He did not hesitate. With a swift movement, he brought the gun up, pressed it against
his temple--and fired.
Larkin rushed forward. Grossman and I were right behind him. The glaring headlights of
Vetti's car showed us the form of Carlo Vetti lying on the ground. his lifeblood soaking
the notebook in which he had written his dying confession at the command of his victim.
But the form of Rocco Landi had vanished.
Do I think Landi's spirit really came back and drove the car in the race, and then returned
to make his murderer confess?
I don't know, mister. You'll have to ask me an easier one. All I'm telling is what I
saw and heard. And I've got two witnesses to back me up. One of them's the D.A.'s own
detective--Grossman! I'm kind of glad now that Sweeney insisted on him coming along with
us.
Later they found most of the hundred grand in a safe-deposit box which Vetti rented,
and the experts at the police department checked up, on Vetti's gun and said it was the
same one that fired the two bullets that killed Landi.
Anyhow, that four-flusher Wilbur Sweeney never brought me to trial again for the murder
of Rocco Landi. And I wasn't sorry. Once was enough!
THE END.
Copyright й Conde Nast Publications, Inc
