IF ONE can expect an ailing patient to be put under treatment without excessive delay, one should also be able to expect a quick report of the patient’s death if the treatment is fatal. The trouble was, Hester didn’t get any report. So far as she knew, Senorita Fogarty continued to live, replete with sex and gorged with cyanide peanuts. It wasn’t natural or reasonable, and Hester wondered why.
Perhaps, she thought, the oatmeal diet had been abandoned even before it started. If so, it was damned deceptive of the Crumps and just showed you how thoroughly unreliable they were. They had been instrumental in putting Hester to a great deal of time and trouble, conceiving and executing her plan and all, and it was simply infuriating to think that it might all go for nothing. It was more hopeful to sustain a little longer, if possible, the conviction that the diet had merely been postponed temporarily, for one reason or another, and would shortly be imposed.
Or maybe it hadn’t been postponed at all. Maybe it had been imposed immediately with all the results that could reasonably be expected from a cyanide breakfast. This was Hester’s second thought, and it shook her up. Was Senorita Fogarty indeed deceased? Could it be that the Crumps, with peasantlike cunning, were with-holding the truth in an effort to prolong their plush condition?
Once it had occurred to her, there was simply no living with the thought in peace and patience. It was imperative that she find out at once if it were true or not, and she began to seek the best way to do it. She thought at first that she would squeal to old Brewster, thus rousing his suspicions and launching an investigation, but it didn’t take her long to reject this plan as untenable. For one thing, it was far too risky. Old Brewster, having a legal mind addicted to a nasty kind of logic, would certainly want to know what made her think Senorita Fogarty might be dead, and this could invoke embarrassing questions and unfortunate answers.
Having rejected Brewster, she thought of employing a spy. An inventory of spies available, however, revealed no one but Uncle Homer, Aunt Madge, Flo, Junior, and Lester, not necessarily in the order of their availability or competence. As a matter of fact, when it came to competence, it didn’t make a penny’s worth of difference what order they were in. Lester had already demonstrated a pitiable incapacity for seduction or sedition or anything useful, and there was no rational reason to believe that any of the others were any better.
Finally, on the principle that what is done is best done by oneself, she dressed for the street and walked to the neighborhood of Grandfather’s house. She did not repeat Lester’s error of making a bold approach, however. This would have entailed an encounter with Mrs. Crump, and Hester’s assets, which were considerable, were not the kind that were most effective with the distaff side. Her chances of eliciting anything of consequence in the way of damaging admissions were better by far with Crump himself, and it was her intention to catch him abroad on an errand. It was some forty-eight hours after the oatmeal switch when she took up a position at the corner of the block, and almost forty-nine when her patience was rewarded. The door of Grandfather’s house opened and closed, and sure enough, here came Crump.
But not Crump alone. Prancing ahead of him at the end of a leash in revolting nudity was no one but Senorita Fogarty. Hester’s heart, beginning to sink, had a momentary lift. Was it actually Senorita, or was it the stud? Watching Crump and the Chihuahua approach, Hester leaned forward a little to the side to achieve an adequate angle of vision, and her heart went on sinking. The difference between a bitch and a stud is not hard to detect, even in Chihuahuas, and this was no exception. It was Senorita Fogarty, all right, as offensive as ever and certainly alive.
Crump, being near-sighted, did not recognize Hester until he was almost abreast. Then he swerved and stopped and took a closer hold on the leash. Alarm and suspicion were apparent in his expression, but there was also a portion of something warmer. Instinct and experience made him wary, but his wariness, complete and truculant where Lester had been concerned, was somewhat modified for Hester. In brief, Crump had an eye, however defective, for a pretty girl.
“Hello, Crump,” said Hester. “Walking Senorita, I see.”
“So I am,” Crump said, as if prepared to defend his right.'
“She looks very lively, I must say.”
“Why shouldn’t she?”
“No reason at all. On the contrary. You’re taking excellent care of her, Crump. I can see that. Grandfather would be pleased.”
“That’s more than can be said for some people I know.”
“You mean Uncle Homer? He has behaved badly, I admit.”
“Not only him.”
“Well, we were naturally disappointed. Surely you can forgive us that.”
“Maybe yes. Maybe no. It depends.”
“You’re justified in being skeptical, Crump, but I for one am prepared to be amiable.”
“We’ll see.”
“That’s fair enough. You may be surprised to discover how amiable I can be with the proper person.” This was a bold stroke, possibly abortive, and Hester did not press it. “As you see, I was just on my way to make a call on you.”
“In the middle of the morning? That seems a queer time to come calling.”
“I didn’t think of that. I guess it’s because I’m used to running in and out of Grandfather’s old house at all hours.”
“If you’re going to the house now, you’d better be careful. Mrs. Crump’s in a bad humor.”
“I’ve changed my mind about going to the house. I’d much rather walk along with you.”
‘With me? Why?”
“Can’t you guess? You’re much too modest. To be candid, you have a much warmer personality than Mrs. Crump.”
“That may be. Almost anyone has a warmer personality than Mrs. Crump.”
“Do you mind having me with you? I’d love to come.”
“I guess it can’t do any harm.”
So Hester reversed directions and walked along. Senorita Fogarty trotted ahead. Crump seemed suddenly a little straighter, even his legs.
“Where are we going?’ said Hester.
“To the park,” said Crump.
“That’s nice. It will be pleasant sitting together on a park bench, won’t it? We can talk.”
“Senorita likes to play on the grass and watch the kids.”
“Surely you don’t let her off the leash.”
“Not much. On the leash she is, on the leash she stays.”
“That’s wise. She is much too valuable a dog to let loose.”
“She is that. I’m ever mindful of it.”
“I’ll hold the leash for a while if you want me to.”
“Holding it’s no trouble. I’ll do it myself.”
“Isn’t that the park down there?”
“It is. As you see, it’s only a short piece.”
“I used to play here once in a while when I was a little girl.”
“I know. I remember.”
“It seems a long time ago, doesn’t it?”
“Not long. Like yesterday. It probably seems long to you, young as you are.”
“You’re not so old yourself.”
“Old enough.”
They turned into the park, just a square city block reserved for kids and dogs and anyone else with time to kill. There were gravel walks and grass and green benches. There was even a tiny pond with a pair of ducks afloat on it. Hester and Crump sat on one of the benches, Crump securing Senorita’s leash to a front leg of it. Hester sat close, and Crump, after a start, sat fast. Experimentally, Hester touched his leg now and then with her near knee.
“Would Mrs. Crump object if she knew we were sitting here together?” she said.
“You can believe she would.”
“Why? Does she have a jealous disposition?”
“I’d say so.”
“I can’t understand why. She must feel uncertain of herself because you look so much younger than she does.”
“Oh, now. I’m no cause for jealousy.”
“Perhaps you just think you’re not. Was Mrs. Crump beautiful when you married her?”
“I can’t remember that she was. Then or any time since.”
“How surprising! I’d have sworn she probably was.”
“Why?”
“Because you must have been the kind of man who attracted beautiful women.”
“I never noticed it. If I ever had the knack, I’ve lost it.”
“That’s absurd. Don’t you think I’m beautiful?”
“I do. There’s no doubt about it.”
Crump was prespiring freely. He shot a look sidewise at Hester who was close enough for even his myopia, and tenaciously held his place on the bench. Hester gently nudged him with her knee.
“Well, then, you see? It’s absurd to say you’ve lost the knack. You’ve only grown more distinguished looking. It’s a shame, really, that Mrs. Crump has not been able to keep up with you.”
This clearly opened such gaudy prospects to Crump that he could contain himself no longer. He unfastened the end of Senorita Fogarty’s leash and stood up in a state approaching agitation.
“Speaking of Mrs. Crump,” he said, “I’d better go. She’ll be looking for me.”
“Must you? So soon?”
“I’d better. She doesn’t like me to keep Senorita out too long.”
“I’d walk back with you, but I’m afraid she might see us.”
“So she might You better hadn’t.”
“I’d like to sit here with you again, however. Do you come every morning?”
“If it’s fair.”
“I may make a practice of it myself. Would you like that?”
“It’s a public park. Everyone’s welcome.”
“Wouldn’t I be just a tiny bit more welcome than just anyone?”
“I won’t say you wouldn’t.”
“That’s better. Will you tell me your first name? If I ever knew it I must have forgotten.”
“It’s Chester.”
He said it over his shoulders, departing, and Hester walked across the small park and out the other side with the intention of returning home and taking a hot bath. She had made appreciable progress, she thought, at a considerable sacrifice.