When finally she moved, and snapped on the light, it was with a crushing feeling that she had endured the limit of endurable experience that night. But then Prin simultaneously gave a little terrified squeak and sprang back. For there, in a chair beside her bed, sat Aunt Lallie. For a ghastly instant Prin thought that through some horrid wizardry Twig had already performed his murderous act, for Aunt Lallie sat quite rigid, looking unblinkingly at something that was not there.
But then the corpse stirred, and Aunt Lallie’s normal voice said, “Why is it that you always run away when you are needed most?”
“Why were you sitting in the dark in my room?” cried Prin.
“I’ve been waiting for you. Come here, Princess, and sit on the bed. By me.”
Prin went over to the bed and sat down near Aunt Lallie. She pressed her knees together and folded her hands on them.
“Please, Aunt Lallie, I’m very tired. What is it you wanted?”
“Just this,” said Aunt Lallie in a fluty voice. “I find myself in a most trying position, thanks to you, and I wish to know what you propose to do about it.”
“Thanks to me?”
“Don’t evade! You heard what that nasty brother of yours said. Brady practically accused me of poisoning Slater’s bourbon. Out loud, in front of everybody! Simply because Slater left me everything.”
“Brady can be nasty enough, and a lot more besides, I suppose,” said Princess wearily, “but what does that have to do with me?”
“You’re as much under suspicion as I, because you work in that drug store. I’ve told you time and again how silly it was to keep that job! Now see where it’s got us.”
“But the drug store has nothing to do with anything, Aunt Lallie. I didn’t steal the drug. And if anybody knows that you and I had no arrangement to kill Uncle Slater, you do.”
“What you and I know is not sufficient. That man Grundy is the nuisance, and I’m counting on you to convince him for my sake.”
“I’ll try to convince him, of course, since I’m absolutely innocent. But it will be for my sake, Aunt Lallie, not for yours.”
“You needn’t be discourteous.”
“I’m not. I’m factual. Please, Aunt Lallie. I’d like to go to bed.”
Aunt Lallie’s pretty little mouth thinned to an ugly little gash. “You are as boorish in your own way as Brady and your two cousins, though I must say that Twig has acted with surprising decency since Slater’s death.” She popped out of the chair and stood there like a miniature Lady Macbeth in her flowing chiffon negligee with its bloody poinsettias. “And I shall take this opportunity to remind you, Princess O’Shea, that I am mistress here, and I am planning a few changes that certain people will not care for.”
“If that’s a threat to throw me out,” Prin murmured, “it’s an empty one. I am not staying in this house one minute longer than I have to, Aunt Lallie. As soon as Uncle Slater is buried, I’m leaving.”
“Good riddance!” hissed Aunt Lallie and went to the door and unlocked it. Trailing chiffon and blood, she swept out of the room.
Prin continued to sit on the edge of the bed. She was so exhausted that she thought she would never move again. And it was, in fact, a long time before she did.
13
It was not quite midnight, and Coley lay staring up at the invisible ceiling. He had been in bed only a short time, having made a couple of detours on his way back from Princess O’Shea’s. He had found Winston Whitfield already nested down across the room, and Coley had undressed noiselessly. Now, lying motionless, Coley suddenly knew that Winnie was awake. He could feel it. Vibrations.
He spoke in a loud voice. “You’ve been awake all along, Winnie, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I have,” came Winnie’s voice, coldly.
“Then why the hell did you let me creep around in the dark like a dope?”
“I didn’t care to talk.”
“You sore at me about something?”
“Should I be?”
“Don’t play cute with me, old Winnie. You’re jealous of Prin. Isn’t that it?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Coley Collins. Me jealous? Ha, ha.”
“You don’t like her.”
“I don’t like any girl, you know that. Though if I did, I’d probably go for her.”
“That’s a real compliment, Winnie, coming from you.”
There was a half-sour, half-pleased grunt. Then Winnie’s voice, not quite so cold, said, “I suppose there’s no mistake, Coley? You really want to marry her?”
“Yes, but don’t worry. We’ll work out something for you.”
“She won’t let me live with you. She says she won’t.”
“Well,” said Coley judiciously, “in a way you can’t blame her.”
“I’ll be lonesome when you go away. I may go away myself.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere.”
“You stay right in Cibola City. Then I won’t have to fret about you. You make enough money in that stock-clerk job to get by on. Maybe I can even help you out a little now and then.”
“No, I’ll be less lonesome off somewhere,” said Winnie stubbornly. “I couldn’t stand your being so close and living with somebody else.”
“But she’ll be my wife, old Winnie. Doesn’t that make it kind of different?”
“No,” said Winnie.
“What about your snakes? If you went away you’d have to get rid of your snakes.”
There was a stricken silence. Then Winnie muttered, “Gosh, I forgot about that. You’re right, Coley. I’ll have to stay here.”
“It will work out just fine,” said Coley with relief. “You’ll see.”
“While you live in that big house across town.” Winnie was cold-voiced again.
“That’s what I thought. Now I’m not so sure.”
“How come?” asked Winnie, with a faint interest.
“Oh, just something that’s come up.”
“I hope you do live there. In a big house like that you could certainly find room for me. And that girl is real gone on you, Coley, anyone can see that. So if you put your foot down—”
“The snakes,” said Coley.
Winnie sighed. Coley cursed in silence. Winnie was a bloody nuisance, but he was an amusing little devil, and Coley hated to hurt him or see him droopy-faced.
“Did Prin have to wait long for me?” he asked encouragingly.
“Oh, maybe fifteen minutes.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Nothing much. Snakes. You. How you’re studying embezzlement and all.”
“You’d better go easy on the embezzlement bit, Winnie.”
“She knew all about it,” said Winnie, hotly this time. “Said you’d told her yourself.”
“I guess I did at that. Prin’s all right. Understands lots of things. What else did you talk about?”
“Nothing! Just snakes and you. I told you.”
“You’re a pal. Most fellows talking to a doll like Prin would have talked mostly about themselves.”
“I don’t,” said Winnie shortly.
“There’s no use trying to cheer you up. Sleepy?”
“No.”
“Well, better try. You know how early you have to get up.”
“It won’t do any good.”
“You can try, can’t you?”
“All right,” mumbled Winnie; and there was silence.
Coley lay brooding. He had been brooding all evening. His detours en route from Prin’s had taken him into two bars, in each of which he had brooded over beer. His brooding was deep and bitter and befuddled, for what he was brooding about was Prin’s revelation that Aunt Lallie O’Shea was coming into Slater O’Shea’s entire estate.