Sands got up and put on his hat. “Good night, and thanks.”
“Too bad you got to go.”
“Yes. I have an appointment.”
He didn’t mention that the appointment was at the morgue, with the mortal remains of Mr. Greeley. Nobody had claimed Greeley and he was due for a long cold wait before someone did.
The morgue attendant slid out the slab like a drawer out of a filing cabinet.
“You want me to stick around Inspector?”
“No,” Sands said. His face looked gray and when he reached out to take the sheet off Greeley his hands were shaking.
The morgue was intensely quiet. None of the street sounds penetrated the walls and the harsh white ceiling lights emphasized the silence. Light should have motion and sound to go with it, but there was no motion except the fall of the sheet and no sound but Sands’ own breathing.
Mercilessly the lights stared down at Greeley like cold impartial eyes, examining the protruding bones, the misshapen feet, the broken grimy toenails, the legs skinny and hairy and slightly bowed. Whoever had washed Greeley had done a poor job, and whoever had stuffed his chest with sawdust and sewed him up after the autopsy had been equally careless.
Greeley, a nuisance from first to last, and even yet a nuisance for nobody wanted to pay for his burial.
“Greeley,” Sands said.
It was the only epitaph Greeley got and he wouldn’t have liked it if he’d known it came from a policeman.
Sands bent over, forcing himself to touch the cold flesh.
Later he telephoned Dr. Sutton, one of the coroner’s assistants.
“I just had a look at Edwin Greeley,” he said. “Greeley? Oh yes. Accident case.”
“Did you notice a puncture on his left upper arm?”
“Can’t recall it. He was so full of punctures it’s a wonder he could walk.”
“This one’s on his arm, barely noticeable.”
“What of it? The inquest is over. The evidence was perfectly, clear. It was either accident or suicide and I can’t see that it makes much difference at this stage of the game. Are you thinking of murder?”
Sutton sounded incredulous and quite irritated. “You know me, Sands. I’m always on the lookout for homicide. There’s not a chance of it in this case. I knew Greeley, had to testify that he was an addict a couple of years ago. He was a damned suspicious man. If you think he’d stand around while somebody shot a lethal doze of morphine into him...”
“How would he know it was lethal?” Sands asked softly. “Here’s something else for you. I just found out that Greeley took a shot of morphine around twelve Tuesday night. He was found the next morning around six, and had been dead about three hours or so, is that right?”
“Right.”
“Well, think about it a minute. There’s no hurry, Greeley won’t run away.”
There was a long silence.
“Yeah,” Sutton said at last. “I catch it. The times are wrong. If the shot that killed him was the one he took at twelve, he didn’t die soon enough. So it wasn’t the twelve o’clock one.”
“And carrying the time element further,” Sands said, “why would Greeley take another dose some two hours later? Addicts don’t throw the stuff around. Greeley had an appointment some time after twelve. It looks as though he hopped himself up for it, and then someone gave him a little extra.”.
The case of Mr. Greeley was unofficially re-opened on Friday morning.
On Friday morning, too, Dr. Goodrich made his second report to Andrew by phone.
“It’s difficult for me to give you any definite statement at this stage,” Goodrich said. “As a gynecologist you’ve had plenty of experience with the mental disturbances of women during the menopause period. Usually the disturbances are fairly light — insomnia, bad dreams with a latent sexual content, periods of hysteria or depression...”
“You think that’s what’s the matter with her?” Andrew said.
“Frankly, I don’t. It’s intensified the situation, of course. But she seems to be suffering the after-effects of a very severe shock. She is dazed and badly frightened, so frightened that I get the impression that she wants to stay here because it is safe. That’s not uncommon we have quite a few patients here who refuse to leave, but they’re ones who’ve been here for a long time and who can’t bring themselves to give up their changeless routine and face a changing world again. But your wife is a newcomer; they usually fight to get out... Are you sure you’ve been entirely frank with me about the preceding events?”
“I’ve told you everything I know,” Andrew said, listlessly. “She was alone in the house with the two maids and a man delivered a parcel. No one knows what was in it. She took it with her when she left.”
“There was no difficulty between the two of you? At Mrs. Morrow’s age, sometimes...”
“No difficulty at all. We’ve been married fifteen years and Lucille has been the best possible wife. And I... I don’t know what kind of husband I’ve been, but she seemed happy.” He paused and added quietly, “Very happy, I think.”
“This fear of hers,” Goodrich said. “It’s not the wild irrational type we find here so often. I was wondering if it might do any good to have you and the rest of your family come here this afternoon. Some frank talking might clear the air somewhat. On the other hand, you understand it might do some harm?”
“I understand. Will she... will she want to see us?”
“We might have a little trouble there, but so far she’s been co-operative about doing things and she can probably be persuaded.”
“Of course we’ll come. We want to do everything possible to help her.”
“Her difficulty seems to have started with that parcel. I’d like to know what was in it. I haven’t asked her, naturally, since she has refused to answer even my ordinary questions. But my own idea is that it was some token from the past, and that, coming when it did, it’s caused some exaggerated guilt complex.”
“We’ll do everything we can,” Andrew said. “We... feel it very keenly. My daughter was to have been married this afternoon.”
“What a pity,” Goodrich said. “Three o’clock would be the best time. I’ll see you then.”
The taxi came up the driveway and Giles leaned over and picked up his suitcase.
“Well, good-bye, Giles,” Polly said. “Nice to have known you.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” He let the suitcase fall again. It sent up a little cloud of snow as it landed. “Are we going into it right from the beginning again?”
“I don’t like people who run out on things.”
“I’m not running very far. To the Ford Hotel, in strict fact. I can’t stay here any longer, I’m in the way and you know it.”
“You’ve changed quite a bit in the last few days.” She scuffed the snow with the toe of her shoe, scowling at it. “You didn’t used to be rude all of the time.”
“I can’t stay here,” he repeated. “I feel like the worst kind of fool. The expectant bridegroom out on a limb and the fire department out to lunch.” He looked down at her, helplessly. “Damn it, you shouldn’t stand out here without a coat.”
The taxi driver honked the horn.
“You’d better hurry,” Polly said flatly.
“Polly, I’ll phone you when I get there.”
She looked at him coldly. “What for?”
He leaned down to kiss her but she turned her head away. He put his hands on her shoulders and swung her around again.
“Look,” he said. “You’ve made a mistake about me. I’m not a man like your father.”
“Leave my father out of this. He’s a better man than you’ll ever be.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” he told her quietly. “He’s big enough not to resent being bossed around by the women in his family. But I can’t take it like that. If I could I’d make my peace and agree to stay here and take whatever comes. You can’t have it all your own way, Polly.”