He answered cautiously: "I wouldn'tsay that. I guess they lucked into each other last summer the same way Helenand I did. Anyway, he was busy Friday night. He had to give a speech at somebig dinner. At least that's what he told me this morning."

"He wasn't lying. Did Bradshaw and Helen meethere in Reno?"

"Where else?"

"I thought Bradshaw spent the summer inEurope."

"You thought wrong. He was here all throughAugust, anyway."

"What was he doing here?"

"He told me once he was doing somekind of research at the University of Nevada. He didn't say what kind. I hardlyknew him, actually. I ran into him a couple of times with Helen, and that wasit. I didn't see him again until today."

"And you say he recognized you Fridaynight and came here to question you?"

"That's the truth. He came here thismorning, gave me quite a grilling. He believed I didn't do that murder. I don'tsee why you can't believe me."

"I'll want to talk to Bradshaw beforeI make up my mind. Where is he now, do you know?"

"He said he was staying at theLakeview Inn, on the North Shore. I don't know if he's still there ornot."

I stood up and opened the door. "Ithink I'll go and see."

I suggested to Jud that he stay where hewas, because a second runout would make him look very bad. He nodded. He wasstill nodding when a counter-impulse took hold of him and he rushed me. Hisheavy shoulder caught me under the ribs and slammed me back against thedoorframe wheezing for air.

He threw a punch at my face. I shifted myhead. His fist crunched into the plaster wall. He yipped with pain. He hit melow in the belly with his other hand. I slid down the doorframe. He kneed me, aglancing blow on the side of the jaw.

This impelled me to get up. He rushed meagain, head down. I stepped to one side and chopped the back of his neck as hewent by. He staggered rapidly through the door and across the landing, andplunged down. At the foot of the stairs he lay still.

But he was conscious when the policearrived. I rode along to the station to make sure they nailed him down. Wehadn't been there five minutes when Arnie came in. He had an understanding withthe officers. They booked Foley for assault and related charges, and promisedto hold him.

chapter24

Arnie drove me out to the Lakeview Inn, arambling California Gothic pile which must have dated from the early years ofthe century. Generations of summer visitors had marched through the lobby andtrampled out any old-world charm it might once have had. It seemed an unlikely placefor Roy Bradshaw to be staying.

But Bradshaw was there, the elderly nightclerk said. He took a railroad watch out of his vest pocket and consulted it."It's getting pretty late, though. They may be asleep."

"They?"

"Him and his wife. I can go up and call him, ifyou want me to. We never did put telephones in the rooms."

"I'll go up. I'm a friend of Dr.Bradshaw's."

"I didn't know he was a doctor."

"A doctor of philosophy," I said."What's his room number?"

"Thirty-one, on the top floor." The old manseemed relieved at not having to make the climb.

I left Arnie with him and went up to thethird floor. Light shone through the transom of 31, and I could hear theindistinct murmur of voices. I knocked. There was a silence, followed by thenoise of slippered feet.

Roy Bradshaw spoke through the door. "Who isit?"

"Archer."

He hesitated. A sleeper in the room acrossthe hail, perhaps disturbed by our voices, began to snore. Bradshaw said:

"What are you doing here?"

"I have to see you."

"Can't it wait till morning?" His voice wasimpatient, and he had temporarily mislaid his Harvard accent.

"No. It can't. I need your advice on what to doabout Judson Foley."

"Very well. I'll get dressed."

I waited in the narrow ill-lit hallway. Ithad the faintly acrid smell which old buildings seem to absorb from the peoplewho pass through them night by night, the smell of transient life. The snoringman was uttering terrible moans between his snores. A woman told him to turnover, and he subsided.

I could hear a quick interchange of voicesin Bradshaw's room. The woman's voice seemed to want something, whichBradshaw's voice denied. I thought I recognized the woman's voice, but Icouldn't be sure.

I was sure when Bradshaw finally openedthe door. He tried to slip out without letting me see in, but I caught aglimpse of Laura Sutherland. She was sitting upright on the edge of the unmadebed in a severely cut Paisley robe. Her hair was down around her shoulders, andshe was rosy and beautiful.

Bradshaw jerked the door shut. "So nowyou know."

He had pulled on slacks and a blackturtleneck sweater which made him look more undergraduate than ever. In spiteof the tension in him, he seemed quite happy.

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009