Patrick and I had seen very little of Sarah Mallory, and had heard much more, but in my mind I thought of her natural background as the Victorian parlor.
As Seth and I walked through the dining room we saw Jane Mallory and Uncle Victor chatting in the living room. Jane seemed quite at ease.
We walked on and entered Sarah Mallory’s room opposite the parlor. It was a very large room, really a double room, divided by wide sliding doors which stood open. The double room was both fastidious and functional. The second section of the room was the bedroom.
Sarah Mallory was sitting in the front part of the room on another Victorian sofa near another white marble fireplace. A small coal fire burned in the grate. There was a radio on an end table beside her. A huge rolltop desk, steel files, and various other implements of business occupied one side of the room. The windows were curtained with chintz and had Venetian blinds.
Mrs. Mallory still wore her lilac taffeta robe. She now seemed to be a little subdued and she observed my arrival with Seth without comment, as if I were an annoyance not worth mentioning.
Deputy Hollister occupied a straight chair outside the hall door. Denise sat in a high-backed chair opposite Mrs. Mallory. Bart Wayne hovered near the door until Mrs. Mallory asked us all to sit down. I took out the notebook and started putting down the talk.
Seth Godwin asked, “You sent for me, Mrs. Mallory? What can I do?”
“Nothing in particular. I want to talk.”
“The lieutenant asked Mrs. Abbott to take notes of anything said here, Mrs. Mallory,” Seth said.
She shrugged her upright shoulders. “I’m not surprised. I suppose one insult more makes no difference. But why does he dillydally so? Why doesn’t he arrest the woman and get her out of my house?”
“It isn’t that simple,” Seth said.
“Why not?”
“Dick’s will has cast suspicion on others besides Jane.”
“The will is no good!”
“Whether it’s good or not, it has given motive for murder to people who would otherwise have gone unsuspected. We’ll just have to wait it out, Mrs. Mallory.”
“Nonsense! That policeman is trying to drag things out. He’s enjoying himself.”
“I’ll say he is,” Denise put in. “He likes torturing innocent people. He thinks he’s important. I guess he doesn’t often get an opportunity to get into a home like this. He’s common enough to enjoy making people like us uncomfortable.”
“I quite agree, dear,” Sarah Mallory said. “I’m sure you do, too, Seth. Why did you fight the policeman?”
“Something he said made me lose my temper.”
“What?”
“I’d rather not say, Mrs. Mallory, if you don’t mind. It was crazy of me to pitch into him like that.”
“I suppose you know that you’ve got a black eye?”
“I know it very well. My victory wasn’t exactly a success.”
“You won the fight?”
“In a sense. But I made King sore and I broke the law because I assaulted an officer when on duty.”
“Fiddlesticks,” Sarah Mallory said. “I wish I could have fought the man myself. Such impertinence! Taking over my house as if he has the right! Why didn’t you come to me if you wanted money for your clinic, Seth? Instead of to Dick?
Seth stiffened perceptibly.
“I didn’t come to Dick, Mrs. Mallory. He quizzed me about the new clinic and I told him what it would cost and mentioned that the sum was about twenty-five thousand more dollars than I possessed. I don’t want his money, Mrs. Mallory.”
“You won’t get it. The will is no good. That lawyer is a quack.”
“Don’t blame Curtis. He has to pick up a living from his profession just as I do.”
“No reputable lawyer would have sneaked into my house the way he did. As for the murders, I’m for you, Seth. I know you didn’t poison my son. Jane did it. I was always afraid of her when she lived in this house. I knew she would do something like this, sometime.”
Seth spoke with gentle firmness.
“Mrs. Mallory, Jane didn’t poison Dick. Please, why did you ask me to come to your room? If it’s to talk against Jane you must excuse me.”
“I told you Seth was like the others, Aunt Sarah,” Denise chimed in. “I told Aunt Sarah what you said about Amelia, Seth, there in the kitchen.”
“That’s quite all right, Denise. I told you that I’ve said the same to Mrs. Mallory for years.”
“That’s beside the point,” Sarah Mallory said, straightening her already straight back. “I’ll tell you why I wanted this talk, Seth. I’ve been trying to persuade Barton …” She paused and addressed me. “Surely you don’t have to write this down? It has nothing to do with the so-called investigation?”
I met the hard eyes steadily.
“I’m sorry. Lieutenant King asked me to take notes of everything said here.”
She eyed me as if I were an insect. I glanced at Deputy Hollister, thinking how happy he must be to have me doing his job.
Sarah Mallory turned again to Seth. She ignored my presence from then on.
“You and Barton have always been good friends, Seth.” Seth nodded and he and Bart exchanged friendly glances. “I hope you will join me in trying to convince Barton that his future lies here with me.”
Bart shook his head. Seth made no comment.
“For some time Barton has been the only Wayne left. Now he is the only real man left in the family. Victor never has been of the least use. Amelia is not only a woman, she is helpless. That’s the lot. You can see for yourself how much I need Barton.”
She continued speaking.
“The estate is now too much for me. I need help and it is natural that I should like my own flesh and blood to stay on with me. I have explained that I shall at once settle on Barton a salary suitable to his position and that eventually he is to have full charge of the estate and inherit what my son would have had. Please reason with him, Seth.”
“It sounds very fine, Bart,” Seth said.
“I couldn’t do it, Cousin Sarah,” Bart said.
“It’s that woman. You’ll change your mind when she’s locked up.”
“She didn’t do the murders,” Bart said. “I agree with Seth on that point.”
Denise laughed.
“My money’s on Jane,” she said.
“Please don’t make jokes, Denise.”
“I’m not, Aunt Sarah. But why should Bart work for you when he can marry Jane and instantly get two million dollars? That’s what you plan, don’t you, Bart?” Denise went on laughing. “I can see Jane before a jury. They’ll let her off—if they’re men, probably asking her telephone number as soon as they declare her not guilty.”
Denise giggled as if she had lost all self-control. Both Bart and Seth quietly ignored her.
“Barton,” Sarah Mallory said, after giving Denise an anxious glance, “I want you to take your time and think things over. You’ve got another month before you have to go back to that oil job. You say yourself that it is hard work in a very bad climate. You’re well paid, no doubt, but you’ll have no such future prospects as you’ll have right here in the Bluegrass, working for and with me. You belong here, as you know well. You have been saving money to restore your beautiful house. You can do that at once if you accept my offer. Don’t say no, Barton. Wait. Talk it over with Seth.”
“It certainly sounds worth thinking over, Bart,” Seth said. “I don’t suppose there is any special hurry …”
Denise, twittering, said, “I daresay the next paragraph in this agreement will state that you have to marry me, Bart.”
“Denise!” Mrs. Mallory cried, shocked.
“I accept,” Denise went on, between small fits of hysterical laughter. “I love you, Bart, darling. Thanks so much for offering to marry me. This time it’s for keeps, Aunt Sarah. I’ll never leave Bart and he’ll never leave me.”
Gales of laughter brought tears running down Denise’s cheeks. Mrs. Mallory stared at Bart Wayne with puzzled eyes. He gave his head a little shake as if to say she shouldn’t pay any notice to Denise. She turned to Seth Godwin and said in a barely audible tone, “What ails her, Seth?”
“It’s hysteria, Mrs. Mallory.”
“Can’t you do something?”
“With Lieutenant King’s permission, I could have her put to bed and give her a sedative.”
“His permission? Are you insane?”
“No, Mrs. Mallory. The lieutenant is in charge here. I am a murder suspect, as you know.”
“What utter nonsense!” But she let the subject lie.
Denise, weakened from laughter, sank into the corner of her chair. From the hall, Deputy Hollister watched her, a queer expression on his heavy face. Bart lit a cigarette and deliberately paid her no notice. Mrs. Mallory, though alarmed for her darling Denise, went back to the proposition she had made Bart Wayne. Tomorrow there was Dick’s funeral. The next day was Derby Day, of course, and after that Sunday. On Monday she would have her lawyers draw up the agreement so that Bart’s own position would be legally sound.
“That gives you three days to think things over, Barton. Please don’t be hasty. You will consider it, won’t you?”
Her voice had pleading in it. She was breaking, in spite of her continued self-control. Seth sensed it and, with a small nod to Bart, conveyed his advice to agree.
Bart smiled.
“You’re very kind, Cousin Sarah. If you feel so strongly about it, I’ll wait until Monday to give you my decision.”
“Thank you, Barton. And now I’ll go lie down.”
She stood up. The men stood. I remained in my chair, taking notes. Denise sat in her wing chair, her eyes closed, apparently quieted.
“Stay with Denise, will you, Barton? Watch over her for me.”
“I shall, Cousin Sarah. Good night.”
“It’s not good night,” Mrs. Mallory said tartly. “You forget our guests. No doubt I’ll be ordered to appear before the King the minute my head is on my pillow.” She sighed. “I shan’t undress. I’m as anxious as they to get this thing finished.”
She gave Denise a last glance and then moved toward the wide doors between the two sections of the double room. I closed my notebook and stood up.
Suddenly Denise opened her eyes and leaping from her chair ran swiftly toward the open door into the hall.
Deputy Hollister jumped to his feet and with his arms outstretched between the newel post and the front door stopped Denise from heading along the downstairs hall. She fled upstairs. Mrs. Mallory turned in time to see what was happening and called to Bart.
“Go after her, Barton. She’ll hurt herself.”
Bart was already making for the stairs.
“She’ll try to leave the house by the outside stairs,” Mrs. Mallory said. “Head her off below, Seth.”
“In those heels it’s suicide,” Seth said, as he ran toward the dining room. Hollister started to follow and then said he’d better stay and watch the front door. I followed Seth.
I glanced into the living room. Uncle Victor sat alone, smoking a cigarette through that long black holder. Jane Mallory must have been called back to the kitchen for further questioning, I thought, as I left the house by the dining room door.
The night was deeply dark. There hadn’t been time to turn on any outside lights. The heavy scent of white lilacs, the arcade, the vague sense of the direction I must take to follow Seth around the house—for he was well ahead—and considerable luck served to guide me until I was stopped by a woman’s shrill scream and a man’s agonized cry. A heavy body bumped down the steps. I ran on and rounded the corner just as lights came on outside the kitchen porch.
Denise lay in a quivering huddle at the foot of the steps. Her head was thrown back at a hideous angle, too far back. Bart Wayne was running down the steps. His face was twisted with horror. He reached Denise at the same time Seth did, who knelt beside her. Lieutenant King and Patrick had dashed out of the kitchen and were with the group around the crumpled form when Seth stood up and shook his head.
“She’s dead.”
I heard a sound on the second-floor porch, and thinking it must be Sarah Mallory and anticipating her grief, I looked up and saw in the half-dark Jane Mallory, calmly surveying the scene from the top of the stairs.