George Jarvis corrected him. "I doubt he would have been killed. You remember, Philip, when this very thing happened in Acton, the unfortunate fellow lost an arm, but that was all."
Homer scowled. "Isn't the order to fire supposed to be the duty of the captain? That's Harvey Finn, isn't it?"
"Yes, you're absolutely right. I'm only the lieutenant for the number one gun. All I should have done was to inform the captain that the gun was ready, so that he could give the order to fire. I guess I was trigger happy, as they say. I was tired." Philip smiled. "I still am."
"Why were you tired?"
Philip explained it patiently. "I went to the Ball last night, and of course the Battery gets up before Dawn in order to be the bridge before sunrise with the guns." That was all for Philip. As he and George Jarvis were shown out, to wait in the front office, Charley was ushered in. Homer caught the look in Charley's eye as he glanced at his brother. It was a speaking glance, full of message and meaning. And something else—sympathy, affection? Philip seemed to avoid it. He spoke to Charley, his words rapid and businesslike. "You're going to have legal counsel, aren't you, Charley? Let me get John Frippen, He's the best there is." Charley said nothing. He looked back and forth between his brother and George Jarvis, and then moved on into the office and closed the door behind him. He looked uneasy.
"What did my brother say?" he wanted to know.
Homer Kelly looked at Jimmy. Then he directed Harold Vine to read the first part of Philip's statement.
Harold flipped over the pages of his notebook and found the words taken down by Jimmy Flower. "Philip Goss said, 'I don't know what you want with me. I know nothing whatever about it. Nor will I answer any questions until I can discuss the matter with George Jarvis, my law partner.' "
"I don't believe it," said Charley. "You're lying. No, of course you're not lying." His face was distorted. He was hit hard. He folded over in his chair, and clasped his hands behind his neck, struggling silently with himself. "What do you want to ask me?" he murmured, his face still hidden.
"You say that you killed your father. Did anyone see you? Speak louder, Charley, I didn't hear you."
"I said, someone may have."
"Was it a man or a woman?"
"I don't know. I didn't see anyone."
"What were you wearing when you killed your father?"
Charley paused. He was still staring at the floor. "I was wearing these pants and a khaki shirt."
"How did you get there? To the bridge and back?"
"Well, I walked to the Rod and Gun Club and took Philip's car. Mine was—out of gas. Then I left it at the Club afterwards, and walked home."
"You got to the bridge in a car? Charley, the witness says the presumed murderer was dressed like Samuel Prescott and riding a horse. Your story doesn't fit with that very well."
Charley lifted his head and stared at Homer. "Like me? He was dressed like me?" Then he stood up and gesticulated. "It's not true. It's a lie. He wouldn't do it to me..."
"Who wouldn't? The witness?"
Charley's eyes were red. He glanced around the room, then sat down with his head in his hands. "Oh—my—God," he said.
*23*
He shrinks from me as far as I have shrunk from him; his eyes no longer seek mine; there is war between us; there is hate in him and fear in me. —Ralph Waldo Emerson
Arthur Furry had been brought back from Acton. He bit his fingernails nervously and looked with popping eyes at Charley Goss.
"All I saw," he said piously, "was the man's back."
Charley grimly turned around and showed Arthur his back.
"What about his height, Arthur?" said Jimmy Flower. "Would you say the man was about that tall? Mr. Goss is fairly tall."
Arthur, thinking about the honor of the Boy Scouts, stared at Charley's back and then rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. Jimmy felt a twinge of irritation. "I think," said Arthur, "if he were dressed up the same way the man was, it might be easier to tell."
"Have you got the Prescott outfit, Jimmy?" said Homer Kelly.
"Sure," said Jimmy. "It was in the horse's stall, kind of stuck behind the hay." Sergeant Ordway brought out a cardboard box and displayed its contents, piece by piece. There was a black coat, longish and flared in the skirt, streaked and caked with mud on the left side, a ruffled shirt (obviously a lady's blouse in a large size), a yellow vest, a pair of narrow riding pants, also stained, and a set of soft leather boots. There was an orange mohair wig tied back with a black ribbon.
"Is that all?" said Homer. "I thought he had a three-cornered hat."
"That hasn't turned up," said Jimmy. "Although Arthur swears he saw it fall off."
"Scouts' Honor," said Arthur.
"What about the gun? No sign of it, yet?"
"Nope," said Jimmy, "although I don't see how in the Sam Hill we could miss it, if it's there. You say the thing is five feet long."
"What about the river? You've had skindivers out there?"
"Yes, they've been and gone. Didn't find a thing."
Charley emerged from Jimmy's office wearing the costume he had put on earlier in the day for his ceremonial ride. His shoulders slumped. The jaunty look was gone. His garments might have been a shroud. Arthur Furry stuck out his lower lip and looked doubtful.
"He only saw his back," said Jimmy under his breath to Homer. "It could have been almost anybody. Well, we might as well see Philip in that rig. Harold, would you take that suit up to Philip when Charley gets it off, and bring him down here? Luther, you keep Charley there in my office for a while."
Philip was a little taller and slighter than his brother, and the dirt-stained coat hung loosely on him, his bare wrists showing. But Arthur, still uncertain, let his lower lip sag and put his finger in his mouth. (He's grubbing around in his little mind for the Real Honest Boy Scout Type Truth, decided Jimmy Flower, who had taken a dislike to Arthur Furry.)
"I think," said Arthur, "I would have to see them on the horse, you know, right there at the scene of the crime."
"Oh, fer..." said Jimmy Flower. "Well, all right. We'll try to do that, but not now. Harold, you can take Philip back upstairs. Now, look here, Arthur, Sergeant Ordway showed you the horse Mr. Charles Goss was riding, on your way over here this afternoon. And you said it was the same as the one you saw. Right?"
"I said," said Arthur carefully, "that it could have been. I mean it was about the same size and color and everything."
"Was the horse you saw a mare or a stallion? I mean, was it a boy horse or a girl horse?" said Jimmy. "I mean, you said it went right over you, so you could have seen..."
Arthur's round face went red, but he rolled up his eyes conscientiously and let his lower lip hang slack. In the interval Harold Vine happily recalled a funny if apocryphal story about the time the Concord Independent Battery, hard up for horses as usual, had located nine, one a stallion, and then they couldn't find any more until the last minute when three more had been rented from a local stable. These had turned out to be a trio of mares who (it was dramatically discovered) were all in heat.
Arthur finally decided he didn't know.
Homer Kelly showed him a small piece of flat brown rock. '"This is a flint which we presume fell from the priming mechanism of the murder weapon. It was found on the ground near the body. Now, Arthur, you say you saw no gun, no big long musket, that you remember? There was nothing hanging on his saddle, or fastened to the horse's bridle in any way? You didn't see him drop or throw anything, except for his hat? He didn't have a powder horn hanging on a strap over his shoulder? We are puzzled, you see, because if Mr. Goss was killed with a musket, where is it? It hasn't turned up in the area, it is not hidden in the Goss house, so far as we have been able to discover, and the skindivers have found nothing in the river for a hundred yards on either side of the bridge. It would seem that the murderer must have carried it off with him. Now, I don't want you.to remember something that you didn't actually see, but we wonder if you might not have noticed a gun that was lying across the saddle, or attached to the horse's gear in some way?"