“No,” said Masters.
“Then why ask me? But the fact is, I never got around to that file. Connor cost me a lot of honest dollars.”
Masters looked skeptical. Nevertheless, he smiled when he said, “Thanks, Lew,” and left.
He thought about stopping in at a diner in town for hamburgers and coffee, but he found that his appetite was gone. He compromised on a couple of shots of rye in a back-street bar.
The Howells were gone and the dark house seemed to be breathing in time with a slow, giant pulse. Vera Richmond, lying in bed beside her husband, listened to the breath and counted the pulse; both were her own. She had been lying on her back for a half hour but she could not sleep. She wondered if she would ever be able to sleep again. She would, of course. Sleep, like death, came in its due time, and maybe in the end there was little difference.
“Are you awake?” she said.
“Yes,” Jack Richmond said. After a while he said, “I’ve been thinking.”
“So have I. I’ve been thinking about what Nancy Howell told us tonight. What do you suppose will happen next?”
“I don’t know. We may as well face one thing, Vera. Lila was alive after Larry left Saturday night. So either he came back later, or... she was killed by somebody else.”
They were silent again. After another while, Vera said, “But what about Larry’s death? How can you make anything but suicide of that?”
“It’s not a question of what I can make of it. It’s a question of what the police can make of it. That fellow Masters has demonstrated that he’s no fool. God knows what else he’s found out or may have in mind.”
“It all seemed so simple at first,” Vera said. “It would be better if it had stayed that way.”
Jack cleared his throat. “All I know is, I can expect a call from Masters any time now. It’s bound to come.”
“Surely he can’t arrest you, Jack! On what evidence?”
“There’s no use going over all that again. Motive and opportunity may do me in fine. If Masters can’t prove my guilt by direct evidence, neither can I prove my innocence. By the time he’s finished he may have a circumstantial case that will sound like proof, even if it isn’t.”
“It’s not fair! I won’t let it happen!”
“There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing I want you to do. I’ve been the stupidest kind of jackass, and I suppose I’ll have to pay for it. I’m sorry, Vera.”
“Everything will come out all right! You’ll see.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Jack, can’t we move away? I want so much to move to another part of town.”
“If it’s not too late,” Dr. Richmond said.
14
It was later than they thought. It was, in fact, on the next evening that Masters came to see Dr. Jack Richmond. The chances were that it would have been the other way round — Dr. Richmond being called in to see Masters — if Masters had not happened to be in the neighborhood. To be exact, in the house next door.
In the meantime there had been some minor backyard action. Jack had come outside with a trowel and had begun to loosen the dirt around some rose bushes; and David, appearing in his yard a few minutes later, saw Jack at work and decided that he might as well go over and supervise the job. Jack really didn’t seem committed to the rose bushes, as indicated by the fact that immediately on spotting David he dropped the trowel and proposed a cold beer on the terrace. David declined feebly as a matter of form. Jack went in to get the beers, which he brought back shortly, and they were there, lolling in canvas chairs, when Nancy came outside looking for her helpmeet.
Expecting him to be at hand, Nancy was slightly aggrieved that he was not. She had been engaged in doing the dinner dishes in her hot kitchen, and it seemed to her that the least she had a right to expect of a husband, if he didn’t help, was to stay in his own backyard till the work was done. There he was, however, over on the Richmonds’ terrace, swilling beer like a member of the privileged class.
Nancy decided that what was good enough for him was certainly none too good for her. She drifted over sweetly and was invited to join them, an unnecessary amenity inasmuch as she had already done so; and when Jack returned with her beer, Vera was with him with a beer of her own.
By unstated agreement they avoided all reference to the Connors, whose remains had been claimed by various out-of-state relatives; and it was a problem to dredge up other topics when there was only one topic in the minds of all.
Jack and Vera, Nancy thought, looked haggard and tense. This was unusual, especially for Vera, who ordinarily adjusted to almost everything without trauma.
The silent house next door cast a shadow and a chill over lawn and hedge and flagstones, and to her annoyance Nancy found herself glancing at it over her shoulder, as if it were ready to spring. Thus it was, glancing back, that she suddenly saw it, and uttered a cry.
“Look!” Nancy said. “There’s a light in Lila’s room.”
“Yes,” Vera said. “It came on a few minutes ago.”
“Who in the devil could be up there this time of day,” David said, “and what in God’s name could they be doing?”
“Wait a minute.” Jack jumped up and walked around the house. When he returned he grunted, “There’s a police car parked out front. It must be that sleuth, Masters.”
He sat down again, picked up his can of beer, and leaned back with a deep sigh. It was for all the world as though he could sense the end of something and, sensing it, was relieved.
“What do you suppose he’s doing now?” Nancy said thoughtfully. “Could he be looking for the key again?”
“What key?” Jack said.
“The key to the back door. He thinks there was one in Larry’s key-case. Anyway, it’s missing. Didn’t I tell you?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, he thinks the murderer may have taken it after killing Larry in order to get into the house afterward and kill Lila.”
“Larry committed suicide,” Vera said. “Whatever ridiculous notions the police may have, there’s no doubt about that. If Lila was killed by somebody else, Larry’s suicide just happened to occur around the same time.”
“That’s my opinion too,” said David.
“I can tell you,” Nancy said, “that that is not the opinion of Lieutenant Masters. He made it perfectly clear the other morning when I told him about the light — I mean how it was off after being on at the time Larry left. It was the same morning I told him about Stanley, and how Stanley had seen and talked with Lila after I left him in the alley.”
“What are you, a witch or something?” David said. “Every time you mention Stanley, you conjure him up. Here he comes with Mae.”
“I think,” said Vera, “that I cannot possibly tolerate Mae this evening.”
But Vera managed to tolerate Mae after all. The Walterses declined beer and sat down stiffly. It was apparent that their marital relationship was in precariously delicate balance. Stanley had obviously been having a bad time and could look forward to no appreciable improvement in the immediate future.
“We were sitting on our back steps,” Stanley said, “and we saw the light go on next door. What’s doing up there?”
“It’s the police,” Jack said dreamily. “Masters, I suppose. He must be looking for something.”
“Looking for what?”
“I don’t know. Nancy thinks it’s a key to the back door. Maybe it’s for some evidence that you were in the room the night Lila was killed. Did you leave any fingerprints, Stanley?”