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the kid s parents knew they had us where they wanted us. It meant the end
of your career if it got in the paper. Blair was afraid they wouldn t go for
forty. So when Connors made his offer, I took it. Frankly, with you having
treated me the way you had, I didn t give a damn. And as far as Mary Lou
was concerned, that again was hurt on my part. I figured what was fun for
the goose might be fun for the gander.
THE PASSION MURDERS 85
Still speaking quietly, Sally asked, You saw this child, killed by me?
I saw her coffin.
You met her parents?
Twice. In a shack just this side of Palmdale.
And you paid them the fifty thousand dollars that Joe Connors paid you
to resign as special prosecutor and to turn over all the evidence you had
collected against him and the syndicate he represents?
That s right.
The comers of Sally s mouth turned down. You boob. You great big
cracker boob. You dumb-smart boy from Georgia. You don t deserve any
shoes on your feet.
You deny you went to Lake Tahoe?
Sally blew up at her bangs in her anger. No. A half hour after I reached
Mother s Cecil Rowe phoned. He said he d been phoning all over Los
Angeles trying to reach me, that he had finally called you and you had told
him that I had gone to Grass Valley to spend the weekend with my folks.
The lump in my throat grew larger. Cecil Rowe was the head of
Amalgamated Pictures. I vaguely remembered his secretary calling and
asking me if I knew where Mr. Rowe could contact Sally. And I d told her
Sally had gone to Grass Valley.
Sally continued. Mr. Rowe said he was spending the weekend at Lake
Tahoe and as long as I was so close he d like me to run over and read a
manuscript that the story department had just purchased. He said he
thought it would make a beautiful starring vehicle for me. Naturally I was
excited, I had Father drive me to Lake Tahoe. I checked into the hotel
where Mr. Rowe was staying. He gave me the manuscript. I sat up all night
Friday reading it. I read it again Saturday and Saturday night. It was won-
derful. It was the sort of part I d always wanted to play. I was so excited
about it I didn t even leave my room. I had room service send up all my
meals.
Tears trickled down her pretty cheeks but her voice continued low and
calm. Then Sunday afternoon I phoned Mr. Rowe s suite and said I
thought the story was beautiful and I wanted to play the part and he told
me to come down and we would discuss the terms of my new contract. I
did.
Her slim shoulders slumped. I walked in, all excited. Her smile was
bitter. But it seems that Mr. Rowe has been watching me for some time.
He wanted to star me. Sure. But the contract he had in mind is what is com-
monly termed in the business a bedroom contract. It seems it isn t only my
talents he admires. Oh, Cecil was very nice about it, very suave, very much
86 DAY KEENE
the gentleman. But it all boiled down to go to bed with him or else. Her
cheeks were wet now. I couldn t do that to you, Hi. Not when I love you
as I do.
The kitchen was deathly still when Sally finished. A moth beat its wings
against the hot chimney and the sound was plainly audible.
Sally wiped her wet cheeks with the back of one hand. I told him where
he could put his contract, including the one I already had. I told him I d fin-
ish Desert Rat, then I was through, that if I had to lay my way to stardom
I d rather be just plain Mrs. Shannon. That s what I tried to tell you when
you phoned me in Victorville. That s why I drove back to Los Angeles
when you acted so funny over the phone. And I waited and I waited and
waited until I had to drive back and shoot those damn dawn shots.
On her lips it wasn t profanity.
Her bangs were stuck to her forehead with perspiration. Sally blew up at
them again. Then all that nasty business broke in the papers and I figured
you might come here. Her voice toneless, she went on, So we d finished
Desert Rat and I flew down here to be with you in your trouble. And
found you in this mess. But even then you didn t want me to be with you.
I tried to take her hand.
Sally slapped my hand away. No. I spent the weekend with Sonny Blair
in Lake Tahoe. Remember? And on my way back to location Monday
morning, both of us blind drunk, me driving, I presume, I ran down and
killed a child. There was pent-up hysteria in her sob. The only thing
wrong with that scenario is, if Sonny Blair and I were the last man and
woman left in the world, and I was on fire and he was a fireman, I would-
n t let the slimy little crooner squirt one drop of water on me.
It was an effort to turn my head. My neck muscles felt rusty. I turned it
far enough so I could see Joe Connors. The skin on his face was stretched
taut, like the skin on a grinning mummy. So now you know, he said.
You son-of-a-bitch, I named him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE INSECTS CONTINUED to drone, the frogs continued to thunk. I
rested my hot face in my hands. How could I have been such a fool? The
whole thing had been a plant, of course. With me breathing on his neck the
way I had, Connors had to get me.
And he had.
They had been preparing the Sonny Blair deal for some time, since the
night of Manny Norman s party. They d planted a seed in a big dumb
Georgia boy s mind, knowing it would grow. They d been ready to act as
THE PASSION MURDERS 87
soon as opportunity presented itself. It had, on the Friday night the head
of Amalgamated Pictures had summoned Sally to Lake Tahoe.
Blair was a better actor than I d given him credit for. He d played his
part well. God knew how much he d been paid. That went for Attorney
Roberts and the Carroll family. There was a coffin, but no child in it. Or
maybe there had been. Connors and the syndicate usually covered all
angles. Life was cheap to them.
I didn t know about Mary Lou. It could be she, too, had been planted on
me. Somehow I doubted it. It was more likely that Mary Lou had acted in
good faith. She had been looking for excitement. She d been an oppor-
tunist. She d overheard my conversation with Blair. She knew that my
pride was hurt. She knew I usually ate in Angelino s, when Sally was out
of town. She d also known that there was no salve sold to smear on a hurt
husband s pride to compare with another woman s body.
Are they all like you down in Georgia? Mary Lou had asked me.
I got up from the table, staggered across the kitchen and was sick in the
woodbox. When I d finished, Joe Connors said:
Now to get back to your briefcase.
I rested my hands on the old woodburning range, as if to steady myself.
The poker was sticking out of the mess of white oak ashes in the fire box.
I picked it up, casually, turned and broke Johnny Hass gun arm with it
before he could trigger his gun.
He screamed in pain. The gun thudded to the floor. San Cassida made a
dive for it. I put my foot on the gun and used the poker on his head. The
smear of white ashes turned red. Cassida lay down on the floor as if he was
very tired of standing. He breathed hoarsely a few times. Then he grew
tired of breathing, too.
Johnny Hass continued to scream in pain. Connors licked at the dried
lips on his suddenly mummified face. He was finished with being a big
shot. All he was, was scared.
He whimpered, For God s sake, Hi .
I said, Let s leave Him out of this. I imagine He has enough trouble
looking after folks who deserve to be looked after.
Hass stopped screaming. He rushed me, forcing me back. He stooped
and snatched at the gun with his left hand. I swung the poker again. There
was a ca-rack as the big bone in his left arm broke. Hass resumed where
he had left off screaming.
A shame you haven t got another arm, I said. Also, shame on. you
boys for driving all this way with only one gun among the three of you. The
syndicate wouldn t like that if they knew. That s breaking the cardinal rule
88 DAY KEENE
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