“Even murder?”
“It’s quite possible.”
“Do you think he killed Alex Kane?”
“I don’t know what to think, Mr. Forbes. I—I’ve rather lost the knack of thinking for myself, this past year. If Mal isn’t here to tell me what to do, then Felix is only too eager to take over.”
Not like Lily, Barney thought. Not at all like Lil. Yet he felt a kinship to her, because of his startled first impression. He knew it was irrational to feel pity for her because of those first words of hers, but he felt sorry, nevertheless, and a quick urge filled him, impelling him to help her. Probably she didn’t want help. She had married Mal Hunter as Evelyn Smith, of Reading, Pa. A coalminer’s daughter, perhaps. It happened. There was nothing to feel sorry about. She got what she wanted.
“Have you heard from Mal since the night he disappeared?” he asked.
“No. Nothing.”
“Did he come back from Kane’s place that night?”
“Oh, yes. It was very late. Two or three o’clock in the morning. He was drunk. He—he was impatient with me because I asked him where he’d been and what he’d been doing.” Her mouth curved down. “He left me this to think about.” She touched the long silken curve of her thigh. There was a mottled bruise high up near her hip, under the fold of her sunsuit. “Do I shock you, Mr. Forbes?”
“A little,” he said.
“You may as well know for whom you are working.”
Barney nodded. “Did he say anything at all about where he was going, or why?”
“Nothing. He was in a rage. He took the plane and flew off, after finishing a bottle of liquor.”
“He was drunk? This was at night?”
“He can do anything, drunk or sober.”
“No pilot?”
“He used to have a man named Charles Danger who flew for him. But Charles was too fine and decent to take the sort of treatment that Mal inflicts upon those who work for him. Charles quit two weeks ago. There was another man. Al Greeley from Jackson, who occasionally acted as an air chauffeur, but Al—I don’t know if he was here that night or not.”
“And you haven’t heard from Mal since.”
“No.”
A bee hummed around a bottle of suntan lotion on a red-lacquered Javanese table near the lounge chair. Evelyn Hunter put her butterfly glasses back on again. The image of Lily faded from Barney’s mind. He watched the woman finger a golden sunburst of intricate design, the center a glowing red stone, on a heavy golden chain around her slender throat. It caught the light, winking and twinkling.
“Where might your husband have gone, Mrs. Hunter?” he asked.
“I couldn’t say.”
“Meaning you choose not to say?”
“I must consider his wishes in all things.”
“Do you think he’s alive?”
It startled her. “What do you mean by that?”
“According to Ferne Kane’s story, Mal killed Alex Kane. But both men have disappeared. Maybe it happened the other way around. Maybe Alex killed your husband.”
She frowned delicately, her brows delicate dark arcs over big, limpid eyes. It was obviously a new thought to her.
“It’s hard to believe that Mal might be dead.”
“But not impossible.”
She bit her lip. There was no other sign of panic, regret or desperate love. “I must think about that, Mr. Forbes. It must be considered.”
He stood up. “Then you can’t help me in any way?”
“I’m sorry. No.”
He left a few minutes later, walking through the big manorial house. He paused a moment to admire again the collection of crossbows on the wall, flanking the fireplace with its huge stone griffins. Felix Branthorpe appeared in the entrance hall. He had changed from sport clothes to a business suit of subdued Palm Beach gray. His clipped head looked alert, his whole figure carried lightly, easily, on perfectly toned muscles. He walked silently to where Barney stood.
“I’ll escort you to the gate. In case you lose your way.”
Barney looked at him. “Have you heard from your two stooges yet?”
Branthorpe’s head tilted a little to one side. He smiled. His pale eyes were cool. “You’re jumping to conclusions,” he said softly.
“You know about them, so I wouldn’t say I’d stabbed you in the dark. They invited me to take the next train back to town. It was not the first invitation I received today. I told them I regretted it, but I’m staying in Omega.”
“And?” still softly.
“You should have hired men who are professionally a bit more adept at their trade, Felix.”
The man’s neck grew red again. “You’re not wanted here, Forbes. Hasn’t that been made clear enough?”
“It’s nice to find a man so intensely devoted to the interests of his employer,” Barney said. “And so intent on guarding his employer’s property—including his wife.”
Without warning, Branthorpe swung. Barney partially blocked the blow, but the man’s strength was like that of a bull. His fist drove in like a sledge, hammering into Barney’s middle. Barney slammed against the wall, bounced off it, caught his balance, and ducked under the next swing. He came forward, and suddenly saw that Branthorpe had dropped his guard. His hands were at his sides. His head was cocked as he looked at someone beyond Barney.
He drew in a deep breath and said tightly: “Yes, Evelyn?”
“You’re a fool, Felix. Let Mr. Forbes go.”
Barney looked at her. She stood at the head of the hall, a striped cape thrown over her slender shoulders. The butterfly glasses dangled from her slim fingers. Her face was scornful. Felix Branthorpe swallowed his rage, ducked his cropped head in a nod, and walked away. Evelyn Hunter gave Barney a smile that was empty of all meaning and turned to follow her estate manager.
Barney found his own way out to the gate.
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