Verdict Suspended

by Nielsen, Helen

  He removed the second sock and dropped it beside the first. “Dr. Curry,” he said, “you’re a smart man. You’re supposed to know what goes on inside the heads of people. What do you think of Sheilah Dodson’s friends and associates? Are they properly bereaved?”

  “She was a successful woman,” Curry answered. “Successful people are usually hated—whether they deserve it or not.”

  “I suppose so. Still, I had the feeling just now that every one of them—with the exception of Jaime’s wife—will rest easier tonight just because Jaime isn’t about asking questions. On my job I get a worm’s-eye view of people. The worst of Everyman. Now I have to start doing my arithmetic. How much should I remember? How much should I forget? Jaime Dodson milked his sister through kickback deals with contractors. Sheilah got wise and booted him out of the business. Cy Shepherd has a police record and must have hated Sheilah’s guts for holding it over him. His wife must have hated her guts for more reasons than that. Sheilah was human. The earthworm view I have of life tells me she held Cy for more reasons than his ability as a contractor.”

  Lennard stretched his legs out before him and wriggled his toes in boyish glee. “And then there’s Steve Quentin,” he added. “He’s been in and out of Sheilah’s bed for years. Oh, I can be honest with you, Dr. Curry. I can’t shock you, I’m sure…. And Albert Trench. He’s learned not to be curious! What he’s learned is when to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut. Right now he’s trying to figure who is the most liable for a light touch of blackmail.”

  “Who gets Sheilah’s money?” Curry suggested.

  Lennard stopped wriggling his toes and put his feet on the floor. “Dr. Curry,” he said soberly, “you’re beginning to think like a cop.”

  “Who does get the money?” Curry repeated. “The money that was Sheilah’s … and would have been Jaime’s?”

  “His widow,” Lennard said slowly. “Now wait a minute. All my instincts can’t be wrong!”

  Curry smiled softly. “It may be that all your instincts aren’t working,” he said. “You don’t seem to be aware that the woman who was Greta Muldoon on the night Sheilah Dodson was murdered is a woman Sheilah was willing to go to any length to eliminate as a candidate for Mrs. Jaime Dodson.”

  “Even to the extent of breaking with Jaime … legally,” Lennard mused. “Keep talking, Doctor. You’re making my feet warm.”

  Dr. Curry set his pipe tightly between his teeth and scowled thoughtfully for some seconds. Then he removed the pipe and said: “Captain Lennard, do you know anything about the habits of electric eels?”

  Steve drove directly home. He put the car in the garage and walked with Greta to the cottage. She unlocked the door and Steve stepped in ahead of her. He waited an instant before turning on the light. When the lights did come on he saw Greta staring at him questioningly.

  “Steve,” she said, “why did you do that?”

  “What did I do?” Steve asked.

  “You were listening. You thought someone might be here.”

  Steve made a weak attempt at what was meant to be a reassuring smile. “You’re imagining things,” he said. “We both are. It’s been a hellish day…. How about some coffee?”

  It was a ruse to keep her occupied. There would be no sleep this night. Greta went into the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. She opened the cupboard and put out two cups, the sugar and cream, and then opened the breadbox.

  “I have a little coffeecake. It’s left over from breakfast …” And then she broke. She held to the table top of the sink with both hands and cried softly and deeply.

  Steve put one arm around her and drew her close. “Get rid of it,” he said. “Cry it out.”

  “It’s so unfair!” Greta sobbed. “Jaime went through the ordeal of the inquest. How much punishment did he deserve?”

  “That’s what I tried to tell him,” Steve said. “He wouldn’t listen. But you aren’t alone, Greta. I’ll be with you all the way. Do you understand?”

  She stopped crying. She became very quiet in his arms.

  “You’ll need someone close to you. Gossip destroyed Jaime … it’s not going to destroy you. Get out of Cypress Point, Greta. Give me your power of attorney and I’ll sell everything for you. Start a new life somewhere else.”

  Greta drew back from his arms and looked at him, strangely. “I have nothing to sell.”

  “You have everything! It’s all yours now. Sheilah’s house—her business. Everything that would have been Jaime’s.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Of course you don’t want it—tonight. But you will. And you’ll have competition. Cy will demand a share of the business. Trench won’t let anyone forget that Sheilah didn’t want you for Jaime’s wife—”

  Steve broke off. Greta stood directly before him. She was staring at him in a wild, frightening way.

  “Greta,” he said, “I know my timing’s bad. But I want you to think of something besides Jaime.”

  Greta raised her right hand and stared at it, and and then she stared at Steve’s coat. “Steve … there’s blood on your coat!”

  Steve’s coat was dark. A stain couldn’t be seen from a distance. But Greta had been close to him, clinging to him for support. Now her hand was sticky.

  “It’s oil,” he said. “I rubbed against something.”

  “It’s blood!” Greta said. “Steve, take off your coat!”

  He tried to step aside, but she was too swift for him. Her hands were already clawing at his coat buttons. She ripped open the coat and pulled back the stained side. Steve’s shirt was white, and just above the waistline an ugly patch of red was seeping through.

  Greta drew back in horror.

  “It’s nothing!” Steve said. “I was cleaning my gun. It misfired!”

  She stared at him in complete disbelief. “No…. It’s Jaime! You fought with him!”

  “Greta—I swear!”

  “Where is he, Steve? Is he hurt?” And then she drew something hard and damning from memory and hurled it at him. “You know where he is! You know why the police won’t find bloodstains in his car! That’s why you said he was thrown into the sea….”

  She whirled about and ran from him. He reacted an instant later. He found her in the living room, the telephone in her hand. She was trying to dial as she backed away from him.

  “Greta,” he ordered, “don’t do that!”

  He reached out and yanked the telephone from her hand. He was never quite sure whether or not she screamed. He saw her eyes widen and her mouth open … and then she was at the front door clawing at the latch. The door opened. Greta started forward and then drew back.

  Captain Lennard stood in the doorway. He took in the situation at a glance that came to focus on Steve’s bloodstained shirt. Lennard held out his hand. Steve’s gun was in it. “Mr. Quentin,” he said, “I believe this belongs to you.”

  Chapter 14

  Steve watched Captain Lennard walk into the room. Dr. Curry was directly behind him. He watched Greta, half strangled with fear, back against the wall and stand silently, all eyes. He looked down at the gun in Lennard’s hand.

  “One of my men found it in the brush just below the place where Jaime Dodson’s car went off the embankment,” he said. “It has a name plate on the butt: ‘S. Quentin.’”

  Steve’s mouth was dry. He licked his lips. “Vanity gets the better of us all,” he said.

  “How did your gun get on the beach, Mr. Quentin?”

  “I lost it.”

  “And how did you get that wound in your side, Mr. Quentin?”

  “I was shot with the gun … just before I lost it.”

  “How?”

  “Struggling with Jaime Dodson.”

  Steve saw Greta’s lips tremble, but she didn’t speak. He didn’t like facing her. He turned back to Lennard.

  “Where is Jaime now?” Lennard asked.

  “I don’t know. We grappled for the gun. It went off and hit me in the side. That’s w
hen I lost control of it. Jaime ran off in the darkness.”

  “There are two bullets missing from the cartridge clip, Mr. Quentin.”

  “All right—maybe I fired one. I don’t remember. Jaime jumped me from the brush. I wasn’t expecting him. I thought he was in the wreck.” And then Steve began to return to life after the state of shock he’d been in from the moment Greta saw the stain on his coat. His eyes sought Curry’s pleadingly. “He did confess!” Steve insisted. “You know that, Dr. Curry! He confessed in the hospital … and to Greta … and to me in the car! He told me he was going to commit suicide and threw me out on the highway…. I didn’t imagine that! When I finally reached the scene of the accident I naturally thought he was in the wreckage. I started to climb down the cliff—calling to him—and then he jumped me.”

  Three people stared at Steve. Three people who were suddenly strangers, with whom he must try to communicate in a foreign language.

  “Jaime wrecked that car himself!” he said.

  “Why were you carrying a gun?” Lennard asked.

  “Why?” Steve groped for more words. “I took it with me when I saw the lights and went up to Sheilah’s house. I knew what Jaime was trying to do. I didn’t know how it might affect him if he realized the truth.”

  “Then you took the gun for protection.”

  “Yes—for my own and for Jaime’s. Dr. Curry warned me that he might have a violent reaction if he remembered his confession. That’s why I wanted Greta out of the house…. What’s the matter, Lennard? Don’t you believe me? I tell you, Jaime wrecked his own car!”

  “I believe you,” Lennard said, “but I wonder why you didn’t tell us about it sooner. You were in the police station for over an hour—on the beach before that. Why the secrecy, Mr. Quentin?”

  “I wanted to give Jaime a chance to get away,” Steve said.

  “You what?”

  “I didn’t know about the choke on his car. I wanted everybody to think Jaime drowned, that’s what he wanted. Haven’t enough people been hurt by Sheilah’s death? Doesn’t the damage stop somewhere?”

  “It stops,” Lennard said coldly, “when the story’s completed … and it’s not completed yet. Let’s try to fill in the gaps, Mr. Quentin. You went to Sheilah’s house this evening when you saw the lights were on. You went armed with a gun. You found Jaime in the house … but a different Jaime. A man who knew everything that happened the day Sheilah died … and everything that happened in the hospital the day he was questioned by Dr. Curry. You wanted to help him. You got him out in the car and started driving…. Where did you intend to go, Mr. Quentin?”

  “To Dr. Curry’s house,” Steve said. “But we were both tense after Jaime’s ordeal. I decided to drive awhile first.”

  “Just drive—with no particular destination?”

  “Yes.”

  “And while you were driving, Jaime suddenly announced that he was going to commit suicide and put you out of the car. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then he wrecked the car and hid in the brush until you came and found him. There was a struggle for the possession of your gun. Two shots were fired … one hit you. What happened then?”

  “I didn’t know I was hit until much later,” Steve said. “I heard a police siren. A truck had passed me on the highway when I was still on my way to the scene of the wreck. The driver spotted it and went for help.”

  “And so the police came and took over,” Lennard concluded, “but Jaime got away.”

  “It was getting dark … I couldn’t hold him.”

  “But you didn’t want to hold him, did you? You wanted him to get away so we would all think he was dead. I wonder that you used your gun at all!”

  It was a direct challenge. Captain Lennard was like a robot who spoke only what had been fed into him by a police officer’s manual—and then suddenly switched to another cycle and left Steve stunned by the implication.

  “He jumped me!” Steve said. “I had to fire!”

  “But why did he jump you? So you would know he wasn’t dead? He’d gone to so much trouble to fake suicide. Why did he give it away?”

  Steve’s face was damp with perspiration. He still held the telephone in his hands, now completely forgotten. He made no attempt to answer Lennard.

  “I’m looking for motive, Mr. Quentin,” Lennard continued. “I wonder why Jaime had to fight you for the car. It was his car, wasn’t it? I wonder why he told you he was going to kill himself. He could have kept his mouth shut and done it quietly some other time…. I wonder if he didn’t jump you because he knew you had no intention of taking him to Dr. Curry—or to anyone else.”

  “And why not?” Steve demanded.

  “That’s the motive I’m looking for, Mr. Quentin.”

  Lennard left it that way … dangling. There was a slight, choking sound from Greta. She stepped forward and faced Steve. She had no more fear.

  “Steve,” she said, “why are you so anxious to sell Sheilah’s house?”

  Steve was in trouble. There were too many challenges from too many directions. “I’m not anxious,” he said. “I’m thinking of you.”

  “I don’t believe you!” Greta said. “You can’t even wait for Jaime’s body to be found! You had to start talking about a power of attorney and disposing of Sheilah’s property. Ask him why, Captain Lennard.”

  “I told you why,” Steve said. “I wanted to get your mind off Jaime. I wanted to help. You don’t understand business.”

  “I understand that you wanted Jaime to leave Cypress Point and turn everything over to you … and now you want me to do what he wouldn’t do! I understand that you killed Jaime! You did kill him, didn’t you? You made up the other story so everybody will think it’s suicide when they recover Jaime’s body…. Where is he, Steve? Where is my husband?”

  Greta stopped shouting and they all stood in a small hollow of silence, strange and strained. Greta’s face was a white oval of anger. Lennard was a big palm with a gun laid in it. Dr. Curry was a shadow with two intense eyes. And Steve was a straw man with the stuffing coming out. He swung toward Curry.

  “You know I saved Jaime’s life!” he said. “You were with me in the hospital when he confessed. Make them understand what happened, Dr. Curry!”

  Curry stepped quietly forward and took the telephone from Steve’s hand. He dropped it onto the divan. “Perhaps I can … now,” he said.

  Their eyes met, and there was no mystery between them.

  “There’s a flaw in every science, Mr. Quentin,” Curry said. “We leave the absolute to a higher stratum of thought…. When a patient is put under the influence of a drug or under hypnosis, he becomes extremely susceptible to suggestion. I warned you of that before our experiment with Jaime Dodson … but I don’t think my warning was necessary. You knew what you were doing when you called me to Cypress Point.”

  Steve’s mouth was dry. He tongued his lips, hurriedly. “Curry,” he said, “I’m a lawyer.”

  “I know that,” Dr. Curry said, “and you’ll sue me if I damage your character. But I’m a doctor, and I told you the day we met at Cypress Point Hospital that I have a conscience. You asked me to make Mrs. Dodson and Captain Lennard understand what happened that day. I intend to do just that. From the start, the procedure was very strange. By the time I reached the hospital the patient was already prepared. He was alone in the room with one person. Not a doctor; not a nurse. He was with you, Mr. Quentin.

  “Now I’ll explain the state in which I found him. He was agitated … excited … as if his drugged mind had been forced to labor with some problem. Symptoms, Mr. Quentin. I’m a doctor. I’m willing to go on a witness stand in a court of law and swear that Jaime Dodson displayed all the symptoms of having been coached before I questioned him.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Steve said. “It’s impossible!”

  “But it’s not impossible at all, Mr. Quentin. Freud himself abandoned hypnosis when he realized a patient was confessing t
hings he’d never done! You had ample time to indoctrinate Jaime with the confession you wanted him to make. What you didn’t know—and you admitted this to me later—was that he might not recall that confession once he was no longer under the influence of the drug.”

  Steve stood very still. He might have been made of wax except for the moisture on his face. “Dr. Curry, I warn you again. Don’t say too much. You can’t prove a thing.”

  “But I can repeat the treatment,” Curry said, “with witnesses present. Where is Jaime, Mr. Quentin? There’s a way of learning whether or not that confession was genuine.”

  “I don’t know!” Steve yelled. “I told you—”

  And then the fine thread of control snapped. His nerves were too tight. The bombardment of questions was too hard. Directly ahead stood Captain Lennard with a gun in his hand. Curry’s exposition had drawn his attention; he was off guard. Steve leaped forward and grabbed the gun from his hand. He backed to the door.

  “I don’t know where Jaime is!” he repeated. “Maybe he’s dead … but if he is, he killed himself!”

  He whirled about, clawed the door open, and ran out into the night. It was late. The sky was beginning to pale above the treetops. The surf had the soft sound of morning. Steve didn’t see or hear. He ran toward the driveway, where a pair of headlights sliced a bright path through the shadows. Behind him, Lennard was becoming vocal. Ahead of him was a sound of running footsteps. He ducked into the shrubbery until the footsteps passed, and then ran on toward the lights. The police car was empty. He crawled in behind the wheel and shifted to driving gear.

  At Hanson’s Pier the dawn slid quietly over the sea, turning a black restlessness into a nodding sheath of silver gray. Out of the mist a canopy appeared above the old merry-go-round, and prancing, wild-eyed ponies of white and black and brown were created from shadow and wisps of fleeing fog. Jaime, curled tightly in one of the wooden seats, opened his eyes and stared fixedly at the vision before him. It was a blue horse. A very bright blue horse. He unwound his legs and came to a sitting position. The morning was like a curtain being slowly raised. Beyond the blue horse now appeared the wet metal roof of Herb Catcher’s garage on the far side of the highway. Jaime read the sign, forming each letter distinctly in his mind, until he remembered what it was he had to do. He came to his feet, swayed, and steadied himself with a handful of brass bar. Instant pain knifed his shoulder, cutting away the last of the fog. Steve’s first shot had gone wild and barely grazed him. The tweed was raveled on his coat and there wasn’t enough blood to wet a Band-Aid … but the intent had been murder, simple and sweet. He let go of the brass bar and stepped down on the earth. He walked like a man taking a sobriety test … walked to the highway, looked both ways, crossed the highway, and proceeded to the garage.