“These people are okay, Eleanor. They’re on our side. If you trust me, you can trust them.” Her eyes told me she knew Thompson, at least by name.
He and Burbee fired the same question at her. Her fist tightened in my hand.
She answered, falteringly, “His name is Burton Dunkles.”
Thompson frowned. “Dunkles? Never heard of him.”
“They call him ‘The Judge,’ ” Eleanor explained.
Our faces lit up. “He collects guns,” I said for no reason whatever.
Eleanor shuddered. “He walked into the kitchen. I was ironing. He had a gun in his hand, a big, long one. I didn’t know what he was going to do; his face was a mask. I’ve seen him like that before — when he was angry.”
“He was living with you, wasn’t he?” I prodded. “He was the man who came up the stairs that day I visited you?”
She said yes. “We moved into Leonore’s apartment after... after...”
“Sure,” I eased it over. “I should have known it was the Judge. I found western magazines in the bathroom.”
Eleanor tried to apologize, “The lease is paid up for a year. It was a much nicer place than our own. Burton said—”
I cut in.
“You don’t have to explain that, kid. What happened — when the Judge walked into the kitchen while you were ironing?”
“I was frightened. I don’t remember what he said, or what I said. His face was terrible. He had just talked to someone on the telephone. Then he came into the kitchen with the gun in his hand. I remember screaming, and then I threw the hot iron at him. I think it struck his head. He cried out when it hit him and fell on the floor. I ran into the bedroom and got my coat. I don’t know why, but I wanted to go out the back way. I ran through the kitchen. He was struggling on the floor. He raised up and fired just as I was closing the door.”
Burbee jumped in and cautioned her to go easy. He said she was exciting herself.
“Eleanor, you say he talked to someone on the phone. Did he call out, or did someone call him?”
She hesitated only an instant. “Someone called him. I was going to answer it, but he said never mind, he would.”
Thompson and I exchanged glances.
“Notice the curious time lapse?” he pointed out.
I said yeah. Burbee asked, what time lapse?
Thompson explained that I had been to see Eleanor the day before, but that punishment had taken nearly twenty-four hours to catch up with her. He also mentioned that the City Hall janitor had been fired long after I had revealed that I had been using him. And that a shadow in Croyden had been several hours late in getting on my tail.
I asked Eleanor how she had gotten away.
“I drove his car. After I left Croyden and crossed the river I realized the car could be traced. It was so flashy. So I left it in some small town and waited for a bus.”
“You went straight to my office?”
She nodded. “I was afraid to take a taxi. That might be traced. So I walked. I must have been weaker than I realized. I could hardly climb the stairs.”
“No one else around?”
“I didn’t see anyone. I was afraid someone might come in. I sat down behind the door. You might be late getting back. You see...” Her voice trailed away.
“Yeah,” I used some sarcasm. “I see. I was lying in the ditch where your friends had left me.”
“Oh, no. We saw that other car pick you up. We followed the other car as far as the hospital.”
“You... you did that? Why?”
“Our instructions were to make sure you were found.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.
She didn’t know. They were only obeying orders. She regretted having hit me on the head with the gun butt, but it had become necessary. I was beginning to win the fight. They had to follow orders. I was dumped in the ditch and shadowed to the hospital. And then their chore was finished.
“And then you returned to Croyden, and then, after this phone call, Dunkles shot you? Is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
I bogged down. Thompson knew what was in my mind and knew why I wasn’t asking the next logical question.
He asked it for me. “Eleanor. Did a woman issue those orders? Did a woman call you that night at the farmhouse?”
“No sir.”
“No? Has a woman ever issued orders to you? Or to your knowledge, to the Judge?”
She was plainly puzzled. “No, sir.”
“Well then, who did?”
“The chief, Mr. Swisher.”
Thompson wasn’t satisfied. He thrust in another question, “Do you know a woman named Elizabeth Saari? Doctor Elizabeth Saari?”
Eleanor said no and she obviously wasn’t lying.
I started in again. “Eleanor, all this should convince you that you’re on a spot. The same hot spot I’m on. Remember that phone call to the Judge.
She lay very quiet and unmoving.
“Thompson has dug up a lot of stuff on Swisher and his outfit. He knows enough to hang them, but he can’t prove it. Not without your help. The Judge has shown you that Swisher no longer wants you around. There’s no reason why you should hang back — not now. You’ve got to help us.”
Abruptly, violently, she shuddered and hid her face. She was crying.
