The first thing she knew, she smelled something disagreeable and irritating but familiar. Anesthetic? No. Ammonia. But why had she brought ammonia to bed with her? She opened her eyes. There was a man.
He asked, “Do you know me?”
“Certainly I do. Tecumseh Fox. But why—” She stirred.
He put his fingertips on her shoulders. “You’d better lie still. Do you remember phoning me?”
“Yes— I—”
“Just a minute. If you turn your eyes you can see Mr. Olson here. He had to let me in, and he needs to know whether I’m friend or enemy.”
She moved her head, said ouch, and saw the janitor there looking worried. “It’s all right, Eric,” she said. “Mr. Fox is a friend. Thank you.”
“But you... you look sick, Miss Duncan.”
“I’ll be all right. Thanks.”
When the door had closed behind Mr. Olson, Fox got a glass from the table and proffered it. “Here, take a sip of this. Just enough for a spark until I know what floored you. I found it in the kitchen, so it’s on the house.”
The brandy lit a fire in her. She swallowed the other spoonful and let him take the glass. Her head dropped back to the cushion and a spasm passed over her from top to foot.
Fox’s voice sounded like a roar to her, though in fact it wasn’t: “Before I used the ammonia I took off your hat and covered your legs and did a little detecting. You’ve been walking in the rain, you left your bag somewhere, you’ve been wiping blood from your hand, not very thoroughly, and someone hit you on the head with something.”
She made an effort to hold her eyes open, and to speak. The brandy was burning. “How do you know they did?”
“There’s a lump above your right ear the size of a lemon. Feel it yourself. Who hit you?”
“I don’t know.” She tried to concentrate. “I didn’t even know I was hit.”
“Where were you?”
“In Uncle Arthur’s office. He... he’s dead. He’s there on the floor with his throat cut open— Oh, I... I—”
“Take it easy,” said Fox sharply. The suggestion of a smile which was more or less continuously at the corners of his mouth had suddenly disappeared. “And keep your head still; we don’t want you passing out again. Did you see your uncle dead on the floor with his throat cut?”
“Yes.”
“When you arrived?”
“No. He wasn’t there when I arrived — I mean I didn’t see him — there was a light in the office and I walked in — I didn’t see anybody or hear anybody—”
She stopped and Fox said, “Go ahead.”
“That’s all I know. When I came to and opened my eyes — my hand slipped when I went to lift myself up — and I saw it was blood and Uncle Arthur was there so close—”
“Just keep your voice calm. Go ahead.”
“I crawled over to the wall and got a towel and wiped my hand — then I stood up — then when I could walk I went away. I knew something was wrong with my head but I was too dumb to realize what—”
“Dumb or numb. Did you come straight here?”
“I walked to an avenue — I think Eighth — and got a taxi.”
“Did you phone me as soon as you got here?”
“Yes, right away.”
“You phoned me at eight forty-two.” Fox calculated. “Then you left there about ten after eight. What time did you get there?”
“At seven o’clock. Only I was late, maybe ten minutes late. Uncle Arthur phoned and asked me to come at seven, but I was late.”
“Did you take a taxi?”
“Yes, it was raining.”
“You left your bag there?”
“I must have — in the taxi I didn’t have it.”
“Why did your uncle ask you to come? What for?”
“I don’t know. He said he had a problem — he asked it as a favor — a family favor, he said — if you’d give me a little more brandy.”
He poured a small finger and handed it to her, and waited for it to go down.
“Did he say what the problem was about?”
“No.”
“Did you think it was about the quinine?”
“I didn’t see how it could be — I don’t remember exactly what I thought.”
“What time did he phone you?”
“I don’t — wait, yes I do. I saw I’d have to leave in about an hour, so it was a little before six. Around a quarter to six.”
“What did you do during that hour?”
“I went in the bedroom and lay down. I had a headache.”
“Let me feel your head.”
She let him. His competent fingertips, inserted through the strands of her brown hair, moved gently over and around the bump over her ear, then, with his eyes on her face, the fingers suddenly pressed firmly, and she winced and grimaced.
“Did that hurt much?”
“Well — enough.”
“Sorry. I think you’ll be all right. Excuse me for rushing things, but there’s a possibility even now — did you make sure your uncle was dead?”
“Make sure—” She stared.
“Make sure he wasn’t breathing or his heart beating.”
“My God.” Her tone was horror. “But he — no — what I saw—”
“All right. But the jugular had to be reached.” Fox gazed down at her. “Why didn’t you phone the police?”
“I couldn’t. My head — I wasn’t really conscious of what I was doing until I got outdoors—”
“I don’t mean there. After you got back here. You knew I was sixty miles away and it would take me an hour and a half to get here. Why didn’t you phone the police?”
She met his gaze. “Oh,” she said. “I simply don’t know. I guess I was afraid, but I don’t know what I was afraid of. Right after I phoned you I tumbled here on the sofa. If you think — what I’ve told you is exactly the way it was — but if you think—”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Why, I — all I can say is, when I phoned you, it was awful and I was stunned and felt helpless — I don’t know what you can do and of course there’s no reason why you should do anything—”
Fox suddenly and surprisingly grinned. “Okay. You sound good to me.” He stepped to the table, got out his notebook and found a page, pulled the phone across, and dialed a number. After a moment he spoke:
“Hello, Clem. ’Tec the Fox alias Fox the ’Tec. Greetings. Come out in the rain, please. No, but a little job that may be important. Come right away to 320 Grove Street apartment of Miss Amy Duncan, two flights up. I won’t be here, but she will. Examine her head. First, attend to her — I’m sure there’s no fracture. Second, determine if you are prepared to swear that she received a blow about three hours ago which knocked her cold. Third, take her to that hospital you try to boss and put her to bed. No, I didn’t. When I hit ladies they land in China. Right away? Good. Many thanks and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Fox shoved the phone back and turned. “So. That’s Doctor Clement Vail and he’ll be here within half an hour. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. You’ll be in better shape to converse with cops tomorrow than you are tonight. Doctor Vail is handsome and sympathetic, but don’t tell anyone anything until you hear from me, which should be in the morning. This may be rough going, or there may be nothing to it as far as you’re concerned. Even if we wanted to pretend you weren’t there, which is rarely a good idea, we couldn’t, with all your taxi rides and leaving your bag behind. Is there a catch lock on that door at Tingley’s Titbits?”
“But you — you’re not going there—”
“Somebody has to. Don’t hold me up. Is the door locked?”
“No — I think I didn’t even close it... it’s open—”
“Good.”
Fox picked up his coat and hat. Amy stammered:
“I don’t know what to say — I mean, I had a nerve yesterday to ask you to help me, and now—”