Free The Ravagers by Donald Hamilton Page A

yourself. Last night in the bushes outside the Drilling trailer, in the rain. He got lost in the dark and you called to him by name, remember?”
    The plump little man looked disconcerted. “You were there?”
    “I was there,” I said. “Unlike some people, I’m real good in the woods, if I do say so myself.”
    “And how did you learn so much about our business?”
    “When I came on the job, I was told the government had an interest in the case. And last night, when the girl was trying to pump me for information in Regina, she told me she worked for Uncle Sam. And when I picked up the phone in her motel room tonight right here in Brandon, your friend here started making a report to her, on me. I figure that puts you all in the same line of work with the same employer. In the detective business we call it deduction.” I looked at him hard. “And now I’m getting up, Chubby. Go ahead and fire that thing, if you think Washington will come back you up. I’m sure they’d love an international protest about U.S. undercover creeps shooting up people north of the border.”
    “Who’s going to protest? You, with murder on your hands?”
    I didn’t answer immediately. I got to my feet. Larry started to close in again, but again a signal from the older man stopped him. I closed the knife and dropped it into my pocket, looking at Marcus Johnston.
    “What’s this about a murder?”
    “My partner has made it pretty plain. We think you killed Elaine.”
    I said, “Ah, cut it out. Don’t give me that old routine. You come at me frothing at the mouth, throwing it at me hard and sudden, hoping you’ll catch me off balance and make me spill something. Well, this hombre doesn’t spill that easy. So now let’s talk sense. The kid killed herself, and we all know it, and we all know why. Was it her gun?” Their silence said yes. I said, “Okay, then, the only question is, are you going to leave it that way or do you have some notion of framing me for it?”
    “Why would we do that?” Johnston asked.
    I said, “Income tax men, Treasury agents, G-men, guys like you, who knows why you do anything? You might want to whitewash her for the good of the service, as they say. Maybe it’s bad publicity to have your people committing murder and suicide for personal reasons. Or you might just want to get me out of your hair.”
    “It’s not a bad idea,” he said. “I’ll give it some thought.”
    I said, “It’s a lousy idea. You leave the thing lay and you’re finished with it. It started in Regina and it ends here in Brandon.”
    Larry was staring at his partner in an indignant, incredulous way. “Why are you listening to him, Marcus? He killed her. Elaine would never have killed herself, and she wouldn’t have killed anybody else the way that was done. She’d never have used acid like that.”
    I looked at Johnston, and shook my head. “Where’d you find this one, pal? You mean he really believes this crap he’s been spouting? I thought he was just putting on an act.”
    Larry said violently, “You killed her. You were there, we know you were.”
    “Sure. I killed her. And then I picked up the phone and told you all about it. Smart me.”
    “Maybe that’s the way you were playing it smart.” The younger man turned back to his partner. “Who else had the opportunity? We know Mrs. Drilling never went near the motel. I was watching her every minute she was in town.”
    I said quickly, “But she did go into town?”
    “Well, yes, she did drive in to gas up the truck while the girl fixed dinner, but—”
    I said, “That’s a lot of work, uncoupling the pickup from the trailer, for some gas she could have got along the road in the morning. But you had your eyes on her every minute?” I studied his face. A hint of uneasiness gave me the cue, and I said, “Gas stations have restrooms as a rule. She didn’t go in?” The betraying flicker of his eyelids told me I’d scored a hit, and I went on harshly, “She