He got up and went to the open door. He spat his chaw out into the dark. «I’m a man sixty-two years of age,» he said over his shoulder. «I’ve known folks to do all manner of funny things. I would say offhand that jumpin’ into a cold lake with all your clothes on, and swimmin’ hard to get down under that board, and then just dyin’ there was a funny thing to do. On the other hand, since I’m tellin’ you all my secrets and you ain’t tellin’ me nothing, I’ve had to speak to Bill a number of times for slapping his wife around when he was drunk. That ain’t goin’ to sound good to a jury. And if this here little chain come off Beryl Haines’ leg, it’s just about enough to set him in that nice new gas chamber they got up north. And you and me might as well mosey on home, son.,’
I stood up.
«And don’t go smokin’ that cigarette on the highway,» he added. «It’s contrary to the law up here.»
I put the unlit cigarette back in my pocket and stepped out into the night. Tinchfleld switched the lamp off and locked up the cabin and put the key in his pocket. «Where at are you stain’, son?»
«I’m going down to the Olympia in San Bernardino.»
«It’s a nice place, but they don’t have the climate we have up here. Too hot.»
«I like it hot,» I said.
We walked back to the road and Tinchfleld turned to the right. «My car’s up a piece towards the end of the lake. I’ll say good night to you, son.»
«Good night, Sheriff. I don’t think he murdered her.»
He was already walking off. He didn’t turn. «Well, we’ll see,» he said quietly.
I went back to the gate and climbed it and found my car and started back down the narrow road past the waterfall. At the highway I turned west towards the dam and the grade to the valley.
On the way I decided that if the citizens around Puma Lake didn’t keep Tinchfleld constable, they would be making a very bad mistake.
SIX
MELTON UPS THE ANTE
It was past ten-thirty when I got to the bottom of the grade and parked in one of the diagonal slots in front of the Hotel Olympia in San Bernardino. I pulled an overnight bag out of the back of my car and had taken about four steps with it when a bellhop in braided pants and a white shirt and black bow tie had it out of my hand.
The clerk on duty was an egg-headed man with no interest in me. I signed the register.
The hop and I rode a four-by-four elevator to the second floor and walked a couple of blocks around the corners. As we walked it got hotter and hotter. The hop unlocked a door into a boy’s-size room with one window on an airshaft.
The hop, who was tall, thin, yellow, and as cool as a slice of chicken in aspic, moved his gum around in his face, put my bag on a chair, opened the window and stood looking at me. He had eyes the color of a drink of water.
«Bring us up some ginger ale and glasses and ice,» I said.
«Us?»
«That is, if you happen to be a drinking man.»
«After eleven I reckon I might take a chance.»
«It’s now ten thirty-nine,» I said. «If I give you a dime, will you say ’I sho’ly do thank you’?»
He grinned and snapped his gum.
He went out, leaving the door open. I took off my coat and unstrapped my holster. It was wearing grooves in my hide. I removed my tie, shirt, undershirt and walked around the room in the draft from the open door. The draft smelled of hot iron. I went into the bathroom sideways — it was that kind of bathroom — doused myself with cold water and was breathing more freely, when the tall, languid hop returned with a tray. He shut the door and I brought out my bottle. He mixed a couple of drinks and we drank. The perspiration started from the back of my neck down my spine, but I felt better all the same. I sat on the bed holding my glass and looking at the hop.
«How long can you stay?»
«Doing what?»
«Remembering.»
«I ain’t a damn bit of use at it.»
«I have money to spend,» I said, «in my own peculiar way.» I took my wallet from my coat and spread bills along the bed.
«I beg yore pardon,» the hop said. «You’re a copper?»
«Private.»
«I’m interested. This likker makes my mind work.»
I gave him a dollar bill. «Try that on your mind. Can I call you Tex?»
«You done guessed it,» he drawled, tucking the bill neatly into the watch pocket of his pants.
«Where were you on Friday the twelfth of August, in the late afternoon?»
He sipped his drink and thought, shaking the ice very gently and drinking past his gum. «Here. Four-to-twelve shift,» he answered finally.
«A lady named Mrs. George Atkins, a small, slim, pretty blonde, checked in and stayed until time for the night train east. She put her car in the hotel garage and I believe it is still there. I want the lad that checked her in. That wins another dollar.» I separated it from my stake and laid it by itself on the bed.
«I sho’ly do thank you,» the hop said, grinning. He finished his drink and left the room, closing the door quietly. I finished my drink and made another. Time passed. Finally the wall telephone rang. I wedged myself into a small space between the bathroom door and the bed and answered it.
«That was Sonny. Off at eight tonight. He can be reached, I reckon.»
«How soon?»
«You want him over?»
«Yeah.»
«Half an hour, if he’s home. Another boy checked her out. A fellow we call Les. He’s here.»
«Okay. Shoot him up.»
I finished my second drink and thought well enough of it to mix a third before the ice melted. I was stirring it when the knock came, and I opened to a small, wiry, carrot-headed, green-eyed rat with a tight little girlish mouth.
«Drink?»
«Sure,» he said. He poured himself a large one and added a whisper of mixer. He put the mixture down in one swallow, tucked a cigarette between his lips and snapped a match alight while it was still coming up from his pocket. He blew smoke, fanned it with his hand, and stared at me coldly. I noticed, stitched over his pocket instead of a number, the word Captain.
«Thanks,» I said. «That will be all.»
«Huh?» His mouth twisted unpleasantly.
«Beat it.»
«I thought you wanted to see me,» he snarled.
«You’re the night bell captain?»
«Check.»
«I wanted to buy you a drink. I wanted to give you a buck. Here. Thanks for coming up.»
He took the dollar and hung there, smoke trailing from his nose, his eyes beady and mean. He turned then with a swift, tight shrug and slipped out of the room soundlessly.
Ten minutes passed, then another knock, very light. When I opened the lanky lad stood there grinning. I walked away from him and he slipped inside and came over beside the bed. He was still grinning.
«You didn’t take to Les, huh?»
«No. Is he satisfied?»
«I reckon so. You know what captains are. Have to have their cut. Maybe you better call me Les, Mr. Dalmas.»
«So you checked her out.»
«Not if Mrs. George Atkins was her name, I didn’t.»
I took the photo of Julia from my pocket and showed it to him. He looked at it carefully, for a long time. «She looked like that,» he said. «She gave me four bits, and in this little town that gets you remembered. Mrs. Howard Melton was the name. There’s been talk about her car. I guess we just don’t have much to talk about here.»