“Yes,” I said, “and Campion knew what he was doing, but neither of them told the other. I believe that Campion took up with her in Mexico precisely because she was Mark’s daughter. He suspected Mark of killing his wife, and cooked up an affair with Harriet in order to get close to him. He surely wouldn’t have come back from Mexico, with an indictment hanging over him, unless he hoped to clear himself.”
“Why didn’t he ever say anything?”
“He did, last Monday afternoon, when your husband turned a shotgun on him. I failed to get the message. He hasn’t talked since then because he knew he wouldn’t be believed. Campion’s a maverick, an authority-hater, with a certain pride of his own. But he’ll be talking now, and I want to be there when he spills over. You can pay my time and expenses if you like.”
“I’ll be glad to.”
“You’re a generous woman. After some of the things I said to you last night–”
She cut me short with a movement of her head. “They helped me, Mr. Archer. You were cruel at the time, but actually you were preparing me – for this.”
“I was doing more than that. I considered you a possible murder suspect.”
“I know. The point is that you don’t any more. It’s over.”
“Almost over. Campion’s testimony should wind up the case.”
“What do you suppose he will have to say?”
“He probably made the mistake of speaking out to Harriet at the lodge, accusing Mark of Dolly’s murder. She couldn’t take it; it completely destroyed her image of her father. It must have been a shock, too, to learn that Campion had been using her, that his interest in her was mainly on his dead wife’s account. They quarreled, violently. Campion got his face scratched, she was hit on the head, somehow her hat got knocked into the water. She couldn’t have been badly hurt – she was well enough to drive to Malibu – but Campion didn’t know that. Judging by his attitude the other night, he may have thought he killed her, or injured her seriously.”
“But she drove herself from Tahoe to Malibu?”
“Apparently. It took her more than twenty-four hours. She may have had her head wound attended to on the way. She reached the beach house early yesterday morning and telephoned her father. Perhaps she accused him of murder over the phone, or asked him to deny it. He left you a note to put you off the track, went to the beach house, and killed her. He carried her body down to the beach and let it go out with the tide.
“But he had killed once too often. This doll bled. It was his daughter’s blood, and it was real. He was so paralyzed he couldn’t clean up after his final murder. He sat in the back bedroom all day and all night trying to gather the strength to kill himself. Perhaps he had to talk to someone before he did. I happened to be the one.”
“I’m glad it was you, Mr. Archer. And I’m glad he didn’t kill you. Truly glad.”
She rose up in the ruins of her life and gave me her hand. I said I would be seeing her again. She didn’t deny it, even with a movement of her head.
30
CAMPION HAD BEEN MOVED to the San Mateo County jail. He still wasn’t talking. After some palaver with Captain Royal and his chief, and telephone calls to their opposite numbers in Los Angeles, I got permission to interview him alone. Royal brought him into the interrogation room and left us together, locking the steel-sheathed door behind him.
Campion stood with his back to the door. He didn’t say hello or nod his head. Bad nights had left their nightmare tracks on his face, but he still had a kind of frayed intensity. He looked at me as though I might lunge at him with a rubber hose.
“How are you, Bruce? Sit down.”
“Is that an order?”
“It’s an invitation,” I said in a mollifying tone. “Mark Blackwell has confessed your wife’s murder. Did Royal tell you?”
“He told me. It came a little late. I’m going to sue you all for false arrest.”
“That doesn’t sound like such a wise idea. You’re pretty vulnerable.”
“Then when are they going to let me out? I’ve got work to go on with.”
“You’ve got some talking to do first. If you’d leveled with the cops, you wouldn’t be here–”
“Don’t snow me. I know cops. They make patsies out of the little ones and let the big ones go.”
“You made a patsy out of yourself. Think about it.”
I left him standing and moved around the bright barred room. Campion’s eyes followed me warily. After a while he sat down at a metal table, resting his bandaged head on one hand.
I approached him and touched his shoulder. “Listen, Bruce–”
He raised both arms to protect his head.
“Relax. I’m not your enemy.”
He twisted under my hand. “Then don’t stand over me. I’ve always hated people standing over me.”
I sat down across the table from him. “I assume you’re a serious man in spite of the cop-hater nonsense. You’ve been through some rough experiences, and I respect that. You could have spared yourself some of the roughness by trusting other people.”
“Who was there to trust?”
“Me, for one. Royal can be trusted, too. He’s not a bad cop. Why didn’t you tell us the truth the night before last? You let us believe that Harriet was dead and you had drowned her.”
“You would have gone on believing it no matter what I said.”
“But you didn’t give us a chance. You didn’t give her a chance, either. You might have saved her life.”
His right fist clenched on the table. “I tried. I tried to stop her. But I can’t swim too well. She got away from me in the dark.”
“We seem to be talking past each other. When did she get away from you?”
“That night at the lake, Tuesday night I think it was. She went berserk when I told her I suspected her father of killing Dolly. She came at me clawing – I had to hit her to get her off me. It was a bad scene, and it got worse. Before I knew what she was doing, she ran out of the lodge and down to the lake. I plunged in after her, but she was already gone. I’m afraid I panicked then.”
“Is this the truth?”
His eyes came up to mine. “I swear it is. I didn’t tell you and Royal because you would have taken any such admission as a confession of guilt.” He looked at his fist; slowly it came unclenched. “I still can’t prove I didn’t knock her out and drown her.”
“You don’t have to. She didn’t drown in Tahoe. If suicide was in her mind that night, she changed her mind. Evidently she came out of the water after you’d gone.”
“Then she’s still alive!”
“She’s dead, but you didn’t kill her. Her father did. He confessed it along with his other murders before he shot himself.”
“Why in the name of God did he do that?”
“God only knows. She probably accused him to his face of murdering Dolly.”
Emotions warred across Campion’s face: incredulity and relief and self-reproach. He tried to wipe them away with his hand.
“I should never have told Harriet about her father,” he said. “I see now why I should have been honest with you. But I thought you were working for Blackwell, covering up for him.”
“We were both mistaken about each other. Do you want to straighten me out about a few other matters?”
“I suppose so. I seem to be on the truth kick.”
“You were in serious trouble during the Korean War,” I said by way of testing him. “What was it?”