“Stella was afraid of Fran. She didn’t want Fran to find it out, but—well, in a way we were married.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We went down to Mexico and had a marriage ceremony performed.”

  “When?”

  “Four or five months ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the police about this?”

  “Well, I was trying to make up my mind. That’s what I was doing when you rang the bell. I don’t know what to do. Fran, of course, would have me right where she wanted me, but under the circumstances—I just don’t know.

  “Fran can be a bearcat. She’s been married before. The man she was married to wrote me a letter. He said Fran was poison, that she wouldn’t give him a divorce, that she was a dog in the manger.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I hunted him out and beat him up.”

  Peggy, looking at the anguished face, was thinking rapidly. There had to be an angle—there had to be!

  “You knew Stella was going to have a baby?”

  “Yes. Our baby. She’d only just found out herself. She told me Saturday.”

  Meeting his eyes, Peggy said, “Pete, she really was your wife. Your marriage to Fran was illegal. Fran had never been divorced.”

  “She told me she’d been divorced.”

  “Did you check on it?”

  “No, I took her word for it.”

  “You were married to Stella, in Mexico. That marriage was legal. Stella was your legal wife. Now tell me about Bill Everett.”

  “That crook! He ran with a gang. They all got caught on that stickup in Cofferville.”

  “Had he been in touch with Stella recently?”

  “Not that I know of. Not since he got out of prison.”

  “You haven’t seen him?”

  Pete shook his head.

  “Did you know Stella had asked Don Kimberly to meet her at the Royal Pheasant?”

  “No, I didn’t. She didn’t say anything.”

  “Do you know where Bill Everett is?”

  “No.”

  “You have no idea how I could locate him?”

  “No.”

  “How long had he been mixed up with the gang, Pete? Was it just one slip or—”

  “One slip, nothing,” Pete said. “The guy was just no good right from the start. He’d been lying to us all the time. That’s the way he was making his money—-he was a member of a stickup gang. He thought he was smart, thought he was beating the law.”

  “Do you know the other members of the gang?”

  He shook his head. “Guess you could find out who they were from the court records. They were all caught on that service-station stickup.”

  “They’d been working together for some time?”

  “Apparently so,” Pete said. “I don’t know too much about it. Anyway, I’m all broken up. I can’t think straight.”

  Peggy said, “Try to think. Tell me everything you know about Bill.”

  “The gang used to communicate with each other by ads in the personal column of a newspaper. Bill told me that once. They’d arrange meeting places and things of that sort. That’s all I know.”

  “Pete, I want you to do exactly what I am going to tell you.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “This,” she said, “is the way to clear the thing up, provided you do exactly as I tell you. I want you to go down to the morgue and claim the body of Stella Lynn. Claim the body as that of your wife. Do you understand? You’re her husband.”

  “But,” he said, “our marriage—well, you know, it wasn’t—”

  “How do you know it wasn’t? You have Stella’s memory to think of. Do exactly as I tell you. Go down to the morgue at once. Claim the body on the ground that you’re Stella’s husband. Don’t let anyone get you to admit there’s even the faintest doubt in your mind about the validity of that Mexican marriage. Do you understand?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you have any money?” she asked.

  “Enough.”

  “I can help—”

  “No. This is on me,” he said. As he pushed back his chair his manner showed the relief of one who has had a load lifted from his shoulders.

  In the newspaper office Peggy consulted the back files, carefully scanning the Want Ads section.

  In a paper of four days before she found the ad in the personal column:

  Fran, get in touch with me on a big deal. I can’t handle it alone, but together we can make big dough. Call Essex 4-6810 any time day or night. Bill E.

  Pieces of the jigsaw puzzle were beginning to fall into place into Peggy’s mind. The next question was whether she should pour her story into the ears of Detective Fred Nelson or get some additional evidence.

  A silver dime was to determine Peggy’s next course. She called Essex 4-6810 and waited, her pulses pounding with excitement.

  If things went through without a hitch now, she’d handle it herself. If she struck a snag over the telephone, her next call would be to Detective Nelson.

  At length a masculine voice, wary, uncordial, said, “Yeah?”

  “Is Bill Everett there?”

  “Who wants him?”

  “A girl.”

  The man laughed and said, “You could have fooled me.”

  She heard his voice raised in a call. “Bill in there? Some dame wants him on the phone.”

  A moment later she heard steps approaching the phone; another voice, cold, guarded, but curious, said, “Yes? Hello.”

  “Bill?”

  “Who is it?”

  “I’m a friend of Fran’s. It’s about a butterfly.”

  The voice at the other end of the line instantly lost all coldness and reserve.

  “Well, it’s about time!” he exclaimed. “Where the hell is Fran? Why didn’t she call me about the insurance interview?”

  “She’s where she can’t call.”

  “Good Lord, you don’t mean she’s—”

  “Now, take it easy,” Peggy said. “I have a message for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t be silly. I can’t give it to you over the phone. Where can I meet you?”

  “You got a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come on out here.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Peggy said. “There’s a lot of this I didn’t get from Fran. She only gave me the number to call and—”

  “Adams and Elmore,” he said. “It’s on the corner. What kind of a car are you driving?”

  “Green coupé.”

  “How long will it take you?”

  “About fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay, okay, get out here! Park your bus on Elmore just before you get to Adams—on the right-hand side of the street, headed south. Sit there and wait for me. Got that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, when is Fran going to—”

  “Wait until I see you,” Peggy interrupted. “You talk too much over the phone.”

  “Damned if I don’t,” Everett said, and she could hear the receiver being slammed into place at the other end.

  Peggy then dialed police headquarters, asked for Detective Fred Nelson, and was lucky enough to find him in.

  “This is Peggy Castle,” she said.

  “Oh, yes, hello.” His voice was more cordial than she had expected.

  “I have a lead on the Stella Lynn case.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Nelson said. “You have lots of leads. You pulled the trigger on a lot of publicity, didn’t you?”

  “Why, what do you mean?”

  “Nice and dramatic,” he said. “It worked out a thousand percent. Grief-crazed husband stumbles into the morgue, tearfully claims the body of Stella Lynn, his wife. How the newspapers fell for that one! They just called me from the morgue.”

  He stopped talking, and Peggy said nothing.

  “You there?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, why don’t you say something?”

  “You’re doing the talking. I called you up to tell you something. When you get ready to listen let me know.”

  He laughed. “All right, I’ll listen, but don’t think I was born yesterday. I’ve been around a while.”

  “I’m quite certain you have,” Peggy said. “As I said, I have a lead in the Lynn case.”

  “What is it this time?”

  Peggy said, “Stella wanted Don Kimberly to meet her at the Royal Pheasant because she wanted to find out if it would be possible to negotiate for the return of the gems on that Garrison job.”

  “What!” Nelson exclaimed.

  “Bill Everett, Stella’s ex-boyfriend, was mixed up in that job. Now he’s got a fortune in gems and can’t fence them. You know what happens at a time like that. He wants to know whether he can make a deal with the insurance company.”

  “Who’s this fellow you say pulled the job?”

  “Bill Everett. He’s been in trouble before. He was picked up in Cofferville for the robbery of a service station.”

  “Uh-huh, go ahead.”

  “I have a date with him. He’s going to give me the low-down. Now, if you wanted to cooperate—”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Castle,” Nelson said. “You’re out of bounds. Cooperating with you doesn’t do anything except get your company off the hot stove and leave the Police Department holding the bag. If you have any chestnuts in the fire, just get yourself another cat’s-paw.”

  “But don’t you want to recover—”

  “I want to recover from a couple of bad blows below the belt,” Nelson said. “You don’t know whether Bushnell was legally married to Stella Lynn or not, but you’ve got the story nicely planted on the front page of every newspaper, together with pictures of the stricken husband. I don’t think I care about being a stalking horse. Where is this Bill Everett?”

  “Find out, if you’re so damned smart,” she blazed, and slammed down the receiver.

  She drove rapidly to Elmore, followed it down toward Adams, eased the car to a stop, and waited.

  Sitting there in the dark, she experienced a feeling of complete loneliness. The motor of the car made sharp crackling noises as the metal cooled off. Five blocks behind her was a through highway. The sound of traffic, muted by distance, came to her ears.

  A man walked by but seemed to take no notice of the car. He moved rapidly, heels pounding the pavement as if he were going somewhere in a hurry.

  Peggy waited another five minutes. Suddenly she was conscious of a shadow at the right-rear fender of the car. Then the door on the right-hand side swung open. A man eased into the seat beside her and said, “Okay, wind her up.”

  Peggy asked, “Are you—”

  “Wind her up, I said,” the man told her. “Get the hell out of here.”

  Peggy started the motor and glided away from the curb. The man at her side swung around so he could look through the rear window and carefully watched the street behind him.

  “Turn right on Adams,” he said.

  Peggy turned right.

  “Left at the next intersection.”

  Peggy followed instructions.

  “Pick up a little speed,” he told her. “Don’t dawdle along. All right, now give it the gun and turn right at the next intersection…. Okay, left again…. Okay.”

  At length the man eased back into a more comfortable position, ceased watching the road behind them, and fastened his eyes on Peggy.

  Peggy was conscious of a distinct feeling of disquiet, a peculiar apprehension. Suppose everything didn’t go right. Suppose …

  “It’s your dime,” the man said. “Start talking.”

  Peggy knew she had to draw him out. So far she had got by on bluff and surmise. Now she was going to need facts, and the man beside her was the only person from whom she could get those facts.

  The man continued, “What’s the pitch? Let’s see who you are first. I’m Bill. Who are you?”

  Peggy slipped her hand down the opening of her blouse, brought out the jeweled butterfly, held it so he could see it for a brief instant, then popped it back into her blouse.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” he said. “Where the hell did you get that?”

  “Where do you suppose?”

  “Here, pull into this next alley,” Bill said. “We’re going to have a showdown on this.”

  She felt something prodding at her side and, glancing down, saw the glint of light on blued steel.

  “Get over there. Turn down that alley.” His shoe crushed her foot against the brake pedal.

  With a little cry of pain she jerked her foot away. The car swerved. The gun jabbed hard into her ribs. “Turn down that alley!”

  She bit her lip, fighting back the pain in her foot, and turned down the alley.

  Bill reached over and turned off the ignition switch. “Now, baby,” he said, “if you’re trying to pull a fast one, what’s going to happen to you isn’t—”

  Abruptly the car was flooded with brilliance as a following car, running without lights, suddenly blazed its headlights on the parked car.

  Bill shoved the gun under his coat. “If that’s a prowl car,” he warned, “and you make a squawk, I’ll kill you just as sure as—”

  A figure jumped out of the car behind and came striding forward. A man’s sneering voice said, “Well, Bill, trying to cut yourself a piece of cake, eh?”

  At the sound of that voice Peggy could see Bill’s face twist in a spasm of fear. He jerked his body around. “Butch!” he exclaimed, and then after a moment he added, “Am I glad you’re here! I’ve caught a dame trying to pull a fast one on us.”

  “Yeah. You look as though you’re glad to see us,” Butch said.

  Another man came up on the other side of the car and stood at the open window on Peggy’s side. He was a tall, cadaverous man with lips so thin that his mouth looked as though it might have been cut across his face with a razor blade.

  The man Bill had addressed as Butch said, “Get in and take the wheel, Slim. Drive up to Bill’s place. Bill, you get in with us. I want to talk with you.”

  Slim opened the door and slapped Peggy’s thigh with the back of his hand. “Move over, cutie.”

  Butch opened the door on the right-hand side. “Come on, Bill.”

  Bill said, “Sure, sure.” His voice was too full of cordiality. “I want to talk things over with you guys, but listen, I think this babe is maybe a private dick or something. She’s trying to pull a fast one.”

  “Yeah,” Butch said. “We know all about this babe. Come on, get in, Bill. We’re going to take a nice little ride and have a nice little talk.”

  Bill got out of the car. Peggy slid over on the seat, and Slim took the wheel.

  “You’ll have to back out,” Butch said to Slim. “It’s a blind alley.”

  “Okay.”

  “You take the lead,” Butch went on. “If she makes any trouble, bean her.” Butch moved away with Bill.

  Slim reached into his side coat pocket, pulled out a blackjack, and looped the thong around his wrist. “Let’s not have any misunderstanding, sister,” he said. “One peep out of you, one false move, and I’ll knock you so cold it’ll be next week before you come to. I’m going to be driving with one hand. This other one is ready to chop you down whenever you make a yip. Get me?”

  She smiled at him and said, “Aren’t you making a mountain out of a molehill? Perhaps if you’ll tell me—”

  “Yeah, I know,” Slim said, “pulling the old sex charm. It doesn’t work, babe. When I’m on a business deal I’m cold as a cucumber. Now, turn your kisser around here so I can take a little precaution against any sudden screams.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He grabbed her around the shoulders and pulled her head over to him roughly. She felt the slap of a hand across her mouth and something sticky against her cheeks. Almost before she understood what he was doing, a wide strip of adhesive tape had been slapped across her mouth. Slim’s cigarette-stained fingers massaged the tape firmly into place.

  “All right, baby,” he said. “Don’t try to raise your hands to the adhesive tape. The minute you do, you get clouted. Don’t make any grabs for the steering wheel. Don’t try anything funny. If you reach for the door handle, you’ll never know what hit you. Okay, here we go.”

  He drove skillfully with his left hand, his right on the back of the seat, the blackjack ready. The glint in his eyes told Peggy he was, as he had said, cold as a cucumber when he was on a business deal.

  Slim tooled the car along until they glided to the curb in front of an apartment house a block from Adams and Elmore.

  “Just sit still,” Slim cautioned.

  The other car parked behind them. Peggy saw Butch escorting Bill Everett, saw that Bill was talking volubly, rapidly, that Butch wasn’t even listening.

  A third man came up to address Slim briefly. “I’ll go ahead and make sure the coast is clear,” he said. “Wait for my flash.”

  “Okay,” Slim said.

  Bill and Butch moved into the apartment house. A light came on in a ground-floor window. The curtain was promptly drawn, shutting off the light.

  A few seconds later a flashlight blinked twice.

  “Okay, babe,” Slim said. “Let’s go.”

  He reached across her, opened the door, and shoved her out. She looked desperately up and down the deserted street.

  Slim’s hand moved deftly down her arm, caught her wrist, doubled it back until excruciating pain caused her to take a step forward to ease the pressure.

  Slim stepped forward with her. The pressure remained the same.

  Peggy tried to scream, but only a little whimpering noise came from behind the adhesive tape. In the end she was all but running, trying to keep just enough ahead of Slim to ease the pressure on her wrist.

  She was hurried along a dark corridor. The third man, who had evidently been driving the other car, jerked open a door. Peggy was pushed inside.

  Slim tossed her purse at Butch. “Catch,” he said.

  Butch opened her purse and examined her driving license and identification.

  “Honest, Butch,” Bill said, “this is a new one on me. She made contact and—”

  Butch looked up from Peggy’s driving license. “Shut him up, Slim.”

  “Okay,” Slim said, moving forward.