Kill Me Tomorrow by Richard S. Prather

Sunday.”
    â€œYes. He spoke of a Joe Civano. The name meant nothing to me then. I elicited all the details I could, learned that Gil had not seen the man under discussion for something like sixteen years—in the city where both then lived—and that for two days prior to his apparent recognition of this person here he had been thinking much of Mr. Civano.”
    Reverend Archie pulled his eyes from the rose and looked at me. “Though at that moment I could only guess, it seemed quite clear to me that Gil’s continued thinking of Mr. Civano’s shocking death in Tucson, and therefore of Mr. Civano, was the immediate cause of his error in mistaking a man who only slightly resembled him as Joe Civano. Unaccountably alive—and at Sunrise Villas.”
    â€œMakes sense,” I said. “When you put it like that.”
    â€œMr. Reyes told me the man to whom he referred claimed to be Mr. Henry Yarrow.”
    â€œDid you know who he meant? I mean, did you know Yarrow?”
    â€œThe name was familiar to me, but I had not met the man. I therefore hesitated to phone him. However, Mr. Reyes had also informed me of the location on Claridge Street where the confrontation occurred, thus I knew the house of which he spoke must be one of at most two or three near the corner at Roadrunner Drive. I know many people on that block, and from Gil’s description of the lady I felt reasonably sure she was Mrs. Blessing, a charming widow who has long been a member of this church. I phoned her, explained the situation, and her comments—somewhat to my surprise, Mr. Scott—corroborated what Gil had told me in every detail.”
    â€œWhy to your surprise?”
    â€œSimply because Mr. Reyes’ story seemed quite incredible. A dead man, a gangster, this unusual confrontation at dawn, Gil’s manner and concern—surely you understand, Mr. Scott. Quite simply, I found it all very difficult to believe.”
    â€œYeah. It is a bit queer, isn’t it?”
    He sighed. “At any rate, I asked Mrs. Blessing if she would communicate with Mr. Yarrow, and if possible come to the church in his company. She agreed, and they both arrived within ten or fifteen minutes.”
    The Reverend appeared to hesitate in his recital for the first time. After a few moments he went on, “It is true, as I have already said, Mr. Reyes did not seem to me excessively upset, but he was without question extremely tense and nervous. Especially during the time when we were awaiting the arrival of Mr. Yarrow and Mrs. Blessing.”
    â€œThat’s understandable enough if he really thought the guy about to drop in for a visit might be Joe Civano. I’d have been nervous myself.”
    â€œThat is the salient point, Mr. Scott. It was almost as though Gil was in the grip of delusion, had become possessed by a completely irrational thought, an idée fixe .”
    â€œAre you saying he acted like a guy cracking up?”
    â€œOh, no, no. Of course not. I’m merely thinking back—it was a rather incredible situation, really. That Gil should mistake a resident of Sunrise Villas for a totally corrupt gangster. I believe he said Civano was a member of what is called the Mafia.”
    â€œGil was right as rain about that. OK, Yarrow and Mrs. Blessing came to the church, talked to Gil, and Gil left—left, convinced of his error.”
    â€œThat is correct.”
    â€œHow come? In the morning Gil thought this guy was—maybe—Civano. What big deal happened to change his mind?”
    The Reverend frowned slightly. I don’t think he was crazy about my manner. Or maybe I hadn’t made a grand impression on him when we’d met. As his face smoothed he said, “Mr. Yarrow has been a rather prominent businessman here for several years. In addition he produced abundant evidence of his identity. Gil seemed quite convinced of his error after the four of us had engaged in