Free The Expendable Man by Dorothy B. Hughes Page B

were the usual lighted draperies in many rooms but no one parted them to look out.
    Hugh didn’t have to direct the men through the arch to the rear, they knew the way. At the door, he took out his key, turned it, and touched the light switch just inside. He stepped back for them to precede him into the room. The small one scurried in but the big one growled, “Go on,” as if he feared that Hugh might cut and run. Or perhaps it was routine.
    If they’d been in the room before, they’d left no traces. It was unchanged. He walked ahead and turned on the table lamp. He pushed the switch on the wall heater. “The room heats up fast,” he commented. The small man’s face was peaked with cold. Hugh was thankful he had turned off the air conditioning before he went out tonight. They might have changed their minds about remaining here; they might have insisted on a warm squad room.
    He didn’t know the procedure for questioning. He didn’t know what were his rights. If you’d never been in trouble, you didn’t think of these things. Both detectives were still standing. Hugh indicated the comfortable chairs; he himself took the straight one by the desk, turning it to face the room. Ringle sat down in the big armchair, the other man remained standing close by the heater vent.
    Hugh said politely, “I’d like to know what this is all about. You’re from the police, I take it.”
    There was to be no violation of civil rights, at least not yet. Ringle took a folder from his pocket, leaned out of the chair, and held it open for Hugh to glimpse. He didn’t let go of it. “Detective Ringle,” he said. He pointed to his partner. “Detective Venner.”
    â€œAnd you want to ask me some questions.” He was calm. Now that it had happened, his nervousness had diminished. He was also thankful that he’d taken on the champagne early in the evening. Most of it had dissipated while dancing, the last vestiges in the cold walk to this room.
    â€œThat’s right. You know a girl named Bonnie Lee Crumb?”
    He shook his head slowly.
    â€œYou sure of that?”
    â€œI’ve never heard that name before in my life,” he said with honesty. Crumb—Croom? And Iris? Something beautiful in her ugly Bonnie Lee life?
    â€œWhy’d you come to Phoenix?”
    â€œMy niece is being married tomorrow. Dr. Edward Willis’ daughter.” They’d know Edward. On many cases he was called in by the Phoenix police.
    Ringle was suspicious. “You’re Doc Willis’—”
    â€œBrother-in-law. He is married to my older sister.”
    â€œWhen’d you get here?”
    â€œYesterday morning. Around eleven o’clock.”
    Ringle struck. “You come alone?”
    â€œYes.” He saw the lurking triumph on both of the faces, waiting to spring the trap; the discouragement as Hugh continued, “I gave a lift to a girl outside Blythe. She was coming to Phoenix to visit her aunt. She wasn’t with me, simply a passenger.”
    â€œHer name wasn’t Bonnie Lee Crumb?”
    â€œHer name was Iris Croom.” It was too much to hope that the detectives wouldn’t detect the Crumb-Croom similarity. “Her aunt’s name was”—he pretended to search his memory—“was Carney, Mayble Carney. She owned a beauty parlor in Phoenix, the girl said.” Let them look for her too.
    â€œDid you take her to her aunt’s house?”
    â€œNo, I let her off at the bus station downtown. She asked to be let off there.” He explained as if it had all been true. “Her aunt had expected her to come by bus and was meeting her there.”
    Ringle’s lips pursed. “This Iris Croom a white girl?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBut she let you pick her up?”
    He couldn’t get angry. And he wouldn’t tell the entire story to these two, it was too unbelievable.
    Venner piped up.