his flash was spotlighting. “I told you I wasn’t crazy, Sheriff,” he said. “See there, it’s blood.”
The sheriff crouched, touched callused fingers to the blood spot on the lawn near the stone wall. “You sure your dog didn’t cut himself on something?”
“You saw him.” Montez poked a finger in the direction of the chained German shepherd. “There’s not a mark on him.”
“Couldn’t get that close,” replied the sheriff. He moved closer to the stone wall encircling the estate. “Must have gone over the wall around here, this invisible fellow of yours.”
“This is where Nero chased him.”
“We’ll go out and take a look at the sidewalk.”
As they made for the iron gates Montez said, “I had a feeling, a distinct feeling, that I was in danger. That’s the chief reason I got Nero. Ordinarily I can’t stand dogs.”
Shoving open the gate, the sheriff asked, “What made you figure you’d be a target, Mr. Montez?”
“Well . . . I saw what the pattern must be.”
“Pattern?” The sheriff stopped, inspecting the sidewalk by the light of his flash.
“Napton, Price, and I were all friends in college,” said Montez. “It wasn’t only that . . . there was an incident which—”
“I remember now. That’s who the lad in the picture was. Rusty Lamont.”
“Yes, we were all linked to Rusty’s unfortunate death. What picture?”
“Photo I saw at Mrs, Price’s. There’s more blood,” he said, pointing with the flashlight. “Looks like he went along this way. Yep, there’s another splash. Seems to stop here . . .”
“Then you got my message, Sheriff?” A tall, broad woman of fifty was approaching them along the sidewalk.
“What’s that, Mrs. Hackes?”
“About my car. My car was parked right here while I was in visiting old Mrs. Dinlock. When I came out a few minutes ago, I discovered it was gone. Stolen. I called your office, but they said—”
“He must have taken it,” said Montez. “That would tie in with the blood.”
“Blood?” said Mrs. Hackes.
“Give me the details about your car, ma’am,” the sheriff requested. “Make, model, and license number.”
“I can never remember my license number, but it’s a blue 1937 Plymouth two-door sedan. Has a raccoon tail tied to the radio what-do-you-call-it. My oldest boy’s idea.”
“We’ll find it,” the sheriff promised.
“It’s your turn to die!”
The voice came out of the air.
“I don’t think so, Dr. Lamont,” Nellie said defiantely.
The invisible man said no more.
Nellie listened intently, trying to hear him as he moved across the stone floor of the cave room.
But she could hear nothing.
She swung the beam of the flash back and forth, at the same time backing toward the rear wall of the cave.
The unseen Lamont was stalking her, she knew that.
Not even the sound of his breathing could she hear.
“I’m not the only one who knows who you are,” Nellie said.
Silence.
Her back was against the wall now. She maneuvered her purse, by its strap, along her arm and nearer her hand. From within she took a pistol. She shifted the flashlight to her left hand and took the gun in her right.
Now all I need is one more hand, she thought.
She stuffed the light, still burning, half into her purse and grabbed the coffeepot off the kerosene stove. There was liquid in the pot.
“Now maybe we’ll see you.” Nellie flung the contents of the pot toward the place where she’d decided Lamont must be standing.
And she’d guessed right. Cold coffee, a good cupful at least, had hit on his face and chest. The coating of thin brown fluid made that part of him visible.
“Back up to the door,” the little blonde ordered. “I can see enough of you to shoot at now, Lamont.”
He obeyed, walked to the door and opened it.
Nellie followed, gun trained on him.
Then Lamont dived out into the central cave, kicking the door back into the girl.
She stumbled, then ran out after him.
Now she couldn’t
The sheriff crouched, touched callused fingers to the blood spot on the lawn near the stone wall. “You sure your dog didn’t cut himself on something?”
“You saw him.” Montez poked a finger in the direction of the chained German shepherd. “There’s not a mark on him.”
“Couldn’t get that close,” replied the sheriff. He moved closer to the stone wall encircling the estate. “Must have gone over the wall around here, this invisible fellow of yours.”
“This is where Nero chased him.”
“We’ll go out and take a look at the sidewalk.”
As they made for the iron gates Montez said, “I had a feeling, a distinct feeling, that I was in danger. That’s the chief reason I got Nero. Ordinarily I can’t stand dogs.”
Shoving open the gate, the sheriff asked, “What made you figure you’d be a target, Mr. Montez?”
“Well . . . I saw what the pattern must be.”
“Pattern?” The sheriff stopped, inspecting the sidewalk by the light of his flash.
“Napton, Price, and I were all friends in college,” said Montez. “It wasn’t only that . . . there was an incident which—”
“I remember now. That’s who the lad in the picture was. Rusty Lamont.”
“Yes, we were all linked to Rusty’s unfortunate death. What picture?”
“Photo I saw at Mrs, Price’s. There’s more blood,” he said, pointing with the flashlight. “Looks like he went along this way. Yep, there’s another splash. Seems to stop here . . .”
“Then you got my message, Sheriff?” A tall, broad woman of fifty was approaching them along the sidewalk.
“What’s that, Mrs. Hackes?”
“About my car. My car was parked right here while I was in visiting old Mrs. Dinlock. When I came out a few minutes ago, I discovered it was gone. Stolen. I called your office, but they said—”
“He must have taken it,” said Montez. “That would tie in with the blood.”
“Blood?” said Mrs. Hackes.
“Give me the details about your car, ma’am,” the sheriff requested. “Make, model, and license number.”
“I can never remember my license number, but it’s a blue 1937 Plymouth two-door sedan. Has a raccoon tail tied to the radio what-do-you-call-it. My oldest boy’s idea.”
“We’ll find it,” the sheriff promised.
“It’s your turn to die!”
The voice came out of the air.
“I don’t think so, Dr. Lamont,” Nellie said defiantely.
The invisible man said no more.
Nellie listened intently, trying to hear him as he moved across the stone floor of the cave room.
But she could hear nothing.
She swung the beam of the flash back and forth, at the same time backing toward the rear wall of the cave.
The unseen Lamont was stalking her, she knew that.
Not even the sound of his breathing could she hear.
“I’m not the only one who knows who you are,” Nellie said.
Silence.
Her back was against the wall now. She maneuvered her purse, by its strap, along her arm and nearer her hand. From within she took a pistol. She shifted the flashlight to her left hand and took the gun in her right.
Now all I need is one more hand, she thought.
She stuffed the light, still burning, half into her purse and grabbed the coffeepot off the kerosene stove. There was liquid in the pot.
“Now maybe we’ll see you.” Nellie flung the contents of the pot toward the place where she’d decided Lamont must be standing.
And she’d guessed right. Cold coffee, a good cupful at least, had hit on his face and chest. The coating of thin brown fluid made that part of him visible.
“Back up to the door,” the little blonde ordered. “I can see enough of you to shoot at now, Lamont.”
He obeyed, walked to the door and opened it.
Nellie followed, gun trained on him.
Then Lamont dived out into the central cave, kicking the door back into the girl.
She stumbled, then ran out after him.
Now she couldn’t
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