.
A silver dime was to determine Peggy’s next course. She called Essex 4-6810 and waited, her pulses pounding with excitement.