Greer sat down to wait for Murphy. The day was already becoming warm and the atmosphere in the room was depressing. From the open windows came a too-sweet scent of flowers which Greer could not identify. Greer was not an intuitive man but he had the impression that the Goodfields were concealing something, perhaps about Rose, perhaps only about themselves. He felt that, by talking to the old lady, he might have this impression confirmed or denied. It was obvious that she — and Murphy — dominated the household.
“This way, sir,” Murphy said.
Greer rose. “How long have you worked for the Goodfields, Murphy?”
“Two weeks, sir.”
“How were you hired?”
“I inserted an ad in the local paper.”
“Many replies?”
“Certainly, sir. I chose the Goodfields because they didn’t expect me to perform any menial duties. Ortega does the gardening, a cleaning woman comes in twice a week, the laundry is sent out, and Mrs. Goodfield does all the cooking.”
“That must leave you with a fair amount of time to yourself.”
“It might seem that way to a casual observer,” Murphy said shortly, and led the way upstairs, walking very stiffly as if she were balancing a book on her head.
“It’s a curious job for a woman of your talents, isn’t it?”
“Is it, sir?”
“I think so. You’ve been to college, haven’t you?”
“Certainly I’ve been to college. That’s where I learned that good domestics make more money than good teachers, and they even have an opportunity sometimes to marry the boss. If you follow me, sir?”
“I follow you.”
“When the Goodfields return to San Francisco, I will go with them. There are more, shall we say, possibilities in a larger city.”
“I’m sure you’ll explore them.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll try.”
Mrs. Goodfield was lying on a mountain of pillows in an old-fashioned four-poster bed with a ruffled pink canopy. The bed dwarfed her; she seemed no larger than a child, a pale and limp little girl strangely aged by a long illness. Her skin had the white translucence of paraffin, and even in the dim light that filtered through the closed Venetian blinds her short, black hair had the purplish gleam of dye. Her thin, slightly curved nose gave her a look of pride and arrogance. Even in bed she wore her jewels — diamonds and rubies on her fingers, a bracelet that tinkled with every move she made, and pearl earrings that matched the pallor of her small delicate ears.
“I have no use for the medical profession,” she said, giving Greer a long, hostile stare. “You might as well pack up and leave.”
“He isn’t a doctor, milady,” Murphy said. “He’s a policeman, Captain Greer.”
“A policeman, eh? I suppose Willett went through a red light. He never could handle a car, it handles him. Makes me wonder sometimes if I brought him up right. Murphy, you may leave.”
“I think it would be advisable if I stayed, milady.”
“I think it would be advisable if you got the hell out of here. And stop pulling that milady stuff on me. It makes me gag, understand?”
Murphy departed with an elegant shrug.
“Impossible, ain’t she?” the old lady said cheerfully. “Lots of people think I’m impossible, but I don’t agree. Did you ever play baseball?”
“Shortstop on the high school team.”
“Seems to me you’re built more like a catcher. ’Course I can’t see your legs. You got heavy legs?”
“Heavy enough.”
“You should have been a catcher. But I don’t suppose you came up here to talk baseball, did you?”
“No.”
“Well, now it’s your turn to say something. I talk a lot, but I’m very fair about giving the other fellow his chance. Go on, say something.”
“I suppose you’ve been told what happened here yesterday morning.”
She nodded. “Rose French was found dead in my backyard. It made Willett nervous.”
“Did you know Rose?”
“Know her, I did not. But I used to go to her pictures. Never considered her much of an actress, myself.” She thumped one of the pillows to emphasize her point. “What’s all the fuss about, anyway? If she’s dead, she’s dead. Not much I can do about it.”
“The possibility occurred to me that you might have known her personally.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“How about your son?”
“I’ve never allowed Willett to have any truck with actresses,” she said with severity. “When the time came for Willett to spread his wings, I picked out Ethel for him. Good, sturdy stock, Ethel. Don’t let those wispy airs confuse you. She’s strong as a horse. Now let me see, where were we? Oh yes, actresses. I explained all about actresses to Willett when he was eighteen. Does that answer your question?”
“I think so.”
“Now it’s your turn to say something again. Go on. ’Course if you can’t think of something, I’ll take another turn and then you can have two turns next time. That suit you?”
“I think I’d better take my turn now,” Greer said dryly. “There may not be a next time.”
The old lady grinned and stroked her rings. She was having a wonderful time.
“Would you mind telling me, Mrs. Goodfield, how Willett makes a living?”
“By agreeing with me. That’s how he makes a living.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“I have no interest in business details. Why don’t you ask Willett or Ethel?”
“All right, I will,” Greer said, and took a hesitant step toward the door.
“You’re not going already, are you?”
“I promised not to stay too long and disturb you.”
“Disturb me?” She propped herself up on one elbow and repeated, “Disturb me? Don’t they realize I’m lonely? I like to talk to people, outside people. Why don’t you sit down for a minute and we’ll talk about baseball? I won’t cheat on turns, either. That suit you?”
“It would suit me another time. This morning I have work to do.”
Mrs. Goodfield flung herself back among the pillows like a petulant child. “You won’t come back. I bet you won’t. You think I’m an old crank. But I’m not. It’s just that I’ve had so many disappointments in my life. My children were the worst. First Willett and then Jack and then Shirley. They’re not bad children, but they lack will and spirit. They’ll never amount to anything, not one of them. Jack’s a party boy, always the extra man at dinners and cocktail parties. Makes quite a fool of himself, falling all over other men’s wives. You know the kind?”
“Yes.”
“And Shirley, poor girl, she got married very young to a schoolteacher. He died of a stroke two years ago, leaving Shirley with four children to support.” She added almost reverently, “Thank God for our little factory; it’s kept us all out of the poorhouse so far.”
“What do you mean, so far?”
“Things can happen, especially after I’m gone. Did Willett tell you that I’m supposed to be dying?”
“Not exactly.”
“I’m supposed to be, but I’m not sure I’m going to. Not till after the World Series anyway. You don’t happen to know any bookies in town, do you? I was wondering, maybe if I take up betting on the horses, it would give me another hobby besides baseball.”
“Officially there are no bookies in town.”
“And unofficially?”
“I’ll see what can be done.”
The old lady grinned again and rubbed the palms of her hands together.
Greer departed with the strong conviction that he had been hog-tied by an expert.
6
The following morning, Thursday, at 9 A.M., a coroner’s inquest was held to determine the cause of death of Rose Elizabeth French, a human being.