Low Pressure

“It would only cause her to fret, and she’s got more than enough to worry about. I tried to talk to her today about my funeral service. She wept so hard I didn’t have the heart to continue.”

Bellamy made a murmur of regret. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I told you what you could do for me. Any progress?”

It wasn’t exactly progress that Dent had been attacked with a knife. Or that Van Durbin and his photographer had captured compromising pictures of them at the airport and outside Dent’s apartment. But the tabloid exploitation of her circumstances now seemed of little or no importance compared to the seriousness of the circumstances themselves.

“Do you remember Allen Strickland’s brother, Ray?”

“Yes,” her father replied. “He was mouthy with us at the trial, and after Allen was killed, he came to the corporate offices and tried to bluster his way past the guards. He was subdued and escorted off the property. That’s the last I’ve heard of him. Why?”

“He was mentioned in a conversation I had today with Dale Moody.”

“So you saw him? So soon?”

She didn’t waste her father’s time explaining how the meeting with the former detective had come about. “He’s a chain-smoking alcoholic living alone in squalor. He admitted that he never thought Allen Strickland was guilty, but he stopped short of confessing exactly how he and Rupe Collier engineered his conviction.”

“I’m surprised he would admit even that much.”

“He’s a broken man. This case ruined his career and his life. He claims still not to know who killed Susan.” She hesitated to tell him more, but then remembered the importance this held for him. “There’s something else, Daddy.” She told him how she’d come to describe the crime scene.

“But you were never at the crime scene,” he said.

“It seems I was. I just don’t remember being there.”

There was much to explain and only a brief time in which to cover it. Cringing each time lightning struck, she talked her father through it as quickly as possible.

“When I mentioned Susan’s purse, Moody jumped on it immediately. Is it true that he brought it to you days later?”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “We were told it had been found in a tree.”

She sighed. “Then it seems certain that I either witnessed the crime or came upon Susan’s body soon after she was killed. In any case, I saw it before the tornado ravaged the area.”

“Jesus, Bellamy. Oh, Jesus.”

She’d expected a swift and firm denial that she’d been anywhere near the crime scene. Instead, he sounded as though his worst fear had been realized.

“Daddy, what?” When he said nothing, she pressed him, “Do you think that I intentionally withheld information?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then did it ever occur to you that I had memory lapses?”

“No. I would have gotten help for you.”

“Would you?”

Instead of answering, he said, “Ah, Olivia’s back and she’s brought with her… What is that? Vegetable beef soup. I’d better go now, sweetheart, and make sure she eats all of it. Thank you for calling.”

Then he was gone, and his sudden disconnect left her stunned.

The entire conversation seemed surreal. She needed to think it through and determine what it meant. But just then Dent returned. He got in and quickly pulled the door shut against the gusting wind.

“Damn, it’s blowing.”

“What about the airplane?”

“The hangar manager figured it must belong to somebody important, so he’d already moved it inside. I tipped him twenty bucks.” He took a longer look at her. “You okay?”