“She had her hat on,” the chief said. “We figure she decided to run downtown for something at one of the stores and was heading for the garage. Instead of sticking to the walk, she took a catty-corner shortcut, just as you and George Sherman were doing when you found her.”
“She should have taken a light,” I said. Then I made a hopeless gesture. “The worst of it is, I intended to build a new cover for that thing today. I already had the lumber for it.”
“Well, it was a terrible tragedy, Mr. Henshaw. Particularly since you were still practically newlyweds. But don’t go blaming yourself. It was just an unforeseeable accident.”
Unforeseeable. I wondered what the fat chief would say if I told him that the main feature which had attracted me to the house when I rented it was the abandoned cistern with its dangerous-looking wooden cover.
There wasn’t any more to the investigation. Chief Stoyle didn’t even question Ed Erling in order to verify that I had been to his house looking for Hazel. He did ask George Sherman a question or two as co-discoverer of the body, but he didn’t even bother with Mrs. Sherman.
Later Mavis was, as usual, amused at how many of my precautions had turned out to be unnecessary.
Chapter X
I met Mavis at the station when she came in from Chicago. We both kept our expressions appropriately sad, but when I gave her a brotherly kiss on the cheek for the benefit of station onlookers, deep in her green eyes I could detect the suppressed relief she always felt when we neared the end of a deal.
Even in her ordinary dress Mavis had never been a beautiful woman so much as a desirable one. Except for sensually full lips, her features were too thin for real beauty. Yet properly clothed in the extremely feminine clothes she loved, she could start any man’s pulse hammering.
As she was now, though, no man would have looked at her twice. Her tailored suit gave her a neat appearance, but it effectively hid the soft lines of her body. The prim way in which her sleek black hair was drawn back tightly gave her face a thin, bony appearance entirely missing when she wore it loose. Her stiff walk, lacking even the slightest hip sway, plus a total absence of makeup, completed the illusion that she was an eminently respectable and uninteresting spinster.
I had trained her well. She was no longer the amateur thespian she had been when we met. Now, in any part I set for her, she could put on as convincing a performance as any top actress.
I knew she was dying to ask how things had gone so far, but all she said was, “I’m terribly sorry, Sam.”
The loungers at the station, watching us, nodded sympathetically.
Mavis didn’t even ask any questions when we got back to the house. Even in privacy I insisted on preserving appearances. Once during dinner she did look at me somewhat pleadingly, but when I merely said, “Later,” she let it drop.
In a town of only three thousand, there isn’t much choice of funeral homes. I wouldn’t have picked Jackson’s otherwise, because Lyman Jackson was as curious about other people’s business as an old woman. But he happened to run the only funeral parlor in town.
After dinner I took Mavis with me when I went to keep my appointment with Jackson. The plump, benign-looking funeral director courteously showed us to chairs in his office and seated himself behind a discreetly expensive desk.
“I can’t begin to express my sorrow for your tragic loss, Mr. Henshaw,” he said unctuously, then turned grave eyes on Mavis. “I know your sister by sight, of course, but I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced.”
“Oh,” I said. “Sorry. My sister Mavis, Mr. Jackson.”
“How do you do?” Mavis asked politely.
“A pleasure, Miss Henshaw.” His attention reverted to me. “I think first we should discuss the date and time of the funeral. Later, if you feel up to it, I’ll show you our casket display and we’ll talk over the type of funeral you wish. Or, if you prefer, we’ll postpone that business until tomorrow.”
I said, “I’d rather get everything settled tonight. I’d like the funeral as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” Jackson said, benignly placing his palms together. “Let’s see now. This is Wednesday and the paper publishes tomorrow. We can have the notice printed and schedule the funeral as early as Friday, if you wish. Unless you want to allow more time for out-of-town relatives to get here.”
“My folks are too old to travel,” I told him. “And Hazel didn’t have any relatives. Make it Friday.”
We completed arrangements within a half-hour, deciding on a three-hundred-and-fifty-dollar package funeral. Funeral arrangements were another thing I was always very careful about. In a small town too cheap a funeral risks local criticism. Too elaborate a one excites comment. I always tried to keep them at an anonymous in-between level which would create little stir and be quickly forgotten.
After our business was completed, we had to go through the trying ordeal of satisfying the undertaker’s curiosity about our future plans.
“Will this affect your negotiations with Mr. Benjamin?” he asked me as he escorted us to the door.
I was tempted to make some noncommittal reply, but then it occurred to me there might be some advantage in making use of Jackson’s tendency to gossip. When Mavis and I pulled up stakes and left Tuscola shortly after the funeral, it might create less comment if the town were prepared in advance.
I said, “I’m afraid I haven’t much heart for going into the hardware business right now, Mr. Jackson. Actually I haven’t given my plans for buying out Mr. Benjamin’s store a thought since this happened. But offhand I doubt that Mr. Benjamin and I will come to terms now. Hazel and I planned on the store together, and I don’t think I could face it alone.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the undertaker said. “Mr. Benjamin will be disappointed. Undoubtedly he’ll be able to find another buyer, though, so it will only temporarily postpone his retirement. I hope the town isn’t going to lose you, Mr. Henshaw.”
“I hadn’t thought of that yet, either. But I wouldn’t be surprised. It was only Mr. Benjamin’s magazine ad which brought Hazel and me here in the first place. If I’m not going into business here, there won’t be anything to hold me.”
“Except sorrowful memories,” Jackson agreed. “And I suppose it’s wisest to flee those when you have no other roots. The town will be sorry to lose you, Mr. Henshaw, but I can’t say I blame you for wanting to leave a community which has brought you such sorrow.”
I hoped his feeling would be reflected by the rest of the community. The biggest single factor in our success was that we always managed to leave behind us a feeling of liking and respect and sympathy whenever we finally departed from a community. In the early days we had often left suspicion behind instead. A good deal of my careful planning was designed merely to leave pleasant memories of us in the townspeople’s minds. Pleasant memories eventually fade and die, whereas suspicion has an unsettling habit of getting into the newspapers and warning future marks.
We finally broke away from Lyman Jackson. Mavis and I didn’t speak until we were safely home and I had checked the house to make sure it was empty, locked the doors and drawn the Venetian blinds. This was safe now though I had refused to allow it before Hazel’s death. The neighbors would expect to see drawn blinds at a home which had just suffered a tragedy.
When we were seated in the front room with drinks, I said, “Okay, you can relax now.”
Mavis let out a deep breath. “Any sign of suspicion?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Chief Stoyle made a routine investigation, but everything was friendly and sympathetic. He doesn’t even want to talk to you. The ticklish part is yet to come, though.”