Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 2, April 1961

He had two assistants with him; well dressed young men who might have been fresh out of college — no slanty-headed types for Largo — high-honor boys in the field of business administration. But no school taught the methods they were capable of using.

Largo had only smiled at my question and I said, “You’re wasting your time, Gus. None of us are going along with you. And if you bust up too many of our boxes, I know quite a few honest cops who won’t like it any better than we do.”

“All I’ve done,” Gus said mildly, “is invite you fellows in with friendly persuasion.”

“That’s fine. See that you keep it friendly.”

He made a motion toward the driver. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Bowman. And if you need any help from my legal battery, just let me know. I’d like to give you a sample of the kind of service Apex Protective gives its clients.”

I could have said something about Gus needing the legal eagles himself when he got to Washington, but the car pulled away and I went into my office.

I tried to do a little work but my mind wasn’t on it. There was too much unfinished business in other directions. It was collection day and I took the canvass change sacks and serviced two stops before I lost interest and kept right on going past the third.

I had a small hunting lodge about an hour’s drive north that I seldom used; nothing much more than a shed on a marshy section of Lake Clara. Ducks were out of season now and there was no point in going there except that it suddenly seemed a nice place to be.

Maybe even then I was filled with subconscious fear that I refused to admit consciously. Maybe my duck blind looked good to me because I was afraid I wouldn’t see it again. That’s the way it is, they say; when you see an end or a change in the offing, the simple, homey things you’ve had and known become very precious. Anyhow, I stayed there all afternoon and watched the sun slip down across the lake making the water and the reeds and the loneliness beautiful and desirable. Then I remembered my date with Connie and had a guilty twinge. If I didn’t hurry, she’d be kept waiting.

I made the return run pretty fast but it was practically pitch dark under a thin sickle moon when I hit the road to the north end of Crystal Lake and my bungalow.

And the real trouble...

It began when my headlights outlined the girl in the road ahead. She appeared to have been hiding in the roadside bushes but when I got close enough she stood up and waved frantically. I stopped and she ran to the car.

“Larry! You’ve got to turn around and go back!”

“Connie! What’s wrong? What’s happened? Why are you down here?”

She’d come in high heels and the skirt of her fluffy green dress had been torn by brambles. “The police, Larry. They’re waiting for you. I had a feeling you might be fool enough to come just because we had a date.”

“Look — angel — I don’t get it. I’m out on a writ. If they’ve been told to pick me up, that’s it. Hiding won’t help.”

“You mean you don’t know what’s happened? Where have you been all day?”

“Up at Lake Clara. I took the afternoon off.”

Her laugh seemed on the edge of hysteria. “Well first let’s get out of sight. A prowl car may come down this road any minute and I can’t let you give yourself up until you know what they’re after you for.”

We didn’t say anything more until I’d turned around and gone back a few hundred yards where a narrow overgrown road just let the little car in with branches brushing our heads. I snapped off the motor and turned out the lights.

“Okay, what’s it all about?”

Connie hesitated for a few moments. Then she said, “Larry, there’s something I’ve got to ask you first and I Want you to tell me the truth. And please remember whatever you say won’t make any difference but I’ve got to know.”

“Know what, angel?”

“Were you living with that girl? I mean, was she living with you in your bungalow?”

“What girl?”

“Larry — please—!”

I reached out and took both her hands in mine. “Darling, simmer down. I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’ll answer your question. There’s been no girl living with me up here or any place else. You’re the only girl who’s been in my bungalow even for a quick drink. But you don’t have to ask. You know that.”

“I knew it but I had to hear it from you.”

“Well, you’ve heard it. Now tell me why you had to ask.”

She was tiny and warm and trembling there beside me as she spoke into the darkness. “I got to the bungalow early, before sundown and took a sun bath in the back yard. Then I went in and saw the purse and gloves on the table. I thought they were mine at first and then I knew they weren’t. So... so I had to keep on looking and... well, I found the rest of the things. The robe — the nightgown — the dresses and the other things in the bedroom.”

“Connie — you out of your mind?”

“The things are there, Larry. I saw them.”

“Then someone put them there between the time I left this morning and when you found them.”