The Ghosts' High Noon by Carr John Dickson

Author:Carr, John Dickson [Carr, John Dickson]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781480472778
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

PART THREE:

LOVER’S QUEST

11

THIS ATTACK, IF IT could be called an attack, Clay met with guard raised and little sign of being disconcerted.

“Don’t get excited, Zack,” he replied. “It was nothing at all.”

“Nothing at all, was it? Sure of that?”

“Absolutely sure. I don’t know the fellow’s name, of course. It was just some lunatic who keeps making crank calls to talk foolishness. You never get rid of him if you encourage him by talking back. The only proper course is to hang up the receiver at once.”

Whenever Lieutenant Trowbridge’s temper had risen, they were all soon to remember, a kind of strawberry-rash blossomed in his broad face. The strawberry-rash showed plainly now. But his anger did not seem to be directed at Clay Blake.

“I was too far away to catch more than the general drift,” he admitted. “So I can’t call you a liar—not that I would, anyway—if that’s what you say it was. Never mind! Let’s see what we’ve got.”

And he answered himself.

“What we’ve got, gentlemen, is the damnedest situation I ever did hear of! I was hoping we could clear up at least part of it before I landed in the nut-house along with the rest of you. Now a crank’s phone call may not help much, one way or the other. But it does give us a jumping-off place.

“All day, it seems, all kinds of people have been making all kinds of phone calls for all kinds of reasons, including Mr. Shepley himself. It might be important, sort of, to find out just what Mr. Shepley was up to during his last hours on earth.”

“You never said a truer word, Zack! It’s of the utmost importance!”

Lieutenant Trowbridge squared himself.

“Why did he drive out here tonight? When he did drive out, hell-bent for election, no less than four people were waiting for him. Pete Laird and Pete’s tame chauffeur, at the gate of Pete’s mother’s house down the road. The other gentleman called Blake and that fair-haired young lady, at the gate of this house.

“You, sir,” he addressed Jim with some deference, “got a phone call from some impostor claiming to be Mr. Clay Blake. That was about nine-thirty tonight, I think you told me?”

“Just nine-thirty,” Jim said.

“The impostor invited you out here, seeming pretty urgent about it? He said Mr. Shepley would be coming along, too, and asked you to wait for Mr. Shepley at the gate?”

“Not exactly that, Lieutenant. I was the one who suggested waiting, and he agreed with every evidence of relief.”

“Yes, you suggested it. We’d better all remember that: you suggested it!” Briefly the headquarters detective opened his eyes wide and then narrowed them. “Now young Pete Laird…you both heard his testimony, or at least a good part of it, before I hoicked you all into the house. I’ve got Pete’s testimony here, I’ve got it in my notebook, all clear enough except when he got hysterical once or twice.

“But both you gentlemen, particularly Mr. Clay Blake, are acquainted with all the Lairds, or most of ’em.

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