The Four Johns
“He shivered as he thought how easy it would be to do something foolish. His first impulse on finding the body, for instance, had been to tumble it out on the ground and drive away at top speed.… He looked down at his hands on the wheel. The knuckles shone white.
He forced himself to relax; he could do anything—anything—if he had to. But what?
His first thought was to report to the police. His stomach flopped like a fish. To do that would involve him up to his neck. The car was his. Madera was his old home town. He had unsuccessfully wooed Mary. And his alibi for the night of her disappearance was nonexistent. It was not as if Mary Hazelwood were nondescript or drab. Mary Hazelwood was beautiful, a girl men fruitlessly pursued—the kind that often wound up as the central figure in a crime of passion.
Who killed Mary Hazelwood? the newspapers would ask. And they would mention his name in as close proximity to the question as they dared. Should the police fail to establish the guilt of so...meone else, his name would enter the conversation whenever the case was brought up.MoreLess
He forced himself to relax; he could do anything—anything—if he had to. But what?
His first thought was to report to the police. His stomach flopped like a fish. To do that would involve him up to his neck. The car was his. Madera was his old home town. He had unsuccessfully wooed Mary. And his alibi for the night of her disappearance was nonexistent. It was not as if Mary Hazelwood were nondescript or drab. Mary Hazelwood was beautiful, a girl men fruitlessly pursued—the kind that often wound up as the central figure in a crime of passion.
Who killed Mary Hazelwood? the newspapers would ask. And they would mention his name in as close proximity to the question as they dared. Should the police fail to establish the guilt of so...meone else, his name would enter the conversation whenever the case was brought up.MoreLess
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
10 / 10
User Reviews: