But if Oliver Hurst had settled into suet and chronic worry, he also — as Tully knew — had guts. He was a fighter. Back when the town had been little more than an overgrown village dependent on the local college of the state university system, Ollie had bulldogged his way through to a first-class education and a law degree. In those years it had been an exceptional achievement for a day-laborer’s son. As the town grew, Ollie had had to make his own opportunities; no one made it easy for him. Until David Tully began to throw business his way. That marked Hurst’s breakthrough; now he handled all Tully’s legal affairs, and he was the busiest lawyer in town. He owed a great deal to Dave Tully.
Ollie took a quick look around. “Where’s the fire, Dave? Everything seems normal.”
“Drink?”
“You sound as if I’ll need it. What’s the trouble?”
Tully splashed some bourbon into a glass. “Ruth.”
“Ruth?” Hurst looked puzzled. He merely moistened his lips with the bourbon, as if some sixth sense told him he was going to need his faculties unimpaired. “What d’ye mean Ruth? What kind of trouble could Ruth be in?”
“Have you seen her last night or today? Heard from her?”
“No. You mean you don’t know where she is?”
“That’s right.”
Oliver Hurst sat down, staring at the taller man. “It’s more than that, Dave. Come on, let’s have it.”
“She’s apparently mixed up in this motel business.”
“What motel business?”
Tully was surprised. He had been so preoccupied with the affair that he had assumed it was universally known. “Haven’t you heard the newscast, Ollie?”
“No, I just got home. And you know how Norma feels about the news these days — she’ll never let me turn the thing on, can’t stand the voices of doom.” The lawyer rather deliberately set the glass down. “What is this crud about Ruth and a motel, Dave?” he asked quietly.
Tully said in a bleak voice, “And a dead man.”
Hurst stared up at him. “And a what?”
“A man named Cox. He was shot to death in the Hobby Motel last night sometime — body wasn’t found till mid-morning.”
“So? What’s that got to do with Ruth?”
“A gun registered in my name killed him — we kept it in the house here. And a woman in the room next to Cox’s says Cox had a gal in his room last night — overheard Cox call her Ruth, she says.”
After a moment Ollie Hurst took up the glass of bourbon and drank half its contents. “I see,” he said, and he set the glass down again and rose. “How did you learn all this, Dave?”
“Julian Smith told me. He was here looking for Ruth. He has a pickup on her.”
“I see,” the lawyer said again. He stood frowning, pinching his lips, rubbing his nose, staring at the floor. Finally he looked up. “I don’t believe it, Dave. There’s something wrong somewhere. It’s got to be a mistake.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself.”
“Good God, man, you sound as if you doubt her!”
“Do I?” Tully said.
“Not Ruth, Dave. You ought to know that better than anyone in the world. I can imagine what a shock this is to you, but so-called facts can often be terribly misleading. I’d stake a good deal on Ruth’s integrity.”
“Then how do you explain those facts?”
“I don’t — not yet. But even if Ruth was there last night, there are a dozen possible innocent explanations. Certainly she didn’t kill the guy — I can’t see Ruth killing a flea, let alone a human being. Who was he, do you know?”
“Who was who?”
“This fellow Cox.”
“I haven’t any idea,” Tully said tiredly. “Julian had me take a look at him over at the funeral parlor. I never saw him before.”
Hurst began to walk around the room, deep in thought. “Dave,” he said, stopping. “You have no idea where Ruth is? You found no note, no message?”
“No.”
“Have you tried calling around?”
“No!” Tully was astounded at the violence of his own tone. “The last thing I want to do is spread this. Julian promised to keep Ruth’s name out of the papers as long as he could. It’s true somebody leaked a hint to that damn newscaster, but he’s still not naming names. Ollie, I thought I knew her, I thought I knew her!”
“You did. You do.”
“Do I? How long did I actually know her before we got married? I don’t know a thing about her past. She never talked about it. She could have been a call girl somewhere for all I know.”
“That’s a fine thing to say about your own wife, Dave! I’m surprised at you — I really am.”
“Are you?” Tully heard himself shouting. “What the hell would you know about it? Your wife was never reported in a lousy motel room with a creep — your wife never had a murder charge hanging over her head!”
Ollie Hurst said mildly, “Go ahead, take it out on me if it makes you feel any better.”
“I don’t know what I called you for! Fat lot of help you are!”
“Here, Dave. Drink this.”
It was three fingers of Scotch. Tully started to take it mechanically, but then he shook his head. “I’ve already tried that. I’m sorry, Ollie, I don’t know what’s happening to me. A couple of hours ago I was living in a solid world, solid business, solid house, in love with a solid wife. All of a sudden everything’s turned to jelly — I can’t hold on to any of it! I don’t know what to think, where to turn, what to do...”
“You want me to get a lawyer?”
“A lawyer? What do I need a lawyer for? You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”
“This is a criminal case. Actually, I don’t think you need a criminal lawyer yet, not till Ruth turns up, anyway. But I’ll inquire around and have one on tap. The best way I can help right now is to try to locate Ruth. I could ask around discreetly—”
“No,” Tully said in a strained voice. “I’m sorry I even dragged you into this. You’d better get back to Norma and that dinner party of yours. She’ll be climbing the walls.”
“Wait till I finish my drink before you kick me out, will you?” Ollie Hurst said amiably. He sat down and picked up the glass of bourbon. “Look, Dave, I don’t pretend to know much about women. I’ve got my hands full just keeping poor old Norma going. And I certainly don’t know anything about Ruth that you don’t know. But maybe I can see her more objectively. That wife of yours is something special — and I don’t give a damn if she was a call girl, which you and I both know she wasn’t! The way she’s helped Norma, the way she looks at you when she thinks nobody’s watching, her honesty and frankness and kindness to others... Your wife is a lady, Dave, in the only meaningful sense of the word, and if I were to find out different I’d burn my lawbooks and take a job on the county roads. And that’s my speech for tonight.”
He finished his drink and got to his feet. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to tell Norma. Though how I’m going to break the news to her...” Hurst sighed and turned to go. “Problems, problems, hey, Dave? But we’ve got to manage. There’s no other choice. Keep in touch, will you? Especially if there’s any news about Ruth.”
“Good night,” Tully muttered.
Was Ollie’s judgment right? Except where his own emotions were involved, Ollie knew a lot about women, in spite of his disclaimer. But then why had Sandra Jean insinuated...?
The house, filled with silence, suddenly made itself known to him. Tully found himself looking around, like a child imagining monsters in the next room.
He jumped up. He couldn’t stay here doing nothing. There was that woman at the Hobby Motel, his feeling that something was wrong with her story...