The So Blue Marble

by Dorothy B. Hughes

  Griselda answered, “Of course.” She couldn’t be uneasy about her own small sister, not too upset.

  The cab braked at the hotel. She paid, tipped. She waited while Missy went through the door. She wasn’t frightened now; it had gone out of her, and she walked past the bright Western Union office, crossed cornerwise to her apartment, sidling between the cabs parked there, reassured by the squat driver and the thin bruiser driver arguing on the sidewalk to keep warm. She pushed Gig’s bell, keeping her finger on it until she heard the buzzer opening the door. The foyer was deserted as always. There was a momentary panic when she opened the heavy door of the elevator but the cage was empty. She felt safe closed in it, pushing number four button. Gig was in the tiny hall, not in pajamas yet, but the old tweed coat, and his warm pipe in his hand.

  “All serene?” he queried.

  “All serene,” she echoed. She was untying her oxford, shaking the key out of the right shoe. She handed it to him. While she slid into the shoe, not tying it, he put the key in the lock, laughing, “What a hiding place!” Then he said queerly as the door was opened, “Better not come in yet, Griselda.”

  She pushed past him. On the floor, on his back, was a little tubby man with a waxed mustache. Then she knew who it was. Mr. Grain, the superintendent. But she didn’t know why he was there in her living room with blood coming out of his vest All at once she was numb. She couldn’t even close her eyes. This was more than fear; it was terror. She didn’t think he was there alone. He wasn’t Danny was in the doorway by the bedroom, his tall silk hat on the back of his blond head, his gold-topped cane under his arm. David closed the door they’d left open. He must have been inside the coat closet. She jumped when the door closed.

  David said, “Go right in. A sad accident”

  Danny smiled. “Sad. Heart failure.”

  PART III

  1

  She took one step forward and said stupidly, “Heart failure.” But it wasn’t heart failure. Heart failure didn’t mean a river of blood coming out of a man’s navel. She looked at Danny. “He’s dead. We’ll have to call the police.” She’d said it just as if he didn’t know.

  He answered her without moving, “I wouldn’t do that.”

  Gig spoke then. “But we’ll have to get the police. It’s Mr. Grain. He’s dead. I’ll call…”

  She felt him take one step and stop. David was saying now, “I wouldn’t if I were you.” She turned slightly. Gig was standing very still. She saw why. David’s stick was just touching the tweed coat. In the end of it was the point of a very thin shining thing. Just the point And David’s hand was on the gold knob.

  The numb cold went away from her in her sudden fury. She said to one twin, then the other, “You killed him! You killed him!”

  Danny was polite. “You mustn’t say such things, Griselda.”

  David spoke as politely, it was to Gig. “You sit on the couch.”

  Gig walked on eggs, carefully past that dumpy bloody mess, and he sat on the couch. David’s stick just touched him. “Stay there. You don’t want to get into any trouble.”

  Gig blinked, “No.”

  Neither twin came near her. They knew as they had last night that she couldn’t open the door and get to the elevator before being stopped. She stood there numbing again, but she was more angry than ever. She said, “You can’t murder a man in my apartment and get away with it I’ll tell the police. You can’t stop me from telling them.”

  Gig squeaked, “Careful, Griselda.”

  “I’m not afraid. If they kill me I can’t tell, but someone will. They can’t murder everyone in New York. And if they don’t kill me I’ll tell.”

  Danny’s eyes were shiny blue. “We have no intention of killing you, Griselda. What an idea!”

  David was lighting a cigarette. “You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, Griselda. What would you tell the police?”

  She was wrathful. “That you killed Mr. Grain. That you-”

  Now Danny lit his cigarette. “We say it’s heart failure.”

  “But it isn’t heart failure! People don’t bleed from heart failure!” They were making sport of her and suddenly from her weakness she wanted to cry. That made her more angry.

  David smiled at her. “Maybe it isn’t heart failure. But you mustn’t blame us for what happens in Con’s apartment. Oh, don’t distress yourself, Griselda! We won’t leave him littering up your charming room. Well take care of him.”

  Danny said, “But I shouldn’t think of speaking to the police if I were you, Griselda. What if they went after Con? It is his apartment you know.”

  Her heart stopped beating. The police couldn’t go after Con. Con wasn’t here. He had nothing to do with this. But-it was his apartment. And if he weren’t really gone? If he were pretending to be away? That was ridiculous! But she remained stone, knowing something with certainty. He was safely away from this horror. She couldn’t wouldn’t ever, bring him back into it. It didn’t matter what the twins or anyone did to her. No one should touch Con.

  Danny continued, “It is so simple. We came in and found him lying there. I’m sure the police would believe our story.”

  She asked, “How would you explain breaking into my apartment?”

  Danny was still laughing, “But we didn’t break in, Griselda. You gave us a key and told us to meet you here.” He was twirling a door key in his hand. “Of course, we’d hate to name you…”

  She felt weak all at once, as if she’d have to sit down. David was there with the chair. She shook her head slowly from side to side. “I don’t know what to believe. Whether you are criminals, or-”

  David finished, “-gentlemen adventurers.”

  She stared at him. “I suppose you’re still after the same thing.”

  David’s eyes were dark as wells. “The very blue marble.”

  And then someone was opening the backstairs door, that always bolted door. She jumped up, her voice caught, soundless. She was shaking. Danny swung in the doorway and his cane was pointed to where her eyes had stared. She sank down again, stupefied. Missy was standing there.

  2

  Missy didn’t see her or anyone. She saw the fat bloody suit on the floor. She looked at Danny. “Fool!” she cried. “You fool!”

  Danny struck her across the mouth hard with the back of his hand. “Keep quiet!”

  Griselda shivered back into the chair. David’s fingers were an almost unfelt pressure on her shoulder.

  Missy rubbed her mouth as a child would. Her violet eyes were on Danny and Griselda felt sick. David said to Missy, his fingers still on Griselda, “Why did you come here?”

  She spoke as if her mouth were raw. “I knew you’d get into trouble if I didn’t watch you.”

  Danny told her, “We’re in no trouble. Heart failure.”

  She began to laugh then and Danny laughed too. Then he leaned over and kissed her eyebrow. “Get some towels and a blanket.”

  Gig hadn’t said a word. Now he spoke pathetically, as if he were in an insane asylum and trying to be tactful. “If you’d let me have a match, I’d smoke my pipe.”

  “But of course.” David passed him a box from the desk.

  Danny took the blanket and rolled that figure into its hammock. “Clean the mess,” he said. Missy was on her knees scrubbing with the wet towels, Con’s towels.

  David spoke. “We’ll take the soiled things, Griselda, and the rug. We’ll send fresh ones tomorrow. You don’t mind.”

  She couldn’t speak. She was watching her little sister, mink coat spread behind her like a ballet dress, scrubbing blood from a polished floor. Danny had pulled the blanket through the bedroom doorway and into the back hall outside. He came in again. “Give me the towels,” he said.

  Missy stood up and handed them to him. He flung them into the hall and he took the rug away. He said, “Missy will watch until we return.” He handed her his stick. David crossed to his side and they went out the back way.

  Missy stood in Danny�
�s place in the doorway. Griselda didn’t move. She didn’t speak until after the door was closed for two or three minutes. Then she said, “You told me you didn’t know them.”

  Missy yawned. “Fool. You knew I did.”

  Gig spoke crossly, as if he didn’t like any of this. “Who is that, Griselda?”

  She laughed, hysteria in that laugh. “I forgot my manners, I’m afraid. My sister, Missy Cameron-Dr. Gigland.”

  Missy said, “I’ve heard of you. You’re Gig.”

  “Yes. How do you do.”

  He started to rise and she said as if she were bored:

  “The twins’ sticks are so clever. This end there’s a lovely little sword, a very fine two-edged one, easy to release. You press here”-she put a finger on the place under the knob but she didn’t press-”and it jumps out. Then up here if you press, there’s gas-not fatal-just rather stupefying. That’s only for a tight place, of course. Then if you twist the knob and push here,” she displayed the place, her boredom gone, her face screwed with interest, “it locks the sword and releases a dart. Poisoned, of course, but a quick poison.”

  Gig nodded. “Very interesting.” He was down in place again.

  Griselda couldn’t speak.

  “An African made them-of course the twins helped him with the designing.”

  Griselda asked, “How long have you known them-the twins?”

  “I met them the first year that Maman and I went over. They visited us at the Villa that summer. But I’ve only lived with them for three years, two really. The first year didn’t count. I was staying with Cousin Paulina in Paris and supposed to be going to school. It was made difficult.”

  Gig asked, “How old is your sister?”

  Griselda answered. “Sixteen.” Passionately, she wanted to know, “Why do you stay with them? They’re evil-dangerous. Don’t you know they’re evil?”

  Missy’s dark eyes flickered but she asked easily, “Do you think so? I think they’re sweet.” Her eyes were even darker. She looked straight at Griselda. “Danger is sweet.”

  Gig said, just as if Missy weren’t there, “I’m afraid your sister is a psychopathic case, Griselda.”

  She moved her head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand anything.”

  Missy pursed her lips. “I do not think you are being very nice to me, Herr Gig.” She laughed. “Can you not see it is just a game?”

  His voice was soft to her. “Murder isn’t a game.”

  Her eyebrows darted. “Murder? Murder? But it was heart failure! You heard the twins say heart failure.”

  Griselda spoke without hope. “I suppose you know about the marble. Is it asking too much that you tell me about it?”

  Missy shrugged. “You will have to ask the twins. All I know-there is a marble.”

  ”But… Griselda broke off again to that back door opening. The twins came in. They double-bolted the door. Danny took his cane, patted Missy’s head. “No trouble, baby?”

  She lifted her shoulders sadly, “No trouble.”

  David came into the room. “Nor had we. Everything is safe. You needn’t worry, Griselda.” He bent over her in the chair. “But you will think twice before you call the police. Believe me, it will not do any good-to anyone.” She met his eyes. They were dark, beautiful, but you couldn’t see into them. She didn’t answer.

  Missy opened the door. The twins tilted their hats with their sticks. “Goodnight, Griselda. See you soon.” They left the door open, the sticks pointed towards it until the elevator arrived. Danny closed it then; you could hear the bolts catch. And you could hear the elevator going down.

  For a moment Griselda thought she was going to be sick. Then anger surged. “I’m not going to stand this, Gig. It’s intolerable. It’s unbelievable. These things don’t happen.” She walked swiftly over to the windows, avoiding that spot where the small rug had been. She flung one window wide, leaned out, looking below. She saw them come out of the apartment house. They hailed a cab. They were laughing when they entered it. She closed the window with a thump and turned. “We’ve got to do something.”

  Gig was yet on the couch, coddling his pipe. He agreed. “Yes. But what can we do? I think they’ve tied our hands. They’ve removed the body, cleaned the place. We shouldn’t have let them.”

  She asked, “What should we have done-taken the poison, the gas, or just the sword?” Then she was sorry for speaking to him out of her anger for others. She said, “I’m going to have a drink, will you?”

  He sounded surprised at himself. “I believe I will.” He looked at his watch. “I must get some sleep tonight.” He was unbelieving. “It lacks twenty to midnight.” She too was amazed, the night had been as months, or aeons.

  They sat side by side on the couch with the drinks.

  “Will you want me to stay here tonight?”

  She didn’t know if he wished it or feared it. She said she wouldn’t. “I’m not afraid of them now. They’re real to me. Missy is my own sister. They can’t hurt me. I don’t have their old marble.”

  He drank. “If Missy were my sister, I’d get her out of what she’s in quickly.”

  “I wish I could.”

  He insisted, “You’re certain you know nothing about the marble?”

  “I don’t know why they should even think I know anything about it”

  Something occurred to her. Gig might communicate with Con, try to bring him home to take care of things. He mustn’t do that. Con must be kept out at all costs. She added casually, “I don’t want Con to know about this. It’s an important assignment he has, covering this border affair for N.B.C. There’s no reason to bother him.”

  He agreed. “No.” He set away his glass. “I’ll say goodnight You’re certain you don’t want me to stay.”

  She repeated, “I’m not afraid. But I think I shall always call you before I start home nights after this.”

  He turned at the door. “If I’m not in?”

  “Then I won’t come home alone. I’ll bring someone with me.”

  He thought that was wise. He hesitated. She knew he would stay given a word. It wasn’t that she didn’t wish it. He wasn’t Con but he was nice and he wanted to stay. She didn’t know why she didn’t speak.

  3

  After he had gone the room was too quiet She snapped on the radio that there might be a cessation of the silence and peace but she had been wrong. She twisted the dial to a late news broadcast and suddenly Con was in the room; out of that non-committal box, Con’s deep, dear voice came. She was aching with her need of him and his voice was there but she couldn’t answer back; couldn’t tell him all she must tell him; she could only listen to that voice discussing the trivialities of border trouble.

  She silenced the room again quickly. Then she looked carefully at the bolted door and turned out the living room lights. Quickly she moved to the bedroom, closed the Venetian blinds and undressed. It steadied her to cream her face, wipe away the cream, pat astringent, begin brushing her golden hair.

  If Aunt Charlotte knew she’d be on the next plane flying East. She considered with comfort her aunt’s domineering nose, her brook-no-nonsense shoulders. But she couldn’t send for Aunt Charlotte. If she came, and if Con returned, there wouldn’t be a chance to… She put down the brush. To what, she didn’t know.

  If Con had the marble… Until tonight she hadn’t thought of it as a marble. Long ago, when they were first married, that little blue jewel. It had somehow frightened her even then; she didn’t know where he had picked it up, but she hadn’t wanted it in his possession. Con had laughed at her and had said once, “Wouldn’t the police like to know I have this.” After that she didn’t see it again.

  And Missy, too, had seen it. She recalled now. Before the little sister had sailed with Maman. Missy had wanted it, her eyes greedy on it that afternoon in the apartment when Con came in, found her toying with it. But Missy couldn’t have remembered that long ago. It had been only an incident and she had been a child.

  Why
was it so important? No one would fling a really valuable thing around in an apartment. Of course it wasn’t here. If Con did still possess it, it would be in a vault, some place safe. No one would be fool enough to carry it with him or hide it carelessly where any marauder might search it out. No one but Con. He had no sense about such things.

  If she could find it, get rid of it for him, it would keep him safe. She must keep him safe. The twins had evidently failed in their search here for it; surely she had no chance. Yet perhaps they had not searched as yet; perhaps they had been interrupted. And they didn’t know the little secrets she and Con had shared.

  She was ready for bed. She knew where to look, the grinning Golliwog perfume bottle on the chest. She had thought perhaps Con kept it all these years for sentimental reasons, because it had been hers. Con sentimental! She lifted the Golliwog’s head, pointed the dark stopper to her chin. Hidden in her hands she knew where to turn the head, no one else would know.

  It had been faulty. He had hollowed it and once he had left little rolled-up balls of paper there with messages to her, when he went early on an assignment and she lay still asleep in their bed. Their hollow tree. She hoped the marble wouldn’t be there.

  It was such a tiny blue ball, blue as cloisonnй is blue. She had forgotten its beauty. She put it in the drawer among the handkerchiefs. If anyone had searched they had surely already rummaged there. Tomorrow she would think of a safe place for it. She couldn’t just throw it away after all; it was Con’s; he might want it again.

  She replaced the perfume stopper, climbed into bed, snapped off the lamp. She was almost asleep when her throat began to prickle with fear. She had remembered careless words, “No trouble.” She was certain now that Missy would have welcomed trouble. Missy had wanted to use that lethal cane.

  PART IV