A. Fair - Bedrooms Have Windows

“I didn’t get a good look at her,” the woman said, and then added wearily, “I never do with that type. Some of them stand out brazen as can be, but, for the most part, the amateurs keep back out of the way, sitting in the car and trying to look disinterested. They make me sick!”

“Come on,” Sellers said, “you must have had something of a look at her. Was she a red-headed girl with…”

“No, she was small, and she was blonde. I saw that much. I’ve told the police all about her already.”

“Then what happened?”

She said, “This man registered. I took them down and showed them the place, collected the rent money and went back. I had three more cottages. I rented them within about an hour and a half. On the last one there was this complaint about the radio in the other cabin, so I…”

“Did you hear the shots?”

“I thought it was a truck back-firing. I had no idea…”

“Three of them?”

“Three.”

“After these people had rented the cabin?”

“Yes.”

“How long after?”

“I don’t know — perhaps fifteen minutes — perhaps not that long. Perhaps only ten.”

“Longer than fifteen minutes?”

“I tell you it could have been. I don’t keep the time on those things. If I’d known they were shots I certainly would have noticed the time. And if I’d known this man was going to make me all this trouble, I never would have rented him anything in the first place. I’m not a fortune-teller.”

“No, I suppose not,” Sellers agreed. “What happened after that?”

“I didn’t rent the last cabin until around eleven o’clock. That was the cabin that was right next to this one. It was a double cabin, and the way it’s arranged it’s a white elephant. A party of four showed up and wanted the place. I took them down to get them located, and when I did, I noticed that the lights were on in this other cabin and the radio was playing.”

“You hadn’t had any complaints before that?”

“No, I don’t think any of the other cottages would have noticed it so much. But this vacant double was right next to it and you could hear pretty plain. The four people said they were tired and wanted to get to sleep, so I said I’d get the party next door to quiet down.”

“Go ahead,” Sellers said.

“I’ve told all this before.”

“Tell it again.”

“I went over and knocked on the door. Nothing happened. I knocked louder. Nothing happened. I tried the door. It was locked from the inside. I got mad and punched the key out and used my pass-key to get in. There they were, lying on the floor. Blood all over my carpet, and me trying to run a decent place! I’d put in a new carpet there only three months ago, trying to keep the place attractive. That’s the way it goes and—”

“And you called the police?”

“That’s right — and while you’re here I wish you’d tell me something — I’d collected the money for that double cabin from the four people. They got angry when they heard the police cars and all the commotion, and insisted that I give them their money back. I told them they’d rented the cabin and that if they were decent people with clean consciences, they could go to sleep and a little noise of automobiles coming and going wouldn’t hurt anyone. They said they were going to have me arrested if I didn’t give them the money back. Can they do that?”

“No,” Sellers said.

“Well, that’s what I thought. I’m glad you told me so.”

“What happened?”

“They pulled out about one in the morning. Said they wouldn’t sleep in a place that was next to a killing. They went on down the road somewhere. I hope they never did find a place to stay.”

I looked at Sellers. Sellers said, “Get me the dope on that party. Let me see how they registered. Give me their licence number and…”

The woman started pawing through a file of registration cards. “Not now,” Sellers said hastily. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You get that stuff for me. Write it all out, and I’ll come back and pick it up.”

Sellers took my arm, piloted me outside. “Suppose you start talking, Donald?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Come on,” Sellers said. “You’d better come clean.” I said, “I can’t. It’s a job I’m working on.”

“A job, my eye!” Sellers said. “I’ve already checked with Bertha on that angle.”

“I still tell you it’s a job. A woman paid me two hundred dollars. She wanted her…”

“Go on,” Sellers said as I stopped.

I shook my head, and said, “I can’t do it without betraying the confidence of a client. I’ll have to get her permission before I can say anything.”

“You can give us a lift on this thing, Donald. I want it cleared up and off the books.”

“No, I can’t, Frank. I tell you it’s a job.”

“Phooie! You were out with a jane on your own. Bertha herself says so. You try pulling this sort of stuff, and you’ll lose your licence. I’ll try to make it easy on the partnership because Bertha’s been a square shooter, but as far as you’re concerned, you’ve always cut corners.”

I said, “I tell you I was on a job. It had to do with Dover Fulton, but it didn’t have a darned thing to do with the killing.”

“You’re supposed to co-operate with the police. Remember that.”

I said, “Look, Frank, this is a suicide, frustrated love. They were both of them nuts. They chose that way out. It’s their business. As far as the police are concerned, the case is closed. You know that as well as I do.”

“It has some funny angles. The department wants them cleared up.”

I said, “There’s nothing to investigate. They’re both dead. It’s the same old suicide-pact stuff.”

“But that automobile being here. The whole thing is cockeyed. I want the straight of it.”

“If I told you all I knew about it, it would still be cockeyed.”

“Who’s your client? Who are you working for?”

I shook my head.

Sellers said, “Wait here.”

His heavy feet crunched on the gravel as he went back into the office of the auto court. He was in there about five minutes, then came out, folding a paper. He climbed into the police car, and said, “Okay, we’ll take another ride.”

This time we went to San Robles.

6285 Orange Avenue was a post-war job that had been knocked together out of such materials as were available and such labour as had been willing to work. It was a Monterey-type house, neat enough on the outside, but the builders had been up against a problem of cost per square foot and had tried to make the square feet as few as possible.

Fifteen years ago the place would have been an architect’s model, a miniature house used for an estate agent’s office or an oversized doll-house. Now it was two bedrooms and bath, twelve thousand, seven hundred and eighty-five dollars.

We went through a little gate.

Sellers rang the bell.

The woman who opened the door had been crying until she had realized crying wouldn’t do her any good. Now she was in the dazed condition of trying to adjust herself to a whole new set of circumstances on which she hadn’t figured.

“Know this man?” Sellers asked.

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Sellers said, “but we want to come in.”

Mrs. Fulton stood to one side and held the door open for us.

“Where are the children?” Sellers asked.

“One of the neighbours came and took them,” she said. “I guess it’s better to have them out of the house, what with the way people have been trooping in here and everything.”

Sellers said, “I guess so. We won’t stay long.”

He settled himself in a comfortable chair, crossed his legs, pulled back his coat, shoved his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat and said, “I don’t want any run-around. You’re absolutely certain you haven’t seen this man before?”