“It’s a pity that I’m forced to bother you—”
“You have your duty to perform. I want to help in every way I can... Such a terrible thing; I just can’t believe that a sane human being...”
“Right now we’re in the dark,” said Collins. “Which is why I’m here. Unless the person who killed your husband was an utter lunatic—”
“He must have been!”
“—then he must have had an extremely strong motive for his act. In other words, someone very badly wanted your husband dead. Who, in your opinion, fits that description?”
“I can’t think of a soul.”
“He had no enemies?”
Opal Genneman gave her head a helpless shake. “Everyone has people who don’t like him; that’s only natural. But to kill... to make so many other people suffer...” She smiled forlornly. “The sad truth is that I can’t think of a thing to tell you.”
“Did Mr. Genneman have brothers or sisters?”
“No. He was an only child.”
“His parents are alive?”
“They’re retired, live in Honolulu. I can’t bring myself to telephone them. I know I must. The funeral is Friday.”
“Perhaps Mr. Retwig would call them for you.”
Opal Genneman twisted her fingers together. “I know he would. But it’s my duty — I’ll do it.”
“Mr. Genneman had no business troubles?”
“None whatever. I don’t think he’d ever done better than this past year. He was planning to expand, to become one of the really large pharmaceutical firms.”
“What will happen to the business now?”
“I’ve hardly thought of it. Mr. Retwig has agreed to look after things — I suppose he’ll be general manager, or whatever the title is.”
“Your husband thought highly of Mr. Retwig?”
“Myron was his closest friend. They seemed dissimilar on the surface, but they had a great deal in common. For instance—” She thought a moment, a sad ghost of a smile on her lips. Then she rose. “I’ll show you Earl’s hobby. He and Myron were always trying to outdo each other...”
Collins followed her patiently along a hall and out a side door, then across a lawn to a greenhouse.
The interior was suffused in a pleasant green light, partly from the ancient panes of glass in the roof, partly from the ferns and orchids along the walls. The greenhouse no longer served its original function. It was almost entirely given over to a model railroad, laid out on a table twenty-five feet long by ten feet wide. The tracks, hundreds of glistening feet of them, ran through a landscape of miniature pines and firs, over ponds and lakes and small swirling rivers crossed by quaint timber bridges. At one end loomed a conical mountain with a white peak. Collins touched the peak. The white stuff was real snow. Opal Genneman smiled sadly. “Earl spent heaven only knows how much money in here. A special refrigerator cools the tip of the mountain. The water in the air condenses, and there is Earl’s snow.”
Collins walked around the layout, fascinated. As a small boy he had owned an oval track, a transformer, an engine and four cars; he had built cardboard tunnels and mountains out of pillows.
“Yoshiro — he’s our gardener — loves the layout as much as Earl did,” said Mrs. Genneman. “I don’t know what will become of it now. Maybe Yoshiro will want to keep it up. He’s spent years on the rock-work and those little trees.”
Of course! thought Collins. The landscaping was Japanese. He looked the layout over with new comprehension. The mountain was Fujiyama, the waterways arms of the sea. There were three villages and a roundhouse on the layout, all of Japanese architecture. Opal Genneman called Collins’ attention to a track on a trestle that led to the wall and disappeared in an aperture. “That leads to the bar. Earl would bring friends out here, send a train into the bar, and it would come back with a load of drinks. Earl was just an overgrown boy.” She nodded slowly. “One would never have known it, meeting him casually. He seemed so hard-driving, practical. Yet when you got to know him, he was the soul of modesty and generosity.”
They returned to the living room. She asked diffidently, “Perhaps you’d like a cup of tea? Or a cocktail? I think I’ll have one. What about you, Inspector?”
“Thank you, yes,” said Collins. “Just between us, it’s strictly against regulations.”
“I won’t snitch. What would you like?”
“Scotch and soda.”
Mrs. Genneman touched a button; the houseboy appeared and received instructions.
“There’s a question I have to ask,” said Collins. “It’s a prying sort of question, and I’ll apologize in advance—”
“Did Earl have any girl-friends?” Mrs. Genneman shook her head. “I suppose it’s not impossible that he overstepped the bounds once or twice. If he did, and I rather doubt it, it was meaningless. He was really the most affectionate of husbands.”
“The children got on well with him?”
“They’re hardly children any more. Little Earl — Earl Junior — is a senior at high school; Jean is just about to graduate from Stanford. She wasn’t Earl’s daughter, you know, but she might just as well have been. They were extremely fond of each other. Little Earl — well, he has a great deal of Earl’s stubbornness and I’m sorry to say there’s been friction. The usual things: automobiles, spending money, late hours. The two weren’t really the pals they might have been. It’s too bad, because of course they were basically fond of each other.”
“Where are your son and daughter now?”
“It seems heartless,” said Mrs. Genneman, “but Jean is taking a final examination. I assure you it’s not from lack of feeling. Final examinations are elemental forces, and everything else has to give way.”
“More power to her,” said Collins, “if she’s able to concentrate.”
“I think it’s her way of taking her mind off things. Little Earl is somewhere around. Do you want to talk to him?”
“Later, perhaps. I’m mainly interested in learning who could profit from your husband’s death.”
“I can’t think of anyone. I inherit the estate, of course. But I had everything I wanted, and my husband, too...”
She looked away. Collins said, “There’s been a suggestion that certain ex-employees might have held a grudge against him.”
“You’re thinking of poor Langwill, in the penitentiary. I don’t see how even he could hate Earl. It wasn’t Earl’s fault that he stole codeine and barbiturates and amphetamines.”
“What of your brother? How does he fit into the scheme of things?”
“Redwall?” Opal was clearly surprised at the question. “You mean into the business? He’s not interested in that kind of work. Redwall is like an old-time troubadour — carefree and irresponsible. No, I think he’s very happy where he is, if he can keep out of trouble.”
“Is he trouble-prone?”
She shrugged. “The way any non-conformist would be. He’s only my half-brother, by the way — my father’s son by his first marriage. I think he inherited some of his mother’s unfortunate traits.”
“Such as?”
“Well, to be candid, Redwall drinks far too much. In fact, he was smashed when he agreed to accompany Earl on the camping trip. He’d never have considered such a thing sober.”
“And Bob Vega — what’s your opinion of him?”
“I’ve met Bob, of course, and he’s very polite, very much the gentlemen. Earl always said he was a careful manager. That’s all I know about him.”
“One other matter, Mrs. Genneman. I understand young Buck James was engaged to your daughter?”
“Yes.” Opal Genneman’s lips tightened. “Something came up between them — I don’t think Buck wanted to get married right away. I’ve never got the right of it, but I know that Jean was badly hurt. Buck must be out of his mind. He’ll never do better, and probably a lot worse.” She shrugged. “But I didn’t interfere. The children’s lives are their own.” She turned at the sound of the front door. “That must be Jean now. Jean?”