“Oh! Oh, for God’s sake, yes. Of course. Forgive me, please. I’m not good on names. Especially at that time…well, I was in something of a fog. I’m afraid nothing made a very clear impression on me.”
“What kind of a fog?”
“My wife and I were having trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Personal trouble. We thought we might split up.”
“Have you?”
“No. We’ve worked it out. Everything is fine now.”
“About Kettering. When did he leave Kukabonga?”
“Early one morning, I forget which day it was. He said he wanted to do a little shooting before hitting the road. He had his breakfast, and then left.”
“Anybody go with him?”
“No, he went alone.”
“Then what?”
“Well, we had our breakfast, and then we went out.”
“Who?”
“Me and the two other fellows who were there. I don’t remember their names.”
“There were
“Kramer, you mean? Yes, he was the third fellow. But he didn’t come with us that morning.”
“Why not?”
“I’d had an argument with him the day before.”
“What about?”
“Clams.”
“You remember Kramer’s name, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because we had the argument.”
“Did you see anything about him in the papers recently?”
“No. Why?”
“He’s dead.”
Ruther was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said at last.
“Are you?”
“Yes. We’d had an argument, true, but that was a long time ago, and I was touchier than I should have been. Because of the trouble Liz and I were having. I certainly wouldn’t wish his death.” Ruther paused. “How did he die?”
“He was shot.”
“You mean accidentally?”
“Purposely.”
“Oh.” Ruther paused again. “You mean he was murdered?”
“That’s what I mean.”
“Who did it?”
“We don’t know. Have you seen Kettering since last year?”
“No. Why should I? He was a stranger. I only met him at the lodge.”
“Then you wouldn’t know where he is now?”
“No, of course not. Did he have something to do with Kramer’s death?”
“We understand Kettering took your part in the argument and that he and Kramer almost came to blows. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right. But that was a long time ago. You can’t believe he’d harbor a grudge all this time.”
“I don’t know what to believe, Mr. Ruther. Can you remember the names of the other two men who were on the trip?”
“No, I’m sorry, I can’t. One of them had a very strange name, but I don’t remember what it was.”
“I see. When did you leave the lodge?”
“On a Saturday, I think.”
“Do you remember the date?”
“The eighth or the ninth, I guess. This was the first week in September.”
“When did Kramer leave?”
“The same day, I think.”
“And the other men?”
“We all left at the same time, I believe. We’d only gone up there for a week. I’m a little hazy on all this because I was more concerned with my wife than with hunting. The only thing I shot all the while I was there was a crow.”
“Did Kettering threaten Kramer’s life?”
“No. He asked him to step outside with him. That was all.”
“Did he seem very angry?”
“Yes.”
“Angry enough to kill?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mmmm.”
“Why do you think Kettering killed Kramer?”
“We’re not sure he did, Mr. Ruther. But he did have a possible motive, and he seems to have vanished. There’s also one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Kettering was a good hunter, we’ve been told. Kramer was shot with a hunting rifle.”
“There must be hundreds of men in this city with hunting rifles,” Ruther said. “I have one myself.”
“Do you, Mr. Ruther?” Hawes asked.
Ruther smiled. “Or shouldn’t I have said that?”
“What kind of a gun do you own, Mr. Ruther?”
“A Marlin. Twenty-two caliber. Eight-shot.”
Hawes nodded. “Kramer was killed with a.300 Savage.”
“Would you like to see my gun?” Ruther asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Hawes said.
“How do you know I’m not lying? I could own
“I know. But if you killed Sy Kramer, you’ve probably disassembled the Savage and buried it by now.”
“I suppose so,” Ruther said reflectively. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Hawes rose. “If you should happen to remember the names of the other two men, give me a call, won’t you? Here’s my card.” He took the card from his wallet and put it on Ruther’s desk.
Ruther looked at the card for a moment and then said, “You knew about the argument between Kramer and me. You knew we were at Kukabonga Lodge. You knew Kettering’s name, and you knew my name.” He smiled. “You’ve been to Kukabonga Lodge, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you spoke with the owner, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you already know the names of the other two men, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mr. Ruther,” Hawes said. “I already know their names.”
“Then why did you ask me?”
Hawes shrugged. “Routine,” he said.
“Do you think I had anything to do with Kramer’s death?”
“Did you?”
“No,” Ruther said.
Hawes smiled. “Then you have nothing to worry about, Mr. Ruther.” He started for the door.
“Just a second, Hawes,” Ruther said. There was something new in his voice, the unmistakable ring of command. The tone surprised Hawes. He turned sharply. Ruther had stood up and was coming around the desk.
“What is it, Mr. Ruther?”
“I don’t like being made a fool,” Ruther said. The dark eyes were darker now. The mouth was drawn into a thin line.
