Free The Expendable Man by Dorothy B. Hughes Page A

shadow of the wall. They weren’t in uniform but he knew them at once for what they were. He stopped, stood unmoving, dreading what was to come. Ellen gave him a quick, questioning look. There was no time to explain. The plainclothesmen were on either side of him.
    The large one asked, “Hugh Densmore?”
    â€œYes, I’m Hugh Densmore.”
    â€œWe’ve got some questions to ask you.”
    Hugh spoke courteously, no audible quaver in his voice. “Could they wait until I drive my friends home?”
    The guests were spilling out through the doors. They didn’t seem to notice what was happening. Perhaps they thought these men were California friends. Again he prayed secretly. God, don’t let the family come out yet. Don’t let them know.
    The big man said brusquely, “We been waiting long enough.”
    If Ellen hadn’t been there, Hugh could have questioned them as to their purpose, as an innocent man would. But she was there and he couldn’t bear that she should hear their answers. Not until he could tell her the whole story.
    He turned to her and handed her the car keys. He said, for her ears alone, “Don’t let the family know. Whatever this is, I’m sure it’s a mistake and can be cleared up easily.”
    She didn’t say anything; her eyes were enormous with wonder but not with fear.
    The big one grunted, “Let’s go.”
    Hugh continued rapidly to her, “Make up something but don’t let them know. Please. I don’t want them to worry.”
    â€œI’ll take care of it.” She sounded competent. “Call me later.”
    â€œCome on,” the other detective ordered impatiently.
    He left her then, before the two laid hands on him. Their hands were restless. They walked, one on either side of him, rounding the building, moving toward the opposite area.
    He asked, “Are you arresting me?”
    â€œWhat for? You done something?”
    â€œNo, I haven’t. I don’t understand this.”
    â€œWe just want you to answer us a few questions.”
    It was worth trying. “I have a room here.”
    â€œOne twenty-six,” the smaller man said. He had the weathered face of a cowboy.
    Hugh wondered if they’d searched his room, without benefit of warrant, while they waited for him. Even more he wondered why they’d waited this long. They must have staked out his car. But they wouldn’t have known which guest he was if they’d come into the dining room. It might have been the hotel manager who’d kept them from invading the party. Such things were bad for business.
    It was worth trying because the night was cold. If they weren’t arresting him, it would be more comfortable for them to ask their questions in a warm, lighted room rather than in a cold police car.
    He tried to phrase the idea so it would not be rejected. He wasn’t afraid of the men although the big one looked surly and the little one mean. He didn’t think they would start something without cause. In the past year there’d been too much national publicity about police brutality and the rights of all citizens.
    â€œWe could go to my room,” he suggested. “It’s over there.” But of course they knew where it was, they’d been there.
    The big one glowered, as if he’d reject the idea out of hand simply because it was Hugh’s idea. But the cowboy said, “Come on, Ringle. We might as well go inside. It’s too damn cold out here.”
    Hugh had been counting on him, the way he hunched his shoulders with his hands dug in his jacket pockets. Their rank was evidently equal, because he led off.
    As if it had been his own idea, Ringle said to Hugh, “Come on. You got your key?”
    â€œI have it.” They had to walk the long open path, past the swimming pool, to reach his room. The way was out of sight of the cars departing from the dinner. They met no guests. There