The image reappeared with decreasing frequency and finally disappeared altogether in the hubbub and hectic activity of the succeeding days and weeks prior to the wedding.
Elise requested and obtained a leave of absence from a shocked, and perturbed, principal of the Glen Park school. She thought that only a combination of a shortage of teachers and an invitation to the wedding kept her from being dismissed outright. Then she, Grace and Sybil embarked on a continuous and clamorous round of shopping excursions, dress fittings, catering consultations, guest list debates and interminable phone conversations that left them all alternately exhilarated and exhausted.
As his strength rapidly returned; and his bandages were gradually reduced in size and quantity; he watched the ongoing preparations with a mixture of amusement, apprehension and anticipation. For the most part his own participation was limited to an occasional request for his opinion or approval of their plans. And; while his initial preference would have been for a quiet, simple ceremony for the immediate family only; he found their excitement infectious and looked forward with growing eagerness to the culminating moment when Elise would walk down the aisle of the church to join her life to his.
The path had been cleared for a church wedding when they went to call on Monsignor O’Sullivan a week after he got home from the hospital. He had approached the meeting with some trepidation and an incipient antagonism, expecting that their request for the church’s blessing might be peremptorily refused or, at the least, that they-and, in particular, he-would be subjected to a moralistic lecture for having the temerity to fall in love before, and wanting to be married so soon after, his wife’s untimely death. Surprisingly, however, the old priest-apparently inured to the follies, foibles and frailties of both sexes by the thousands of hours spent in the confessional-raised no objection and readily granted them permission for a church service, which he agreed to perform himself. Then; while Elise waited in the anteroom; he had knelt by the side of the monsignor’s chair, and quietly confessed the sins and transgressions of the past twenty years. He had dreaded the necessity of going through the age-old ritual, but when the moment came he found that the words and prayers came easily-almost eagerly-to his lips. Afterwards, he felt renewed and refreshed, and resolute in the certainty that Elise would never have to endure the indifference, the selfishness or lack of love that had characterized his marriage to Marie.
They had already received the blessings and best wishes of the Tobins, and Dan had gladly accepted the assignment as his best man. Like everyone else, they made no demurer to the wedding plans that were already taking shape, and happily accepted the invitation to participate. Their reasoning followed the same argument as did all the others-that it would be pointless to let the happiness of the occasion be over-shadowed by the memory of Marie’s death-and that they should not allow the past to influence the way in which they began their future together. It was as if they all believed-or, at least, hoped-that the more lavish and extravagant their wedding became, the easier it would be to forget the circumstances that had made it possible.
But-somewhat astonishingly-it had been the Monsignor who had quoted them the passage from the Rubaiyat about the moving finger, and, noting their puzzled surprise, had counseled, “I’m not saying that we shouldn’t remember the past, and learn from it. But we shouldn’t allow it to make us afraid to face the future with confidence in ourselves, and faith in the Almighty.” He had paused to contemplate them with a hint of ironic amusement stretching the interwoven wrinkles of his long thin face, and then added, “I’m not so sure that’s exactly what old Omar had in mind when he wrote it, but I like to think it must have been something of the kind.”
So, the wedding plans proceeded unabated until, finally, the invitations were all mailed, the final measurements had been made, the caterer was selected, the menu approved and the colors, flowers and decorations all decided upon. Then, an unnatural calm-like the eye of a hurricane-seemed to settle over them as they sat back to await the fruition of their endeavors.
One morning, about ten days before the wedding, he and Elise drove over to Plainville to meet Mrs. Closter and complete the purchase of her house. The business was quickly concluded and, on the way back, Elise asked him to stop at the shopping plaza on the edge of town, so she could buy something “appropriate” for their wedding night. She did not say what she had in mind, but the gleam in her eyes hinted at something enticing, diaphanous and easy to remove.
Entering one of the larger department stores that comprised the main part of the shopping complex, he escorted her to the lingerie section and; while she made her selection; wandered idly among the adjoining racks and counters. Noticing the jewelry department across the aisle, it suddenly occurred to him that he had not even thought of procuring either an engagement or wedding ring for Elise. Guiltily, he turned to look for her and saw her coming toward him. As she reached him, he grasped her arm and steered her in the direction of the jewelry counter.
“I think it’s about time we made our engagement official, don’t you?” he told her.
Seeing where he was leading her, she caught his meaning. “Oh, Mark! Darling! It’s really not necessary. I really don’t need an engagement ring and Grace said that I could have her wedding ring if you didn’t remember to buy one for me. She said she doesn’t wear hers anymore, and I really think she was hoping that you wouldn’t remember, so that she could give it to us. Why don’t we let her? She’s showed it to me and it’s lovely-and it fits.”
“All right, Elise. We’ll use mother’s wedding ring,” he agreed. “But, whether you need it or not, you’re going to have an engagement ring, and now’s as good as time as any to get it.” Ignoring the stares and simpers of the other shoppers in the vicinity she put her hand behind his neck and pulled his head down to kiss him. Then, with the aid of the clerk-a short, thin, wispy-haired, owlish-eyed man of indeterminate age, who had waited in discreet silence during their brief colloquy-Elise quickly made her selection. She picked a rather small diamond in a simple platinum setting-not as impressive or expensive as some of the others he and the clerk suggested to her-but, on her long, slender finger, it looked exquisite.
Unfortunately, the band was too large and would have to be made smaller. The clerk assured them it would only take a few days and he would notify them when it was ready.
Taking his credit card from his billfold, he handed it to the clerk who began writing up the sale. The clerk accepted the card and then glanced up at him furtively, his large, round eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
“Something the matter?” he asked him.
The man seemed flustered. “Oh, Ahh.no, sir. Not at all.” He bent his head over the sales book.
“Are you sure?” he persisted. “If you’re worried about my credit, why don’t you call.”
“Oh, it’s not that!” the clerk assured him. “It’s.well.it’s just that I recognized your name and.. .and remembered seeing the pictures of you and.. .and your wife in the papers.”
“I see. And naturally you’re shocked that only a few weeks later I’m buying an engagement ring for someone else.”
“Oh, no sir! Nothing like that!” the clerk replied with obvious distress.” It’s just that.well, it seems like such an odd coincidence.”
“What’s so odd about it?”
The clerk’s eyes flickered back and forth between him and Elise. “I.I’m terribly sorry, Miss. I didn’t mean to cause you any embarrassment.”
“You haven’t, really,” Elise responded. “But I am intrigued. Did you know Mrs. Tuesday?”
The clerk shook his head. “No, Miss. I only saw her once.well, twice, to be completely accurate. It was about a month before.before she was killed.”
He felt Elise’s fingers tighten on his arm. “Oh? Did she purchase something from you at the time?” she asked.
“Yes, miss. A ring. That’s what I thought was so odd, you see.”
“I can understand why you would.” There was an undercurrent of excitement in her voice. He had told her about the mysterious entry in Marie’s checkbook, and she obviously believed that they were on the verge of discovering its meaning. “Do you remember what kind of ring she bought?”
The clerk nodded promptly. “It was a birthstone. A sapphire.for September, you know.” His eyes silently speculated if it could have been a birthday gift for him, but a glance at his ringless hands resting on the counter gave him the answer.
Apparently recognizing his unspoken question, Elise asked, “Was it a man’s ring?”
The clerk frowned. “Well-actually, it was not a very large ring, as I recall. It was quite a nice size stone, and very good quality; but the setting was very plain and the band was quite narrow. I imagine it could very easily be worn by either a man or a woman.depending on which finger it was worn.”
Elise’s relaxed grip betrayed her disappointment. Then her fingers tightened again. “Did she have it engraved?”
He seemed startled by her perception. “Why-yes, she did. Now, let me think a moment. What was it?” He looked down at the credit card he still held in his hand, but it was apparent that it only confirmed the fact that she had not bought it for him. “She wanted to take it with her, and I told her it would take an hour or so to have it engraved-so she said she would have her lunch and pick it up afterwards-which she did.” He paused again, squeezing his eyelids shut over his bulbous pupils. “Now I remember. ‘To J. from M.’.” He looked expectantly from one to other of them, and seemed disappointed that they were not going to reveal the secret of the ring-if they knew it.
“How did she pay for it?” Elise inquired.
“In cash. It came to just under three hundred and fifty dollars.”
The fact that she had had the right amount of cash with her seemed to indicate it had not been a spur of the moment purchase.
“Thank you,” Elise said, smiling. “You’ve been very helpful.”
The clerk hesitated, as if he was sorry she had no further questions, before moving away to the end of the counter to register the sale of her ring. Elise turned to look up at him, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Darling! I’m positive I’ve seen a ring like the one he described on-on someone, just recently.”
“You probably have, on Marie’s sister,” he told her.
They had met, briefly and somewhat uncomfortably a few nights previously when-acting on Grace’s suggestion-he had invited Julie Fay to come to the house for the purpose of taking whatever of Marie’s possessions she felt she could use. Even though she had been obviously grateful for the offer, and more subdued than he remembered her, it had also been evident that she resented Elise’s having so soon usurped her dead sister’s place in his life-a place which, if her mother was to be believed, she had secretly coveted for herself.
They had both avoided the subject of Sally, who was now languishing in the County Jail awaiting trial on charges of accessory to murder, and complicity in the hijacking operation. He was hoping he was not going to be called to testify against her and, since he had only seen her a few times in the role of Bentley’s receptionist, he thought it unlikely.
After a few brief words of greeting, and an introduction to Elise-to whom she responded coolly but civilly-he took her to Marie’s room and left her alone to make her selections. Apparently, she had soon realized that her sister’s taller and more slender figure precluded her from being able to use very few, if any, of her clothes. In the end, she had left with only a small suitcase.
When he went into the room after she had left-to his amazement, standing on her toes, and impulsively kissing him on the cheek as he held the front door open for her-the only thing he was sure she had taken with her, besides the suitcase, was Marie’s mink stole. Knowing that Elise would never have worn it, he hoped Julie Fay would get more use out of it than Marie ever had.
“You’re a good detective, my darling,” he now told Elise, “and I’m sorry to deflate your balloon. But, I’m afraid your very adroit questioning hasn’t uncovered anything more startling than the fact that Marie apparently bought Julie Fay the ring for her birthday-which, if I’m not mistaken, is September twentieth.”
Elise looked doubtful. “It seems a little extravagant for a birthday present.”
“Perhaps. But Marie was never one to quibble about the price as long as she got what shewanted.”
She still was not satisfied. “But, wouldn’t she have had it engraved, “To J.F.”, if it was for Julie Fay?”
He smiled at her persistence, and regretted having to extinguish her hopes. “Not necessarily. Usually, Marie only used the combination of names when she was annoyed with her, which wasn’t very often.”
“Can you remember ever seeing Julie Fay wearing a ring like that?”
“No. I can’t say I do,” he admitted. “But then, it’s not the sort of thing I’d be likely to notice, especially on Julie.”
She still did not want to give up. “It does seem strange though, that Marie wouldn’t tell you about buying the ring for her.”
“Not when you realize that she knew how I felt about Julie. Although, as far as I was concerned, it was her money, and she was free to spend it any way she wanted.”
“Well.now we know how she spent that much of it, at least,” Elise replied, conceding defeat.
He had not attached too much significance to the entry in Marie’s checkbook and, in fact, had not even given it a second thought since Hollander and his men-as far as he knew-had been unable to trace it. He thought he probably should call the FBI man and let him know that they had discovered how she had spent the money-and, probably, for whom-so they wouldn’t continue to waste their time; assuming they were still trying to trace it themselves. But still, his disappointment in discovering what Marie had seemingly done with the money, almost matched that of Elise.
He had heard very little from either Dan or Hollander following their joint visit to the house with the revelation of Sally’s relationship to Marie. It seemed likely that by now, the FBI’s attention had been diverted to more recent and, possibly, more important criminal investigations. The unanswered question of Mr. In-Between’s identity still haunted him but, chances were that; with his organization effectively and permanently disbanded; he had moved on to try to re-establish a new operation somewhere else. In any event, the combination of his convalescence, the lack of clues and his promise to Elise prevented him from doing anything on his own to discover what or where he was.
As the last weekend before the wedding came and went, the pace began to accelerate again as the responses to the invitations began to arrive in the mail, final fittings of the women’s dresses revealed that additional alterations were desirable, and changes in the menu were necessitated by a shortage of lobster. On Wednesday-the day before Thanksgiving-while Elise; with Grace and Sybil; was busily engaged coping with these last minute problems, he drove himself over to the hospital for a final check-up. Dave removed the last of his bandages and, after a thorough examination of his handiwork, pronounced him fit.
“Your wounds have healed very nicely. A couple of more months and they’ll be barely noticeable,” he said. There was a faintly sardonic glint in his eyes. “But, try not to exert yourself, err.too much, for the next few weeks.”
“I’ll do my best to follow your advice, doctor. But, maybe you’d better talk to Elise as well,” he replied.
“I will, if you really want me to.” A suppressed grin twitched the ends of his mustache.
“On second thought, I think I’d prefer to wait until I see if it’s really necessary.”
He smiled broadly, revealing small, even white teeth. “That does seem like it would be the sensible thing to do.”
A few weeks earlier, a bantering exchange such as this-particularly with its none-too-subtle allusion to his sex life-would have seemed repugnant to him. But, now, he felt only a pleasant stir of excitement in his loins inspired by anticipation of Elise.
As he left the hospital-freed, finally, from the restraints of his bandages-and walked to his car; gleaming brightly in the clear crisp November sunshine; he felt such a sense of euphoria that he decided to take a drive and enjoy the last of the autumnal countryside. It was something he had always found pleasant and relaxing-exploring the little-used back roads, discovering small communities he did not know existed-and something he had not done in a long time. He would have to be back by four o’clock to drive out to the airport with Elise to meet her parents and sister who were arriving that evening, But, it was still early and there was no reason to hurry home, especially since only Mrs. Hardesty would be there and he had already told her not to expect him for lunch. For a moment, he debated whether he should go to the office. But, he had talked to Gladys only yesterday and she had assured him then that she and Dolores had everything under control.
Avoiding the main roads as much as possible, he drove aimlessly for almost two hours through the western part of the county where the urban sprawl was confined to small isolated sub-divisions and most of the land was still tilled in long, black, rolling furrows, now freshly turned after the recent harvest. The bucolic, uncluttered surroundings, and the quiet, peaceful atmosphere were like a transfusion to his spirits. He had been looking forward, pleasur-ably and hopefully, to a new life with Elise. But, the still fresh memories of the all too recent past had kept drawing his gaze inward, making him doubt his ability to avoid the same pitfalls with her that had resulted in the bitterness and frustration of his marriage to Marie-and, possibly, had led to the final, irrevocable tragedy of her death. But now, seeing nature in the last stages of her annual life cycle, and knowing her capacity for self-renewal with another Spring, he felt a rejuvenation of faith in his own ability to shed the last remnants of his former self, and to face the future with confidence and determination.
He stopped at an old, but beautifully preserved, farmhouse that advertised itself as ‘Ma McGregor’s Country Kitchen’. Judging by the number of cars and pick-up trucks parked around it, it was obviously a very popular place, even though it was the only one for miles around. As it turned out, ‘Ma’ had long since gone to her reward, but her descendants were still carrying on for her, and he enjoyed a leisurely, tasty, family-style lunch for the astonishing price of two dollars. Making a mental note to return with Elise as soon as they returned from their honeymoon, he drove unhurriedly back to Glen Park. By the time he arrived there, it was almost three-thirty, and he felt a pang of regret-and apprehension-when Mrs. Hardesty told him that Gladys had called around noon, and had left an urgent message for him to call the office as soon as possible.
Gladys’ relief was evident in her voice as soon as she recognized his. “Oh, Mr. Tuesday! I’m so glad you called! I didn’t know what to do!”
“About what? What’s the problem, Gladys?”
“It’s a letter. It was delivered by special messenger just before noon. It’s marked ‘personal and confidential’. I didn’t want to open it without your permission.”
“Who’s it from?”
“The messenger didn’t say, and there is no return address on it.”
He hesitated, wondering what it could contain, but could think of nothing that he would not want her to see. “Go ahead and open it, Gladys.”
There was the faint sound of the letter opener slitting the envelope and the contents being unfolded, followed by a disconcerted “Oh!” from Gladys.
“What’s the matter? What’s in it?”
“Well.there’s a note, and another letter also marked ‘personal and confidential.” She sounded understandably confused.
He began to wonder if it was some kind of advertising gimmick, or somebody’s idea of a joke. Then, on a rising note of excitement, Gladys added, “The other letter has a return address for ‘Affiliated Distribution Systems’, and according to the note, it’s from Mr. Closter!”
He felt a queer tingling on the back of his neck. “Who’s the note from?”
“It’s signed by a ‘Ruth Lufkin’. Shall I read it to you?”
Ruth Lufkin! Closter’s secretary! “Yes, Read it Gladys.”
“It’s dated yesterday,” she told him before quoting the note. “ ‘Dear Mr. Tuesday, Mr. Closter gave me the enclosed letter addressed to you after you visited him at the office. He told me that, regardless of what happened in the meantime, I was to hold it for one month. If, at the end of the month, he had not asked for it to be returned to him, he told me that I was then to send it to you by special messenger. After Mr. Closter’s death, I wasn’t sure if I should continue to hold it, or send it to you right away. But, because his instructions were always very explicit, I decided to do as he had told me to. However, a few days later, my mother was taken ill and I had to go home to Vermont to be with her. She passed away last Sunday and I only returned this evening, too late to get a special messenger. But, I will see to it that it is delivered to you, as early as possible, tomorrow morning. I hope the delay has not caused you any inconvenience.’ That’s all, Mr. Tuesday,” Gladys informed him as she finished. “Do you want me to open the other letter?”
The tingling had spread to his shoulders and back. “Yes, go ahead.” Again he heard the sound of the envelope flap being slit open, followed by the faint tinkle of metal on glass. “It’s another letter, signed by ‘William Closter’-and a key,” Gladys explained.
“Read the letter to me,” he told her.
“It’s dated October seventeenth. ‘Dear Mr. Tuesday. The enclosed key is for a lock box in my name at the main downtown post office. In it you will find my full confession giving you the complete details of my part in the events of yesterday, and in the other illegal activities in which I have been forced to partake for the last five years. It also contains the name of the man who organized and controlled these activities and a full explanation of how and why he was able to compel my participation. I am leaving this letter and the key with Mrs. Lufkin with strict instructions that she should send it to you by special messenger if I have not reclaimed it from her within a month. After what happened yesterday, I am determined to extricate myself from my present predicament, one way or the other. This will allow me sufficient time to find out if it is possible to do so, and to make the necessary arrangements. If I am arrested before the month is up, I will have made a verbal confession. If I am killed, my written confession will insure that my murderer does not go unpunished’ “.
“Oh, dear!” Gladys breathed before continuing her reading of Closter’s letter, “ ‘With my confession you will also find another key to a safety deposit box in the Plainville State Bank, which contains all the money paid to me as my share of the proceeds from these activities. When-and if-you read this letter, and my confession, you will, perhaps, understand, why I never spent any of it.’ “ Gladys sniffed audibly. “Oh, the poor man!”
“Is there any more, Gladys?” he asked.
“No, sir. Oh, Mr. Tuesday! What should I do? Do you want me to bring you the key?”
He glanced at his watch. It was almost a quarter to four. Not enough time for her to bring it to him, or for him to drive to the office to get it, and then drive downtown to the main post office before it closed at five o’clock-even if he did not have to drive to the airport with Elise-who, at that moment, was just coming through the front door with Grace. They each blew him a kiss and he waved back, signaling he would be with them in a minute.
“No, Gladys,” he said into the phone. “I want you to drop whatever you’re doing right now, call a taxi, and get to the post office as fast as you can. Take the two letters and the key with you. I’ll call Dan Tobin and ask him to meet you there with Mr. Hollander of the FBI. If neither of them is there when you get there, wait. But, don’t open the box unless one of them is with you.” He did not want to risk being accused at a later date of having tampered with Closter’s confession, or of having removed it without proper authority. Gladys assured him that she would get there as fast as she could and he broke the connection to call Dan. The urgency in his tone had alerted Elise and Grace and they stood watching and listening with unconcealed curiosity.
Elise’s roommate answered. “Mr. Tobin’s office.”
“Joan, this is Mark.” They had achieved a first name acquaintanceship as a result of his frequent visits to the apartment with Elise during the last few weeks. “Is Dan in?”
“Oh, hello, Mark. Yes, he is. But he’s on the phone at the moment.”
“Slip him a note that I’m waiting to talk to him. Say that it’s more important than anything else he could possibly be talking about.”
“All right, Mark. If you say so. Hold on.” Her tone indicated that she had also detected the urgency in his.
In a few seconds, Dan’s querulous voice came through the phone. “Mark! For God’s sake, man! This better be good. I was talkin’ to the bloody chairman of the board!”
“It’s better than good, Dan!” he assured him. “It’s the break we’ve been hoping for. Closter wrote a confession before he was killed! It’s in a lock box at the main post office. Gladys is on her way there now with the key.”
“What! How the devil.? Where did you.?”
“Never mind the details, Dan. Gladys has a letter from Closter and another from his secretary that will explain everything. Can you and Hollander meet her at the post office?”
“Well, I’ll sure as hell be there, Mark, And, I’ll call Jack right away to see if he can too.”
“If you can’t get him, maybe you can get one of his men. I told Gladys not to open the box unless you or Hollander were with her. But, it would probably be better if you didn’t open it either without someone from the Bureau present.”
“You’re probably right,” Dan agreed. “If Jack can’t make it, I’ll ask him to have another agent meet us there.”
“Okay, Dan. I know I can count on you to handle it right. I’ll be out, for the next couple of hours. I have to drive Elise to the airport to meet her family, But, I’ll call you when we get back to see how you made out.”
Dan promised again that he would be at the post office to meet Gladys and would do his best to get the confession out of the lock box before it closed for the night and the holiday. Severing the connection, he replaced the phone on its cradle and turned to look into the astonished faces of Elise and his mother.
“Any questions?” he asked.