“How did she happen to meet and marry Graham Markley?”
“I don’t know. Graham is susceptible to variety in women. Probably her particular kind of prettiness, her fragility or something, happened to appeal to him at the time they met I imagine their marriage was one of those sudden things that usually should never happen.”
“I see. How did you learn so much about her? Not back there in the beginning. I mean after she married Markley. About her baby, her affair with Lawler, those things.”
“Oh, I picked up bits from various sources, but most of it I learned from Maria. She was maid to Constance, you see, when Constance and Graham were living together. When I came along and moved into this apartment, I sort of acquired her. Graham still had her and didn’t know what to do with her, so he sent her over to me. Isn’t that strange?”
“Convenient, I’d say. Did Maria see Constance Markley the night of her disappearance?”
“Yes. She helped Constance dress. Apparently she was the last person that Constance spoke to.”
“May I speak with her for a moment?”
“If you wish. I’ll get her.”
2
She got up and walked barefooted off the terrace into the black-and-white tiled room, and I drank the last of my gin and tonic and wished for another, and in about three minutes, not longer, she returned with Maria. She sat down again and told Maria that she could also sit down if she pleased, but Maria preferred to stand. Her small brown face was perfectly composed.
“What do you want me to tell you?” she said.
“I want you to answer a few questions about Mrs. Markley,” I said. “Constance Markley, that is. Will you do that?”
“If I can.”
“Miss Salem says that you saw Mrs. Markley the night she disappeared. Is that so?”
“It’s so. I helped her dress for the evening.”
“Did she go out alone?”
“Yes. Alone.”
“Do you know where she was going?”
“I assumed that she was going to see Mr. Lawler. She didn’t tell me.”
“Did she go to see Mr. Lawler often?”
“Twice a week, maybe. Sometimes three.”
“How do you know? Did she confide in you?”
“More in me than anyone else. She had to talk to someone.”
“I see. Were you devoted to Mrs. Markley?”
“Yes. She was very kind, very unhappy. I pitied her.”
“Because of the death of her child?”
“Partly because of that. I don’t know. She was not happy.”
“Did you approve of her affair with Mr. Lawler?”
“Not approve, exactly. I understood it. She needed a special kind of love. A kind of attention.”
“Mr. Lawler gave her this?”
“He must have given it to her. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have gone on with him. That’s reasonable.”
“Yes, it is. It’s reasonable. And so are you, Maria. You’re a very reasonable woman. Tell me. What was your impression of her the night she disappeared?”
“Pardon?”
“Her emotional state, I mean. Was she depressed? Cheerful?”
“Not depressed. Not cheerful. She was eager. There’s a difference between eagerness and cheerfulness.”
“That’s true. Besides being reasonable, Maria, you are also perceptive. Did she seem excessively agitated in any way?”
“Just eager. She was always eager when she went to see Mr. Lawler.”
“Do you think that Mr. Markley was aware of the relationship between his wife and Lawler?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t show much interest in anything Mrs. Markley did. Not even when the child died.”
“All right. Just one more question, Maria. What time did Mrs. Markley leave here?”
“About eight. Perhaps a few minutes before or after.”
“Thank you, Maria.”
Maria turned her still brown face toward Faith Salem, who smiled and nodded. The maid nodded in return, three times, and went away. Faith Salem stood up abruptly, standing with her legs spread and her hands rammed into the patch pockets of the short white coat.
“Well?” she said.
“It looks hopeless,” I said. “You’d be wasting your money.”
“Perhaps so. If I don’t waste it on you, I’ll waste it on someone else.”
“In that case, it might as well be me.”
“You agree, then? You’ll take the job?”
Looking up at her, I was beginning to feel dominated, which was not good, so I removed the feeling by standing.
“Tentatively,” I said.
“What do you mean, tentatively?”
“I’ll make a preliminary investigation. If anything significant or interesting comes out of it, I’ll go ahead. If not, I’ll quit. You’ll pay my expenses and twenty-five dollars a day. Are those terms acceptable?”
“Yes. I accept.”
“Another thing. I’m to be allowed to talk with whomever I think necessary. Is that also agreed?”
“Yes, of course.” She hesitated, her soft lower lip protruding again in the darkly brooding expression. “You mean Graham, I suppose. I’d prefer, naturally, that he not know whom you’re working for.”
“I won’t tell him unless I think it’s advisable. I promise that much.”
“That’s good enough. I have confidence in your word, Mr. Hand.”
“Ethical. Someone told you, and you believe it, and that’s what I am. I’ll begin my investigation, if you don’t mind, by asking you one more question. What are you afraid of?”
“Afraid? I’m afraid of nothing. I honestly believe that I’ve never been afraid of anything in my life.”
“I’m ready to concede that you probably haven’t. Let me put it differently. What disturbs you about Constance Markley’s disappearance?”
“I’ve explained that. I don’t like loose ends. Graham has asked me to marry him. For my own reasons, I want to accept. First, however, he has to get a divorce. He can get it, I suppose, on grounds of desertion. I only want to know that it really was desertion.”
“That’s not quite convincing. What alternative to desertion, specifically, do you have in mind?”
“You said you would ask one more question, Mr. Hand. You’ve asked two.”
“Excuse me. You can see how dedicated I become to my work.”
“I should appreciate that, of course, and I do. I honestly have no specific alternative in mind. I just don’t like the situation as it stands. There’s another thing, however. I knew Constance, and I liked her, and now by an exceptional turn of events I’m in the position of appropriating something that was hers. I want to know that it’s all right. I want to know where she went, and why she went wherever she did, and that everything is all right there and will be all right here, whatever happens.”
I believed her. I believed everything she told me. She was a woman I could not doubt or condemn or even criticize. If I had been as rich as Graham Markley, I’d have taken her away, later if not then, and I’d have kept her, and there would have been between us, in the end, more than the money which would have been essential in the beginning.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said. “Do you have a photograph of Constance Markley that I can take along?”
“Yes. There’s one here that Maria brought. I’ll get it for you.”
She went inside and was gone for a few minutes and came back with the photograph. I took it from her and put it into the side pocket of my coat without looking at it. There would be plenty of time later to look at it, and now, in the last seconds of our first meeting, I wanted to look at Faith Salem.
“Good-bye,” I said. “I’ll see you again in a few days and let you know if I intend to go ahead.”