I saw now why Mrs. Friend and Selena had fallen in so readily with my and Marny’s feeble scheme for hiding me in Nate’s cabin. All they cared about was keeping me satisfied at the moment, because they knew I would be dead before any plan could be put into execution.
I had been given the double, the triple, the quadruple cross.
Marny had always been right. There was only one word for the Friends.
They were fiends.
For it was surely They. Selena had written the note. The “weather” had told me that. But that didn’t mean she was in it alone. I could see Mrs. Friend finding the note while Inspector Sargent bent over my dead body. I could see her so clearly reading it with dewy eyes and trembling lips, murmuring: “The poor boy, the poor darling boy.”
The note said I wasn’t going to wait for the autopsy report to come in. That meant I was going to kill myself earlier—probably tonight.
The way I've figured out won't be painful.
They had their plan for killing me figured out too. How, when I didn’t know what it was, could I combat it?
I sat there in the wheel chair, hideously conscious of the immobilizing cast on my leg.
I was frightened then—really frightened.
Suddenly I became conscious that the sound of the shower in the bathroom had stopped some time before. I put the note in the envelope and slipped it into the pocket of my seersucker suit.
Something Marny had said the day before came back.
“Someday you’ll discover what Selena's up to and you'll come screaming to me.”
Marny…
The bathroom door opened. Selena came out. She had twisted a scarlet towel around her like a toga. One golden shoulder was bare. Her fair hair was piled on top of her head. She looked magnificent as a Roman Empress.
“Hello, baby.” She smiled dazzlingly. “Here comes your pseudo-wife.”
She wasn’t my pseudo-wife, I thought.
She was my executioner.
Chapter 22
Selena moved into the soft pool of light from the lamp between the beds. She lit two cigarettes from her platinum case and, lolling across my bed, put one of the cigarettes between my lips.
“There.”
For a moment she lay on her back, stretched voluptuously across the silver and gold spread, smiling up at me. The scarlet towel was the same scarlet as her mouth.
“Our last night.”
She got up then and, tucking her bare legs under her, sat on the edge of the bed, close to my chair. Her soft lips brushed my ear.
“I’d better call Jan and have him put you to bed. I can’t get at you in that chair.”
Once I was out of the wheel chair and in bed I was trapped. I smiled back at her. “Not yet, baby. Sitting up I feel more masculine.”
“You!” She slipped into my lap, twining her arms around my neck. She smelled faintly of bath salts and warm towel. “Is this hideously uncomfortable?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t hurt your bad leg?”
“No.”
She was stroking my cheek.
Risking it, I said: “Where do you suppose Gordy really is?”
“Oh, Gordy. Don’t talk about that dreary Gordy. Who cares?” She was staring into my eyes, her finger tracing the line of my nose. “Wasn’t Nate childish tonight?”
“Was he?”
“I mean making all that fuss. Being so stuffy. Baby?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not mad that I kissed him, are you? After all, we do need him, don’t we? I had to be nice to him.”
“I don’t mind your kissing Nate.”
She pouted. “I wish you did. I want you to be jealous. I want you to be jealous if any man touches me. Darling, be jealous.” Her lips slid over my cheek to my mouth and clung to it passionately. Through the glamour of her, I was thinking: Is this the beginning? Is this the build-up to the way that won't be painful? I thought of Marny too—Marny lying cool and young in her bed in the other wing, Marny who’d said: They're fiends.
“Darling,” Selena’s mouth was at my ear now. “When this is all over, you’ll send for me, won’t you? You’ll write. You’ll tell me where you are. You promised. Didn’t you promise?”
“Sure, Selena.”
“Oh, I know you think I’m stupid. You think I’m feebleminded, don’t you? You said so. You’ll probably bully me, tread on me. But please say yes.”
“I’ve said yes.”
“Darling.”
I put my hand around the nape of her neck and drew her head back so that we were looking into each other’s eyes.
I said: “Know your trouble, baby? You’re in love with me.”
“Yes, yes. I am. I really think I am.”
Incredibly, as she stared at me, tears glistened on her thick lashes. Her enchantment was as intoxicating as vodka. I wondered how I would be feeling if I’d believed her. She grimaced suddenly.
“God, what a fool I am. I want a drink. I’ll get you one too.”
She slid off my lap and hurried out of the room. I felt curiously hollow and shaky. Was it to be this way? With a drink? The old, simple way of the poisoned drink? I wished I was steadier. But it wasn’t a situation to inspire steadiness—knowing that a woman you almost loved was planning to murder you.
I was becoming obsessed with the thought of Marny. I needed more than my wits now. I needed an ally. Could I trust Marny? She was a Friend too. But who else was there to trust? I thought of her dark, sardonic eyes. That made me feel a little better.
But a meeting with Marny would have to be clandestine. Selena would not have to know. The tray of medicine, a relic from the days when Mrs. Friend posed as a nurse, still stood on the table by my bed. I saw the little phial of red sleeping capsules. I picked it up, took two capsules out and put the phial back. With difficulty I managed with the fingers of my left hand to open the capsules and pour the white powder inside into my palm. I eased the empty capsules into the pocket of my jacket. ,
Selena came in with the drinks.
I noticed, with satisfaction, that they were straight jiggers of whisky. She crossed to me, smiling. She put one drink down on the table and held the other out to me.
“Drink, baby.”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
I patted my knee with my cupped hand. “Get back where you belong first.”
She gave a husky laugh. She put my drink down on the table six inches from hers. She slipped onto my lap. I kept my left arm behind her, my hand swinging free, close to the drinks. Her back was turned to the table. She couldn’t see.
She leaned her cheek against mine. The soft, slithery hair was brushing my ear. I emptied the powder into my drink. I swirled it around with my finger. I switched my drink with hers. It couldn’t have been easier.
“Darling,” she murmured, “it’ll be so wonderful to get away from here. I hate the Friends really. I’ve always hated them.” Her hand came up to stroke my hair. “I only married Gordy because I was broke and I thought he was rich. Such a nasty, sodden man really. And Marny’s a little scheming, furtive rat. And Mrs. Friend! She’s a phony for you, darling. A great fat blousy phony.” She nestled even closer. “Oh, baby, to get rid of the Friends.”
“Let’s drink to that,” I said. “To get rid of the Friends.”
She laughed and, twisting around, picked up the two drinks. She handed me the one she thought was mine. We raised our glasses. Her dark red lips were parted affectionately. I thought: If there was poison in that drink, I’m a murderer.
“Down the hatch,” I said. My voice sounded strange and harsh.
She tilted the glass to her lips and swallowed. So did I.
“Brr, that was strong.” She grimaced and, taking the two empty glasses, put them down on the table. As she eased around, to slip her arm behind my neck again, her face was grave, almost wistful.
“Baby?”
“Yes, Selena.”
“I meant that, you know.”
“Meant what?”
“That I love you.” She gave a funny little laugh. “Know something? I’ve never loved anyone before. I’m an awful bitch really. Oh, yes, I am. I know. I was poor, you see.” Her hand was straying over my tie. “I always thought the world owed me a living. I despised everyone really and used them. And then you came along.”
I was watching her, seeing what would happen. I could feel the skin across my forehead growing tight.
“I came along?” I said.
“With you, it’s different. Darling, this is different. I’m not used to it yet. It hurts. Baby, it hurts.” Her eyes, watching mine, were almost pleading. “Tell me. That is love, isn’t it? When it hurts?”
“I’m supposed to know?”
Her lids were drooping as if they were too heavy for her. A dazed quality was creeping into her stares.
“You don’t love me, do you? Funny. I’ve just realized that. You don’t love me. That’s funny, isn’t it?” She laughed. It was a thick, muddled laugh. “But it doesn’t matter. When you love someone, you don’t care if they love you. Because you want me. I know that. I’ll be like those songs. Darling, won’t I be like those songs?”
“What songs, Selena?”
“Songs. You know the songs. He can come home as late as can be… he’s my man… Cindy Lou belongs to Joe… can’t help…”
She swayed forward, her lips finding mine and pressing against them.
“Darling, I love you. I love you. I…”
She was warm and heavy against me. I could feel the weight of her breasts through the scarlet towel. Her bare shoulder brushed against my chin. She was still clinging to my neck. Then I felt the fingers loosen their grip. Her hand trailed around my throat. With a little sigh, she drooped backwards and slid off my lap.
She was lying at my feet. The scarlet towel had folded back. Her hair had broken loose and swirled over the green carpet like gleaming filaments of wire.
She was asleep, not poisoned.
She hadn’t tried to murder me and I hadn’t murdered her.
I felt a terrific sense of relief.
But what I felt about Selena was too complicated to matter. The danger was the only thing now. I wheeled my chair around her and around the beds to the table where Gordy’s gun was kept. I’d feel a lot better with a gun.
I pulled the drawer open. The gun was not there. With a growing sense of futility, I searched every conceivable hiding place in the room, including Selena’s tumbled clothes.
I didn’t find anything, of course.
It was only too clear now that someone other than Selena had been selected to carry out “the way that wasn’t painful”. It was equally clear that the “way that wasn’t painful” was going to be achieved with Gordy’s gun.
Gordy committing suicide with his own gun. What method could be more impressive for Inspector Sargent tomorrow?
I wheeled the chair out of the room into the passage, closing the door behind me. There was no light, but there were many windows and a California moon outside. It was easy to find my way along the heavy carpet without making any noise. I reached the corner that led to the other wing and turned it. Marny’s was the first door to the left. Mrs. Friend’s room was next to it. I’d noticed that when Marny had taken me down to Jan.
I turned the handle of Marny’s door noiselessly and pushed the door inward. The room was in darkness. I wheeled the chair in and closed the door as gently behind me. I pushed myself to the bed. Moonlight streamed in through the parted drapes. I could trace the outlines of Marny’s face, young and quiet in sleep.
I tapped her shoulder lightly. She did not stir. I tapped again. I felt her body grow rigid. I knew she was awake and about to scream.
I said: “It’s okay. It’s me.”
“You…” Her voice was uncertain. She twisted over on her side and snapped on a bedside lamp.
The black hair was tousled around her oval face. Without her make-up she looked about fifteen. She stared up at me, her eyes ready to be suspicious. I was just as suspicious of her. A misplaced confidence at this stage of the game would cost me my life.
As we stared at each other, I noticed something lying on the bed beyond her, propped against the wall. It was a large pink wool rabbit with shabby, drooping ears. She’d been lying there in the dark asleep with a toy rabbit! Suddenly, I wasn’t suspicious any more.
“Remember our bargain?” I said. “If Selena poisoned me I was to run screaming to you for an emetic?”
I took the “suicide” note out of my pocket and tossed it to her. She pulled the sheet of paper out of the envelope and, holding it under the light, pored over it. Slowly she looked up, her face paling.
“You—you found this?”
I told her all about it. I concluded: “Selena wrote it. I can tell that from the spelling. You said she was up to something. See what it was? I’m supposed to commit suicide tonight and have everything nice and tidy when Sargent shows up with the autopsy report tomorrow.”
She didn’t seem to be listening while I told her about what I’d done to Selena and about the missing gun. She just sat there, staring at me, clutching the letter.
Suddenly she dropped the letter and threw her arms around my neck.
“Thank God you found out in time.”
She gave a little sob. Her lips, young and clumsy, were pressed against my cheek.
“And you came to me, didn’t you? When you were in trouble, you came to me.”
Chapter 23
She clung to me. It was as if a dream she had never really believed in had come true. Behind my anxiety I felt rather proud and rather ashamed. In the last few days my masculinity had been disastrously undermined by Selena and Mrs. Friend. Having this young kid trembling against me, frightened for me, brought my self-confidence back. Life seemed to be that way. The people you fell for betrayed you. The people you didn’t bother with were there waiting when you needed them.
“Don’t worry, baby.” I stroked her thick, black hair. “I’m not dead yet.”
She stared at up me, her pupils wide with horror. “But they can’t be that bad. They can’t.”
“You were the one who called them fiends. Remember? You hadn’t guessed about this?”
“Of course not. I knew Selena was up to something, but I never dreamed…”
“They didn’t hint at it?”
“As if they would! You’ve seen how things are between us. You know they’d never dare hint at anything.” She shivered. “What are you going to do? Call the police?”
“And get myself arrested for conspiracy against the League? It’s not that bad yet.”
“But they’ll be trying to kill you.”
“They’ll have to catch me off my guard first. And I’m not off my guard.” I grinned at her. “Besides, I’ve got an ally now.”
She answered my grin with a pale smile. She was still frightened. I could tell that.
I nodded at the wall. “Mimsey sleeps in there, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like the idea of her ear clamped against the wall. Put on some clothes. We’re moving to the living-room.”
“To do what?”
“Talk.”
Obediently she slid out of bed. Her small feet wriggled into worn felt slippers. A drab grey wrap that looked as old as Marny lay on a chair. She put it on, smiling self-consciously.
“I haven’t got used to being glamorous in private yet.”
“I’m glad. I’ve learned not to trust glamour.”
“But you do trust me?”
“I think I do.”
She looked at me thoughtfully. “I guess you’ve got to, haven’t you? There’s no one else to trust.”
She moved to the door and opened it, glancing down the corridor. She nodded like a conspirator and I wheeled myself out of the room. She ran back, turned out the light and closed the door. Noiselessly she wheeled me down the moonlit passage to the living-room. It looked too big and ex
posed. We went into the little sitting-room where I had had my fateful talk with Inspector Sargent. Marny turned on one light and shut the door.
“You’d better lock it,” I said, thinking of Gordy’s gun.
She did. Then she crossed the room and curled up in a chair, watching me. She had given up trying to be a sophisticated imitation of Selena. She was just a quiet, pretty kid. I liked her a lot better that way.
“Well?” she said.
I’d been doing some thinking. Things were a little straighter in my mind.
“Okay,” I said. “In the first place we know from the note that Selena knows the autopsy report’s going to show poison tomorrow. That means she’s known all along that Mr. Friend was murdered. When you went back to your father’s room after Gordy passed you in the hall, Selena was there, wasn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Then either one of two things happened. Either Selena went in just as Gordy was pouring the overdose and saw him. Or the two of them murdered him together. I think it’s more likely they worked it together. Maybe it wasn’t premeditated. Mr. Friend had told them he was cutting them out of the will. He called Mr. Petherbridge to prove it. He asked for the medicine. They gave him the overdose.”
Thoughts were coming at an almost hectic rate.
“Once they’d done it, they’d have realized the terrific danger. They couldn’t be sure Dr. Leland would sign a death certificate as heart failure. Obviously. So what would they have done? Gordy, the black sheep, was bound to be the most likely suspect if the murder was discovered. Gordy was famous for going off on drunken bats. Okay. So Gordy was to pretend to go off on a drunken bat. If everything worked well with Dr. Leland, he could come back any time. If the murder broke, he’d be hidden somewhere where the police couldn’t find him. It was sticking Gordy with all the danger, of course. But that’s typical of Selena.”
Puzzle for Fiends Page 19
