The Garden Murder Case

by S. S. Van Dine

  Vance was studying the tip of his cigarette. Presently he asked: “Has the nurse’s presence in the house resulted in any information regarding the general situation here?”

  “Nothing that I had not already known. In fact, her observations have merely substantiated my own conclusions. It’s quite possible, too, that she herself may unwittingly have augmented the animosity between young Garden and Swift, for she has intimated to me once or twice that Swift had annoyed her occasionally with his attentions; and I have a very strong suspicion that she is personally interested in Floyd Garden.”

  Vance looked up with augmented interest.

  “What, specifically, has given you that impression, doctor?”

  “Nothing specific,” Siefert told him. “I have, however, observed them together on several occasions, and my impression was that some sentiment existed there. Nothing that I can put my finger on, though. But one night when I was walking up Riverside Drive I happened to see them together in the park—undoubtedly a stroll together.”

  “By the by, doctor, have young Garden and the nurse been acquainted only since she came here to take care of his mother?”

  “Oh, no,” said Siefert. “But their previous acquaintance was, I imagine, more or less casual. You see, during the time Miss Beeton was Doctor Garden’s laboratory assistant she had frequent occasion to come to the apartment here to work with the professor in his study—stenographic notes and transcription, records, and the like. And she naturally became acquainted with Floyd and Woode Swift and Mrs. Garden herself…”

  The nurse appeared at the door at that moment to announce the arrival of the Medical Examiner, and Vance asked her to bring Doctor Doremus up to the study.

  “I might suggest,” said Siefert quickly, “that, with your consent, it would be possible to have the Medical Examiner accept my verdict of death due to an accidental overdose of barbital and avoid the additional unpleasantness of an autopsy.”

  “Oh, quite.” Vance nodded. “That was my intention.” He turned to the District Attorney. “All things considered, Markham,” he said, “I think that might be best. There’s nothing to be gained from an autopsy. We have enough facts, I think, to proceed without it. Undoubtedly Mrs. Garden’s death was caused by the barbital solution. The radioactive sodium is a separate and distinct issue.”

  Markham nodded in reluctant acquiescence as Doremus was led into the room by Miss Beeton. The Medical Examiner was in vile humor and complained bitterly about having been summoned personally on a Sunday morning. Vance placated him somewhat and introduced him to Doctor Siefert. After a brief interchange of explanations and comments Doremus readily agreed to Markham’s suggestion that the case be regarded as resulting from an overdose of barbital solution.

  Doctor Siefert rose and looked hesitantly at Vance. “You will not need me further, I trust.”

  “Not at the moment, doctor.” Vance rose also and bowed formally. “We may, however, communicate with you later. Again our thanks for your help and your candor… Sergeant, will you accompany Doctor Siefert and Doctor Doremus below and take care of any necess’ry details… And, Miss Beeton, please sit down for a moment. There are a few questions I want to ask you.”

  The girl came forward and seated herself in the nearest chair, as the three men went down the passageway.

  Note

  * Doctor Siefert was undoubtedly alluding to recent distressing stories in the press of radium poisoning—one of the death of a prominent steel manufacturer and sportsman, presumably resulting from the continued use of a radioactive water extensively advertised as a cure for various ailments; and another of the painful and fatal poisoning of several women and girls whose occupation was painting so-called radiolite watch-dials.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Three Visitors

  (Sunday, April 15, 10:45 a. m.)

  “I DON’T MEAN to trouble you unduly, Miss Beeton,” said Vance; “but we should like to have a firsthand account of the circumstances surrounding the death of Mrs. Garden.”

  “I wish there was something definite I could tell you,” the nurse replied readily in a business-like manner, “but all I know is that when I arose this morning, a little after seven, Mrs. Garden seemed to be sleeping quietly. After dressing I went to the dining room and had my breakfast; and then I took a tray in to Mrs. Garden. She always had tea and toast at eight o’clock, no matter how late she may have retired the night before. It wasn’t until I had drawn up the shades and closed the windows, that I realized something was wrong. I spoke to her and she didn’t answer me; and when I tried to rouse her I got no response. I saw then that she was dead. I called Doctor Siefert at once, and he came over as quickly as he could.”

  “You sleep, I believe, in Mrs. Garden’s room?”

  The nurse inclined her head. “Yes. You see, Mrs. Garden frequently needed some small service in the night.”

  “Had she required your attention at any time during the night?”

  “No. The injection Doctor Siefert gave her before he left her seemed to have quieted her and she was sleeping peacefully when I went out—”

  “You went out last night… What time did you leave the house?” asked Vance.

  “About nine o’clock. Mr. Floyd Garden suggested it, assuring me that he would be here and that he thought I needed a little rest. I was very glad of the opportunity, for I was really fatigued and unnerved.”

  “Had you no professional qualms about leaving a sick patient at such a time?”

  “Ordinarily I might have had,” the girl returned resentfully; “but Mrs. Garden had never shown me any consideration. She was the most selfish person I ever knew. Anyway, I explained to Mr. Floyd Garden about giving his mother a teaspoonful of the medicine if she should wake up and show any signs of restlessness. And then I went out into the park.”

  “At what time did you return, Miss Beeton?”

  “It must have been about eleven,” she told him. “I hadn’t intended to stay out so long, but the air was invigorating, and I walked along the river almost to Grant’s tomb. When I got back I went immediately to bed.”

  “Mrs. Garden was asleep when you came in?”

  The girl turned her eyes to Vance before answering.

  “I—I thought—she was asleep,” she said hesitantly. “Her color was all right. But perhaps—even then—”

  “Yes, yes. I know,” Vance put in quickly. “However…” He inspected his cigarette for a moment. “By the by, did you notice anything changed—anything, let us say, out of place—in the room, on your return?”

  The nurse shook her head slowly.

  “No. Everything seemed the same to me. The windows and shades were just as I had left them, and—Wait, there was something. The glass I had left on the night-table with drinking water was empty. I refilled it before going to bed.”

  Vance looked up quickly. “And the bottle of medicine?”

  “I didn’t particularly notice that; but it must have been just as I had left it, for I remember a fleeting sense of relief because Mrs. Garden hadn’t needed a dose of the medicine.”

  Vance seemed profoundly puzzled and said nothing for some time. Then he glanced up suddenly.

  “How much light was there in the room?”

  “Only a dim shaded nightlight by my bed.”

  “In that case, you might conceivably have mistaken an empty bottle for one filled with a colorless fluid.”

  “Yes, of course,” the nurse returned reluctantly. “That must have been the case. Unless…” Her voice trailed off.

  Vance nodded and finished the sentence for her. “Unless Mrs. Garden drank that medicine deliberately some time later.” He studied the girl a moment. “But that isn’t altogether reasonable. I don’t care for the theory. Do you?”

  She returned his gaze with complete frankness, and made a slight negative gesture of the head.

  “No,” she said. Then she added quickly: “But I wish it were true.”

  “Quite,” agreed Vance. “I
t would be somewhat less terrible.”

  “I know what you mean.” She took a deep tremulous breath and shuddered slightly.

  “Tell me, when did you discover that all the medicine was gone?” Vance asked.

  “Shortly before Doctor Siefert arrived this morning. I moved the bottle when I was arranging the table, and realized it was empty.”

  “I think that will be all just now, Miss Beeton.” Vance glanced at the girl sombrely and then turned away. “Really, y’ know, I’m deuced sorry. But you’d better not plan on leaving here just yet. We will undoubtedly want to see you again today.”

  As she got up her eyes rested on Vance with an enigmatic look. She seemed about to say something further, but instead she turned quickly and went from the room.

  Heath must have been waiting in the passageway for the girl’s dismissal, for just as she was going out, he came in to report that Siefert and Doremus had departed, and that Floyd Garden had made the arrangements for the removal of his mother’s body.

  “And what do we do now, Mr. Vance?” Heath asked.

  “Oh, we carry on, Sergeant.” Vance was unusually serious. “I want to talk to Floyd Garden first. Send him up. And call one of your men; but stay on the job downstairs yourself till he arrives. We may get this affair cleared up today.”

  “That wouldn’t make me sore, Mr. Vance,” returned Heath fervently, as he went toward the door.

  Markham had risen and was pacing the floor, drawing furiously on his cigar.

  “Evidently you see some light in this damnable situation,” he grumbled to Vance. “I wish I could.” He stopped and turned. “Are you serious about the possibility of getting this thing cleared up today?”

  “Oh, quite. It could be, don’t y’ know.” Vance cocked an eye whimsically at Markham. “Not legally, of course. Not a case for the law. No. Legal technicalities quite useless in such an emergency. Deeper issues involved. Human issues, d’ ye see?”

  “You’re talking nonsense,” Markham muttered. “You and your damned pseudo-subtle moods!”

  “I can change the mood,” Vance offered cheerfully. “I’m frank to confess that I like the situation even less than you do. But there’s no other procedure indicated. The law is helpless against it at present. And, frankly, I’m not interested in your law. I want justice.”

  Markham snorted. “And just what do you intend to do?”

  Vance looked past Markham into some remote world of his own imagining. “I shall try to stage a tragic drama,” he said evenly. “It may be effective. If it fails, I’m afraid there’s no help for us.”

  Markham snorted again. “Philo Vance—impresario!”

  “Quite,” Vance nodded. “Impresario. As you say. Aren’t we all?”

  Markham looked at him steadily for a while. “When does the curtain go up?”

  “Anon.”

  Footsteps sounded in the passageway, and Floyd Garden entered the study. He appeared deeply shaken. “I can’t stand much today. What do you want?” His tone was unduly resentful. He sat down and seemed to ignore us entirely as he fussed nervously with his pipe.

  “We understand just how you feel,” Vance said. “It was not my intention to bother you unnecess’rily. But if we are to get at the truth, we must have your cooperation.”

  “Go ahead, then,” Garden mumbled, his attention still on his pipe.

  Vance waited until the man got his pipe going. “We must have as many details as possible about last night. Did your expected guests come?”

  Garden nodded cheerlessly. “Oh, yes. Zalia Graem, Madge Weatherby, and Kroon.”

  “And Hammle?”

  “No, thank Heaven!”

  “Didn’t that strike you as a bit odd?”

  “It didn’t strike me as odd at all,” Garden grumbled. “It struck me only as a relief. Hammle’s all right, but he’s a frightful bore—cold-blooded, self-sufficient. I never feel that the man has any real blood in him. Horses, dogs, foxes, game—anything but human beings. If one of his damned hounds had died he’d have taken it more to heart than Woody’s death. I was glad he didn’t show up.”

  Vance nodded with understanding. “Was there anyone else here?”

  “No, that was all.”

  “Which of your visitors arrived first?”

  Garden took the pipe from his mouth and looked up swiftly. “Zalia Graem. She came at half-past eight, I should say. Why?”

  “Merely garnerin’ facts,” Vance replied indifferently. “And how long after Miss Graem came in did Miss Weatherby and Kroon arrive?”

  “About half an hour. They came a few minutes after Miss Beeton had gone out.”

  Vance returned the man’s steady scrutiny.

  “By the by, why did you send the nurse out last night?”

  “She looked as if she needed some fresh air,” Garden answered with a show of complete frankness. “She’d had a tough day. Moreover, I didn’t think there was anything seriously wrong with the mater. And I was going to be here myself and could have got her anything she might have needed.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Shouldn’t I have let the nurse go out?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes. Quite humane, don’t y’ know. A tryin’ day for her.”

  Garden shifted his gaze heavily to the window, but Vance continued to study the man closely.

  “What time did your guests depart?” he asked.

  “A little after midnight. Sneed brought in sandwiches about half-past eleven. Then we had another round of highballs…” The man turned his eyes sharply back to Vance. “Does it matter?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps not. However, it could… Did they all depart at the same time?”

  “Yes. Kroon had his car below, and offered to drop Zalia at her apartment.”

  “Miss Beeton had returned by then, of course?”

  “Yes, long before that. I heard her come in about eleven.”

  “And after your guests had gone, what did you do?”

  “I sat up for half an hour or so, had another drink and a pipe; then I shut up the front of the house and turned in.”

  “Your bedroom is next to your mother’s, I believe.”

  Garden nodded. “Father’s been sharing it with me since the nurse has been here.”

  “Had your father retired when you went to your bedroom?”

  “No. He rarely turns in before two or three in the morning. He works up here in the study till all hours.”

  “Was he up here last night?”

  Garden looked a little disturbed.

  “I imagine so. He couldn’t very well have been anywhere else. He certainly didn’t go out.”

  “Did you hear him when he came to bed?”

  “No.”

  Vance lighted another cigarette, took several deep inhalations on it, and settled himself deeper in his chair.

  “To go back a bit,” he said casually. “The sleeping medicine Doctor Siefert prescribed for your mother seems to constitute a somewhat crucial point in the situation. Did you have occasion to give her a dose of it while the nurse was out?”

  Garden drew himself up sharply and set his jaw.

  “No, I did not,” he said through his teeth.

  Vance took no notice of the change in the man’s manner.

  “The nurse, I understand, gave you explicit instructions about the medicine before she went out. Will you tell me exactly where this was?”

  “In the hall,” Garden answered with a puzzled frown. “Just outside the den door. I had left Zalia in the drawing room and had gone to tell Miss Beeton she might go out for a while. I waited to help her on with her coat. It was then she told me what to do in case the mater woke up and was restless.”

  “And when she had gone you returned to the drawing room?”

  “Yes, immediately.” Garden still looked puzzled. “That’s exactly what I did. And a few minutes later Madge and Kroon arrived.”

  There was a short silence during which Vance smoked thoughtfully.

  “Tell me, Garden,” he sai
d at length, “did any of your guests enter your mother’s room last night?”

  Garden’s eyes opened wide: color came back into his face, and he sprang to his feet.

  “Good God, Vance! Zalia was in mother’s room!”

  Vance nodded slowly. “Very interestin’. Yes, quite… I say, do sit down. Light your beastly pipe, and tell us about it.”

  Garden hesitated a moment. He laughed harshly and resumed his seat.

  “Damn it! You take it lightly enough,” he complained. “That may be the whole explanation.”

  “One never knows, does one?” Vance returned indifferently. “Carry on.”

  Garden had some difficulty getting his pipe going again. For a moment or two he sat with clouded, reminiscent eyes gazing out of the east window.

  “It must have been about ten o’clock,” he said at length. “The mater rang the little bell she keeps on the table beside her bed, and I was about to answer it when Zalia jumped up and said she would see what the mater wanted. Frankly, I was glad to let her go, after the scene you witnessed here yesterday—I had a feeling I might still be persona non grata there. Zalia came back in a few minutes and casually reported that the mater only wanted to have her water glass refilled.”

  “And did you yourself go into your mother’s room at any time during Miss Beeton’s absence?”

  “No, I did not!” Garden looked defiantly at Vance.

  “And you’re sure that no one else entered your mother’s room during the nurse’s absence?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I could tell by Vance’s expression that he was not satisfied with Garden’s answers. He broke the ashes from his cigarette with slow deliberation. His eyelids drooped a little with puzzled speculation. Without looking up, he asked:

  “Were Miss Weatherby and Kroon in the drawing room with you during their entire visit?”

  “Yes—with the exception of ten minutes or so, when they walked out on the balcony.”

  “And you and Miss Graem remained in the drawing room?”

  “Yes. I was in no particular mood to view the nocturnal landscape—nor, apparently, was Zalia.”

  “About what time did Miss Weatherby and Kroon go out on the balcony?”