“We have two hours until the inquest,” he said. “So let’s relax.”
“Jeff—will Tiffin arrest me?”
Jeff grinned and drank his orange juice. “I suppose so. Or try to. He’s only got Frew’s word. And I might get Frew to change his mind.”
“Maybe I’d better join Glory in hiding.”
“It’s a lousy career,” Jeff said. “Now, here’s what I got from her.” He pulled his notes from his pocket and handed them to me. We were eating on his little typing table and it was so small I had to push back my chair so I could read without dabbling the notes in my food.
I read and ate at the same time. He had been taking down her speech verbatim so there was a mass of irrelevant material. But sifted down they gave us a fairish picture of Glory’s movements of the night of the murder:
Not wanting to eat with the Willows and Delhart and feeling slightly let down from the afternoon of drinking, she had an early dinner with Tim Larson and then they went for a walk. They did quarrel. Tim accused her of letting Hilton think he had a chance with her. She made it plain she had to look out for her future. He got sore and walked off. She waited a while and then followed him. But while she was hunting him Delhart came up to her. He was angry and in a bad mood. He gave her hell about Tim and threatened to kill Tim.
At this point Jeff asked her why Delhart was so violent if he were interested in Daisy.
“He wanted to eat his cake and have it too,” was Glory’s answer.
She went on to describe how Delhart worked himself into a lather and she ran off. He came after her. She saw Tim ahead of her, going toward the dam (they were on the far side of the pond.) She ran and caught up with him. She made him run too and they hid in the trees. She wasn’t afraid for Tim but of him. She knew that if Delhart provoked Tim he might easily fight. And he was so big he could kill Delhart without meaning to.
This running episode must have been what Frew had seen. When Glory and Tim got into the forest it was darkish and even though Delhart followed they soon lost him. She talked to Tim and finally got him to calm down. He promised he would go back to the house and he left her.
Glory waited a few moments and went back to the footpath. It was darker now and she didn’t like staying in the woods.
There was a gap in Jeff’s notes here, and a question mark.
“This is where you think she starts holding back?” I asked.
Jeff nodded, looking at the notes I held toward him. “She talked right along up to there—once I had her started—and then she dried up. It took me fifteen minutes to get her going again. My guess is that she was trying to smooth her story together so the gap wouldn’t show.
“Hilton?”
“No,” Jeff said. “Willow. I tried to break her down and suggested a few names. When I came to Willow she cursed me from top to bottom.” He grinned suddenly. “Hilton doesn’t seem to be worth cursing.” He looked at his watch. “Time to roll, O’Hara. Inquest at ten.”
I could see Tiffin waiting for me. It wasn’t a pleasant picture.
XXIV
I WENT INTO MY ROOM and got my bag. Glory was sprawled on the bed, sound asleep. I hated to see my slack suit get so wrinkled so I took it off her and draped it over a chair and rolled her under the covers. She hardly stirred. I left, wondering where she would turn up next.
On the way to the inquest Jeff stopped at the laboratory and left the samples of hair and powder he had gathered at Willow’s. Then we rolled out of town, going southeast out Powell Boulevard.
I left the driving to Jeff (we were using Jud’s car) and concentrated on the remainder of Glory’s story. When she picked it up again after stopping, she was getting ready to find the body. And even in the third-hand way I got it, it was grisly.
It was obviously after nine o’clock when she resumed her narrative. Jeff’s notes made no mention of the time and she evidently thought it perfectly plausible that he would accept her wandering in the dark from shortly after Tim’s departure until she happened by the dam.
It was quite dark now and she could just make out someone sitting there on the dam. She thought it must be Tim because they had met there before, and he enjoyed swimming where the water was deepest.
She called to him and he didn’t answer. The more she stared the more grotesque a position he seemed to be in. She had the idea he might have hurt himself diving or swimming and she walked along the dam top to see. She kept calling as she neared him and when she was very close she struck a match. Then she could see the horribly sprawled, bleeding body and the twisted agony on the face. And she could see it wasn’t Tim, but Delhart.
She half fainted, then, from shock. Mercifully, she toppled into the water instead of down the face of the dam. She nearly drowned before she could get control of herself. Perhaps she would have had not Tim Larson pulled her out.
She was incoherent. She could only remember the body sprawled on the face of the dam and the hat floating in front of her face on one of her trips up for air. When she recovered, she ran toward the house, too hysterical to pay any attention to Tim behind her.
Tim, of course, Jeff added in a footnote, obviously went back to the servants’ quarters, knowing he would be called as soon as Glory sounded the alarm.
I folded the notes. “What do you think?” Jeff asked me.
“She’s holding back a lot,” I admitted. “What she did—or saw from the time Tim left until she discovered Delhart; what her meeting with Hilton was about; and just why she was at Willow’s last night.”
“I couldn’t pry those things out of her,” Jeff confessed. “But I have an idea they tie in with the other stuff she’s hiding.”
“What has she got to hide unless she’s guilty?”
Jeff passed his pipe to be filled. When I had filled and returned it, he said, “Remember what she said when she and Tim were quarreling.”
“About having to look out for her future?” I stuffed the pouch into his pocket.
“That’s it.”
“Blackmail?”
Jeff reached out with his hand and patted me. “My guess,” he agreed. “It would be Glory’s dish.”
“She may know the murderer then!”
“She may,” Jeff said. “Digest it a while, O’Hara, I have some thinking to do.”
I smoked and tried to enjoy the scenery. But the loveliness of the countryside under an early summer sun held no pleasure for me. All I could think about was Tiffin at the end of the ride. I wondered what a jail cell would be like.
We arrived much too quickly. The county seat was full even for Saturday. We had to park a block away and walk to the courthouse. Delhart was nationally known, and the inquest was attracting a great deal of outside attention.
Jeff carried the clothing in a big, flat box, tied tightly with cord. I trotted alongside him, hoping my knees weren’t shaking too obviously.
I showed Jeff a shortcut through a side door of the courthouse. Before long we were in our seats at the press table. Tiffin saw me and started to his feet. Jocko, beside him, pulled him down by the coattails. Reprieved for the present, I thought.
Things went off without a hitch. The witnesses were called one by one, including me, and the death and identity of Delhart established. So was the method of murder. Tiffin tried to steal the show from the coroner by making continual references to Tim’s guilt. He was going to get Tim indicted and into court as soon as possible or die trying. And he was certainly making at attempt to get Tim recommended as one of the instruments of death by this jury.
The coroner was annoyed at Tiffin and showed it plainly. And each time he looked peeved Jeff grew more pleased. Tim Larson seemed apathetic, unconcerned. He gave his testimony in an emotionless voice. There was none of his big, awkward, ebullient self in the pale man slouched in the chair. I felt sorry for him and for his parents as well. Mrs. Larson kept crying into a soggy handkerchief and Big Swede spent his time patting her. They had very little to say, even on the stand. I felt that they were pretty much out of line
in their fondness for Glory. She was beginning to wear thin with me.
Daisy was there, seated between her completely expressionless mother and a police matron. Titus sat on the other side of Mrs. Willow. He was perspiring pinkly but if he felt anything he kept it well hidden. Daisy and Frew seemed about the same as usual to me, except that she was less pert and more on the drooping flower order. Frew kept glancing my way. I returned his looks, trying to make my facial expression suggest what was in store for him.
It was a drawn-out affair and the coroner finally called a recess. Jeff dumped his package in my lap. “Hold the fort, O’Hara.”
I watched him talk to Frew and then the two of them went out together. I knew what would happen next. It did. Tiffin sailed up to me as soon as Jeff went out the door.
“I heard a bit of news about you, Adeline.”
I smiled sweetly. “I’ve heard some about you too, Godfrey. That you’re going into private practice after the next election. Can I print that?”
He was so sure of himself he couldn’t be bothered to get mad. “Destroying or concealing evidence isn’t a simple charge,” he purred.
“Evidence, Godfrey?” My eyes went as wide as they could go.
He began to look sour again. “You’ve caused us a lot of trouble by hiding that knife. It would have been simpler if you had turned it over to us.”
“Knife, Godfrey?”
He was breathing harder now and I could see the yellowish tinge forming on his skin. He certainly didn’t take it very well and he tried dropping the subject to gain better control over himself and that’s when he really put his foot into things.
“What’s that?” he demanded, poking a finger at my package.
“Jeff’s,” I said. Tiffin reached for it and I jumped up and backed away coyly. Because I knew he had no right to it—at least not at this moment—and because I knew it would make him suspicious, I tried to suggest fear and trepidation as I backed off.
“More evidence! Give that to me, Adeline.”
“Keep off,” I said excitedly. “This is Jeff’s. You can’t violate the right of private property.”
He laid his hand on the string. “Let loose,” I said. “Do you want me to scream or sock you?”
But Tiffin was beyond caring. I had him infuriated to the point where he lost all sense of proportion. And I realized I had gone too far. I had started out to tease him and now I would have to do something drastic or spoil Jeff’s plans.
“Give me that!” he yelled.
I didn’t know whether to scream or hit him, so I did both. “Help!” I let it out at the top of my voice, rising to the higher registers at the end of the word. Then I pulled back my arm and swung hard. The sound of the slap echoed all over the room.
Tiffin dropped his hold on the box and put his hand to his face and began to gobble. He sounded exactly like a turkey ready for the axe and knowing it. People craned their necks and others ran toward us. Jeff was one of the first ones to arrive. He came in neck to neck with Jocko.
“This—this oaf,” I sputtered, “tried to take your box away from me, Jeff.” I was furious.
Jeff looked me over thoroughly and then he swallowed a grin and turned on Tiffin. “What right have you to take a man’s private property?”
“I thought it was evidence she was hiding,” Tiffin said. He looked belligerent. “I still think so.” He was in a bad light and he knew it. I almost felt sorry for him, and would have had I not remembered how obnoxious he could be.
“Evidence?” Jeff said loudly. “Can’t a man even take his suit to the tailor without being accused of a crime? By God, I bring it in here because I don’t dare leave it in a parked car what with thieves and all, and then what happens? A law officer tries to steal it!” He was working himself into a fine-sounding rage. “Isn’t anything safe in this county?”
He waved his arms. “Evidence?” He jerked the string from the box and displayed the suit coat. He shut the box quickly. “Evidence?”
Jocko gave Jeff and me a sour grin and took a broken Tiffin back to his seat. Fortunately the coroner came in then and rapped for order, halting the laughter of the crowd. Jeff flopped down beside me, breathing like a spent runner.
“Darling,” I said admiringly. He gave me a poisonous look.
Tiffin recovered himself sufficiently to get in more work on Tim Larson and it began to look as if he would win out. The coroner was getting weary of him, too weary to do much more. And then Jeff jumped in.
“Why haven’t I been called as a witness?” he demanded. “I had contact with the corpse.”
“I believe sufficient evidence has been presented,” the coroner said tiredly.
“No, sir,” Jeff said emphatically. He opened the box again and spilled out the suit. “These garments were worn by the murderer. I’ve had them tested for bloodstains. And despite Mr. Tiffin, they are not large enough to fit me, let alone Tim Larson.”
Tiffin bawled like a branded calf. The place was in a howling uproar. The coroner wore himself out establishing order. But when he had it he was on Jeff’s side. He had had enough of Tiffin.
Tiffin tried to commandeer the clothing and the coroner told him to sit down. It was all a little irregular but no one besides Tiffin seemed to mind.
Jeff gave his testimony, explaining about my diving act (but omitting mention of the knife) and made a point of keeping the clothing because of Tiffin’s prejudice against Tim Larson. He made another point of the laboratory analysis that showed bloodstains, and that seemed to clinch his arguments.
And when the jury reached its verdict and it was given I could see all the air go out of Tiffin. It was death by violence, all right, and by party or parties unknown.
XXV
JEFF AND I were outside when Jocko saw us and came over. “Here it comes,” I told Jeff. “See that Jud gets his car back.”
“I’ll bring you cigarets and flowers,” Jeff promised in a magnanimous tone. He gave Jocko a wry grin.
“Now, Addy,” Jocko said mildly, “you weren’t very nice to us.”
“Sheriff,” Jeff said, “if you would throw that bright boy out you’d have a more satisfactory investigation.”
“You know,” Jocko said, “it isn’t every county that can get such fine experts to do its work free.”
“Jocko,” I said, “you know Tiffin had it in his mind to send Tim up for that. He was so sure he was right he wouldn’t admit there was any evidence to the contrary.”
“That isn’t fair,” Jocko objected in the same mild voice. “Tiffin’s honest enough; he’s just stubborn. He’d have come to letting Larson out before long.”
“Then you admit his confession is worthless,” Jeff said quickly.
“Got to thinking about it last night,” Jocko said. “Tiffin was so sure before it made me a little that way. You should have come to us before court today. He’ll admit he was wrong but he hates to be made a monkey of in public.”
“We’re even now,” I said. Jocko’s smile was sour. “Tiffin doesn’t think so. He wants both of you in his office.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
We went.
Tiffin was at his desk, looking disgusted. He raised his head and glared when Jocko ushered us in. Jocko put us in straight backed chairs, one on either side of the desk. He went behind it and took a place a little to the rear of Tiffin. There was no chair there so Jocko stood.
“I want to know about those clothes,” Tiffin said, shooting out his words. “From you, Cook. And when you get through I expect Adeline to tell me about that knife.”
“What knife?” Jeff asked.
Nothing could have aggravated Tiffin more than that. He turned yellow again. “Get Frew in here,” he bawled.
There was no subordinate in the room so Jocko went out. He looked none too pleased at being ordered around by Tiffin but he was as mild appearing as ever when he brought Frew in. Frew was still sullen and he wouldn’t look at me.
“I want to hea
r your statement again,” Tiffin said to him.
“What statement?” Frew asked.
Tiffin took a deep breath and then bent his head and studied his nails industriously. After a moment, he said softly, “Your statement regarding Miss O’Hara’s actions yesterday. If you’ll remember …”
“No,” Frew said. “I don’t recall any statement.”
“You told me yesterday evening that …” Tiffin was still trying to sound patient.
Frew interrupted him. “I was excited yesterday evening. If I said anything I can’t recall it. And I doubt if I meant it anyway. When I become upset I’m subject to hallucinations.” He stood and spoke this amazing piece with no expression whatsoever.
“You did not say that you saw Miss O’Hara throw a knife—a weed chopper—into the lower fish pond yesterday afternoon?”
“I don’t recall saying that.”
Tiffin stood up. He was trembling but he was making a masterful effort to hide it. His knuckles gave him away. They were dead white where he gripped the edge of the desk. “That’s all for now,” he said, breathing hard. “Wait until you’re on the witness stand.”
Frew was removed. Jeff said, “As you were saying, Mr. Tiffin …”
Jocko went over and pushed Tiffin back into his seat. He hooked another chair from the wall with his foot and lowered himself into it. He rang a buzzer and a deputy came in with a notebook. I didn’t like the careful, steady way Jocko was going about things. He had lost his mildness.
“There’s been enough of this,” he said flatly. “Give me your statement, Cook.”
This was a new Jocko, the typical tough law officer now. Jeff saw it too, I know, because he stopped playing tag as he had with Tiffin. He told how we had found the clothes but he made no mention of the knife. He gave a concise statement, not leaving out the possible analysis of the hair and the powder. But he forgot to mention we had gone to Willow’s to collect samples.
When Jeff was through, Tiffin said, “Why didn’t you come to us with these things?” He had control of himself again, but he looked very unhappy and upset.
Give Up the Body Page 19
