Guilty Bystander by Wade Miller

Author:Wade Miller [Miller, Wade]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4405-4056-1
Publisher: Prologue Books
Published: 1974-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Saturday, February 11, 1:15 p. m.

CLAPP studied the tri-paneled mural running the length of the north wall above them. He said, “Jean Charlot’s colors but not Charlot by a long shot. Couldn’t ask for better balance though.” The mural, its statuesquely humorous figures against a tropical background, was painted in earthy pastels.

“When did it happen, Clapp?”

Clapp brought his steely eyes down from the wall. “Mace checked into the Alhambra Arms in Long Beach last Tuesday afternoon around four P.M. His car is still in their garage. He was shot to death sometime last Tuesday evening. We don’t know where.”

“Have you told Georgia yet?”

“I think maybe she’s guessed.” Clapp frowned. “I was figuring on breaking it to her when you rolled up. Now I think I’ll let you do it.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not shoving the job off on you, Max.” He puffed out a mouthful of pipe smoke. “Well, maybe I am at that. But you’ve got something in common, at least — your son.”

Thursday looked out across the crowded restaurant. “Maybe.”

“There’s still a chance, Max.”

“It’s getting slimmer all the time. Hours count. We can’t wait for things to break. We got to make them break.” Thursday clenched his fingers slowly. “If we don’t, it’ll be Tommy who pays.”

“There’s no reason for Tommy to be killed. You know that.”

“Yeah.” Thursday nodded but his face remained grim. “But maybe the kidnapper gets scared — or figures that he’ll shut him up. That’s happened before. And Tommy may be sick, too. We got to move before any of those maybes happen.”

“If you can name anybody, I’ll put the finger on him so hard he’ll never get up. But we’ll never get anywhere striking out blind. This is a big country, Max. It stretches all the way to Yuma and Tijuana’s only twenty miles south.”

“There’s plenty of boats in the harbor, too.” Thursday frowned. “How was Mace killed? The little shotgun again?”

“No. Four .32 slugs in the chest. I’ll call Long Beach and have them open that Locker 19 in the bus depot. But there’s no doubt in my mind that whoever killed Mace waited until after he got the pearls.”

A yellow pencil protruded from a pocket in Clapp’s vest. Thursday reached over and took it. He pushed his plate and coffee cup to the center of the table, spreading a tissue napkin in front of him.

“What’s up?” Clapp wanted to know.

“Let’s see if we agree on what’s happened so far.” Thursday printed rapidly in block letters on the napkin.

Clapp watched the pencil move lightly over the white tissue. “Basically, the problem is simple. First, find your son. Second, find the kidnapper. Third, find the murderer. If it can be done in one operation — so much the better.”

“If it can be done,” Thursday grunted, still printing.

Clapp gave up trying to read the printing upside down. “The Mace killing will break in the Tribune-Sun green sheet.”

Thursday muttered, “The poor guy probably never even knew what it was all about.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Max. The kidnapper evidently thought he was as crooked as Doc Elder.

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