'She's ill?'
'Sherry-itis. And Miss Glynis is as down as I've ever seen her. I even called Powell, thinking a visit from him might help things. But he says he must avoid negative vibrations.
That means he's scared misery might be catching. W e l l. . '
she said, sighing again, 'I was figuring on retiring in a year or two. Maybe I'll do it sooner.'
'What will you do, Effie?' I asked softly.
'Oh, I'll make do,' she said, drawing a deep breath. 'I have enough. It's not the money that worries me, it's the loneliness.'
'Move somewhere pleasant,' I suggested. 'Warm, sunny weather. Maybe Florida or California. You'll make new friends.'
Suddenly she perked up. Those little blueberry eyes twinkled in her muffin face. She lifted one plump arm and 347
poked fingers into the wig of marcelled yellow-white hair. I could have sworn I heard her dentures clacking.
'I might even find myself a husband,' she said, looking at me archly. 'What do you think of that, Mr Bigg. Think I'm too fat?'
' "Pleasantly plump" is the expression, Effie. There are many men who appreciate well-endowed women.'
'Well-endowed?' she spluttered. 'How you do go on!
You're medicine for me, Mr Bigg, you truly are. See? I'm laughing for the first time in days. But I don't suppose you stopped by just to make a silly old woman happy. You need some help?'
'Thank you,' I said gratefully. I lowered my voice.
'Effie, is the door locked to Professor Stonehouse's study?'
She nodded, staring at me with bright eyes.
'You have a key?'
Again the nod.
I thought for a moment. 'What I'd like you to do is this: I'll wait here while you go out and unlock the door to the study and then come back. I'll go into the study. You'll be here, so you won't see me enter. I'll only be a few minutes.
No more than five. I swear to you I will not remove anything from the study. Then I will come back here to say goodbye, and you can relock the study door. That way, if you're ever asked any questions, you can say truthfully that you never saw me in the study, didn't see me go in or come out.'
She considered that for a while.
'Glynis is here,' she said. 'In the living room, I think.
And the Sexy Swede is wandering around someplace.
Either of them could catch you in there.'
'I know,' I said.
'I hope I'm doing the right thing,' she said.
When I was inside the study, I closed the door softly behind me. I went directly to the wall where the model ship 348
hulls were displayed. I moved along the bottom row, rapping on the hulls gently with a knuckle. Some sounded solid, some hollow. I found the Prince Royal in the middle of the third row. I stood on tiptoe to lift the Prince Royal plaque off picture hooks nailed into the wall.
I carried the model hull to the desk and set it on top of the littered papers and maps. I switched on the desk lamp. I picked up a pencil and tapped the hull form twice. It sounded hollow. So far so good.
I grasped the hull and lifted gently. It came away. As easily as that. Just came right off. I was astonished, and looked to see what had been holding it to the plaque. Eight small magnets, inch-long bars, four inset into the hull and four in the plaque. They gripped firmly enough to hold the hull when the tablet was on the wall, but released with a slight tug.
Of course I was more interested in the papers folded inside. Most were thin, flimsy sheets, of the weight used for carbon copies. I unfolded them carefully, handling them by the corners. The top four sheets were not typed, but handwritten. It took me awhile to read it through. The writing was as crabbed, mean, and twisted as the man himself.
I, Yale Emerson Stonehouse, being of sound mind and body …
It was all there: the holographic last will and testament of the missing Professor Stonehouse. He started by making specific cash bequests. Fifty thousand to his alma mater, and twenty thousand to Mrs Effie Dark, which I was happy to see. Then there were a dozen cash bequests to cousins and distant relatives, none of whom was to receive more than a thousand dollars, and one of whom was to inherit five bucks. Olga Eklund got one hundred.
The bulk of his estate was to be divided equally between his wife, Ula Stonehouse, and his son, Powell Stonehouse.
The will specifically forbade his daughter, Glynis 349
Stonehouse, from sharing in his estate because she had
'deliberately and with malice aforethought' attempted to cause his death by adding arsenic trioxide to his brandy. In proof of which, he was attaching to this will copies of chemical analyses made by Bommer amp; Son and a statement by Dr Morris Stolowitz that Professor Stonehouse had indeed been suffering from arsenic poisoning.
In addition, the will continued, if the testator was found dead by violence or by what appeared to be an accident, he demanded the police conduct a thorough investigation into the circumstances of his demise, with the knowledge that his daughter had tried to murder him once and would quite possibly try again, with more success.
The will had been witnessed by Olga Eklund and Wanda Chard. I could understand the loopy maid signing anything the Professor handed her and promptly forgetting it.
But Wanda Chard?
I carefully folded up the papers on their original creases, tucked them back into the hull of the Prince Royal, reattached hull to plaque, and wiped both with my handkerchief. Then, holding the tablet by the edges with my fingertips, I rehung it on the wall, adjusted it so it was level, and returned to the kitchen.
'Thank you, Effie,' I said, bending to kiss her cheek.
She looked up at me. I thought I saw tears welling.
'It's the end of everything, isn't it?' she asked.
I couldn't lie to her.
'Close to it,' I said.
I went back into the living room. Glynis Stonehouse was standing at one of the high windows, staring down at the rain-lashed street. She turned when she heard me come into the room.
'Finished?' she asked.
'Finished,' I said. 'Mrs Dark tells me your mother isn't feeling well. I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Stonehouse.
Please convey to her my best wishes and hope for her quick recovery.'
'Thank you,' she said.
She stood tall and erect. She had recovered her composure. She looked at me steadily, and there was nothing in her appearance to suggest that she knew how close she was to disaster.
'I'll keep you informed of the progress of my investigation, Miss Stonehouse.'
'Yes,' she said levelly, 'you do that.'
She was so strong. Oh, but she was strong! If she had weakened, briefly, that weakness was gone now; she was resolute, determined to see it through. I admired her. She was a woman of intelligence and must have known she was in danger, walking the edge. I bade her a dignified good day, then hightailed it across town to the Kipper manse.
Chester Heavens greeted me with his usual aplomb, but I sensed a certain reticence, almost a nervousness in his replies to my chatter about his health, the weather, etc. We were standing in the echoing entrance hall when I became aware of raised voices coming from behind the closed doors of the sitting room.
'Mom is at home, sah,' the butler informed me gravely, looking over my head.
'So I hear,' I said. 'And Mr Knurr?'
He nodded slowly.
I hid my pleasure.
'Chester,' I said, 'I won't stay long. This may be my last visit.'
'Oh?' he said. 'I am sorry to hear that, sah.'
'Just a few little things to check out,' I told him.
He bowed slightly and moved away towards the kitchen.
I stood at the front door and looked towards the rear of the house. The doorway could not be seen from the kitchen. Then I moved to the elevator. That was in plain view of anyone in the kitchen or pantry.