Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 2, April 1961

“You don’t have to convince me, Larry. But who was the blonde that Gertrude Armitage said she saw you drive past her house with? Or was the lying?”

“She wasn’t lying but it was a different girl; one that looked like Gloria Dane — enough so that when this story broke the Armitage woman was willing to swear it was Gloria Dane. After all, the Dane girl’s picture has been in the papers often enough.”

“Do you know who this other blonde is?”

“No. She gave me a name, Trudy Miller, but it’s probably not her real one.”

“What are we going to do, Larry.”

“I’m going to take you home and hope I can get you there. But if it looks as though we’re going to be stopped on the way I want you to jump out and hide in the woods. Then get to your apartment some way and I’ll call you there — if I’m not in a cell.” I smiled at her in the dim light of the new moon. “Okay?”

“Okay, darling. But kiss me first. Then I promise I’ll be real sane and sensible.”

The kiss took a little while and then I backed out of the lane and headed for Danvers where Connie lived. I took the backroads and dropped her on the outskirts of town and just to show she was keeping her word, she had a wisecrack for me as I let her out after another kiss. “I’ll run right home now and report my car stolen,” she said and we laughed together, both of us trying to prove the courage neither of us had. Then she whispered, “Oh my darling, take care of yourself,” and was gone in the darkness, leaving me with the warmest feeling I’d ever had...

I didn’t go anywhere at first except back into the woods where I could hide in the bushes and think things out, follow it through from the beginning to where I now sat — a few jumps ahead of what was slated to be trial, conviction and the electric chair.

I forced the numb shock out of my mind and tried to view the mess objectively, asking myself exactly what Largo had done that was clever.

His job had been to safely get rid of a dangerous witness, Gloria Dane, and he’d used me as the fall guy to achieve a double result. Wipe out Gloria Dane and get me out of the way of his juke box domination.

The abstract problem was to associate the two of us — strangers — in a way that would stand up in court — before witnesses. This had taken a little time and a little money, he’d had to buy Gloria a car just like mine and get it into my possession. That had been achieved in the parking lot. Also, we had to be seen together, so the highway bit was carefully arranged — a blonde who looked enough like Gloria Dane to be mistaken for her — a ride down the road and into town.

A few parts of the devilish operation were still obscure; who had reported the theft of the car and called herself Gloria Dane? How had my personal routine and habits become familiar enough to Largo for him to know I would be where he wanted me at the proper times?

And one more thing — had my release been a slipup in the routine? I thought it probably had. Largo could not have anticipated my quick release on the theft charge and had probably expected me to be still in custody when he sprang the bit about Gloria having disappeared. He’d probably wanted that to come out only after he’d forged the last damaging link — planted the belongings of the dead girl in my bungalow.

The words dead girl on my thought track caught my attention. Had Gloria Dane already been murdered? Was her body already lying somewhere out in the woods waiting to be found and labeled an example of my handiwork?

I didn’t know, but there was little doubt in my mind that she would be found in due time. A week, two weeks — three — what difference did it make? One thing was sure; when they did find her they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact time of her death. This devious genius named Largo had set it up so that he could kill her any time he felt like it; a deal where he could wait and be sure of my conviction even before my alleged victim actually died.

Even sitting there in the dark with my stomach turning flip-flops, I had to admire the guy. He was good at his work. And there was the thought in my mind to get in touch with all the boys and say, Look, fellows, I was wrong. Sign up with this man Largo. Take whatever he’ll give you and say thank you sir. Otherwise you’ll wake up and find yourselves nailed to twelve crosses with iron spikes. But that wouldn’t be necessary. They’d sign now without giving him any more trouble.

I wiped the sweat off my face then and tried to find a way out of the frame. There didn’t appear to be one. Locating my own car might help. It would be a step in the right direction. But it was no doubt repainted and out of the state by now.