It's a Sin to Kill (6 page)

“What did you think?”

Celeste was candid. “I theenk he ees a very nice looking young man. So, how you say, virile.”

A burst of laughter followed her statement. Even Camden and Ferris smiled.

Gilmore glowered at the spectators crowded into the packing shed of the fish house.

Celeste continued. “But I am also ver' uneasy for Mrs. Camden.”

“Why?”

“Because the young man told me she was not aboard thee boat and I knew it was her intention to pass the night there.”

“How did you know that?”

“Mrs. Camden told me so. She told me she had a date with a ver' handsome young charter boat captain and they were, under no circumstances, to be disturbed.”

“The bitch,” Camden said. “The blonde bitch.”

“What did you do then?” Gilmore asked.

Celeste said, “I returned to thee house and told Phillips, he ees thee butler, that Mrs. Camden was not aboard thee cruiser. He, too, was very alarmed. Together we searched the house. We had just finished when,” Celeste pointed at Ames, “thee captain there came to thee back door and demanded to see Mrs. Camden. And I became even more alarmed.”

“Why?”

“He had blood all over his small shirt. I told heem to go away. He would not. So I took a gun that ees kept een thee kitchen and fired at heem through the screen door.”

“And then?”

“I dialed the operator and asked her to connect me weeth thee sheriff.”

“I see,” Gilmore said. “Thank you, Miss Montigny.” He looked at Sheriff White. “What time did you get this call, Sheriff?”

“About seven fifteen,” White said.

“You proceeded directly to the Camden residence?”

“That's right. When I got there the girl who has just testified told me the situation as she outlined it to the coroner's jury, so I walked out on the pier and had a look at the cruiser.”

“Would you please describe to the jury what you found?”

“Well, the main cabin was a mess. You could tell right off that there'd been a party in it. There was a woman's evenin' dress an' hose on one of the bunks, like she'd peeled it off in a hurry. Only one of the bunks had been slept in. There was an empty whiskey bottle rollin' between the two bunks. But what concerned me most was that the carpet was sodden with blood and when I examined the head I found
a pearl-handled .32 caliber revolver with two expended shells.”

“Recently expended?”

“Within a matter of hours.”

“What did you do then, Sheriff?”

“I asked the maid to accompany me to see if we could locate and identify the young captain she said she'd seen aboard the cruiser. The first place we went to was Harry's Bar and she picked Charlie Ames out of the back booth.”

“He was alone?”

“No. He was with his wife.”

“Did he deny he'd been aboard the
Sea Bird?
”

White was fair. “No. Charlie admitted that right off. But he did deny any knowledge of how he'd gotten aboard.” The phrase stuck in Sheriff White's craw. “He claimed and still does, for that matter, that the last he remembered he was drinking coffee with Mrs. Camden in the cockpit of the
Sally
.”

“And how far is the
Sally
berthed from the
Sea Bird?
”

“I'd say about five hundred yards, maybe a little more.”

Ames buried his face in his manacled hands. His story sounded foolish. He felt like a fool. This was it. This was the big one and he didn't remember a thing about it. He continued to hold his face in his hands as Sheriff White told about finding the money and two other Palmetto City officers testified to three important facts. His fingerprints matched the fingerprints that had been taken from the pearl handle of the gun. A paraffin test revealed that he'd fired a revolver recently. The blood on his skivy and shoes matched the blood on the carpet in the main cabin of the
Sea Bird
.

I must have killed her
, Ames thought. God knew he'd wanted a new boat, for Mary Lou. It had been the first thing in his mind when he'd awakened. Still, how could he have been so stupid about it? And it did seem, unless a man's mind snapped completely, he'd have some vague recollection of first quarreling with, then killing the woman.

Ames looked up as the officer finished and old Horace Lee was called on to testify as to the tides. In the opinion of the grizzled fisherman a body dropped over the side of the
Sea Bird
at approximately four o'clock in the morning would ride the current out-going tide about as far as the bridge before the change in tides swept it back into the upper bay
and into the Blind Pass channel, where Buddy Cronkite and Tommy Williams had found it.

That should do it
, Ames thought. He uncovered his face and straightened in the chair as Coroner Gilmore called his last witness.

“Now, if you'll take the stand, Mr. Camden.”

Camden took his cigar from his lips. “Yes, Mr. Coroner?”

Gilmore said, “You've heard the testimony. And while I have no wish to intrude on your grief or cause you any further embarrassment, the entire circumstantial case developed against Captain Ames rests solely on one fact.”

“And that, sir?”

“In your opinion, was Mrs. Camden the sort of woman who would hold an illicit assignation with a man practically a stranger to her?”

Camden looked at the canvas-covered figure on the rough board floor of the fish house. “I'm sorry but the answer to that question is yes. Helene was a very self-willed woman and given to sudden impulses. She did what she wanted to do, regardless of morals or convention. And as I told Sheriff White a few minutes after I got off the plane this evening, I was afraid something like this might happen if I permitted Helene to come to Florida alone.”

“Thank you, Mr. Camden.”

“Not at all,” the well-groomed executive said. He looked along his cigar at Ames. “I realize that this is only a coroner's jury, but I hope they recommend he be held and when he does come to trial that they give the bastard the chair!”

There was a buzz of conversation as Coroner Gilmore charged the jury. It grew as the jury men conferred among themselves. Ames tried to get at his cigarettes again and couldn't. His manacled hands were shaking too badly. He gave up the attempt and sat looking at Mary Lou until Mr. Murphy signaled to Coroner Gilmore that the jury had reached a conclusion. The buzz of conversation died. In the silence that followed the druggist said soberly:

“We find the deceased, Helene Camden, came to her death from two pistol shots fired by Charlie Ames and recommend that he be indicted for and tried for her murder.”

Sheriff White pressed his shoulder. “Let's go, boy.”

Ames didn't even hear him. He was watching Mary Lou's slim back disappear into the night. Mary Lou didn't believe
him. She didn't intend to stand by. She agreed with the coroner's jury.

Mary Lou thought he'd two-timed her.

T
HE NIGHT
wind off the Gulf cool on her flushed face, Mary Lou walked down the wooden pier of Rupert's Fish House, then down the shoulder of the heavily traveled beach road toward Harry's Bar and Murphy's Pharmacy and the basin where the
Sally
was berthed.

Charlie was in a jam, a bad one. Her personal feelings no longer mattered. So Mrs. Camden had dazzled Charlie with her money and he had lost his head and killed her. So? She couldn't let him down now. She would have to do what she could for him. Charlie would need a lawyer, a good one.

There was a light in the office of Ben Sheldon's Ways. Mary Lou stood a moment watching the stream of traffic, sucking her cigarette to a miniature torch. She also had to call the club and tell them she wasn't coming to work. She couldn't sing tonight. She couldn't pretend that nothing had happened to her emotionally, not if her life depended on it.

No matter what he'd done to her, she loved Charlie. Mary Lou cried a little. Goddamn Helene Camden! Helene's husband had named her correctly. Mary Lou hoped it was hot where she was, a lot hotter than it was in Florida.

There was movement on the platform of Rupert's Fish House. A car door opened then slammed. A pair of headlights flicked on. A police siren wailed petulantly as the driver of the car tried to ease the big cruiser into the steady stream of traffic. A moment later, its red light revolving, scattering cars coming the other way like so many frightened chickens, the police car wailed past the clump of darkness in which she was standing. Mary Lou caught a glimpse of Sheriff White but couldn't see Charlie. Charlie was probably in the back seat. White was taking him in to the Palmetto City jail.

Mary Lou realized her cigarette was burning her fingers. She dropped it in the sand, extinguished the spark with the toe of her shoe and walked in to talk to Ben Sheldon.

A big man in his early sixties, wearing a crumpled white
Palm Beach suit, Ben Sheldon looked up from his desk. “I'm sorry, Mary Lou,” he said simply.

Mary Lou sat in the chair beside his desk. “Yes. So am I. But being sorry about it isn't going to pry Charlie out of this jam. I've got to get him a lawyer. How much will you give us for the
Sally
, Ben? Cash money. Now. Tonight.”

The fat man picked a dead cigar from the ashtray on his desk and chewed on it thoughtfully. “Well,” he began, “the
Sally's
in pretty bad condition. The bottom's rotten, for one thing. For another, the engine needs a complete overhaul.” He shook his head dubiously. “Now look. I like you, Mary Lou. I like Charlie.”

“Get to the point,” Mary Lou said. “How much will you give for the
Sally?
Cash money. Now. Tonight.”

Sheldon continued to shake his head. “I couldn't go for over fifteen hundred. And I doubt if I can resell her for that.”

Mary Lou opened her mouth to remind him he'd offered Charlie two thousand dollars for the
Sally
less than a week before and changed her mind. If Ben didn't buy the
Sally
, no one would. He was right about the bottom being rotten and the power plant needing a major overhaul. It was, she supposed, human nature to kick a man when he was down and Charlie was down.

“I'll take it,” Mary Lou said. “Make out a bill of sale and give me the money. I want to go into town and see what I can do about a lawyer the first thing in the morning.”

She lit another cigarette and sat with her eyes closed, smoking, while the fat man used two fingers to peck out a bill of sale on an ancient Oliver typewriter. When he'd finished he gave it to Mary Lou to sign and got the money out of the safe.

“Take your time ‘bout clearin' out now, Mary Lou. Use the
Sally
t'night an' t'morrow, if you want to, jist as if the
Sally
was still your own boat.”

Mary Lou signed the bill of sale and put the money in her purse. “Thank you. You're generous, Ben.”

The fat man shrugged. “Business is business.”

Mary Lou snuffed her cigarette and walked next door to Harry's Bar to call the Beach Club. Shep Roberts was drinking beer out of a bottle. He caught her arm as she passed him on the way to the back booth.

“I hear they elected to hold Charlie,” Shep said.

Mary Lou nodded. “Yes. They just took him into Palmetto City.”

An inarticulate man, Shep had trouble with words. He let his actions speak for him. Fishing in the pocket of his stained white dungarees, he laid a wad of crumpled bills on the bar. “He never done hit, Mary Lou. An' here's the fifty for that charter trip I helped him out on t'day. I want you should use it to help hire a lawyer.”

Mary Lou studied Shep's seamed face with wet eyes. “Thanks. Thanks a lot, Shep. I won't need the money. I just sold the
Sally
to Ben. But what makes you think Charlie didn't do it?”

“He loves you,” Shep said simply. The inarticulate man found words. “Look. Charlie might cut a man to death. He might steal five thousand dollars. He might even shoot a woman. But he wouldn't so low rate you t' be found daid in baid with a bag like that Camden woman. I happen to know how Charlie feels about you.”

Mary Lou squeezed his arm. “Thanks, Shep.” She walked on swiftly to the back booth and cried in its privacy a moment before she called the Beach Club. She wished she had Shep's faith in Charlie. Unfortunately, all the evidence was against him.

Back on the
Sally
again, she took off her evening gown and lay down on the hard bunk and stared up at the dark, wondering if she were at fault. Charlie hadn't wanted her to work at the Beach Club. They'd quarreled about it time after time. Perhaps it had hurt his pride and that was why he'd done what he had done.

Men were funny creatures. But then, so were women, for that matter.

It was hot and close in the small cabin. She was too restless to sleep. Mary Lou lit the Coleman lantern and began to pack a bag for Charlie. He'd need several changes of underwear and some clean shirts and his shaving things.

She hadn't realized before how few things Charlie really had. What little money he spent, he spent on her. And he'd been such a nifty dresser when he'd been playing with the bands. Of course, it had been his pride. She was still, more or less, in the business, but it had been a hell of a drop for Charlie, from a hot trumpet player in a name band to an unsuccessful charter boat captain.

Mary Lou laid the elephant bank on top of Charlie's
clothes. She'd deliver it with the fifteen hundred to him in the morning. She'd ask him to suggest a lawyer. And if what they had saved wasn't enough, she would get more somehow.

Once started packing, she decided to clear out the
Sally
. Ben could have the old tub in the morning. What she couldn't carry away, either Harry or Mr. Murphy would let her store in their back rooms.