Trevayne Read Online Free PDF Page B

figure it out. The voice on the phone was moneyed, according to Fowler and the desk sergeant. That could mean any of thousands; narrowed somewhat because he knew the Swansons’ guest house. That is, he didn’t hesitate calling it ‘the guest house’; he didn’t describe it as a separate building or anything like that.”
    “But
why?
”
    “I don’t know. Maybe someone has it in for the Swansons;
really
in for them, a quarter of a million dollars’ worth. Or …”
    “But, Andy,” Phyllis interrupted, remembering and choosing her words carefully. “The man who called used Pam’s name. Not Jean Swanson’s.”
    “Sure. But the heroin was left on the Swansons’ property.”
    “I see.”
    “Well, I don’t,” said Trevayne, raising his glass to his lips. “It’s all guesswork. Walter’s probably right. Whoever it was was probably caught in the middle of two transactions and panicked. The girls came along; on the surface, rich, spoiled, easy scapegoats for an alibi.”
    “I can’t think like that.”
    “I can’t either, really. I’m quoting Walter.”
    The sound of an automobile could be heard in the circular driveway in front of the house.
    “It must be Steve,” said Phyllis. “I told him not to be too late.”
    “Which he is,” added Trevayne, looking at the mantel clock. “But no lectures, I promise. I liked the way he behaved himself tonight. His language left something to be desired, but he wasn’t intimidated. He might have been.”
    “I was proud of him. He was his father’s son.”
    “No, he was just calling it as he saw it. I think the word is ‘bummer.’ ”
    The front door opened, and Steven Trevayne walked in, closing it slowly, firmly behind him. He seemed disturbed.
    Phyllis Trevayne started toward her son.
    “Wait a minute, Mom. Before you come near me, I want to tell you something.… I left the Swansons’ around ten-forty-five. The cop took me downtown for my car. I drove over to Ginny’s, and we both went to the Cos Cob Tavern. We got there about eleven-thirty. I had three bottles of beer, no grass, nothing else.”
    “Why are you telling us this?” asked Phyllis.
    The tall boy stammered, unsure of himself. “We left the place about an hour ago and went out to the car. The front seat was a mess; someone had poured whiskey or wine or something all over it; the seat covers were ripped, ashtrays emptied. We figured it was a lousy joke, a really lousy joke.… I dropped off Ginny and started for home. When I got near the townline intersection, I was stopped by a police car. I wasn’t speeding or anything; no one chased me. This patrol car just flagged me down at the side of the road. I thought maybe he was stuck, I didn’tknow.… The cop came over and asked me for my license and registration, and then he smelled the inside and told me to get out. I tried to explain, but he wasn’t buying any of it.”
    “Was he from the Greenwich police?”
    “I don’t know, Dad. I don’t think so; I was still in Cos Cob.”
    “Go on.”
    “He searched me; his partner went over the car like it was the French Connection. I thought they were going to haul me in. I sort of hoped they would; I was sober and everything. But they didn’t. They did something else. They took a Polaroid shot of me with my arms against the car—they made me stretch out so they could search my pockets—and then the first cop asked me where I’d come from. I told him, and he went to his patrol car and called someone. He came back and asked me if I’d hit an old man on the road about ten miles back. I said of course not. Then he tells me this old guy is in critical condition in the hospital.…”
    “What hospital? What
name?
”
    “He didn’t say.”
    “Didn’t you
ask?
”
    “No, Dad! I was scared to death. I didn’t
hit
anyone. I never even saw anyone walking on the road. Just a couple of cars.”
    “Oh, my God!” Phyllis Trevayne looked at her husband.
    “What happened then?”
    “The