“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.
Chapter 10
On Monday morning Collins was summoned to the office of the sheriff, where he found Captain Bigelow. The conference lasted forty minutes and pleased no one, especially Bigelow.
Collins and Bigelow continued the discussion in Bigelow’s office. “There’s something here that’s staring us in the face,” Bigelow said, his handsome face dour. “I feel it looking at me.”
“I’ve been over it a dozen times,” said Collins. “Our only glimmer of a case is against Kershaw. His motive? I don’t see any. Maybe he was jealous of Genneman. Jealous enough to hire Ricks to kill him? And then kill Ricks? I can’t buy it.”
“There’s the book Ricks was running. Suppose Genneman bet a wad on a long shot that came in? So that it was cheaper to kill him than pay him?”