She wiped her eyes, mechanically blew her nose on Sylvia’s handkerchief, then suddenly said, apologetically, “Oh, you poor thing. I’ve ruined your handkerchief. Let me get you another and I’ll send this one back to you all freshly laundered.”
She got up from the chair and left the room.
Sylvia looked across at Selby, blinked her eyes and said, “Give me one of your h-h-h-handkerchiefs, D-D-Doug, I’m going to b-b-b-bawl, myself.”
Selby came to her side, put his arm around her shoulders, gave her his handkerchief.
“I’m a h-h-hell of a reporter,” she said, crying into the handkerchief. “I could have stood hysterics or wailing, but this quiet grief gets me. And right in the middle of it the poor thing had to think about my h-h-h-handkerchief. She’s always thought about others all her life.”
She wiped away the tears, smiled bravely up at Doug and said, “Isn’t she a darling?”
He nodded.
They heard her steps in the corridor and Sylvia said, “Here, quick, take back your handkerchief.”
Selby pocketed the handkerchief. Mrs. Larrabie returned to the room, carrying with her a handkerchief from which came the faint odor of lavender.
It evidently was one of her best, perhaps a Christmas or birthday gift. It was hand embroidered with the initial “L” in the corner.
“There, dear,” she said, smiling, “you take that, and I’ll be brave now. These things come to us. It’s all part of God’s plan. We aren’t big enough to understand it. Death comes to everyone. It’s part of His scheme of things.”
“You said you knew Charles Brower?” Selby asked.
“Yes. I met him Saturday.”
“When?”
“Saturday.”
“You mean last Saturday?”
“Yes. My husband had met him at some of the conferences, and they were good friends. They’d, worked together in Denver. My husband had a church there. That was years and years ago.”
“How long ago?”
“Well, let me see... it must have been... about ten years ago.”
“And your husband had kept in touch with Mr. Brower ever since?”
“Yes, they corresponded and met at conferences occasionally.”
“And Mr. Brower was here Saturday?”
“Yes. That was the first time I’d met him.”
“You’re certain?”
“Why, my husband introduced him to me as Mr. Brower. He was here for dinner and said grace at the table.”
“You have no children?”
“No, we had one baby, a girl that died when it was two days old.”
“How did it happen that Mr. Brower came to visit your husband?”
“I don’t know. They did quite a bit of talking. I think they’d been writing some letters.”
“Where did Mr. Brower go when he left here?”
“Why, back to Millbank, I suppose.”
“How did he come? Did he drive or come on the train?”
“He drove. He has a little car, rather dilapidated, but it gets over the road.”
“And how did your husband go to Madison City?”
“I didn’t know he went to Madison City.”
“You knew he went to Los Angeles?”
“Yes, to Hollywood.”
“How did he go?”
“On a bus, I think.”
“He has a car?”
She shook her head and said, “No, we haven’t needed one here. It’s rather a small town. He can get around by walking.”
“Did he have any hobbies?” Selby asked.
“Yes, helping people, hanging around the jails, and...”
“No, I mean any hobbies aside from that. How about photography? Was he interested in photography?”
For a moment her face underwent a change of expression. Then she said defiantly, “I think a man has to have some hobby in order to be normal. Will has been saving pennies for years. His camera gave him an outlet for his creative ability. He wrote a good deal and that helped, but he wanted to do something. He didn’t have enough skill to paint, so he took up photography.”
“And a very good thing he did,” Selby agreed. “I certainly see no reason why he shouldn’t.”
“Well, Mrs. Bannister did,” Mrs. Larrabie said. “She said it was positively sinful for a man to squander his meager salary on things which weren’t necessary. She said that a man consecrated his life to God when he became a minister and that he should not have an ambition for worldly luxuries.”
“She was referring to your husband’s camera?”
“Yes.”
“When did he buy it?”
“In December. We saved all our pennies — for years.”
“Did he do his own developing work?”
She nodded. “He has a little dark room fixed up in the basement. Some of his pictures were beautiful. Of course, he didn’t take many. The films aren’t particularly expensive, but even so, we have to watch every cent, and Will was always patient about such things. He’d study the composition and the lighting on anything he was going to photograph for a long time before he’d use a film on it. He sent one of his prints to a photographic magazine and it was published with honorable mention. They said it showed rare skill in composition.”
“What did Mrs. Bannister say to that?” Selby asked.
“She didn’t know anything about it... Oh, Mrs. Bannister is all right. I’m more bitter than I should be because she bothered Will so much. She simply couldn’t understand his temperament and she didn’t have enough patience to try, but she’s a very wonderful woman, a wonderfully religious woman. If it weren’t for her, the church couldn’t stay here. She contributes almost as much as all the other members put together.”
“And naturally wants to dominate the way the church is run?” Selby asked.
“She’s very definite in her ideas,” Mrs. Larrabie admitted.
“Had there been any open battle between her and your husband?”
“Oh, no, not at all. She isn’t that kind. She sniffs and makes little remarks to other people. The remarks get back to us. But she doesn’t come right out in the open and say anything directly. That isn’t her way.”
“How long have you been here in this church?”
“Five years.”
“Has it been rather difficult for Mr. Larrabie — under the circumstances?”
“He’s had his difficulties, yes, but everyone likes him. Of course, we’ve had to pinch and scrape on finances, but then, everyone does, and at that we’re a lot better off than some of the poor people who lost everything they had in the depression. Our wants are simple and I think we get more out of life that way. We have time enough so we can be patient and Will had time to carry on his studies. We don’t live at a rapid pace in Riverbend.”
“How does it happen,” Selby asked, “that your husband decided to go to Hollywood? With the limited finances at your command, it must have represented quite a cash outlay.”
“That’s something I can’t tell you about,” she said. “Will liked to be just a little mysterious about some of his business affairs. I thought perhaps he’d received an advance from one of the studios to come on and submit a scenario, or perhaps he’d sold something he’d written.”
“And you don’t know why he went to Madison City?”
“No, I didn’t have, any idea he was going to Madison City.”
“And he had no enemies here in Riverbend?”
“Why, of course not... Will didn’t have an enemy in the world. He wasn’t that kind.”
“Could you show me where he worked?” Selby asked apologetically. “He had a study, I suppose? Was it in the church or...?”
“No,” she said, “it was right here. It opens off of this room. Here, I’ll show you. He has the door locked, but I have a key.”