Barred Sevens

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 13064, 5 February 1943, Page 7

Barred Sevens

By MARYSE RUTLEDGE

Gutter fifteen Led after Attorney GarlVL h ad stayed beWnd to talk

ieC ° rol \ e ir Garrison, I’ve some- ** portant to tell you.’’ I u-Pre lit with excitement Cached the lawyer’s side, a " ' ! behind Fan and Breanu. prison slowed his stride, his St!,-amused and cyn.cal, , Mr Farland?”

playboy lawyer had the face «, in ascetic with some"S’ to it— something David f t define. As the clubman, the "be brilliant attorney so often V nd written np, his very Saved the otherwise hold L salesman. > Id whispered urgently, Mr. L Carlie I mean. Mrs L eft me an important docur., you. It was stolen from ff hen I was S etting off the tel Iy ' arrison’s expression changed. Ld truth in David’s open counf ce His lowered voice sounded Ling. "Not a word about it to L m y boy,” he said. ‘‘Look me slien in town.” He paused, and lon quickly. “Carlie’s death |be only a part of—l can’t talk L now.” He hurried away to I B i.eanu. David stared after

■simply can’t help it, David, on't marry you- with this hor- | case hanging over our heads,” i Rider said in despair. ‘‘l’ll | r forget that inquest this after- [ Everyone staring at us, and [positively wallowing in the light!”

didn’t,” David denied indigly “Besides, the verdict, ‘By m or persons unkown,” lets us What are you fussing about?” I lets no one out,” she retorted, y'll go on suspecting us until find who stabbed Carlie and she was put in my car.”

ne and David were both jumpy. I bad to be back in town that It, The early supper Mrs Rider tly prepared hadn’t helped Ith matters. She hoped the Sg people wouldn’t part in |r. But they were having it out I in the homelike sitting room of old farmhouse. David frowned te big stone fireplace, its logs kindling ready to he lit. ne stood to one side, at a winopen on late September blooms, farted for her; desisted. She ed slim, impregnable in her lelion housecoat, her wavy n hair parted and gathered at teck.

£ you’d only tell me what I’ve wrong,” he demanded, while about the room, knocking comfortable plush chairs, glow- ’ at family treasures collected ilh generations of Riders.

F ere was a creepy feeling inside | ou; ; a sense of lingering evil prk. David muttered, “I kept r rd to you, didn’t I? I held Mhe most valuable evidence of r~that sealed envelope Carlie | nie tor Garrison. What a sensajttiat would have been!” N turned on him. ‘‘Oh, what’s f S ®’ David > going over and over : d >dn * wan t you to get in deeply 11 JOu ave - You haven’t the j , an -’ niore. Now it’s Mr s| bOll s business.” * s * ear that couple stole it |j e e „ etween the ferry and Weejo, t)avid sounded sulky. I, a ' e t°td Mr Garrison abou if swsar——» I 11 swear—you’d swear—” [^indeed'bitter. "I’m sorry IJ® Brean u. hut I wish we’d L 0 6 tbese P eo Ple Breanu, |* Irs Ruble y- this Garri•u!- They, '- e not our kind, bjy ... COmes .” she said unreatt ! eCauSe of this hail-fellow-CT. of rours - r * — y tarttii’ Ut no: a showman.” t sbli ai ! arm across her eyes. L,“' ever drive my car Leia, th ’ e “ 1 set >t back? I’ll L. «‘‘“-that corpse!” | »is face l a ‘ r Bame<l in the loss I* m , as unhappy. “i f t 0 be hlamed for that

iij^y and or, 50U make scenes in ~j 'C e , Braam? ” la,ie « er get . , S back - “Where did : »ife W ith l6 ldea he killed llis ° on think t SW ° rd cane? rd h g u , n k f an R ubley did it. she sa«ight' on c her h ° Use a little ElTs sh e com . aturday evening, sw eav the Rub- “*»'> testily^* 11 J 11 al “ e - y * Jane added

stiffly, “because she didn’t want to be dragged into a notorious case. Oh, for heaven’s sake, David ” She had seen that bright alert look she dreaded flash into his eyes. “Don’t ever say I told you that!”

He came nearer; touched her cold hand. “I won’t h.on, honestly. Anyway, so far as the sword cane goes, you friend Ed Blagden, the trooper, told me those camouflaged sword sticks make a triangular wound; and they figure the missing weapon had a blade more like a hunting knife.”

Jane shivered. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

David continued, “They believe she was stabbed by someone she knew, and then stuffed in your rimble seat —we left the car twice, you remember. They only found my finger prints and Kurt Helm’s. Please, darling—” Jane drew back.

Soon the taxi arrived, to take David to Haverstraw. Everything went out of David then, but his hunger for Jane. She couldn’t mean she was through. He caught her fiercely to him. “7/Ove me?” “1-don’t-know.” Her lips trembled.

‘‘Will you mary me?” ‘‘No,” she said wearily. “We’re too —different.” She didn’t yield to his hard mouth, his strong arms. David’s eyes battled with hers. ‘‘l don’t believe you,” he shouted, and ran out into the hall.

Mrs Rider appeared from the kitchen. She started at sight of his face. ‘‘lt’s all right,” he called. ‘‘Take care of Jane. I’ll he seeing you soon —and thanks!”

He snatched up his hat, coat, and bag, racing through the door, Timmy at his heels. The taxi door slammed.

Slagan’s Sport Shop, in the forties on Madison Avenue, was discreet and expensive. Its limpid windows gave no undue display of the sport implements, gadgets and outfits for every climate. Mr Slagen depended on the discernment of his picked salesmen who, at a glance could tell an explorer from a paunchy exponent of Sunday golf.

He had regarded David Farland’s alertness with, a paternal eye, until the Carlie Breanu murder broke into a war-crowded press that Sunday morning.. The boy had pushed too far to the front in his statements, his interviews; his unfortunate, if flattering, mention of the wonderful place where he worked. Although Tuesday morning, when David was due back, the more dignified papers had slid the inquest to their back pages, a flamboyant article appeared in one of the tabloids. Mr Slagan deplored publicity.

So his greeting was on the curt side when David, turned up bright and early. The morning routine was delayed while the other young men edged around Farland and whispered questions.

Mr Slagan was obliged to say, ‘‘Quiet,, please, gentlemen —,” more than once..

David felt irritable, and humbled by Jane’s treatment. He hadn t deserved it, he thought morosely. His likable face was stormy, his usual cheerful smile didn’t come from within. So he muffed the sale of a golf bag to an old fellow who stalked out in high dudgeon.

Mr Slagan watched Davfid’s rebellious red hair and jerky movements. He was sorry for the boy. But this couldn’t go on.

Then Bill Wright telephoned after lunch, insisting that he must speak to David on important matters. No, he was not acting as a reporter, he fibbed to the Slagan telephonist. This was a police affair.

“I suppose you know our rules, Farland,” Mr Slagan said a minute or so later. “I realise you’re under a strain. But no one no one, except a client, can telephone >ou here. I am making a great exception —a great one in this instance. The police are on the wire. He looked distressed, outraged, standing there, in his well-groomed clothes, on the tan carpet of his domain. The boy might be in real trouble. Slagan’s generous heart broke through his hard-boiled shell. “I’ll let it go this time,” he said, and patted David’s shoulder. -

“Hey there, Dave,” Bill Wright’s chuckling voice broke through. My style wouldn’t get through your deluxe portals. So I donned a uniform for this call.”