Frank Duryea picked up the carving set, started slicing the steak.
“Got some coffee made?” Gramps Wiggins asked Milred.
She nodded.
“I’ll go get a bottle o’ that brandy,” Wiggins said, jumping up. “Goes mighty nice in coffee. A little of it straight ain’t goin’ to hurt you none either. It sort o’ stimulates your stomach an’ makes it handle food faster. Since I been drinkin’ that brandy, never have had even a touch o’ stomach trouble. Don’t have no trouble digestin’ anything.”
Milred said, “You don’t digest it, Gramps. You just pickle it.”
“Mebbe so. Mebbe so. I’ll go get a bottle anyhow. Got a lot of it in the trailer.” He pushed back his chair and his short legs fairly twinkled as he bustled through the kitchen and out to the trailer.
Milred said, “It’s even worse than I thought it was going to be. He’s all loaded for you. I hope you’re not going to mind it too much, Frank.”
He laughed and reached across the table to take her hand. “I think I’m going to like it.”
“Well, just remember you can’t depend on anything he says — I mean, on the people he has for witnesses. Gramps has a genius for picking up people who are just a little off-color.”
Duryea said, “After all, Milred, I’m going to have to prose-cute someone on these murders. It isn’t going to hurt any to talk it over a little.”
“Talk it over!” she exclaimed. “You won’t get a word in edgewise. You’re being awfully nice to him, Frank — and to me.”
“I think he’s swell — and I’m learning a lot about you. So you’re a Wiggins?”
She smiled. “A dissolute wanton,” she said. “I come by it honestly.”
Gramps Wiggins came bustling back with two bottles of brandy. “This here one is only about half full,” he said. “Thought I’d better bring another one along, just in case.”
He passed his coffee cup over to Milred. “Just about half a cup, sister,” he said.
She held the cup under the faucet of the electric coffee percolator, drew off about two-thirds of a cup. Gramps Wiggins promptly filled the other third with brandy, stirred it up, tasted it, and smacked his lips. “Better try some o’ this, son,” he said.
“Later,” Duryea said.
Gramps Wiggins cut off a slice of steak, pushed it in his mouth, scooped up baked potato, broke off a piece of bread, and shoved it in after the potato. Then, ignoring the amount of food in his mouth, started talking, his words all but indistinguishable. “Now that there Tucker...”
Milred said, “Gramps, why don’t you chew your food?”
He looked at her indignantly. “I am chewing my food.”
“You’re talking.”
“Well, I gotta open my mouth, ain’t I, to get my teeth in position? And I close it to bring my teeth down on the food. I also gotta open it an* close it to talk, so I just combine the two operations. Can’t tell whether I talk to chew, or whether I chew to talk...
“Well, gettin’ back to this here Tucker. Nice chap. Everett Tucker his name is. Wife’s name Marjorie. I got their address an’ all about ’em. Ain’t got no children now. Had a boy that was purty wild, got killed in an auto accident. Well, what I was gonna say, son, was how about this here Moline girl that fell overboard from that yacht? When did she go aboard the yacht?”
“She says about ten or fifteen minutes before young Shale picked her up in the boat. She was aboard the yacht just long enough to discover the bodies.”
“Uh huh. Anyone see her goin’ aboard the yacht?”
“Apparently not. Shale, it seems, was about the only one who was in a position to notice her, and he happened to be examining a seashell as she walked past. He says that was just about ten or fifteen minutes before he picked her up out of the water. That’s the only time she could have gone aboard without his seeing her.”
“That ain’t no way to prove anything.”
“Why not?”
“How long had this here Shale boy been on the beach?”
“Nearly three-quarters of an hour.”
“Well,” Wiggins said, “Tucker had been there at least for a half an hour. He thinks probably three-quarters of an hour, but he’s sure of half an hour because after he’d been on the beach a few minutes, he looked at his watch. He remembers what time it was.”
“What did he see?” Duryea asked.
“That’s just the point,” Gramps said. “He didn’t see a gol-darn thing. Now, if that girl had walked along the beach an’ out on that yacht club float, an’ rowed over to this here Gypsy Queen, Tucker would have seen her.”
“He might not have remembered her,” Duryea said. “That quite frequently happens. Unless a witness realizes something is important, he’ll see some routine happening and then forget entirely that...”
“Not Tucker,” Wiggins interrupted positively. “He ain’t one not to have seen a good-lookin’ gal. He was lookin’ at them yachts, talkin’ to his wife about how he was out of a job and havin’ trouble with the finance company, an’ here were a lot o’ people rollin’ in wealth an’ leisure, with yachts to sail around in, just for their own pleasure.”
Milred said, “It probably didn’t occur to him that if he’d applied himself and quit drinking, he might have stood a chance of getting up to the top of the heap himself.”
Gramps said, “Oh, sure. People who own yachts don’t drink. They just apply themselves industriously to work. They don’t...”
“Well, I haven’t sympathy with a man who hasn’t gumption enough to make something of himself, and then starts crabbing because other people have made more of a success.”
Duryea, his eyes alert with interest, said, “You have his name and address, Gramps?”
“Sure. He’s stayin’ here at an auto camp. Like I told you, he’s stayin’ under another name. Tucker, that’s his real name. That’s the name you’d have to use in a subpoena if you was goin’ to bring him into court.”
“What does his wife say?”
“The same thing.”
“I’ll want to talk with them.”
“Wait a minute. You ain’t heard anythin’ yet. Now, Tucker was sittin’ on the beach Saturday afternoon. Purty much of a crowd there Saturday. There wasn’t a breath stirrin’, but it was purty nice weather. This here Gypsy Queen was tied up right there at the same place Saturday afternoon. Tucker noticed her because she’s the biggest yacht in the harbor. He seen a girl go aboard. She went out to the end of the float and waved, and a man rowed out from the Gypsy Queen to pick her up. That girl had on a plaid skirt and a red coat. Young and good Iookin’. Tucker looked at these pictures of the Moline gal in the newspaper an’ thinks maybe this was the same one.”
“What time Saturday?”
“Oh, it was along about mebbe three o’clock.”
“How long did she stay?”
“Until around four. She had some letters in her hand when she came off the yacht. She dropped ’em in the mailbox there at the end of the streetcar line. Tucker watched her.”
Duryea said, “I’m supposed to interview the witnesses again tonight. Do you suppose you could get Mr. and Mrs. Tucker up to my office?”
“Reckon I could,” Gramps Wiggins said. “They’d do anythin’ for me... How about a little more coffee, Milred? Just a speck, just about half a cup.”
Duryea said, “My appointment with the sheriff is at seven-thirty, Gramps. If you’re going along, don’t you think it’d be better to go easy on that stuff?”
“What, this?” Gramps asked in surprise, indicating the brandy.