Three to Conquer Read online

  "He won't be along — ever," said Harper.

  "What d'you mean?"

  "Some hoodlum shot him down around four. He's dead."

  "Lord!" said the attendant, going pale.

  "You'll have the police here asking similar questions, sooner or later." Harper gazed up the road. "Know of any place on his patrol where Alderson was in the habit of stopping?"

  "He'd often grab a coffee at the Star Café."

  "Where's that?"

  "Four miles along, on the crossroads."

  "Thanks."

  He pulled out, drove fast. Two miles farther on, he came to another filling station, this time on his own side of the road. Turning in, he put the same questions.

  "Sure I saw him," said a laconic, sandy-haired youth. "Didn't notice the time but it must have been about three hours back."

  "Was he chasing somebody?"

  The other considered this and said, "Yes, now that I come to think of it, maybe he was."

  "What happened?"

  "One of those low-slung green Thunderbugs went past in a hell of a hurry, and Bob came half a mile behind — like he'd no time to waste, either."

  "But you aren't positive that he was pursuing the Thunder-bug?"

  "I didn't think so at the time. Most of the stuff on this road moves good and fast — but now that you mention it, I guess he may have been after that car."

  "Did you notice who was in it?"

  "Can't say that I did."

  "Did anyone else see this? Was anyone with you at the time?"

  "No."

  Harper thanked him and pushed on. So far, he'd gained one item: a green Thunderbug. He didn't congratulate himself on that; the police would find it themselves before the night was through. He was one jump ahead of them solely because he was concentrating on one specific line of search, while they were coping with a hundred. Harper had great respect for the police.

  * * *

  At the Star Café, a pert waitress reported that Alderson had eaten a meal there and left about one-thirty. Yes, he'd been by himself. No, he hadn't shown particular interest in any other customers or departed coincidentally with anyone else. No, she hadn't seen a tall, blond fellow with a green Thunderbug.

  One of the other girls had seen Alderson go up the left-hand crossroad.

  Harper took that road and kept the accelerator pedal well down. Fifteen minutes later he found a tavern keeper who had seen Car Seventeen. Yes, he had thought at the time that Alderson was after someone, probably a kid in a hot-rod.

  Seven miles farther on, Harper struck another filling station. An elderly man came out and handed him news worth having.

  "Shortly after three, a Thunderbug hauled up to the pumps for ten gallons of alk. There were three fellows and a girl in it. The girl was sitting in the back with one of the fellows. She kept giving me sort of appealing looks; I had an idea that she wanted to scream, but didn't dare."

  "What did you do about it?"

  "Nothing, at that moment. I was by myself and I'm not as young as I used to be. Those three could have bounced me on my head until my brains fell out."

  "So what then?"

  "They paid and pushed off; as soon as they'd got up a bit of speed, I skipped into the road for a look at their plates."

  "Did you get the number?" asked Harper.

  "No. I waited a mite too long. I hadn't my glasses on, and the figures were too fuzzy to read." The oldster frowned, regretting the lost opportunity. "Couple of minutes later a prowl car came along. I flagged it down and told the trooper about this girl. He said he'd look into the matter, and went after the Thunderbug at a good clip." His rheumy eyes quested hopefully. "Did he latch on to something?"

  "Yes — a coffin."

  "Good God!" The oldster was visibly shaken. "And I sent him after them."

  "It isn't your fault, Pop, you did the best thing in the circumstances." Harper waited a minute for the other to recover, then asked, "Did those fellows say anything to indicate where they'd come from or where they were going?"

  "They spoke exactly one word and no more. The big blond one dropped his window and said, 'Ten!' I asked about oil and water, but he shook his head. The girl looked as if she'd talk plenty once she got started, but was too scared to begin."

  "What did this bunch look like? Give me as complete and detailed a description as you can manage."

  The other licked his lips and said, "The blond one was doing the driving. He was a husky guy in his late twenties-yellow hair, blue eyes, strong chin, clean-shaven, good looking and intelligent. You'd have called him a nice kind of fellow, if his eyes hadn't been meaner than a snake's."

  "No facial scars or other identifying marks?"

  "Not that I noticed. Tell you what, though — he was pale. So were the other two guys. You know, whitish — the way they get when they've been bottled up quite a piece." He gave Harper a significant glance.

  Harper nodded. "As if they've just come out of jail. They've escaped or been paroled — more likely the former, by the way they were acting."

  "That's how it looks to me."

  "Had they been hitting the bottle?" inquired Harper, sensing a possible lead at wherever the stuff had been bought.

  "Far as I could tell they were cold sober."

  "What else can you add?"

  "The fellow sitting alongside the driver was another husky, about the same age: Black hair, gray eyes, clean-shaven. He was just as pale-faced, just as mean-looking. I never got a proper look at the third one in the back."

  "How about the girl?"

  "Around twenty or twenty-one — brown eyes, brown hair, a bit on the plump side. Attractive, without being a stunner. Wearing a mustard-colored coat, yellow blouse and a string of amber beads. Her hand was up by the window and she had a birthday ring with an opal in it."

  "Somebody born in October. You're doing top-notch, Pop."

  "Like I told you, I noticed that girl," said the oldster.

  "How were the fellows dressed?"

  "All the same — dark green jackets, gray shirts and collars, dark green ties. Looked almost as if they wore uniforms, with buttons and insignia removed. Never seen anyone wearing that sort of rigout. Have you?"

  "No," admitted Harper. "It doesn't resemble prison garb, either." He continued his cross-examination a few more minutes, then finished with, "Have you a telephone here?"

  "Sure. Come round the back."

  * * *

  The voice in the earpiece growled, "State police barracks. Captain Ledsom."

  "My lucky day," remarked Harper, unconsciously confirming theories at the other end. "You're the very man I want."

  "Who's speaking?"

  "Harper. Remember me?"

  "Ah, so you've thought up something you forgot to tell us?"

  "I gave you all I had at that time. I've since dug up a bit more."

  "Such as what?"

  "The car you want is a recent model green Thunderbug, carrying three fellows and a girl. I have descriptions of all but one of the men."

  Ledsom exploded, "Where the blazes did you get all this?"

  Grinning to himself, Harper told him where and how.

  "Why don't you join the cops and have done with it, instead of fooling around with germ-chivvying gadgets?" Ledsom demanded.

  "Because I'm a couple of inches too short, six inches too wide, detest discipline and want to go on living."

  Giving a deep grunt, Ledsom said, "I'll send a car out there right away. Maybe the boys will pick up something else. Meanwhile, you'd better give me the dirt you've collected."

  Harper recited it, finished, "Obviously there are now two leads I couldn't follow, even if I wanted. They are properly your work because you have the facilities. First, have any three fellows answering these descriptions been let out of prison or climbed the walls recently? Secondly, has any young girl answering this description been reported missing of late?"

  A tolerant chuckle sounded before Ledsom replied, "We'll tend to those, and abo
ut six more angles you've missed."

  "For example?"

  "Where did they get the clothes they're wearing, the money they're spending, the car they're using, the gun they fired?" He was quiet a moment, then continued, "We'll send out a flier that may bring us the answers. With luck, we'll learn the tab-numbers on that Thunderbug. Ten to one it's stolen."

  "I could push on along this route and perhaps learn more," said Harper. "They may have stopped for beer or a meal, and talked out of turn within somebody's hearing. But why should I bother? What do I pay taxes for? I have business of my own to do."

  "You're arguing with yourself, not with me," Ledsom pointed out. "Nobody's asking or expecting you to do anything." He hurried on with, "Of course, we really do appreciate the part you've played so far. It shows fine public spirit. Things would be easier for us if everyone were as helpful."

  Harper removed the phone from his ear, stared at it suspiciously, put it back and said, "Why can't they have visiscreens on these things in rural areas?"

  "What has that to do with anything?"

  "One could watch a guy's expression while he's plastering on the butter." He hooked the phone, turned, said to the oldster, "They're coming straight out. You'd better see if you can recall any item you may have overlooked. They'll need everything you can give them."

  Returning to his car, Harper set about his normal affairs, confident that so far as he was concerned the episode was finished.

  2. Under Suspicion

  He stopped at the next town, found a suitable hotel, booked a room for the night and took in a show during the evening. He listened to the midnight news before going to bed, but it made only brief mention of the killing.

  The stereoscopic video gave the murder a little more attention, with pictures of troopers and deputies searching the loop-road.

  Both radio and video were more interested in vagaries of the weather, sports results, the round-the-globe race, and a complicated legal battle between the government and the Lunar Development Company.

  He had a sound sleep, arose at eight, breakfasted and spent the morning at the Schultz-Masters Research Laboratories. They needed certain special micromanipulators, and displayed the flattering attitude that only Harper could make them. At one o'clock he left, with two tough technical problems solved, two more yet to be considered and a provisional order in his pocket.

  After a meal he started homeward and at three-thirty was halted by a prowl car at a point forty miles from the scene of yesterday's shooting. One of the two troopers in the car got out and came toward him.

  He watched the approach with surprised interest, because the oncomer's mind was warily broadcasting, "Maybe and maybe not; but if so, he won't get away with U this timer

  "Something wrong?" Harper asked.

  "You Wade Harper?"

  "Yes."

  "A call went out for you half an hour ago; Captain Ledsom wants to see you."

  "I saw him yesterday."

  "This is today," the trooper reminded.

  "Can I talk to him on your short-wave?"

  "He wants you in person."

  "Any idea why?"

  The other shrugged. His mind showed that he did not know the reason but viewed Harper as a major suspect, merely because he was wanted. It showed also that he and his companion were ready to cope in effective manner with any refusal.

  "Mean to say I've got to take time off and go all the way to the barracks?"

  "That's how it is. Turn her around and get going. Make it a steady pace, not too fast, and no monkey tricks. We'll be right behind."

  Feeling rather peeved, Harper did as instructed. It wasn't that he was in a great hurry — in fact, he had time to spare-but he disliked being given peremptory orders without adequate motive.

  He had been the same in this respect since he'd worn rompers. Perceptive mind resented dictatorship by nonperceptive mind. To do exactly as he was told smacked of the sighted being led around by the blind.

  Occasionally, he chided himself for his mutinous tendencies. Mental isolation, the lack of intimate contact with a mind similar to his own, could lead to feelings of superiority. Harper had no desire to be humble, but he had less inclination to be sat upon. He was a seeker of the middle way.

  Tramping unwillingly into Ledsom's office, he thumped himself into a seat that creaked, stared belligerently across the desk and read the other's viewpoint as easily as an ordinary person reads a book.

  "Well, here I am."

  Ledsom said pointedly, "We're having a tape-recording this time." Leaning sidewise, he switched on the apparatus. "Where were you the night before last?"

  "At a hotel."

  "Which one?"

  Harper told him.

  "What time did you leave there?" Ledsom inquired.

  "At nine-thirty."

  "Where did you spend the morning?''

  "At the Pest Control Station."

  "Until when?"

  "Close on one o'clock. I then had dinner."

  "Where?"

  "At the Cathay, a Chinese restaurant."

  "With whom?"

  "Nobody; I was by myself. Say, what's behind all this?" The question was pure concealment; he could watch Ledsom's brains fizzing.

  "Never mind, Mr. Harper, just answer the questions. You have nothing to fear, have you?"

  "Who hasn't? Any minute Gabriel may blow his horn."

  "You know what I mean." Ledsom eyed him, without the friendliness of yesterday. "At what time did you leave the Cathay?"

  "About two o'clock, give or take five minutes."

  "And after that?"

  "I headed for Hainesboro. I had business to do there today at the Schultz-Masters place."

  "You came this way?"

  "Of course; it's on the direct route."

  "You were passing the loop-road about when?"

  "Four o'clock."

  "Now tell me exactly what happened from that point onward."

  "Oh, Lord! I gave you the whole story yesterday. You've got it in writing."

  "I know. And now we want it again." Ledsom's mind added, "A liar needs a good memory. This is where we find contradictions in his stories, if any."

  Harper went grimly through the account for the second time while the tape-recorder purred on. It was the same in all details.

  "About that trick gun you've got," said Ledsom. "You wouldn't be in the habit of carrying a second one, such as a.32, would you?"

  "No I wouldn't."

  "There's a large, deep pond in the woods about fifty yards from where Alderson was killed. Did you notice it?"

  "I didn't enter the woods."

  "Did you know of the pond's existence?"

  "No."

  "You told us you went up that road for a certain purpose. Presumably you were balked by what you discovered. Did you achieve that purpose?"

  "I did."

  "When?"

  "After I'd called Forst on the radio."

  "You found Alderson, called the police and then went into the woods?"

  "It wasn't necessary to go into the woods, there being no ladies present."

  Ignoring that point, Ledsom went on, "At what time did you leave your hotel yesterday morning?"

  "You've asked that one before. Nine-thirty."

  "And you were all morning where?"

  "At the Pest Control Station. If you're trying to catch me in a contradiction, you're wasting time and breath. We can go on this way for a week."

  "All right," said Ledsom, changing tactics. "If you had a deal in prospect with Schultz-Masters why didn't you go there until today?"

  Harper gave a resigned sigh and said, "First, because my appointment was for today, not for yesterday. Secondly, I reached Hainesboro too late for any business calls — in fact, it was already too late when I left here."

  "That's what interests us," informed Ledsom, gazing at him steadily. "You'd been badly delayed by the time we finished with you. All the same, you took time off to hunt up four people in a T
hunderbug. Why did you do that?"

  "Alderson died in my arms; I didn't like it."

  Ledsom winced. "Is that your only reason?"

  "It's the major one."

  "What's the minor one?"

  "My day was messed up. A couple of hours one way or the other couldn't make any difference."

  "No other motives whatsoever?"

  "One," admitted Harper.

  "Name it."

  "I got some personal satisfaction out of finding a trace on the killers myself."

  "If they were the killers," commented Ledsom. He switched off the recorder, meditated a minute, and continued, "Up to a couple of hours ago I didn't doubt it; now I'm not so sure." He kept his full attention on his listener, watching for reactions. "We're pumping out that pond. Maybe we'll find the gun and learn who used it."

  "Meaning me?"

  "I haven't said so."

  "You're hinting at it with every muscle in your face." Harper made a gesture of disparagement. "I can't blame you in the least for suspecting anyone and everyone. I could have killed Alderson; the time, the place and the opportunity all fit in. The only things lacking are the gun and the motive. You're going to have a hell of a time tying a motive onto me. I had never seen Alderson in my life until that moment."

  "We had a senseless killing near here four years ago," answered Ledsom. "Two brothers fell out over an incredibly trivial matter. Finally the hotter-tempered of the two killed the other, and made a very clever try at concealing his guilt by distracting attention elsewhere. He almost succeeded."

  "So I followed Alderson into a lane, stopped behind him, swapped backchat. One word led to another. Being cracked, I shot him twice, threw the gun into a pond and called you to come take a look." Harper pulled a wry face. "Time I had my head examined."

  "I can't afford to overlook any possibilities," Ledsom gave back. "I've just asked you a lot of questions. Are you willing to take them again with a lie-detector?"

  "Positively not!"

  Ledsom breathed deeply and said, "You realize that we must attach a certain significance to your refusal?"

  "You can tie a couple of tin cans onto it for all I care. The polygraph is an outrageous piece of pseudo-scientific bunkum and its needle-wagglings aren't admissible as legal evidence."