The Second Confesion

There were enough openings among the clouds to show some stars but no moon. We wound along the drive, reached the stone pillars, and eased out on to the public road. It was narrow, with an asphalt surface that wouldn't have been hurt by a little dressing, and for the first mile we had it to ourselves, which suited me fine. Just beyond a sharp turn the shoulder widened at a spot where there was an old shed at the edge of thick woods, and there at the roadside, headed the way we were going, a car was parked. I was going slow on account of the turn, and a woman darted nut and blinked a flashlight, and I braked to a stop. As I did so the woman called, “Got a jack mister?” and a man's voice came, “My Jack broke, you got one?” I twisted in the seat to back off the road on to the grass. Rony muttered at me, “What the hell,” and I muttered back, “Brotherhood of man.” As the man and woman came toward us I got out and told Rony, “Sorry, but I guess you'll have to move; the jack's under the seat.” The woman, saying something about what nice people we were, was on his side and opened the door for him, and he climbed out. He went out backwards, facing me, and just as he was clear something slammed against the side of my head and I sank to the ground, but the grass was thick and soft. I stayed down and listened. It was only a few seconds before I heard my name.

“Okay, Archie.” I got to my feet, reached in the car to turn off the engine and lights, and circled around the hood to the other side, away from the road. Louis Rony was stretched out flat on his back. I didn't waste time checking on him, knowing that Ruth Bradv could give lectures on the scientific use of a persuader, and anyhow she was kneeling at his head with her flashlight.