Caddy, drove to the Evans girl's apartment on Bellevue Place, and got the check and an address in Kenosha from her. Then you went back to the Crilton, changed clothes, and headed for Wisconsin."
She nodded.
"Where did you park the Caddy while you were changing clothes?"
"On Ohio Street. There was a space around the corner from the hotel, so" —she shrugged— "I parked it there."
"You weren't told to park it there?"
"Don't be stupid. How would anybody know there'd be a vacant—"
"Okay, okay!" I interrupted. "I'm just trying to figure the play. The body sure as hell wasn't in the back of the car while it was being worked on in the garage. So it was stashed there after you got it from the garage, and, judging by what you've told me, they only had one opportunity to do the job—and that was while you, Giselle, were in the Evans girl's apartment."
Her lips formed a silent O of shocked comprehension. "You mean-!"
"Exactly. I think Richmond's being out of town was merely an alibi, strictly for the purpose of getting you to chauffeur the Caddy to a place where the body could be safely loaded into it. In fact, I'll give you eight-to-five that Richmond doesn't have a sister and, if he has, that she doesn't live in Kenosha."
"But—"
"Listen, honey." I leaned forward and squeezed her shoulder, stopping the flood of questions which I knew were beginning to brim in her mind. "The Caddy was hot and Richmond must have known it. It didn't cost him much to abandon it, just the seven-fifty he paid you—not much of a fee for driving a dead body across a state line and ditching it for him. Hell, you took all the risk. Figure it out yourself. Even if you were spotted and trailed, the backtrack to Richmond was obscured because your contacts were the bartender and the Evans girl. If necessary, he was alibied for the whole deal. He could wash you off simply by swearing that your story had been cooked up out of thin air. Do you see what I'm driving at?"
A muscle in her jaw did a nervous do-se-do. "B-but Ginny knows it's true. She's a friend of mine. She'll tell them that Richmond gave her the check and—"
"Sure," I snapped, "Ginny's your friend—but Richmond's got dough, hasn't he? Is she such a good friend that she won't listen to the whisper of money?"
Her head jerked as though I'd punched her in a vital area. "She wouldn't lie! She wouldn't dare! I'd... I'd..." Her voice faltered wildly and scratched to a stop.
"You'd what?" I asked grimly. "What could you do? Richmond will be taking care of Richmond. And if Ginny can be bought—where does that leave you?"
Her fingers began to writhe. "What am I supposed to do?"
"I want the truth!" I snapped. "All of it!"
"I've told you-!"
"You haven't kept anything back?"
"No. Why should I? I wouldn't want to be involved in a... in a murder, would I?"
"You are involved. That's the hell of it. We're both involved." I stood up abruptly and began to pace back and forth. "I hate like hell to throw a kid like you to the cops. But the Caddy has got to be turned in. Besides needing the fee, the fact that I took possession of it is a matter of record now. So I've got to drive it in and surrender it. If it weren't for the body, the insurance company would take the car and no questions asked. But one look at that blood and everybody's going to start screaming themselves hoarse. The fact that the stiff is Eddie Sands doesn't help, either. We're liable to get it from both directions. Especially you. I hope you're used to bright lights and loud voices."
She swallowed slowly. "Couldn't we—?" Her voice broke. "C-couldn't we d-ditch it s-someplace?"
"Where? It isn't as easy as it sounds. Why do you suppose Richmond was willing to shell out so much for the job? It isn't like hiding a peanut or burying a cat." I grinned mirthlessly. "Besides, it's illegal."
Her mouth started to open, then stopped.
I heard it, too—and froze.
Through the thin board wall of the cabin, our ears had caught the sound
Kristene Perron, Joshua Simpson