“You bet I am. I—” She broke off, chagrined. “What kind of a crack is that supposed to be?”
“You said you expected to go to town with a bundle.”
“Well, I meant Alex’s life insurance.”
“I see.”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“Nobody in town seems to believe you, Ferne.”
“You’ve been talking to all those stuffy bastards in Omega,” she said hotly. “They all hate me. But you don’t have to listen to them. I could tell you plenty. I could tell them all off. But I won’t. Not until the time is right.”
Barney picked up the bottle of rye and carried it with him into the kitchen. He paid no attention to the girl’s angry protest. He found two glasses in the litter of china that filled the sink, rinsed them carefully, and carried them back to the screened porch. The girl now sat in a striped chair, her back to the lake. She had her legs crossed. One foot swung angrily.
“You make yourself at home, don’t you?”
“Why not? We’ll get along.”
“You take a lot for granted.”
He poured two drinks, handed her one, tasted his own. The rye was cheap and warm. Ferne Kane drank quickly and greedily. Yet there was a shrewdness in her narrow face, a sense of waiting. She never took her eyes off him. Wasps banged against the screens, and from far off down the lake came the sputtering and racketing of outboard motors. Then for a time there was silence and he heard the serene tinkling of the brook behind the house.
“Who are you working for, Barney?” she asked abruptly.
“Malcolm Hunter.”
It jolted her. Her drink spilled down over the thrust of her toweled breasts. Her mouth was ugly. Then she laughed, a bit uneasily. “You must be kidding!”
“No, I’m not.”
She said sharply: “Did Mal send you to make a deal?”
“What kind of a deal?”
“You know,” she said.
“You’d better tell me all about it,” Barney suggested. “Then we’ll all know where we stand.”
She considered this and she considered the bottle of rye. Deciding to hell with it, she poured herself another drink. The sun was hitting the porch now, and Barney felt its heat strike him, bouncing up off the surface of the lake in a thousand sparkling lances of light.
“It’s no secret that Mal likes me,” the girl said. “He was always hanging around here, up to last week, on some excuse or other. Alex thought it was great that Hunter was his friend. But Alex was just too stupid to see that the real reason Mal came around so much was because he couldn’t keep his hands off me.” She sounded complacent.
“How do you feel about Mal?”
“He’s rich, y’know?”
“Is that all?”
“That’s enough,” she said bluntly. “Rich.”
“And married,” Barney said.
“That never stopped him from fooling around whenever he felt like fooling.”
“What happened here the night both men disappeared?”
“Mal came over in the evening, as usual, in his launch. Had some beer in the shack down there. That’s all we’re allowed to sell—beer. It’s a town ordinance. But then he’d always come up here and pretend to talk to Alex, but all the time he kept putting his hands on me. We both knew what the score was—Mal and me, y’know? But Alex was just too dumb and blind. He thought Mal just came to talk about the war and his plane.”
“Whose plane?” Barney asked.
“Mal’s, of course. It’s gone, now, though.”
“With Mal?”
“I guess so. Anyway, he was here talking to Alex last Tuesday night, looking at me all the time, and I guess he drank a little too much. He got careless.” The blonde girl looked smug now. She pushed up her long hair, arched her body for Barney’s benefit, then slumped down again. “Alex suddenly caught on to what was happening. Alex is part Indian, like Charley Danger, over across the lake. Alex always had a terrible temper, but he never showed it like he did that night.” She paused, leaned forward, letting the towel slip. “Would you like another drink?”
“Later, Ferne. Go on, please.”
“You’re cute, you know that?” She laughed. “You think you’re kidding me? You think I’m stupid, don’t you?”
“Go on,” he said.
“Have you got a girl, Barney?”
“No.”
“Would you like me to be your girl?”
“Later,” Barney said. “We’ll take it up later.”
“You bastard. You think you’re so smart.”
“You’re Mal Hunter’s girl,” Barney said. “That’s good enough for me. What happened when your husband caught on to Mal’s interest in you?”
“They had a fight. Alex tried to kill Mal. They went fighting all over the place, smashing up the furniture, rolling down the steps, out there on the rocks.” Ferne Kane’s eyes shone with relish, remembering the scene. “They were like a couple of wild animals, y’know? I never saw anything like it.” She shivered with pleasure. “They almost killed each other, because of me. Anyway, Mal almost killed Alex. He beat him up something awful.”
“Didn’t you try to stop it?” Barney asked.
“Why should I?”
“It’s a nice question. Was anybody else here who saw them fighting?”
“No. It was late by then. There were no customers down in the shack.” She leaned forward again. Her eyes glistened with sudden greed. “Come on, Barney. Don’t keep me in suspense. What is Mal offering?”
“What would you like?” Barney asked.
“Well, after all, I saw it. He could get the chair, if I signed a statement, if I testified. He owes me plenty.”
“Tell me the rest of it, first.”
“There is no more,” she said, sulky now. “Mal left in his launch and I went down and found Alex all bloody, beaten to a pulp. I helped him in here and put him to bed. The next morning he was gone.”
“Where did he go?”
“He said he got a call for a guided party up at Moon Cove. That’s where he said he was going. But he never came back. You can guess who really called him up there. It was Mal. And Mal killed him up there.”
Barney let air out of his lungs softly. “That’s not evidence, Ferne. That doesn’t prove anything. Did you see Mal after that night, though?”
“No.”
“Have you heard from him?”
“Sure,” she grinned. “You showed up, didn’t you?”
“I have no authority to offer you anything,” Barney said.
“Then why are you here?”
He was silent. She looked at him, her gray-green eyes challenging, then puzzled. Fear dawned in them slowly. She touched her upper lip with the tip of her pink tongue. She looked at the bottle, then jerked her glance away, deciding she’d had enough. Something ugly crawled over her face.
“No money?” she whispered.
“You