The So Blue Marble

by Dorothy B. Hughes

  Arthur was heavy with delight. “You must join us, Miss Fahney.” He gave up his chair, beckoned for more. Ann smiled her best at Jasper. The other three didn’t know the idols of the American screen. They didn’t care for the interruption but the twins were polite and Missy finally stared at Jasper. Nesta sat by Arthur but she batted eyelashes at the twins.

  ”You will shop with me, Griselda? I haven’t a stitch. And for London…”

  Danny was charming. “London isn’t particular in these times, Miss Fahney.” He didn’t pronounce her name just right. He stood, “This is my dance, Griselda.”

  She didn’t want to. She was sewed to her chair. But he came over, offered his arm and Nesta’s eyes sighed.

  They danced. He said, “Why did you tell those people of the marble? It would be better if they were out of it. Too many are in it now. What did you say of last night?”

  “Nothing,” she answered truthfully. “But I will tell you something. Mr. Grain, the man you murdered, always wore a lucky coin on his watch chain. My maid found it under my couch this morning.”

  He didn’t speak but she could feel his muscles twitch. She repeated all that she had told David.

  Finally he said, “You need not worry about this. If you keep quiet you will get in no trouble.”

  The music halted, began again. They danced silently. The number was over. He asked, standing in front of her there on the floor, “Why were you asking all the questions about the marble? You know about it. Don’t you?”

  She looked straight at him. “No, I don’t.”

  PART V

  1

  Bette didn’t come on Sundays. But at nine o’clock someone was pounding at the door, pounding hard. Griselda came out of sleep, belted her white robe about her, put her feet into the white cord slippers, and went to answer. She opened it on the chain. She saw the uniform, and another man not in uniform.

  The uniform said, “Sorry to disturb you, Miss. We’d like to ask a few questions if you don’t mind.”

  “One moment.” The door had to be shut to take off the chain. She could close her eyes for that space, try to think. She opened the door. “You’ll excuse how I look. I was asleep.” Then she asked, “What’s happened?”

  The policeman was Sergeant Moore; the plainclothes man, Inspector Tobin. They told her their names after Tobin had asked, “You’re Mrs. Satterlee?”

  “I use Miss.” Such a trivial correction. Then she repeated. “What’s happened? You’ve found him?”

  Tobin’s nostrils twitched. Moore stared at her.

  “Found whom?”

  “Mr. Grain, the superintendent.”

  The Inspector had eyes that could look sideways. His mouth was sideways, too. “What do you know about it?”

  She had spoken too quickly but she could make it right. “My maid told me.” She walked to a chair, motioned for them to be seated. She skirted the new rug but they walked right where he had been, not dead of heart failure.

  “Where is she?”

  They sat on the couch. The Sergeant’s knees were in his way. He took off his cap, awkwardly. The Inspector didn’t remove his brown fedora.

  “She doesn’t come on Sundays. She told me yesterday morning. Mrs. Grain was worried.” She repeated that pathetic little quirk. “He hadn’t been away from her at night for forty years.” She felt her nostrils sting as if tears were coming. Ridiculous, yet it was sad. She asked again, “You’ve found him?”

  “Yeah.” The Inspector answered out of his mouth.

  She leaned forward but she took a cigarette before speaking. She looked at the match and her voice sounded natural. “Where?”

  “The janitor found him.”

  “Janitor?” Her eyes widened.

  Sergeant Moore said, “Certainly knocked him for a loop.”

  She repeated. She had to know. “Where was he-when the janitor found him?”

  The Inspector asked, “D’ya mind, Miss?” He took a battered pack of Luckies from his pocket.

  She urged, “Forgive me, I forgot.” She handed her box across, insisted. She laughed a little. “I don’t know the manners of an investigation. I’ve never been in one.”

  He laughed too, not very much. “Don’t imagine you have. “You’re visiting, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your husband’s apartment?”

  “Yes, he offered it to me. He’s away. We are divorced, you know.”

  He seemed to know. He pushed his hat sideways. “Yeah. Sort of a funny setup, isn’t it?”

  Her eyes widened again, deliberately now. She didn’t know where he was heading. “You mean my using this place?” She shook her head, thinking it out. “No. No, it isn’t. I haven’t seen him in four years but it’s like him to offer. He read in the paper that I was coming, and wrote offering…”

  “You write letters to each other then?” The Sergeant asked this.”No. I don’t imagine we’ve written a half dozen in that time. Always for business reasons. But-if you knew my former husband, you’d understand.”

  Inspector Tobin turned his lip in. “I know him.”

  She was surprised but insisted, “You understand then. It’s like him. Generous, and matter-of-fact.” She didn’t know why it mattered to them.

  “Yeah.” He was fiddling with his hands now and she saw what was there, the copper coin.

  She nodded at it “Bette found it under this couch Saturday morning. She knew it was Mr. Grain’s, his lucky piece. That is how she came to tell me that he was missing.”

  The Inspector tossed it. “Yeah. You had a party here Friday night.”

  She was doing well, calm, natural. “Not exactly that. I was at dinner at my sister’s, uptown. Mrs. Arthur Stepney. Arthur is a vice-president of Madison National.”

  He inserted the inevitable, “Yeah,” and the Sergeant said, “That’s the bank at Forty-second and Madison,” as if someone didn’t know.

  “Yes. Some friends dropped in after my return. It wasn’t really a party.”

  Tobin questioned, “Names?”

  “Names.” She hadn’t understood at first then she did. “Professor Gigland, a friend of Con’s. His apartment is across the hall. Teaches at Columbia.” She hesitated the barest second but she couldn’t make up names. They’d be checked. Sergeant Moore’s eyes were memorizing. “David and Danny Montefierrow.” That surprised them. She knew it although they said nothing. “And my younger sister, Missy Cameron.”

  The Sergeant asked, “Is she staying with you?”

  “No. She’s at the St Regis. She lives in Rome with my mother.”

  “Yeah.”

  If there were only something to say, some way to say it to make them believe truth. She had wanted the police. She had them now and she wasn’t saying a word. She couldn’t. The twins had warned.

  The Inspector turned the coin. “You think maybe Grain lost this under the couch sometime? Think it’s been there long? Before Con left maybe?” He was looking at the coin but at her too.

  “It couldn’t have been there long. Bette is a thorough cleaner. She’d cleaned earlier in the week.”

  “Think maybe someone dropped it Friday night?”

  The question came so quickly her mouth opened, stupid as an idiot child’s. She hadn’t considered that as an explanation. She’d thought they must know Grain had been here, lying there, on that spotless rug. She answered truthfully, “That never occurred to me.”

  The Sergeant put in, “Have you known these folks long?” It seemed as if he sensed things, as if he could see the picture on the back of her mind.

  “You mean my guests?”

  “Yeah.”

  “My sister, naturally.” She smiled. “Although I haven’t seen her since she was a child. Gig-Professor Gigland-I met only when I came here, and the twins very recently. They are friends of Missy’s, my sister, from abroad.” She took a breath. “I know of course that Mr. Grain is dead.”

  “You do?” His eyes popped at her.

  Sh
e flung out her hands. “I know he must be. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” She said thoughtfully, truthfully, “I knew he was dead when Bette told me. After forty years he wouldn’t have stayed away from his wife otherwise.”

  “I guess not,” Moore agreed. “Though some would.” He grinned.

  Inspector Tobin asked, “Did you see Grain Friday?”

  “Friday night?”

  “Any time Friday.”

  “No, not that day.” She bit her lip. “I saw him the day I arrived. He had the key for me and helped me in with my bags. And one or two noons he was out front when I went out.” She added irrelevantly, wondering what the wife was like. “I’ve never seen her.”

  The front buzzer had been touched. Tobin said, “I’ll answer.” He walked to the entrance button, pushed it, not answering the house phone. He waited to open the door. Moore was still at the windows, looking out. He wanted to know, “There wouldn’t be no reason for him to be in your apartment Friday, would there? Before you came home?”

  “No. Not unless he brought a package. But I hadn’t sent any and there was none here.” She swirled in the chair as the bell rang.

  Tobin opened the door. David Montefierrow was smiling there.

  2

  “Griselda! I didn’t know you were busy.”

  He did know. Somehow he knew. He came purposely. And he looked handsome and gay, normal, in morning clothes. Of course, his inevitable stick.

  She was pleased to say, “David, this is Inspector Tobin. Sergeant Moore. David Montefierrow.”

  Tobin closed the door.

  David put his bowler, his gray gloves, his stick, his topcoat, on a chair. He came over and took her hand. “Police. Don’t tell me you’ve been shoplifting.” He laughed heartily.

  She took away her hand. “They have found Mr. Grain.”

  “No?” He was completely surprised. “The missing superintendent? Griselda told us last night how worried her char was.” He took Tobin’s place on the couch, lighted one of his special cigarettes and asked, “What was it? Amnesia? Or an accident?” He was politely curious, not very interested.

  Moore said, “The janitor found him. In the basement. Back of the trunk lockers.”

  David asked, “What had happened?”

  “Looks as if he plugged himself in the stomach.”

  Griselda leaned to the words. David was so at ease. “Really?”

  Tobin said, “Yeah. Gun was there on the floor. A thirty-eight, new one. Must have bought it purposely. Only his wife says he didn’t have any reason for suicide.”

  ”Better off than they’ve been in years,” Moore continued. “Good job, owners liked him, no debts, good health. No worry she knew of.”

  David asked with the right interest, “Does she think it was murder? Why would he be murdered?”

  Griselda wanted to scream, to have to sit here, listen to this, and to know. She stood. “I’m going to put some coffee on. I can’t go any longer without it. You’ll all have some.” She went into the kitchen cubby.

  She could hear Moore answer, “He didn’t have any money on him, no valuables, and nothing missing. Except that lucky piece.”

  Inspector Tobin said, “If it weren’t for finding that here-and there wasn’t much blood-it’d be open and shut suicide.”

  David spoke casually, “Of course, he dropped it here. Probably came in, say, to inspect a leak, or lights or something, whatever it is these supers do, and caught his chain. He wore it on his watch chain, the maid told Griselda. Probably didn’t even notice it was gone until later, and didn’t know where he’d lost it.”

  Griselda with the cups was in time to see his delighted smile, a little daring now.

  “Maybe that’s why he popped himself off, lost his lucky piece.”

  They all laughed. She didn’t. She set down the cups and went back for the coffee, the cream and sugar.

  They all drank coffee. It was friendly. When they had finished she said, “You’ll excuse me if I go dress. I’ve a lunch engagement at one, with Nesta Fahney.” She mentioned the name purposely to interest the police. The noon bells were ringing from St. Patrick’s. “If you’re finished with me.” She smiled at them.

  “Yes, indeed, Mrs.-Miss Satterlee,” Moore said. David asked, “Shall I drop you at Nesta’s hotel, Griselda?”

  She told him no. “I don’t want to keep you.”

  She thought the police were leaving. David also thought so. But they closed him out easily. Inspector Tobin told her, “You won’t mind if we look around.”

  “Naturally not.”

  She shut herself into the bedroom. She didn’t want the temptation of peeking at what they were about to do. She dressed quickly, she was late, the black satin with the scattered silver pin points in it, black furs and hat again. She put on her glasses. No need to strain her eyes for Nesta Fahney. She returned to the living room. Tobin was on his hands and knees. Moore still was by the windows. He said, “He could have been shot from that apartment across, only it was a close shot, right up against his vest.”

  Tobin growled, “You talk more pish.”

  They didn’t see her.

  Moore was aggrieved, “I know, Toby, but I get results, don’t I, talking it out?”

  “While I work.”

  She interrupted, I’m going now. You’ll close the door tightly when you leave?” And she added, “I’m afraid you won’t find anything. Bette cleaned thoroughly yesterday.”

  In the elevator she recalled she’d forgotten to let Gig know about the afternoon. She would call him from the Waldorf.

  3

  Missy didn’t like anybody at the cocktail party. Nesta was surrounding both twins. She was all over green and purple flowers, even on her tiny bonnet. Missy sat by a canapй tray and ate greedily, first the caviar, next the egg, last the watercress. Gig was out of place with his pipe and bookish hair. Jasper was bored. Nesta must have made him come; but Ann’s few intimate friends, fifty and more who needed impressing most, were not bored. Not with Montefierrows and movie stars littering the place. Arthur was gurgling.

  Griselda sat alone. David came over. He was smiling but his eyes were cold on her. “You can’t pry Danny away from that painted doll. She seems to be an actress or something.”

  Griselda snorted. “She’s the movie star, cinema, you know.”

  “Is that it?”

  They were playing manners in front of the guests but she was trembling. His eyes hadn’t moved from her and they were without meaning. She rose from the chair; David’s hand was under her elbow.

  “You aren’t leaving. I thought we might have a bite of supper later, and a cinema.”

  She told him, “I’m sorry. But I promised Gig.” Now to get quickly to Gig.

  David said, “I am more sorry.” His fingers caught hers. “You are not so stupid as you would pretend.”

  Missy pushed through their hands. Her mouth was oily from food and one ball of caviar teetered on her chin. David took his handkerchief and wiped it off.

  She spoke sulkily, “I’m not having a good time. I’m sick and tired of this place. Let’s go.”

  David jeered, “Because Danny makes eyes at the pretty girl.”

  They forgot Griselda. She inched away but she listened.

  “You lie…”

  “I must always remind you I am as good as Danny?”

  “You are better, David, but you do not care for me. You care only for you. Danny does care for me. When he is not making a fool of himself.”

  Griselda zigzagged to Gig alone in the corner.

  “Bored?”

  He shook his pipe. “Not bored. But I’m no good at these things.”

  She spoke quietly. “You must wait for me. I won’t stay much longer. I’d like them to leave first and I think they’re about to. They want me to go with them. And I don’t want to, Gig. I’m afraid if we start now they’ll join us.” He knew who was meant.

  “I can stick it as long as you say.”

  She nodded
, left him to join a group where she could watch the room. David spoke aside to Danny. Danny drew Nesta away for an instant. Missy’s cheekbones were like garnets. But Nesta did not leave with them. She returned laughing to Arthur and his friends, and Missy’s hand clutched Danny’s sleeve when they departed.

  Griselda gave them ten minutes before gathering Gig. The party was beginning to break. She said to Ann, “A lovely afternoon, darling. A success.”

  “Wasn’t it nice!” Ann was in clouds.

  She asked, “Have you decided what to do with Missy?”

  Ann plopped to earth. “No. She’s impossible, isn’t she? But we can talk tomorrow, or maybe later. You’re joining the twins at Morocco, aren’t you?”

  She wasn’t. Ann’s eyebrows pointed.

  “Not a word about El Morocco said to me,” she reported truthfully. “I’m going home. Gig’s taking me.”

  He was waiting, vague and embarrassed in the parade of afternoon trousers.

  Below the doorman asked, “Call a cab?”

  She refused before Gig could speak. “Well take the Mad. bus. It’s early and a little air will help. It stops on the corner here.” She wouldn’t let him spend his small salary on cabs for her.

  They turned from the awning. There was a Checker at the curb. The door opened and David stepped out. “We’ll give you a lift.”

  Griselda sucked in her breath. “Never mind. We want some air.” She made her voice bright and loud. Loud enough, the doorman might come out to investigate.

  David said, “We’ve been waiting for you. We’ll drop the professor.” His stick touched Gig’s side. “Get in.”

  Gig started to say something and she saw the steel. “Get in, Gig,” she cried. He did. She could run for it. She stood there.

  David smiled at her. “Get in.”

  Danny and Missy were in the back seat. They were quarreling but quietly. They didn’t even look at the newcomers. Griselda squeezed in back with them. Gig and David were on the jump seats, David’s cane still pointed. He tapped the window. “Twenty-one East Fifty-fifth, driver.” He was polite. “We will escort you there, Dr. Gigland.”