Asey waited until Toby had filled our ice box before he brought up the question of Tuesday night. Rose sat at the kitchen table and pretended to be entirely engrossed in a confession magazine. Her attitude would have been more convincing had her head or her eyes moved. But she stared long enough at one paragraph to have it implanted on her brain for life.
“Guess,” Toby said as he fitted in the last small chunk, “that’ll last you till Saturday. Well, I must be gettin’ on.”
He was obviously disappointed at not being able to see Rose alone.
“Just a sec,” Asey said quietly. “What’d you lie to me about Tuesday night for?”
“Lie to you? But I—”
“Tobe, don’t try to stall. Just tell me the truth, quick an’ exp’ditious. You come up here around twelve Tuesday night an’ took Rose,” the confession magazine dropped suddenly to the floor, “to Barradio’s all night dance. Come home here after three. Truck backfired. Any additions or c’rections?”
Rose, characteristically, began to weep.
“You— you—”
“I didn’t tell him,” Toby said soothingly. “Someone else did.”
Rose kept on wailing.
Asey waited until she had calmed herself.
“Now, let’s get this all straightened out. Why’d you lie, Tobe?”
“I thought Mrs. Ballard’d found out how late we was gettin’ home an’ that she was mad. I didn’t want Rose to get fired.”
“Rose, why’d you lie?”
“W-wu-wouldn’t you lie,” Rose sobbed, “if you’d gone out when you hadn’t asked to and hadn’t tut-told and someone got killed that night? And—”
“I see.” Asey turned to me. “But still I don’t. Mrs. Ballard, you don’t seem to me to be the sort who’d fire a girl because she come in late, even if she hadn’t asked to go out.”
“That’s exactly what I was going to say,” I commented. “I’d undoubtedly have given you permission to go out. Why didn’t you ask?”
“I thought you might think I shouldn’t go out with a man I’d just met.” Rose sniffled and Asey thoughtfully passed her over an immense white handkerchief. She blew her nose stridently and her spirits revived somewhat.
“Even so,” I continued, “what on earth made you think I’d fire you for coming in late?”
“Didn’t Mrs. Tavish tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“I came in late a couple of times and the last time she said she was going to tell you. I thought she did, because she said you said if I came in late once more, you were going to fire me. When I said I was coming with you down here, she said I’d better watch my step.”
“She told me nothing about you at all.”
“I thought she did.”
“Besides, what business of hers is it to run my household?” I demanded hotly. “How’d she know you were late, anyway?”
“I tripped over her dough. Bread dough. But she’d left the pan sticking way off the table, and I’d been to a beer party, and—um—er—”
I began to see. Mrs. Tavish, the cook, is a particularly ardent member of the anti-saloon league and the W. C. T. U. Beery breaths would have roused her considerably.
“I see,” Asey said, “I see a whole lot.”
He got up and disappeared into the living room, to return shortly with Judy.
“Now,” he said to her as he shut the door, “now, whyn’t you tell us Rose was drunk when she come home Tuesday night?”
“She and Toby—or rather, Toby—asked me not to. He said she said she’d lose her job if anyone found out.” Judy fell into Asey’s trap despite Toby’s frantic high signs. “And since I’d spent a lot of time hunting for jobs, I thought it was only decent not to tell.”
“But you have!” Rose gurgled like water running out of a bath tub. “You have. You just did!”
“Oh. Oh, I see. Well, if you fire her, Vic, I’ll go along too.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I’ve no intention of firing her and I’ve been trying to make that clear for hours and hours.”
“Look, Mrs. Ballard.” Toby spoke up. “Let me explain about all this. I came here before twelve an’ left the truck down the road a bit and Rose slipped out the front door.”
“I discovered that,” Judy interrupted, “because I went into the hallway to make sure I’d put the chain across the door and I found the door unlatched.”
“Hat must have gone out afterwards,” I remarked.
“I guess so. I didn’t go near the front door again, and I didn’t hear her. You see, I’d shut the door from the living room into the hall.”
“Go on, Tobe,” Asey ordered.
“We went to Barradio’s an’ danced, an’ then this Charley Smith that clerks over in Chatham came up an’ sat at our table. He had a bottle of gin with him, but Rose an’ I didn’t have any even though he wanted us to. Well, he finished it an’ got more from Barradio. When he came back he still wanted us to have some, but I said no. After I smashed up my car I decided not to drink any more when I had to drive. That’s how I come to be usin’ the truck that night. My own car’s smashed. But Rose took a little—”
“And it was the worst stuff I ever tasted,” Rose broke in. “When I finished it—I wouldn’t have, only Toby’d gone off—and this feller made me. Well, when I finished—wheee!” Her gesture was expressive.
“I can b’lieve it,” Asey assured me. “I seen the results of Barradio’s likker before. Bill Porter got some once an’ it took an inch of porcelain off our kitchen sink.”
“When I come back an’ found her like that,” Toby continued, “I took her out an’ walked her around an’ give her black coffee an’ all. Then I decided I’d better get her home. She’d been sick by then an’ she was nearly asleep. Well, the back door was locked an’ the front door was locked an’ I would of opened a kitchen window only I couldn’t.”
“My own burglar-proof locks!” Rose said.
“I didn’t dare try the other windows, so I knocked soft, an’ Miss Dunham come an’ let Rose in. I told her how the last thing Rose said was not to let Mrs. Ballard know an’ I told her the whole story then.”
“So that’s the explanation of what you were doing up after three?” I asked.
Judy nodded. “And did I have a time with that lass, too! She was half out and half asleep. I simply couldn’t get her to move. There wasn’t any chance of getting her upstairs to her room without waking you all, so I bedded her on the kitchen floor and stuck an alarm clock beside her, set for six o’clock. I’d intended to come out and make sure that she woke up, but I never opened an eye till I heard her setting the table for breakfast.”
“Then I left,” Toby said, “after Miss Dunham took charge of Rose. The truck backfired. I just skedaddled. I didn’t have the courage to see if anyone had heard an’ got up. The wind was blowin’ a gale, though, an’ the surf was noisy, so I guessed maybe no one heard anyway.”
“See anyone when you left?”
“Nary a soul.”
“Any cars?”
“I wasn’t meetin’ cars. I gave the ole ice wagon all she had. I had to get up at six. I thought I saw a light on the ice house cut-off, but I wouldn’t be sure.”
“Okay. If I send for you, Toby, you come runnin’. Rose, I’d advise you to lay off drinkin’ with strangers or otherwise. It ain’t nice for a young girl.”
Rose nodded. “I’m right on the wagon. You don’t need ever to worry about my drinking again, Mrs. Ballard, because I ain’t going to. Not after the way I been feelin’ since yesterday morning. Miss Judy, you was swell.”
“Even though Asey tripped me up. You’re a tricky sort, Sherlock. When you get to purring, you’re dangerous. But I’m glad you’ve got it all cleared up. It’s been weighing on my mind.”
It had been bothering me, too, and I was glad to have the thing settled.
Before I went to bed, I added to my data. I started a brand new heading: OUT.
Aristene headed the list. Although she might have had a motive for killing Red, she was without any shadow of a doubt elsewhere when Red was killed.
Rose was out of the picture, too. Even if she had been in any condition to murder anyone, she’d been away from the place at one. So had Toby.
I put Judy down, too. Even though we could not prove that she might not have had a motive for shooting Red, and an opportunity as well, still there was the fact that she’d not known until Monday afternoon that she was coming to Weesit. She couldn’t have written the letter signed by Maynard Guild. True, the gun could have come into her possession. Asey’s “Anythin’s Possible” theory always held. But that she might have got hold of that particular gun seemed altogether too remote. In addition to all that, I believed her story.
So there were four people, at least, about whom there was no further need to speculate. Somehow the appearance of some definite fact after two days of dithering possibilities made me feel better. At the rate of four exonerations a day, I felt, the mess would soon be over. I slept soundly Thursday night.
Not until we were settled out in the wicker chairs after breakfast Friday morning did Asey call out Satterlee and tackle him on the subject of the lady in the bush.
“Oh,” he said pleasantly, “didn’t I tell you about her, Asey? By George, I must have!”
“No,” Asey said, “you left her in the bush an’ she int’rests me a lot. Tell me more.”
“Well, it was—why, I don’t know the exact time. But it wasn’t very long before that cop stopped me. You got that fixed yet?”
“The speedin’ business? I’ll try. Go on.”
“Let’s see. I was on this road. This side road. I thought I saw a light. I yelled out and said I’d been lost for hours and could anyone tell me how to reach the main road.”
“What kind of a road was you on?”
“Just a road,” Satterlee explained vaguely, picking at a button on his vest. “Just a road.”
“I know, I know,” Asey retorted with some show of impatience, “the sort of thing that stretches out like a ribbon an’ you go on it. Road. But what kind? What’d it look like?”
“It was a lot like the one coming out to this cottage the other night, when you brought us here. I couldn’t tell much in the dark. There were narrow sandy ruts, and grass grew in the middle of ’em and scrub pines on either side of the road. Just a common side road, Asey. I yelled out; you see, I didn’t know what the light was, or anything, and I didn’t want to scare anyone. On the other hand, I didn’t want to stop and chat with any stranger at that time of night in a lonely place even though I had my gun with me. So I yelled out.”
“What then?” Asey asked wearily.
“This woman’s voice answered. She said to turn around and—by George, I’ve forgotten just what the directions were, now. Isn’t that a pity? But they worked. I was on the main road in no time at all. Then I noticed this sign that said ‘To Weesit’ and you better believe I hustled. Just as I was hitting her up, that cop came along and asked me where was the fire.”
“See the woman?”
“No.”
“Well, where was she, just?”
“I don’t know,” the Squire said helplessly. “The voice just came from the bushes. It—it was a nice voice.”
“That’s good,” Asey said heartily. “That’s fine. I’m glad of that.”
Satterlee looked at him with suspicion.
“Glad she had a nice voice,” Asey explained. “I’d hate to think she had a nasty voice. Tch, tch!”
“You don’t believe me!”
“Honest,” Asey grinned widely, “would you if I was tellin’ the tale?”
“Well,” Satterlee admitted, “there is a—a—”
“A sort of murk about it. Foggy like the night.”
“But it wasn’t foggy then.” The Squire passed over Asey’s trap. “It was almost clear. And really, it may sound sort of funny, but it’s true.”
Asey sighed. “Yes, I s’pose it’s just the crazy sort of thing that would be true. All right. That’s all. What is it, Syl? Safe-breakers crashed through?”
“Telegrams for Mrs. Ballard. Sam Howes just brought ’em. Said he didn’t stay at the station after train time last night an’ he didn’t get ’em all till this mornin’ anyway. Tried phonin’ me about ’em, but I guess that was b’fore Jennie an’ me went home. They seem kind of hefty messages.”
He delivered his burden and departed.
“These will be from my son George,” I prophesied, looking at the envelopes which had neatly been numbered one, two and three respectively by Mr. Howes.
And I was right. The first was from Chicago. It was dated Thursday evening at seven-ten.
“Flew to Chicago today on urgent business stop”
George, by the way, is one of the few people I’ve ever known who actually punctuates his telegrams with “stop.”
“Glad to receive your assurance that you stood trip well stop address Athletic Club till Monday stop wire progress stop love George.”
The next was dated Thursday at nine.
“Your wire regarding trouble at Weesit received stop what has happened stop do not understand stop wire all details at once stop was it an accident with automobile or what stop I told you that girl was no fit companion stop is the car hurt stop of course I shall come if you are injured stop let me know at once George.”
That, apparently, was an answer to the telegram which I’d sent him at Boston, telling him to discount newspaper reports and not to come to Weesit. Probably it had been forwarded from his office. I’d been anticipating gory details from the press and it seemed I’d done just that and anticipated too much.
Asey whistled at the sight of number three.
“That ain’t a telegram,” he said as I unfolded four sheets. “That’s a short story.”
“And it’s written on both sides of the paper in very small handwriting,” I said. I glanced over it briefly and laughed. “It’s not a short story, either. It’s an essay on parents with a short appendix of rebukes for same. The murder has just burst on George’s consciousness and these are his reactions. He now gets the point of my telegram. Oh, I’ve got to read this to you, Asey! For your benefit I’ll eliminate the stops, though they make it much funnier. If George were here and saying this to me, I’d probably be impressed, but this way it just makes me laugh. Listen—
“ ‘Tuned in Boston station for New England news at eleven. Horrified to discover what you term trouble is murder at your cottage. Where did you pick these troupers up? It is high time you discovered the folly of chance acquaintances. I have no doubt but what that companion of yours or maid is mixed up with all this if not actually responsible. Had you taken Mrs. Tavish or Cousin Mercy or responsible people this would not have happened. Assume you also will be involved. Trust you are assured now of truth of my statements Monday regarding your ability to make plans. Have often tried to impress on you that only trouble would result from your habit of picking up every Tom, Dick and Harry and treating them as social equals in your informal and casual fashion.’ ”
“Leetle mite hot around the collar, ain’t he?” Asey asked with a chuckle.
“You’ve heard practically nothing yet. There’s at least five dollars’ worth more—
“ ‘Am arranging to conclude business tomorrow if possible and will fly to Boston at earliest opportunity. Will drive from there directly to Weesit. Report says you are actually aiding this hired man of Bill Porter’s. Trust report is false. That you have not taken leave of all your senses. Think of horrible publicity.’
I broke off. “What about the papers, Asey?”
“They done a pretty good job. I seen a bunch of ’em late last night that Syl got for me. Didn’t show ’em to you or mention ’em because I didn’t know how you’d take ’em. Run sort of like this: Cape Sherlock Aided by Society Woman. Vic Ballard, Famed as First Woman to Wear Hobble Skirt in Boston, Rises from Sick-bed to Play Watson. Adin Ballard’s Widow was Pneumonia Convalescent.”
“How amazing! How could they have remembered that hobble skirt affair?”
“Dunno. They did. How ’bout the rest of your message?”
“It’s worthy of Patrick Henry. Oh, how mad George must have been! I’ll wager he smashed electric light bulbs. He used to when he was really furious as a child—
“ ‘I have wired Stephen Crump to use all his power to stop slanderous stories. I have wired Janet under no conditions to leave Maine even though you may summon her. I shall come just as soon as I can. You absolutely must now realize futility of my letting you make your own plans.’ ”
Asey laughed. “He is sort of rhetor’cal like, ain’t he? Kind of expected him to end up with askin’ God to save the Com’nwealth of Mas’chusetts, like a Thanksgivin’ Procl’mation. Somehow he don’t seem the—well, he don’t sound like you at all, Mrs. Ballard.”
“He doesn’t and he isn’t,” I said, and I was surprised to hear myself say so. “Our viewpoints are—well, George’s family were friends of Adin’s. His father was a minister. Very brilliant, but a little pompous. Adin always said he could see George perfectly as a ruling Puritan father, the sort who called the Indians heathen and tried to convert them. Or burning witches. But,” I added hastily, “I’m tremendously proud of George, even if we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. He really is a genius, Asey.”
Asey nodded. “He was right in wirin’ Stephen Crump. I know him, y’see. Stephen wired me right off, I got the message earlier. Said for me to do all I could for you an’ for you to call on him yourself or through me, any time. Said he’d do what he could about the papers.”
“That’s good,” I said. “That may calm George. I can tell that he’s furious. In one sense he has a right to be. But he did annoy me dreadfully the other day, bursting in on me with all his plans about coming here, and I took things into my own hands just to annoy him and show him I wouldn’t be bossed. It looks as though I’d have been better off if I’d let him manage things his own way. Asey, what’ll we do with George when he comes? I know he’ll be pretty angry.”
“I’ll cope with him,” Asey promised. “He sounds a lot like Bill Porter’s brother Jimmy. Blows off a lot of steam, but you—oh.”
Sylly Mayo appeared around the corner of the house.
“Syl, you look like a satisfied cat,” Asey said. “Don’t tell me you went an’ found somethin’ else?”
Syl beamed and passed over a tube of toothpaste. It was unusual, so far as I could see, only in that whoever owned it had rolled it neatly from the bottom after they’d used it, instead of just punching the paste out from the plumpest part.
“How’d you find that? Oh,” Asey answered himself without giving Syl a chance to open his mouth, “Oh, I just thought what I’d do if I was a tube of toothpaste. I know, Syl, I know. Where’d you find it an’ what makes you think it’s important?”
“Found it under the top step of the beach stairs. Not three feet from where Gilpin was. Hadn’t found it b’fore b’cause I’d never gone under the steps.”
“Well,” Asey scrutinized it, “what in time this’s got to do with the murder is beyond what I laughin’ly call a brain. Syl, go in an’ ask who uses this kind. I never seen this brand before. It don’t even r’call a bad tenor. Can’t see,” he said as Syl dashed away, “why folks don’t use tooth-powder. Cheaper an’ a lot better for your teeth anyways. Your dentist,” he smiled, “does.”
In a few minutes Edie Allen appeared.
“Syl says you’ve found my toothpaste,” she said cheerfully, “and I’m no end grateful. I’ve been using Dan’s and it tastes like radiators smell in the fall. Banana oil and gilt paint. Yes, that’s mine, all right. I always squeeze from the end of the tube and roll up. No one else in the bunch does. No one else uses that kind anyway. Where’d you find it?”
“When’d you lose it?” Asey countered.
“I haven’t seen it since Tuesday night. At that point it disappeared from human ken. Where’d it turn up?”
“By where Gilpin was killed,” Asey told her, his voice purring.
Edie Allen drew in her breath sharply. Her face was white as she sat down on one of the wicker chairs. Her poise, her self-possession, her bantering manner, all left her.
“How’d it get there?” she asked in a small scared voice.
“That,” Asey told her firmly, “is what you’re goin’ to explain right now!”