"And lied?" gasped Dorothy. "But why would Miss Callahan say she had one, if that wasn't true?"
Kate's mouth curled. "For heaven's sakes, call me Kate, dear."
"But you told about it—the police and all?" Dorothy demanded.
"Sure, I told. Got on the witness chair or whatever they call it. Told the truth." Kate's fat shoulders moved as it to say that truth had no chance in this seamy world. "Them Bartees hed."
Nan said, "Please, Johnny . . ." She looked distressed.
"A minute. Why did they lie, Kate? Were they trying to hurt McCauley?"
"I don't think so," the fat woman said, "I think it was just because the old man would have kicked Nathaniel out of the house for ever being near me." She spoke without resentment. "See, Nathaniel, he was afraid. You take a man who's afraid—" Kate looked sad, paint and all.
"What was he afraid of?"
'TH[is old man. The old lady. The world/'
"I thought the old lady-"
"Oh, she stuck up for him. But she bossed him/' Kate said. "That was the price of it. Nathaniel shoulda had a woman who'd let him be the boss. If he hadn't wanted to be the boss, Nathaniel would have got along a lot better."
'Tou are talking about Dick's father?" said Nan in a tight voice.
"That's right/' Kate nodded. "I didn't know him long. It was one time the old man went away for about six weeks and Nathaniel was worse oflF than ever. See, he was left in charge. He had his chance. He found out he just didn't have the guts to be the boss—or the nerve, or what it takes. He wasn't up to it. This hit him. Well, I was younger then That must be 1930 or '31—a million years ago.
"People come in here. Well, I'm friendly. They like to talk, you know. I guess it helps if you find a place where you say what's on your mind. Anyhow, he gave me that pin, last time I saw him, I think it was. He didn't say it was real jewels. I didn't think anything of it. He wanted to do something nice. There was no harm in that. But when it comes to the trial Nathaniel gets up and lies about it. Well, probably he had to." Kate understood, forgave.
"Why should he he?" said Dorothy fiercely.
"I told you. The old man would have kicked him out."
'WelI, then, he should have got out—"
"It would have been rough on him," Kate said. -
"Or good for him," said Dorothy angrily.
"Maybe so, dear. But things don't always happen the way they should, I guess." (Almost never, Kate's tone implied.) "When I couldn't help poor Chnton McCauley out of that mess, beheve me, I felt bad. Still, I think now he would have been miserable, anyhow. With Christy gone. He was too crazy about her. Well, I dunno . . ." Kate seemed to be accepting, digesting, almost bringing herself around to the point of agreeing with an old evil. Then she said, "One person I felt real sorry for, and that's the little baby. Poor little thing. Her mama killed, her papa sent up, and not true either."
"You think," said Johnny quickly, "that Chnton McCauley did not do itr
"I said so, didn't I? I know this much. He never took
any pin out of that safe, see? The one he had in his pocket was mine. That's what I know. And if they'd believed me, I don't think they could have put him away."
Dorothy said, with vigor, "If Clinton McCauley didn't kill her, who could have done it?"
Johnny, paralyzed, couldn't speak, couldn't stop an answer. Wasn't sure whether he ought . . .
"Who did kill Christy McCauley?" said Kate. "WeU, dear, I got an awful good guess. The crazy kid did it. You know, Nathaniel's kid. Richardson Bartee?"
Chair legs scraped. Nan rose. Her face was white. "You horrible woman!" she said. She got around the table.
Johnny was up and took her shoulders. Nan said furiously, "Let me go." Her eyes were hard and bright. "Now, I see what you're trying to do! Behind Dick's back! I despise you!" She shook away from his touch.
Johrmy felt sad. A great empty pit yawned open in the dark of his mind.
Dorothy was up, too. "I'll go with her," Dorothy said, catching his arm as if to hold him back. Johnny, who had not moved, looked down at her. "They had their blood tests made yesterday," she told him. Then Dorothy began to run after Nan.
Johnny followed to the door. Nan was down the block. He saw Dorothy catch up. He stood stiU. Blood tests! Yesterday!
Kate's voice said behind him, "Say, who are they?"
"That's Dick Bartee's fiancee," he told her painfully.
yeah? Who's the httle dark one?"
"His fiancee," Johnny repeated impatiently.
"The little one? WeU! I'd have thought he'd go for the snazzy blonde."
Johnny hardly heard. He didn't know whether to go after Nan or not. He decided not. Turning, took Kate's fat forearm in his fingers. "Isn't there anybody who could swear you ever had that pin?" he demanded. "Anybody?"
"A milhon years ago," she said sadly. "Nobody. See, I put it away. It didn't look like much. I never wore it. Wasn't my type of—" Kate grinned, "junk. But it was mine. And I never got it back either," she added. "What are you trying to do, anyhow? You're no writer, my friend."
"I'm trying to find some evidence."
"Listen, there isn't any evidence."
"Tell me this, will you? What makes you think the boy did it?"
"I don't know," said Kate.
"You don't know!" Johnny felt despair.
"Them Bartees sure tried to get something on me," Kate said plaintively. "My stuff was searched."
"Searched? What do you mean?"
"Christy was killed the Friday night. Sunday, well, I'm closed, see? In the evening, I go to church." Kate's eyes didn't expect him to believe her. "I sit in the back," she added apologetically, (and Johnny behoved her). "Somebody busted in here."
"What forr
"I don't know," Kate said. "Nothing was taken. But whoever got in that night and looked around, it wasn't Nathaniel, I'll^ teU you that."
"You think it was Dick Bartee?"
"Who else?" Kate shrugged. "He had tlie crust, that kid.''
Johnny, thoroughly puzzled, chewed on his mouth.
"I guess you don't want her to marry him," Kate said^ He^ looked at her a«d her eyes were kind.
"No," said Johnny hoarsely, "I don't want her to marry him."
"Can't blame you," she soothed. "It's a shame. But you can't find no evidence, especially now. See, Clint's sister, she tried. Every way in the worlcJ, she tried. And that was seventeen years ago. So see, there ain't a lot you can do. With the time gone by and all. You don't want to blame yourself."
Johnny could feel the steam leaking out of him.
"She's crazy about this Dick, eh? Well, she wouldn't listen. Look, for her, it is right to get mad like she did just now. You can see that." (Understand, Kate soothed. Just understand). "Come on back, have another beer. Listen, people bring things on themselves. Sometimes you just got to let them go."
Johnny knew a sinking, softening feeling. Temptation. Sit in the back room; let it go. Give up and be comforted. You've done all you could. This was Kate's charm, he realized. Kate was on the side of the weak. Kate would sit with him in a sad and seamy world and comfort helplessness. McCauley's frustiation. Nathaniel's. Not mine, he thought grimly.
He said crisply, "Do you know any of the servants at the Bartee place?"
"No. No, dear."
"Anybody who worked there seventeen years ago?"
"Aw, no," Kate soothed.
Johnny whirled around. He said to the men at the bar, "Ally of you know anybody who worked for the Bartees seventeen years ago?"
"No," they said. "No," and shifted weight.
Johnny stood thinking.
One man said suddenly, "My uncle's best friend, I used to hear him say he seen the kid's car on the upper road that night."
"The night of the murder? Where is the upper road?"
Both men told him with gestures.
"Where can I find this man? What's his name?"
"Name was Ruiz. He moved away. He's not around any more. We don't know where he went," they said.
CHAPTER 12
Nan drove fast. Wind whipped their hair.