Vanish in an Instant by Margaret Millar Read Free Book Online Page A

“He won’t be missed. I’ve done them a favor.”
    â€œWell,” Meecham said quietly. “Come inside and sit down.”
    â€œThank you, sir.”
    They walked, side by side, toward the house. It seemed to Meecham that it was the longest and strangest walk he’d ever taken.

5
    Loftus looked at the clock on the mantel. 6:10. So the clock was going, all right, time was passing, but slow and soundless. He missed the noise of ticking. The clock he had in his own room ticked so loud that it often kept him awake. Sometimes in the middle of the night he got up and covered it with a glass bowl that he’d bought in the dime store. The glass smothered the noise a little but didn’t ob­scure the face of the clock.
    The room was quiet. Mrs. Hamilton and the blonde girl had gone to another part of the house, and the doctor had come, and, after a long whispered conference in the hall, had gone away again. There were only the four of them left, the two policemen, and Meecham, and Loftus himself.
    â€œLoftus.”
    Loftus turned. “Yes, sir.” He wasn’t sure if this was the way to address a sheriff. He had never talked to one be­fore.
    â€œWhen did you write this?” Cordwink said.
    â€œThis afternoon.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI thought it would be better to write it down myself, to get things very clear. They are, aren’t they? Clear?”
    Cordwink made a noise in the back of his throat. “Clear as a bell. You thought of everything, Loftus.”
    â€œI tried to.”
    â€œIt makes me wonder whether you might have had a lit­tle help with it.”
    â€œWho would help me?”
    â€œWell, now. Meecham over here is always willing to lend a hand, especially if . . .”
    â€œYou’re off your rocker, Cordwink,” Meecham said flatly. “I never saw the man before in my life.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œNo. And just what do you mean ‘help’ him with it? You talk as if we’re a couple of school kids and I did his home­work for him, or something.”
    Cordwink rustled the papers he held in his hand. There were eight of them, closely written. By moving his head slightly Loftus could see the top sheet. It had been the most difficult to write. He had made so many copies that he knew it by heart: My name is Earl Duane Loftus. I am writing this without coercion or advice on the part of any­one, and with the full knowledge that it can be used as evidence in a court of law. . . .
    Cordwink was speaking. “This comes at a convenient time for you, Meecham. Your client’s in jail, a lot of evi­dence against her ...”
    â€˜â€˜Circumstantial.’’
    â€œ... and then out of the blue comes a nice pat answer to all your problems.”
    â€œBut it didn’t come out of the blue,” Loftus said, blink­ing his eyes nervously. “Not at all, sir. I intended to ad­mit everything right from the beginning, but I needed some time. I had to do a few things first, personal things. I’m afraid I didn’t give much thought to Mrs. Barkeley be­ing held in jail. But then it didn’t do her any harm, did it? She’s a little spoiled.”
    â€œIs she?”
    â€œI think so.”
    Cordwink’s mouth tightened. “There’s nothing in what you’ve written here to indicate that you knew her before last Saturday night.”
    â€œI didn’t know her, not actually. I saw her once, a little over a year ago. I had come to consult Dr. Barkeley, I was feeling so tired and heavy, and I minded the heat so much. I . . .” He paused, folding his arms to hide his belly. It was my belly that worried me, he thought. It had begun to swell, bigger and bigger. I had nightmares about being a hideous freak, the only man in the world who ever had a baby. It wasn’t a baby, but I was a freak, all right. I didn’t know it then. I said, it’s my nerves, doctor, maybe I