Red Kershaw glanced sidewise at Collins. “Nothing particular. I was going out for some chow mein.”
“Could you spare me an hour or two?”
“I suppose so,” Kershaw said unhappily. “What did you have in mind?”
“A short ride. I’ll point out somebody for you, to see if you can make an identification.”
“Who is it? I’ve got a few ex-wives I don’t particularly care to run into.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. We can go to City Hall and you could make the identification from a line-up.”
“That’s unnecessary. Let’s get it over with.”
In the car Red Kershaw asked again, “Who is it you want me to identify, anyway?”
“I’d prefer you not to have any preconceptions, Mr. Kershaw.”
Kershaw slumped sulkily into his seat. As Collins drove south he began to fidget, and when the car turned into Latham Boulevard he sat swiftly upright, started to say something, then held his tongue.
The sun had dropped behind the concrete walls of the new shopping center when Collins pulled up before Smoky Joe’s.
“You wait here,” said Collins. “I’ll come out with the person I want you to identify. You take a good close look. I want you to be sure.”
Kershaw nodded glumly. “Whatever you say.”
Collins went into the Down Home Cabaret. From the shadowed interior he watched Red Kershaw for a moment. Kershaw was just sitting there.
Collins spied Molly Wilkerson working her station across the room. He moved out to where she could see him, and signaled. She hesitated, then stalked across the room. “I can’t talk to you now.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Wilkerson, this is police business.”
Molly tried to cow Collins with a glare. Collins bore the glare with fortitude. She bit her lip. “Well — I’ve got two orders to get out, then I’ll be with you. What do you want?”
“There’s a man outside I’d like you to meet. After we talk a bit, I want you to tell me confidentially what you know about him.”
“Who is he?” But Collins was silent, and she shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “Just a minute and I’ll be with you.”
Collins went to the door to make sure Kershaw had not decamped. But Kershaw sat in the same position, looking down at his knees.
Molly joined him. She said haughtily, “Let’s get this over with.”
Collins took her out to the car. Kershaw immediately looked at him with the expression of a dog whose master has just stepped on his paw. Molly took one look, gave a sort of whinny, glared at Collins, and began to spread her claws.
“In the car, Mrs. Wilkerson.” Collins held open the rear door. She ungraciously got in. He climbed into the front beside Kershaw, and swung about so that he could watch both.
Kershaw said mournfully, “I thought we agreed to leave my ex-wives out of this.”
Collins grinned. “Mrs. Wilkerson is your ex-wife? I didn’t know that.”
“My second, or was it my third? I forget now. It’s something I don’t like to remember.”
Molly said something impolite under her breath.
“Well, now that I know you two know each other,” said Collins brightly, “let’s talk about Steve Ricks.”
“Steve Ricks?” Kershaw studied the ceiling of the car.
“The Steve Ricks whose name didn’t ring a bell back at your apartment. The Steve Ricks you met here two weeks ago.”
“Oh, that Steve Ricks. Why didn’t you say so?”
“I couldn’t have made it any clearer. I could pull you in right now, Kershaw, on a charge of trying to withhold information—”
“There’s a whole lot of Steve Rickses,” Kershaw muttered defensively.
“I’m talking about the dead Steve Ricks.”
“Don’t say a word!” shrilled Molly. “He can’t make you talk if you don’t want to!”
“Shut up,” said Red. “I haven’t done anything. Why shouldn’t I talk?”
“You were willing to pay Mrs. Wilkerson to keep your name out of it,” said Collins.
“A measly five bucks!” sniffed Molly. Then she glared at Collins. “How did you know?”
“Woman, time and again I told you I didn’t send you no five bucks. I wasn’t going to send you anything.”
Collins asked Molly, “Do you still have that five?”
“I certainly do. I’m going to frame it. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I wrote that letter, and I put in the five to get you sore at Mr. Kershaw. By the way, I want the five back; it’s official money.”
Molly shook her head mulishly. “It’s mine and I’m going to keep it.”
Collins laughed. “How would you like to go to jail for attempted blackmail, conspiring to obstruct justice, and being accessory to murder? Besides, it’s a marked bill.”
Molly promptly dug into her hip pocket and produced the five dollar bill. “And you know what you can do with it!” She started to leave the car.
“Just a minute,” said Collins, “I’m not through with you.” He turned to Kershaw. “What’s your connection with Steve Ricks?”
Kershaw gloomily nodded toward Molly. “That’s the connection.”
“Your ex-wife introduced you?”
“That’s right. Steve was a small-time bookie. He never did very much or very good, but — well, he and I were able to do favors for each other on occasion.”
“Such as?”
Kershaw fidgeted.
Molly laughed. “What he means is that once in a while he’d know when a horse was set for a certain race, and he’d belly up to Steve and they’d make a few lousy bucks together and they’d rejoice like they were real big shots. And there’s some other deals I could mention connected with the races at the county fair, when Red was hired as track steward and Steve collected for the saliva tests. Oh, there was some wonderful things that went on. I could write a book.”
“Don’t pay any attention to her!” Red told Collins anxiously. “This dame’s name is poison.”
‘“So you and Steve had business dealings,” mused Collins. “Did Earl Genneman know Steve?”
“Earl? Hell, no.”
“How do you explain the fact that Ricks followed you all into the mountains, camped at Persimmon Lake, and quite possibly shot Genneman?”
Red Kershaw gaped as if he suspected Collins of losing his reason. “What are you saying?”
“There’s pretty good proof of that.”
Kershaw shook his head. “I can’t believe it.”
“You mean you didn’t know he was following you?”
“Absolutely not!”
“That’s hard to believe, Kershaw.”
“I can’t help it. Those are the facts.”
“How come you didn’t recognize him at his camp?”
“It was a good way across the meadow. Cripes, I hardly looked at the man. He was just a spot in front of a fire.”
“Why should he want to shoot Earl Genneman?”
“Never in a thousand years. Steve was the biggest chicken alive. He could no more shoot a man’s head off with a shotgun than fly.”
Molly laughed shortly. “Even I’d agree to that. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Inspector.”
“Why else did Steve Ricks go up into the mountains?”
“It beats me,” said Kershaw.
“Did you tell Steve you were going camping?”
“No, sir, I did not.”
“Pah!” spat Molly. “How would you know? You were so drunk you don’t know what you said.”
“Well, that’s true enough,” Kershaw said weakly. “But if I said something like that while I was drunk, he’d never have believed it. So it amounts to the same thing.”
“How come you were so nervous about your connection with Ricks?”
“I’d hardly call it nervousness,” said Kershaw nervously.
“You agreed to pay Molly to keep your name out of the investigation.”
“I only told her that to get her fangs out of my neck.”
“You son of a bitch,” said Molly.
“I figured Steve was dead. I knew I didn’t have anything to do with it, and I didn’t want to get mixed up in it.”
“Well, let’s have some facts. You last saw Steve Ricks when?”
“About two weeks ago, in Smoky Joe’s.”
“Did you arrange the meeting? Did you have business to talk over?”
“No, it was just chance. He was there and I was there. So we got talking and had a few drinks.”
“What did you talk about?”
“How would he remember?” sneered Molly. “He didn’t know up from down before the evening was through.”
“I must say I overindulged a bit,” said Red. “In fact, Steve had to drive me home.”
Molly spat, “Steve never drove you home! He rode with you, but I wouldn’t let him drive.”
“What did you have to say about it?”
“Because it was my car. I didn’t want it cracked up, the condition you two were in.”
“Where was his own car?” Collins asked. They were talking beautifully.
“He left it at my house,” snapped Molly. “If you have to know.”
“That’s funny,” said Red. “All the time I thought Steve took me home. How did I get home?”
“We wanted to send you home in a cab, only you didn’t have any money in your wallet. We saw a card which said ‘In case of accident notify Opal Genneman’ at such and such a telephone number. Steve said to me, ‘He’s sure had an accident, an alcoholic accident.’ So he phoned your sister.”
Red Kershaw clutched his head. “Oh, God. That means Bad News himself came down and picked me up. I remember vaguely somebody taking me home. But why didn’t I hear about it the next day? Earl wasn’t a man to be charitable in cases like this. Are you sure it was Earl picked me up?”
“What difference does it make?” Molly reached for the door handle. “I’ve got to get back to my tables.”
“It makes a big difference,” said Collins. “Somebody killed Earl Genneman and somebody killed Steve Ricks.”
Molly slowly withdrew her hand from the handle. “You mean that whoever drove Red home...”
Collins felt a sense of here we go again.
“Who came from the Genneman house to take Red Kershaw home?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Molly. “I didn’t stay to find out.”
“I thought Steve left his car at your house.”
“I didn’t want him coming home with me. He was almost as drunk as Redwall.”
“You didn’t wait to see if I was going to get home?” asked Red incredulously.
“That’s right. And furthermore I didn’t give a damn. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to go back inside. I’ll be fired.”
“Go ahead,” said Collins wearily.
Molly jumped out and stamped back into the cabaret.
“There goes Hard-hearted Hannah,” mourned Kershaw. “I was what you’d call a callow youth when I ran into her. Though she wasn’t so mean then as she is now. You’d never guess why she divorced me.”
“Why?”
“People would ask her name and she’d say ‘Mrs. Kershaw.’ They’d right off say ‘Gesundheit!’ and laugh fit to die. It got on her nerves. It’s never bothered me any.”
Collins grunted. “The fact remains that Genneman was murdered, and Ricks was murdered, and so far as I know you’re the only connection between the two men. You’ve got to figure in this business, Kershaw.”
“No, sir!” exclaimed Red, aghast. “You’re wrong! I’d never raise a hand against anybody. Steve Ricks might have been chicken, but he was Richard the Lion-Hearted compared to me!”
“I didn’t accuse you of murder,” said Collins, “I said you were involved. The question is — how? Who else among Earl Genneman’s friends knew Ricks?”
“Nobody I know of. But I see what you mean. It’s a real mystery.”
“It certainly is.” Collins stepped out of the car. “I’ve got to make a phone call.”
He went to the booth and dialed the Genneman residence. Opal Genneman answered. She sounded listless.
“Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Genneman, but I’m still gathering information.”
“I don’t mind, Inspector.”
“I want you to think back to the night of June 6 — the Saturday before the pack-trip. Did you receive a telephone call from anyone asking for a ride home? This would be quite late that night.”
“I don’t follow you,” said Opal Genneman. “What night are you talking about again?”
“Saturday night. Or, more accurately, Sunday morning at about two a.m. Did you get a phone call around that time?”
“Let me think... No, I’m sure not. Earl and I didn’t get home till quite late. What kind of call would this be?”
“From your brother, wanting a ride home. He was too drunk to drive. We’re trying to find out how he got home.”
Opal Genneman’s voice became hostile. “I can’t see how this is relevant to your investigation—”
“Believe me, Mrs. Genneman, it is.”
“—but in any case neither Earl nor I went out for Redwall.”
“What of Jean, or Earl Junior?”
“Jean was at Palo Alto, and Little Earl has no license — in fact, he doesn’t drive.”
Collins was surprised. “He doesn’t drive at all?”
Opal seemed confused, or perhaps embarrassed. “He’s only sixteen.”
“Strange,” said Collins. “Most sixteen-year-olds know how to drive.”
“Not little Earl.”
“And Jean was at Palo Alto?”
“Yes, at her sorority.”
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Genneman.”
Collins returned to the car. “No one at the Genneman house took you home. It must have been someone else.”
“I can’t figure it. Steve probably put me in a cab...”
Collins was abysmally dissatisfied. “Think,” he urged Kershaw. “How could Steve get to know Earl Genneman? Had he ever visited you at the Genneman house?”
“Believe me, Inspector, no such connection existed. Steve Ricks never even knew I was related to Earl, and Earl never knew I associated with a guitar player. It’s as simple as that.”
“Why would Steve want to follow you or Earl into the mountains?”
“I can’t imagine.”
This was the best Collins could do. Somewhere the linkage existed — at some point, the lives of Steve Ricks and Earl Genneman touched each other. The closest approach seemed to have been the early morning hours of Sunday, June 7, when Ricks might have telephoned the Genneman house. And Collins could not rid himself of the feeling that Molly Wilkerson knew perfectly well who had called for Red Kershaw.
He started the car, took Kershaw back to his apartment, then returned to Fresno.