Still standing on the chair, he saw a ladder hanging on the wall to the right of the doorway through which he had entered the shop. Stepping down, he set the chair aside, took the ladder off the hooks on which it hung, and opening it, placed it underneath the severed end of the extension cord.
It was a six-foot ladder and Closter would have had to stand on the fourth step up to be able to tie the cord around the beam. He was able to reach it standing on the second step. But, it seemed incongruous that he would use the ladder to tie the cord in place, hang it back on the wall, and then use the chair to stand on to hang himself. He could just as easily have kicked the ladder from under himself-and it did not fit with the tools and the unfinished table leg left laying on the work-bench.
He untied the knotted cord and, as he got down off the ladder, he noticed that the legs were fitted with square rubber feet to keep it from slipping on the concrete floor. He carefully moved the ladder away and returned it to its place on the wall, and then examined the area under the beam to see if he could distinguish any other imprints; like the ones he had just made; to indicate that it had stood there earlier. But, in the welter of footprints, he was unable to discover any similar marks, although it seemed odd that the impression of all four feet should have been entirely obliterated if, indeed, it had stood there at all, before he put it there himself.
For a moment, he leaned wearily against the work-bench pondering the seemingly inconsistent behavior of the little man with the clever hands, with the growing conviction that it was not his own doing. He rolled up the piece of extension cord and shoved it deep into the trash can, with the hope that Mrs. Closter would not notice or recognize it when she emptied the receptacle. With a last look around, he turned off the light and crossed the basement to the stairs leading up to the main floor of the house, switching off the other lights as he went. As he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear the voices of Elise and Mrs. Closter engaged in muted conversation. He decided it would not help Mrs. Closter, at this point, to indulge in any speculation that her husband may have been murdered. The evidence was, at best, only circumstantial; although, as far as he was concerned, it was conclusive. But, it would only aggravate her grief to tell her that her husband’s death was probably the result of someone else’s decision, instead of his own.
They both turned to look at him expectantly as he entered. He crossed the room and sat down next to Elise at the table.
“Nothing, I’m afraid,” he told them. “If there was anyone here earlier with Mr. Closter, he didn’t leave any indication of it.”
Mrs. Closter gazed at him thoughtfully. “Do you think it matters, Mr. Tuesday, whether or not there was someone here earlier.. .with William?”
She seemed to have grasped the direction of his thinking-or, perhaps, she and Elise had been doing some speculating of their own while he was in the basement.
“I don’t know, Mrs. Closter. Perhaps not. Let me sleep on it.”
The mention of sleep made them all aware of how late it was getting to be. A glance at the electric clock above the sink showed it was getting close to one o’clock. “I only have a few more questions, Mrs. Closter, if you’re not too tired?”
“That’s all right, Mr. Tuesday. I’m.it’s good to have someone to talk to.”
If her husband had talked to her more, it might not be necessary, he thought to himself.
“Were the lights on in the basement when you got home from church?”
She took a moment to remember. “No. The only light was in the front hall. I thought it was strange, but then I thought that maybe William had gone to bed early.” Her eyes filled again at the realization of the permanent sleep that had overtaken him.
It was another incongruity that reinforced his conviction that Closter had been murdered. There was only a small window over the work-bench and he had noticed some type of thick shrubbery planted on the outside. With the rain, it was a particularly dark night anyhow and, with the lights off in the basement, it would haven been pitch black in the shop. It was ludicrous to try to imagine Closter first going through the routine of switching the ladder and chair, and then stumbling around in the dark trying to find his own gallows. It was conceivable that he could have used a flashlight, but he had not seen one anywhere in the shop.
He did not see any necessity for asking her to describe how she finally found him. Considering the shock and horror of her discovery, he had to admire the self-control she had maintained all during their conversation. He was particularly glad now, that he had decided to bring Elise with him. It was evident that she and Mrs. Closter, despite the circumstances, had formed an instant liking for one another. Without Elise’s comforting presence, he doubted that he would have been able to learn as much as he had. But now, it was obvious that she was on the thin edge of exhaustion-fighting back the tears that would be released as soon as they left. He had wanted to ask her what her husband had told her about his business affairs and acquaintances. But, it would have to wait for another time. It would be unnecessarily cruel to even hint at the suspicion that his death-whether it was suicide or murder-now seemed to confirm.
There was only one more question to be asked for the moment. “Did he leave a note, Mrs. Closter?”
Her tear-filled eyes overflowed and ran down her cheeks as she fought to maintain her composure, “N.no, he didn’t. I.I don’t know why he.he would.do such a thing. Do you, Mr. Tuesday?”
She seemed to be hoping that he could supply a reason that would not only explain, but excuse as well, her husband’s apparent self-destruction.
“No, Mrs. Closter. I don’t.” It was, at best, a half-truth. If what he suspected about Closter’s involvement in the hijacking ring was true, he had had a reason. Only, he did not believe that he had killed himself. He stood up. “Thank you, Mrs. Closter. I certainly appreciate your allowing us to stay and talk to you. I realize it must have been very difficult for you.”
Elise reached across the table to grasp her hand again. “Are you sure you’ll be all right? Ireally wouldn’t mind staying if you’d like me to.”
He was surprised by her suggestion, but understood and admired it, even though it would mean having to drive back to Glen Park by himself.
“No, my dear,” Mrs. Closter replied. “It’s really not necessary. I’ll be quite all right.”
She and Elise slid out of the booth and they walked across the kitchen and the length of the hall to the front door.
“Thanks again, Mrs. Closter,” he told her. “I’ll contact you again if I find out.. .if I need anymore information about your husband.” He handed her one of his cards. “In the meantime, please don’t hesitate to call me if I can be of any help to you.”
She looked at the card and at him, seemingly not understanding what information he might need or what help he could provide. Elise put her arm around her plump shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Marjorie.”
“All right, Elise,” Mrs. Closter replied.
They exchanged “good-nights”, and he and Elise ran down the steps and along the driveway to his car. It was raining heavier now, and their hair and shoulders were wet by the time they got in and he started the engine. As he drove past the entrance, Mrs. Closter was still standing in the doorway and Elise bent over to wave to her.
“You two certainly seem to have hit it off very well,” he said, as she slid across the seat to sit next to him.
“She’s such a sweet thing, Mark, and so alone. Mr. Closter was an orphan and had no relatives that she knows of, and she has only a widowed sister in California. The sister is coming for the funeral, but apparently there isn’t even a close friend or neighbor that she knows well enough to stay with her tonight. That’s why I offered to-although I wasn’t sure how I would get to school in the morning if she had taken me up on it. I guess I was hoping you would be willing to come and get me.”
He smiled, turning to meet her gaze. “I’m sure it could have been arranged.”
She squeezed his arm, pressing even closer to him. “While you were downstairs in the basement, I tried to find out how much Mr. Closter had told her about the accident. I thought you would want to know.”
He stopped for a traffic signal; the only one in Plainville; and took advantage of the opportunity to kiss her.
“Yes. I do. And I have the distinct feeling that you’ve been reading my mind ever since I met you.”
“It makes awfully good reading, darling.”
“I hope you won’t be too shocked by the love scenes in the next chapter.”
“I can hardly wait,” she said, turning her head to nibble gently at his earlobe.
“Keep that up, and you won’t have to.”
The light changed and he moved ahead as he heard her laughing softly beside him. Reluctantly, he turned serious again.
“What did Mrs. Closter say her husband had told her, Elise?”
“Nothing very much, I’m afraid. Apparently he didn’t tell her anything beyond the factthat there was an accident, that the truck driver was killed, and that I almost was. She did say he seemed unusually upset about it and, at one point, she heard him muttering something like ‘it wasn’t necessary’ or ‘it was unnecessary’. But, when she asked him what he meant by it, he couldn’t or wouldn’t explain it to her.”
“Did he tell her about his connection with the freight on the trailer?”
“No. At least, she gave no indication that he had, or about his leaving the office early, either.” She paused, then added “And I didn’t tell her what you had found out about the accident, or about him.”
“You were right not to. She’s got enough to think about without being told that her husband was probably involved in a hijacking scheme.”
“She seems to have loved him a great deal, but he must have been a difficult man to love,” Elise said. “He evidently told her very little about his work or the people he worked with, or for. She has never met any of them and they have had very little social life, except for an occasional dinner with someone from one of the trucking companies or railroads he did business with. She mentioned Mr. Wozniak, for one.” She was silent for a moment before continuing, “If.. .if he did kill himself, it’s not so strange that he didn’t leave a note. It would have been out of character for him to try to explain his death after keeping so much of his life to himself.”
Her sensitivity had ceased to amaze him, but he still felt deeply moved by it. “Did she say if he had been behaving strangely in any way lately?”
“Not strangely. But she did say that he had seemed quieter and more thoughtful than usual.”
“Did she tell you how long they’ve lived here?”
“Yes. They came here in nineteen sixty-three from California, when he was transferred by his company.”
“Is that where they’re from originally?”
“No. He was born somewhere in upstate New York, and she’s from Long Island. They met when he was drafted and sent to a camp near where she lived. Camp Upton, I think she said it was. They met at a USO dance and were married in December nineteen forty-three, just before he was sent overseas to England. Apparently, he got into some kind of trouble in the Army and may have spent some time in jail.”
The information took him by surprise. “Did she tell you that?”
“Not in so many words. She said something about his having made a ‘bad mistake’ but that he had ‘paid for it’ and, after he was ‘released’, they had gone to California to ‘start all over’. I think she was a little sorry for telling me even that much, so I didn’t want to embarrass her even more by asking for the details. Especially since she seemed very proud of the fact that he had evidently stayed out of trouble after that, and had done so well in his career. I felt terrible knowing what you had told me. Do you think she’ll have to know, darling?”
“I don’t see how it can be avoided, if it’s true, Elise. But, of course, I’m not sure yet just how deeply he was involved.”
She was silent for a few moments, before saying, “But.. .you don’t think he killed himself, do you, Mark?”
“You’re reading my mind again. No, darling. I don’t think he killed himself.”
They had reached the highway, and during the drive to the Glen Park exit, he told her about the unfinished table leg and the tools laying on the work-bench as if he had been interrupted by something or, more likely, by somebody; and explained about the chair and the ladder and the lights and the unlocked bolt on the door leading to the outside of the house.
“Damn!” he exclaimed softly.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I meant to ask Mrs. Closter if that bolt was usually kept closed, and if any of the others that were there after she found him had used that entrance.”
She quickly grasped the implication. “I see, darling. It could mean that he unlocked the bolt to let his visitor in, but.. .but was unable to re-lock it after him when he left-that is, if nobody else used the entrance afterwards.”
“Yes. That’s right. But, even then it’s only a supposition-just like the table leg and the ladder and the rest of it-just like the whole case, in fact. So far, I have no proof of anything.”
They finished the few remaining minutes of the drive to her apartment in silence. When he finally pulled up in front of the building, he glanced at his watch and saw it was past one-thirty. Putting his arm around her, he drew her to him.
“I’m sorry, Elise. I didn’t mean to keep you this late.”
She put a hand on his cheek. “It’s all right, Mark dear. I’m glad I went with you.” She pulled back, a worried frown forming twin exclamation marks above the bridge of her nose. “How does your neck feel? Does it still hurt?”
It did still feel somewhat tender, but he told her, “No. It’s all right now.”
“That was an awful thing for him to do,” she exclaimed. “It must have been terribly painful.”
“To paraphrase an oft-quoted remark of Mr. Lincoln’s, ‘It hurt too much to laugh, and I was too old to cry.’ “
Despite her obvious concern, she laughed softly. “Oh, Mark! I do love you!”
“And I love you, Elise,” he said, drawing her to him again.
As their lips parted, she looked at him gravely. “Oh, Mark! It seems so.. .so wrong, somehow, that we should have.have found each other in the midst of all this.this horror and tragedy.”
He kissed her again, gently. “It’s not wrong, Elise, just incongruous. Our meeting and falling love may be, and undoubtedly is, the most important and significant thing that will ever happen in our lives-but, it is only a side effect of the whole business. I suppose it’s just another example of the Lord ‘moving in mysterious ways, his wonders to reveal’ “
“It is wonderful, my darling, but a little frightening too. I.I have an awful feeling that.. .that something even more terrible is going to happen before it’s all over.. .something to you.”
A slight twinge in his neck reminded him again of how easily he already had been hurt, and could be again. And, her astounding prescience gave him pause to wonder at how prophetic her words might be. But, he hid the thought behind a smile.
“Nothing is going to happen to me, darling, as long as I don’t let Deputy Flynn get behindme again.”
“And if you get enough sleep to keep your eyes open so you’ll know where he is.”
“Meaning, it’s time for me to go home-and you’re right, as usual.”
The rain had subsided to a desultory drizzle. He got out and walked around the hood of the car to open the door for her, aware that she did not try to dissuade him this time. She got out, and they walked with arms around each other, up the steps to the entrance and into the small lobby. She opened the inner door with her key and he followed her inside to where the elevator stood open and waiting. She turned to him silently and he slipped his hands beneath her coat and drew her into his arms. Through her thin dress, he could feel the soft, pliant womanness of her molded against him from chest to knee, and knew that she could feel the insistent rigidity of his maleness pressing into her. Their mouths and bodies ground together hungrily, and finally separated, breathlessly.
“Will you call me tomorrow, darling?” she asked huskily.
“Yes, Elise. Of course. After school. I’m not sure just now where I’ll be tomorrow but I’ll try to arrange things so we can have the evening together again.”
“I hope we can, Mark dear. I’ll look forward to it.” She backed away from him, into the elevator. “Good-night, darling.”
He leaned to kiss her again, as the doors started to close. “Good-night, Elise.”
She waved through the small glass panel as the elevator rose from sight, and he walked out to his car. He remembered how-only a little more than a day earlier-he had looked longingly after her as she had walked to the apartment entrance. The longing was still there-would always be there-but now, he knew it would not be in vain. Fantastically, wonderfully, and much more quickly than he had thought possible, he was in love and, astonishingly, was loved in return.
He started the car and drove home.