Chapter 21

	When everything that ticked—has stopped—
	And Space stares all around—
	EMILY DICKINSON

A bird in the lilac bushes beside the Gosses’ front door creaked like a guilty bedspring. Mary hesitated, then rang the bell. She had to find out what was going on. She wasn’t prying, was she? She wanted desperately to help.

Edith came to the door, her hair wild. She put out her hand and grasped Mary’s arm. “Come in. I thought you were the doctor for mother. She’s in such a dreadful state. Nobody can make anything of it. She doesn’t make sense. Oh, isn’t it dreadful? How could Charley? Poor Daddy! They’re questioning us, Chief Flower and Homer Kelly. Rowena and Mother are in there now. It’s my turn next. But I don’t know anything. I don’t know anything at all. I was out walking around Annursnac Hill, at the time.”

“It must be awful for all of you. I’m sorry. Did you say Kelly, Homer Kelly?”

“Yes, you know he’s a Lieutenant-Detective for Middlesex County from the District Attorney’s office. Didn’t you know? Writing books on Emerson is just his hobby, or something.”

Mary didn’t know. She was thunderstruck. “Where’s Charley?”

“They’re holding him for questioning at the Police Station. Do you think they’ll put him in jail? They’ve got Philip there, too. But they say it was Charley that did it. Oh, isn’t it dreadful? How could he have been so foolish? Always so much wilder than Philip. Oh, dear.”

Mary looked at Edith, feeling a little dizzy. She had the odd suspicion that Edith was enjoying herself. Her eyes were big and woeful, her voice almost gleeful. Like those people who read headlines aloud with gloating melancholy: FATHER KILLS SELF, FIVE CHILDREN.

The door opened and Rowena came out. Homer Kelly held the door open, his hand on the knob. He saw Mary.

She blurted it out. “I-I didn’t know you were a policeman.”

Homer looked tired. He turned away and looked at nothing. “Even Apollo had to plow for King Admetus,” he said. His voice was dry.

He meant, like Brpnson Alcott. Jimmy Flower came out, rubbing his hand across his bald head. Invisible inside the room beyond, there was a woman laughing. It was a peculiar, babbling laugh. Rowena looked up at Homer. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” She was wearing black already. No lipstick. Just mascara. Lovely and tragic. Her father was dead, her brother under suspicion, her mother collapsed or something—but Rowena the actress was playing a part, just as Edith was in her clumsier way. Mary asked after Charley.

“He’s confessed,” said Homer shortly.

Confessed. Oh, oh, no. Mary put out an unbelieving hand. Her eyes filled with tears. She turned her back on them, pushed open the front door and stumbled out. The door closed after her, and she started home, her knuckles in her mouth, thinking wretched thoughts.