The Case of the Backward Mule. Erle Stanley Gardner
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could guess it as around 100,000 bucks,” Nevis said. “And his investment was exactly ten grand. That, of course, is a coincidence. It might be a good one for you. But Horace told me that Cynthia’s money went into the oil deal. He told George the same thing, and it’s in writing. I don’t think you can beat that. We don’t care who gets his share.”
“Thank you,” Clane said, shaking hands. “I wanted to get the facts first-hand. If Horace signed those statements, I guess that’s all there is to it. Cynthia wants cash to pay for Harold’s lawyers and to finance his appeal. I wanted to get the low-down here.”
Nevis said, “I, for one, am mighty glad you’re back, Clane. Anything I can do to help you get settled?”
“Not a thing,” Clane told him.
“Well, if I can...You know, anything, just let me know.”
Clane thanked him and walked out.
CHAPTER FIVE
AS CASUALLY as though he hadn’t heard that Cynthia Renton was not to be round in her apartment, Terry Clane directed a taxi to her apartment and rang the bell. When he turned away after receiving no answer, he was conscious of the car which had pulled up to the curb. There were two men sitting in that car. The one on the right-hand side opened the door.
“Hi, Buddy.”
“Good evening,” Clane said.
“Looking for someone?
“Yes.
“She ain’t there.
“Apparently not.”
“Guess we’d sorta better check up on you. Name maybe, and perhaps a driving license and a social security card. You know, just a routine check-up.”
“How would a passport do?” Clane asked.
The officer frowned. “Well, now, I guess that’s all right.”
Clane produced a passport. The officer made notes. “You been in China?”
“That’s right.”
“When did you get back?”
“About three hours ago.”
“Oh, oh, and came right here?”
“Not directly here, no.”
“Where ya been?”
“At police headquarters.”
“Huh?”
“That’s right.”
“How’d you happen to go there?”
“I was escorted.”
“By whom?”
“Detectives who met me at the boat.” The officer grinned. “Okay,” he said. “On your way.” Terry Clane found Alma Renton, Cynthia’s sister, in her studio apartment. She opened the door to his knock, took a quick backward step as though to get him at proper perspective. Then with a glad cry she flung herself into his arms. “Terry, oh, Terry!” she sighed.
She gave him tremulous lips, her eyes fluttered shut. For a moment she relaxed. Then she was laughing half hysterically. “Oh, how I’ve been waiting for you, Terry,” she said. “I didn’t dare to meet the boat. Detectives were there. The most terrible things have been happening...”
“I know,” Clane said.
“The officers are absolutely furious. If they could get Edward Harold, I think...gosh, Terry, I think they’d kill him. Do they do that sometimes? You know, claim a man was resisting arrest?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Clane said, and then added reassuringly, “and I doubt if anyone else would. You probably hear lots of rumors, but you can take them with a whole barrel of salt.”
“Apparently an escape was the last thing on earth they were looking for. It’s made the police seem inefficient and exposed them to a lot of censure. They’re absolutely furious. It’s a deadly cold fury. They’re leaving no stone unturned. I’m scared.”
“Who engineered the escape?” Terry asked. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Cynthia and a friend of Ed Harold’s, a man named Bill Hendrum. You don’t know him. He’s one of these barrel-chested he-men who believe in direct action. It was a crazy thing to do and I’m just sick over Cynthia. They’ll catch her, of course, eventually-and when they do, they’ll throw the book at her. The officers told me that. They said I could tell her in case she communicated with me. They’re absolutely furious. And they said orders were out to get Ed Harold alive or dead. Oh, Terry, I’m just limp with fright. You know Cynthia. Her idea of loyalty and all that. She told me she’d kill herself the day they executed Harold, a sort of protest to society. She isn’t...oh, Terry, why couldn’t you have got here sooner!”
“I did the best I could. I tried for a plane, but they red-taped me to a steamer, and if I’d missed that they’d never have let me go. You see, there were some things they wanted me to check on en route. It was that or nothing. You’ve heard from Cynthia?”
“Not a word. Of course, Terry, I’m hoping she’s playing it smart, that she’ll either show up with an alibi, or else just sit tight and let them try to prove it on her. But I’m afraid she and Ed have gone away to hide as long as they can and then shoot it out with the officers.
“There’s nothing one can do except go on living the same as though nothing had happened. They’re shadowing every move I make. They’ll be following you, too, I guess.”
“Well, the best thing we can do is pretend to carry on our regular routine. How about dinner?”
“It’s a date. How soon?”
“Soon. I’ve been thinking of a good thick steak with baked potatoes and lots of butter ever since we left Hong Kong.”
“Did you stop in Honolulu?”
“No, we came right through.”
She said, “I wrote you care of the boat in Honolulu. I didn’t know whether it would stop or not. I guess you didn’t get my letter.”
“No.”
“Did you know anything about...about the escape before you arrived?”
“No. The police broke the news to me. Did that give you a lie-detector test, Alma?”
“Heavens, no.”
“They may do it,” he said.
“My gosh, Terry, would I betray myself...?”
“Probably,” Clane said. “I’ll give you a recipe for making it a little bit difficult for them to evaluate the readings.”
“Don’t you want a drink, Terry? I’ll have to put on a little war-paint. It’ll take me two or three minutes and I can fix you one as easily as not.”
“No, we’ll have a cocktail at the cafe,” Clane said. I’ll look around while you get fixed up.”
He moved slowly around the studio, studying some of the finished and unfinished paintings. When she joined him some five minutes later, he said simply, “You’ve improved in your work, Alma.”
“Thanks.”
“Your technique always has been good. Now you’re getting a depth, a certain sweep of power into your work. It’s hard to define.”
She said simply, “It comes through suffering.”
“Suffering?”
“Yes. I’ve found that out. Suffering is a large part of life, and you can’t understand life until you’ve suffered. I keep thinking of that figure on the mule and the story you told me about it.”
“Do we ride or walk?”