The Case of the Weird Sisters

by Charlotte Armstrong; Internet Archive

  "What is it, Innes? What makes you afraid?"

  Innes swallowed. "It's Gertrude "

  "Gertrude?"

  "You don't know. And people forget. But she never forgot. Alice, it was my fault she went blind."

  "Oh, no! What do you mean?"

  "I was only about seven years old, and they told me to hold the horse. Well, I didn't. I was only a child. I didn't realize. Besides how could any one know what was going to happen? The horse ran with her in the buggy. Threw her. She was sick for a long time. After that, she was blind. She always blamed me. I knew that. Everybody did. Father tned to be kind, but he blamed me, too. I always felt that. Mother didn't. She thought I was too young to be blamed for anything, but, of course, she didn't count"

  Why not? thought Alice.

  "They all blamed me. Gertrude blames me to this day. Naturally her life was ruined. I suppose if I'd done what I was told It wouldn't have happened. I don't know. But I've always known she'd like to hurt me, Alice. I know that."

  Alice felt his forehead. Surely he was feverish.

  "Try to go to sleep," she said. "Is there anything you want?"

  "No, no, the doctor isn't through with me. How can I sleep? I want Fred. Alice, you'll stay by me, won't you? You and Fred?"

  "Of course," said Alice. "Don't worry about it, Innes. Well be here."

  "Don't let Gertrude come in," he whispered, and subsided into a silent drowsy state.

  Alice sat still. She tried to think of Gertrude, the pale woman, as a young girl with eyes. But she couldn't. A long past, locked in Innes's memory. A long past she'd never imderstand, though now guilt, sown into Innes as a boy, had pushed forth from the old roots, bearing fear for its fruit.

  When the doctor came back, Fred was with him, carrying things. The doctor preferred to manage alone, so they went to stand outside the door.

  Alice said, "He wants you and me to stick around. He's scared."

  "That so?" Fred lounged against the wall.

  "You don't seem surprised."

  "That's because I'm not," Fred said.

  "Well, of course he's had the darnedest luck . . ."

  "Yeah? Doc Follett told me he went over the pit road tonight just after dark. And the detom: sign was in the right place then."

  "It probably was," Alice said. "What about it?"

  "Well, it's funny, don't you think? Also, what made that lamp fall? I don't know. Do you?"

  "Oh, nonsense!" cried Alice.

  A door opened at the end of the short branch of the hall. Isabel came out of her room and smiled her half-hoop of tight-lipped smile when she saw them. "Let me just show you where you are to sleep," she said. "Someone has to think of these things. Fred, you must put up with a cot here in the lumber room. Alice, my dear, the little guest room, of course. It's terrible, isn't it? Poor Innes. Poor boy."

  Alice's flesh crawled.

  "But so lucky," Isabel said. "So lucky you weren't all killed."

  ''Sure was, Miss Isabel," Fred said. "Dumb luck, that's all"

  "I do hope you'll be comfortable," Isabel said with her odd way of running off the subject "This is all so unexpected."

  When Dr. Follett left his patient at last and was passing through the hall downstairs on his way home, Maud stopped him. She summoned him mto the sitting room and spoke for some time. She hadn't finished when he came out, pale, with his lips compressed, and made for his car as if the furies pursued him.

  8

  By eleven o'clock the house was quiet. Innes slept. Alice came quietly away and closed his door. She sat down beside Fred on the top step of the backstairs that ran down just beyond the door to Papa's room, between that room and the one bathroom on that floor. He was just sitting there. Alice was very tired, spent, in fact. But not sleepy. She didn't relish the thought of sleep. The old house was uneasy, and she uneasy m it. It seemed very natural to drop down there beside him. He gave her a cigarette. They talked in whispers, keeping their heads turned, to listen down the hall.

  "Gone bye-bye?"

  "At last," Alice sighed.

  "I wonder what goes on."

  Alice moved her head closer. "I started to tell you. He says he's afraid of Gertrude. He says it's his fault she's bhnd. And she'd like to hurt him. That's what he said. It's crazy, isn't it?"

  "Gertrude's a queer bird," he said, "and I wouldn't put anything past any of them. They've been holed up here too long."

  Alice shivered. The old house was rotten. All around her she felt the atmosphere of decay. Not so much decay of Uie walls or the ceilings, which still held and would hold. But decay in the air, accumulated rubbish in the minds, imaired, unsunned, unclean.

  "You don't think he's right to be scared?"

  'Tm scared," said Fred.

  Alice felt warm gratitude. "Well, thank God you're human." They laughed and she shoved her shoulder

  closer. "What are we so scared of?" she asked him.

  Fred said slowly, "Innes has got a million bucks.''

  "Yes?''

  "Well, the girls could use it.''

  "But for heaven's sake . . ."

  "It's you,'' Fred said.

  "Me!''

  "I wouldn't be surprised."

  "Oh, I see what you're thinking," Alice said slowly. "You think I'm a blow, is that it? Because if I marry Innes, then they won't get so much if he should die."

  "Sure,'' said Fred. "And I betcha." He squashed his cigarette on the step with his heel. "How'd they take it? The news, I mean."

  Alice looked back in time. "They asked me when."

  "Uh huh. See?"

  "Yes, but how do they know they'll ever get anything? Why should Innes die? He's younger than they are.''

  "Maybe they're going to fix that," Fred said carelessly.

  "So that's what we're afraid of?" Alice smiled.

  "Must be, I guess."

  Alice looked at his face m the dim light. "You think they want him to die quick, before I get hold of the money?"

  ''They wouldn't mind."

  "Maybe they wouldn't mind, but look, Fred, it's sUly, because they haven't done anything. Innes is nervous. Well, he's had a tough time. But what makes you think they did anything at all? God knows I don't like them, I can't stand them, but you're talking about murder."

  "Yeah, I guess so. The thing is, I been having a litde chat with Josephine," he said easily. "In the first place, they know damn well he can't eat veal. They know that. Tliey must. Say, even I know it, and I'm only the hired help. Also, they must have known there was veal in that meat loaf. That's right, isn't it?"

  "I should thmk so."

  "Well, let me tell you it's right, because Josephine knew it and she even told them."

  "Oh?''

  "She called it to their attention, see?"

  "What did they say?"

  "They kinda brushed the whole thing off. Except Maud. Of course, she didn't hear what Josephine said. Now, it looks to me as if they wanted Innes to get sick. Why would they want that?"

  "I don't know. He wouldn't die from eating veal."

  "No, but he'd have to stick around this house, maybe. Where they could get at him."

  "Oh, lord . . . Fred!"

  "They wanted him to stay, didn't they?"

  "Well, of course, but . . ."

  "I was just trying to figure . . . Another thing, Josephine was down the road tonight. She went down into town, right after dinner, a few minutes before eight, she says. She went around by the pit road. Where we were, you know?"

  "When?"

  "Must have been close to eight o'clock. Well, I asked her if she saw anybody monkeying around that sawhorse. She says no, she couldn't see, wasn't specially looking, anyhow. But she heard something. She heard somebody cough. She couldn't describe it very well. Kind of a cough, she said. It made her nervous. Said she ran."

  "Ran?"

  "Yeah. When the doc went by about seven forty-five, the thing was O.K. Just where it ought to be. Josephine heard that. . . sound down there. By the
time we got there, about nine fifteen, it had been moved."

  "Sound," said Alice. "Kind of a cough? I wonder . . ."

  "Yeah, so do I."

  "Because I heard something, Fred."

  "You did? I asked you and you said you didn't."

  "What?"

  "Right after the lamp fell. I asked you if you heard anything."

  "But it wasn't then. It was later. After we got back here and had put Innes to bed. You were gone on that errand for the doctor. I was just coming downstairs to get the bag."

  "That's funny. When I heard it was right after the lamp fell. It wasn't exactly a cough, though."

  "No," Alice said, "it was a chuckle but not really a chuckle."

  "A noise . . . like in the throat.''

  "Yes. That's it."

  "Damn funny."

  "Josephine says it was a cough?"

  "That's what she said."

  "It must have been a funny cough," said Alice, "if she ran." The house creaked. She knew that if she heard that little sound again now, she'd scream in spite of herself.

  "Be that as it may," Fred went on, "how come the lamp fell? Answer me that. It's been standing there on that table for years. Tonight it falls off. Falls off and over the railing and nearly beans Brother Innes."

  "Did you see anyone?"

  "Nobody. I ran up here, remember? Well, I knocked on Maud's door. She's down at the end of the hall you're on. Other side of the stairs. Nobody answered. Naturally. She can't hear knocks. So I Ihought Fd better not open the door because she might be in there in her underwear or something and I dunno if I could stand it"—Alice bit her lip—"so I came around here and knocked on Isabel's door. No answer. So I opened that one. There was nobody in there."

  "Then it couldn't have been Isabel."

  "Sure it could, " said Fred. "Why not? Doesn't prove anything. Not with these stairs so handy."

  Alice was drawn into wondering. "Had they come upstairs? Yes, Isabel pushed Maud up when the doctor came. But it couldn't have been Gertrude."

  "Why not? She could have sneaked around and up these stairs if she wanted to. Or go up the front, for that matter."

  "But... I was there in the hall nearly the whole time."

  "Not the whole time. You were in the sitting room with limes and the doctor and his mother. Mrs. Innes, I mean."

  "Yes, that's right. She could have been listening. The curtains were drawn across the parlor. Who drew those curtains, Fred?"

  "She did, I guess."

  "We don't know where they were." Alice shrugged. "They might have been running up and down stairs, all three of them. But anyhow, it wasn't Susan and ii wasn't the doctor."

  "Why should it be Susan?"

  "I don't know."

  "She's all right," said Fred. "Innes don't like her much. He's ashamed of her. And she don't get mad at him for it and that makes him more ashamed than ever. Of himself' I mean." '

  Alice looked at him curiously. "Is that if?" "Sure."

  Alice said. "You're quite a psychologist"

  "Nuts," Fred said.

  "Well, then, how are we doing? If anyone tipped over the lamp on purpose, it was one of the sisters or . . . Josephine?

  "No, it wasn't either Josephine. She was out then She got back nght after it fell. She told me. You saw her didn't you?" '

  "Yes, I saw her, but if you believe what everybody says..."

  "That's where we are," said Fred with sudden grimness. If somebody s trying to murder the boss, we don't want to beheve what people say."

  "Fred, we aren't talking about murder. Not really."

  "No? Well, say we're kidding. Anyhow, we know it wasn't you and it wasn't me."

  "I'm glad," said Alice solemnly.

  "So am I."

  They sat silent for a few minutes. It was oddly companionable.

  Then Alice said, "Fred, couldn't you see in any windows? I mean, you were out at the car, just before the lamp fell. Was there a light in the rooms upstairs?"

  "Sure. The whole house, I think. I did see somebody in the parlor."

  "Who? One of the girls?"

  "I dunno. Her face was hidden."

  Alice sighed. "Another funny thing," Fred said, "they were all gone somewhere just before that, remember? When they were talking about calling the doctor. Where were they?"

  "I don't know. But outdoors."

  "You're sure?"

  "Yes, I think so. Isabel was. She went down to get Mrs. Innes." Alice bit her finger. "Fred, why did she have to go to get her? Mrs. Iiines has a telephone. I know, because I called her myself."

  "Funny," drawled Fred.

  "And Gertrude had been outdoors. I could tell. And Maud came in with her cloak on."

  "Come into the garden, Maud," Fred said. "Now, where'd they all go to? Not down the road a piece to move that sawhorse, do you suppose?"

  "But Fred, how could they plan such a thing? How could they know it would do us any harm?"

  "Well, for one thing, I asked Mr. Johnson which route to take right in front of all three of them," Fred said. "And that pit road's not the main road. The main road out of Ogaunee is number ten, that goes by along the railroad tracks. Traffic light's over the pit. Also, probably everybody else around here knows the place where the pit road goes off better than I do. The sawhorse wasn't right across the right road, you know. A driver who was familiar with it would go by without thinking, if he were going from this end, keeping to the right. Only a guy like me, who isn't too sure of his way, especially at night . . . That pit sure yawned," said Fred.

  "You must have felt something wrong, or we'd have gone right over."

  "Maybe I did," said Fred, without any false modesty. "I can't tell now. But we sure weren't going very fast, or I couldn't have stopped her."

  Alice thought a moment. "There's only one thing wrong with the idea that they aU knew which road we'd take."

  "What's that?"

  "Maud's deaf."

  "By gosh, that's right. Could she read our lips?"

  "I don't know. But look, Fred, another thing: If she were up here, waiting to push over the lamp, how did she know when to push? It must have been done by sound. And she couldn't have heard Innes come out of the bathroom under the stairs. Not if she's deaf."

  "And she couldn't have seen him. That's right," Fred said. "Say, there's more in this than you'd think. Listen, Gertrude's blind. Well, could she read a detour sign? Would she know what it was or what it means, even? How

  did she know there was one there? She lost her sight years ago, before there were many cars on the roads around here. I bet she never heard of a detour sign. Or knows how traffic works or the rules of the road. All that is new since she last saw. How could she even guess you could be fooled in the dark? No, Gertrude couldn't have moved that sawhorse."

  "Could Isabel, with only one arm?"

  ''It was dragged," said Fred. "I'd say she could if she wanted to bad enough.''

  "Then it was Isabel," said Alice.

  "Look"—Fred turned a wrinkled brow—"suppose old Maud thought it was the doctor coming out of the bathroom. Maybe she's got it in for the doctor."

  "How could she think that? She couldn't hear hhn any better than she could have heard Innes. She wouldn't know anyone was coming."

  "But Gertrude could have dumped the lamp."

  "Could have ain't did," Alice said wryly. "You know, we're making this up."

  "Well, it's been fun," Fred said, grinning.

  Alice looked down at his feet. "Where did you play football, Fred?"

  "University of Michigan."

  "What's your last name?"

  "Bitoski."

  |'Oh," said Alice, "so that's who you are."

  "Football's a great game," Fred said, stretching. "Got me two gold teeth and a college education. Better get some sleep, eh?" He helped her up.

  Alice lay a long time on the hard bed in the little guest room with her eyes open in the dark. In Ogaunee night was untroubled by the lights of man. It came dow
n dark and tight around the house, and for aU Alice kept telling herself there was no menace in it, she was a lone time going to sleep.

  In the morning she dragged herself up early. After all, she was a nurse now. She had to look after Innes. "It

  looks," she said to her cross and sleepy face in the mirror, "as if I'm damned well going to earn my million dollars."

  She found Innes awake and fretful, and Fred with him.

  Fred said, "Good morning. Miss Brennan."

  "Alice, my dear," said Innes. He held his brow up to be kissed, and Alice kissed it, feeling like a fool. Innes was full of agitation. His face was busy and sly with worries. "Alice, Fred has been pointing out something I hadn't considered. Is the door tight? See, will you? Josephine's gone for my breakfast. I don't want her to overhear."

  •The door's tight. What's the matter?"

  "Fred says they're upset because of our engagement."

  "Oh, dear," said Alice. "Fred, you shouldn't have talked about that. Innes, I don't think you ought to brood, really I don't We had an accident. That's aU."

  "Maybe." Innes began to speak rapidly, spilling out his words. "But you don't realize what happened last night You don't see the significance. But my sisters do. Lx>ok, dear, when my father died he divided his money, which was rather a lot, evenly among the four of us. Witfi a little to my mother, of course. Anyway, the girls elected to stay here and maintain the house just as it had always been, and I went off with mine to Chicago. I was twenty-one then and anxious to get away. After all, there was nothing for me to do here. I did ... pretty well in Chicago. But the girls, of cotirse, just used the money they had. Gertrude lets the bank manage hers. She scrapes along on the income. It's not bad, you know. But of course she never increases her capital. Never has.

  "Maud is a fool with money. She simply spends it. And Isabel manages to lose a great deal because she always hangs onto everything she buys, and she will not take her losses. She never gives up. Anybody with a business mind knows there's no use hanging on when the investment goes bad. But Isabel hangs on. And because she doesn't Imow how to cut her losses, she gets into trouble. Well, what happens is that sooner or later they are all living on Gertrude's income. And I have to step in and straighten them out again.

  "I've done it and done it And I've threatened to stop. I mean it, too. There's no reason for the same thing to happen again and again. It's ridiculous." Alice sensed a cold,