“Parker, you went too far.”
“Who says I did? We got one of the funniest states in this Union. It’s a big state, and once it was a rich state. Now it’s not, and only a few people live in it, but we all know those mines are going to come back, and I speak for every man, woman, and child in it when I say we all made up our minds long ago that we weren’t going to let it go to pot while we were waiting for whatever is in store. We’ve kept our state clean and given our children schools and our motorists roads but we had to do it our own way. We couldn’t do it with taxes because we didn’t collect enough. We did it with divorce and gambling and other things you all know about but I won’t go into here. We give them the decentest divorce, the squarest gambling, and the best-regulated things of other kinds, that you can find anywhere. We went on the principle our state’s preservation was involved, and if it was in the public interest and nobody got hurt, it was all right. You mean to tell me it’s not the same way here?”
Nobody answered. The Sheriff went on: “Now it’s been broke wide open, and a verdict of accident is out. Just the same, if this idiot hadn’t pulled this so-called confession out of my pocket, it would have given us our hospital, and everybody would have been taught all the lesson that was necessary.”
“You think so?”
Mr. Layton, who had been completely forgotten these last few minutes, now stepped truculently forward. To the Sheriff he said: “So, with a signed confession from her on you, it’s the other sister. With a fifty-grand bribe on you, it’s just taking up a collection for t.b. patients. With Hazel Shoreham made the murderer of Victor Adlerkreutz, instead of the beneficiary, Sylvia Shoreham, the Southwest General of N. A. is hooked fifty thousand dollars of life insurance, hey? Not while I’m here, we’re not. Your honor, I’d like to present a witness. One that’ll tell who really killed Victor Adlerkreutz.”
As Ethel, motioned on by Mr. Layton, came diffidently forward, there were many exchanges of glances, and the Coroner said to the Sheriff: “There’s nothing I can do but hear her.”
“I should say not.”
The Coroner told Ethel to be seated, asked her to hold up her right hand, swore her in. He had Mr. Flynn take her name, uneasily asked Mr. Pease if he wanted to take over the examination. Mr. Pease said he was doing very well himself, and should continue. He told Ethel that since he had no idea what she knew, perhaps the best thing would be for her to tell her story in her own way, and she did so, with a breathless, beady-eyed earnestness that could no more be doubted than a train-announcer could be doubted.
She said she dealt a game of blackjack that morning to a foreign gentleman known to her as Vic, though she had no idea he was Sylvia Shoreham’s husband. Then, she said, Jake the bartender whispered to her Sylvia Shoreham was in the office. She was that excited, she said, that she couldn’t count her chips, and paid Vic $1 to which he was not entitled. Soon, she said, Jake came out and called Vic and Vic went in the office, but she had no chance to go look because as soon as she rang up her cash three gentlemen came in and one of them wanted to play with $1 chips. She pointed to Mr. La Bouche as the high-limit customer, and then went on: “He played and he played and he played, and he lost $50 and wanted to get it back and all the time I seen Tony trotting in with a champagne set-up and I knew something was going on and I almost went wild. Then the little man looked at his watch and said come on, and this gentleman cashed his chips and all three went in the office. Then I started to go in. I was going to make out like there was two chips missing and this gentleman should look and if he had them in his pocket I’d give him cash, and then while he was looking I was going to hand my lipstick to Miss Shoreham and ask her to autograph my apron. But then Tony, he seen what I was up to, and said beat it back to my table.”
“When was this?”
“Around ten-thirty.”
“Go on.”
“So then they drove off.”
“Who drove off?”
“First Vic, and then Miss Shoreham. And then Mr. Spiro, he played roulette while he was having his boots shined. Vic went in his car and Miss Shoreham went in Tony’s car. But then, it took about an hour, here she came back. She parked in front, but didn’t come in the casino. That meant she had gone in the office the side way. So then Vic’s car came back with the lights on and some girl was driving and she let Vic out and then turned the car around and waited. So Vic come in the casino and went over and said something to Mr. Spiro and Tony told him his ring was in the office and he went in there. I kept watching Tony till he went out back and I started for the office door.”
“When was this?”
“Some time after twelve.”
“Did you go in?”
“No, sir. I put my hand on the knob, but then I could hear her voice and something told me to stay out. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but it had a funny note in it. So the slot wasn’t quite shut, the door that closes it I mean, and I peeped. I could only see that corner where the desk is, but she was over there, carrying on and carrying on and carrying on. Then she stopped and began looking for matches to light a cigarette. She opened the middle drawer and tried to bang it shut and caught her dress. So then she did bang it shut. So then she opened the righthand drawer, where the guns are kept. I seen this look come over her face and then she took out a gun and raised it. Then Vic was between me and her and then he was up there beside her talking to her and she put the gun down—”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute.”
The Sheriff turned to Mr. Flynn: “Did Miss Shoreham, Miss Sylvia Shoreham, come into my office this morning?”
“She did, yes sir.”
“How was she dressed?”
“Gray slacks, blue sweater, red ribbon around her hair, red shoes. We was talking about them slacks after she left, me and Dobbs and Hirsch.”
To Ethel, the Sheriff said: “Describe the dress.”
“It was green, with small brass buttons.”
“It wasn’t slacks?”
“She didn’t have on slacks at all.”
To a young officer, the Sheriff said: “Enders.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You had charge of the Hazel Shoreham case?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“You saw the body removed from the car?”
“I lifted it out myself.”
“How was that girl dressed?”
“Light cream colored spring coat, brown shoes, light stockings, no hat, green dress with small brass buttons. The dress is in Mr. Daly’s car. In the valise we put in there for Miss Shoreham.”
There was a stir as two officers went outside, came back with the valise, and opened it. The effects that had been taken from the dead girl corresponded with the Enders description. Mr. Flynn opened an envelope, said to the Coroner: “Little snag of green silk we found jammed in that drawer.” The Coroner lifted the dress, found a little hole over the right hip from which the snag had been torn. He turned angrily to Ethel. “What’s the idea, coming up here at this hour at night, lying like that?”
“She’s not lying.”
Sylvia, over the protests of Mr. Daly, blotted tears from her eyes and said: “It all happened exactly as she says, and I’m sure she thought it was I she was looking at. My sister looked a great deal like me. She was often mistaken for me.”
“What was she carrying on about?”
It was some seconds before Sylvia answered, and then a hush fell over the crowd that wasn’t broken at once. She said: “She was insane.”