He got to his feet and pushed me firmly down onto the chair. "Take it easy, Smithy, and tell me what you mean."
I twisted my hands together, swallowed twice, and said almost steadily, "In the first place, Freda locked the door when she went in. I was standing close to it, and on thinking back, I realize that there can be no mistake about it. Then she turned on the basin tap, and shortly afterward, the bath tap.
"Freda would never unlock the door if she were going to take a bath, so I feel certain that somebody was already in here, waiting for her. And you'd better look for a weapon."
He nodded slowly. "It sounds right enough, but how could whoever was waiting for Freda know that she would come in first? It might have been any one of the others."
"It wouldn't matter," I declared, and indicated the unusual size of the room with a wave of my arm. "There are no less than three closets big enough to hold a person who wanted to hide. One of them even locks on the inside."
"Which one?" he said quickly.
I showed him the closet that had been built in originally, presumably to hold the linen supply. The other two were merely the two sides of a large armoire. The linen closet had a key on the inside of the door, and I remembered Mrs. Ballinger telling me that it had been on the inside since some long-forgotten Ballinger child had playfully locked a housemaid in and left her to pound wildly on the door an entire morning.
Richard opened it and we peered in. It was quite bare and very dusty. I had made it a firm rule never to dust closets.
Richard stooped down and examined the floor carefully. "This is the place, all right," he said soberly. "It's all scuffed about."
"What's all scuffed about?" I asked anxiously.
"The dust. I know your housekeeping methods, Smithy, and this floor should present a smooth surface of dust, with occasional curlicues of fluff. The dust is here, but it's been disturbed."
"Aren't there any footprints?"
He straightened and looked down at me patronizingly. "There should be, of course, two perfect specimens that I could match up with somebody's shoes. And then I could hand the owner of the shoes over to Joe."
"I didn't expect anything like that," I said. "But isn't there half a print? Some sort of outline?"
He smiled at me annoyingly and shook his head. "There's not even a quarter of an eighth. And even supposing there were? Hasn't it occurred to you that it might easily have been made by someone who came here on a perfectly innocent errand?"
"Who would be coming to an empty unused closet on an innocent errand?" I ask huffily..
"How about Mrs. Ballinger, to check up on your housekeeping? But have a look for yourself."
I knelt down and saw at once that he was right. The dust had been disturbed, but the floor was bare of anything except a plain pin. I picked it up and absentmindedly stuck it in the collar of my dressing gown. As I straightened up, I heard Joe's voice behind us.
"What are youse doing here?" it asked ominously.
I turned around. "Has Dr. O'Beirne come?"
"Yeah, with me. Did you know the front door was open?"
"I opened it," I said shortly.
"Oh. Well, what are you doing here?"
"We're giving a kaffeeklatsch," I said and received a violent nudge in the back from Richard.
"What?" said Joe puzzled.
I glanced at Richard, who stared back at me without expression.
"We were looking for a mark where Miss Ballinger bumped her head when she slipped," I explained glibly, with some idea that it would be better to let Joe find out the worst by himself.
"So she slipped," Joe observed and spread it thickly with sarcasm.
"We don't know," I admitted.
"But you'd just as soon put the idea around?"
Richard took over for me. "We're not suggesting anything. We don't know what happened, but we naturally assumed that she had slipped. Of course, all that's up to you."
He took my arm and started to urge me from the room, but Joe planted himself squarely in our way.
"Now just a minute. I want to hear what you know about this."
Richard did not know anything and said so. He had been in his room all the time, and had come out when I banged on his door. I told my story, and of course Joe put me through it properly. By the time I had finished, his eyes were narrowed to slits, and he was looking at me as if he had got his man.
"You heard her lock the door," he said slowly, "and then you come back and find it open, and still, you wanta make out she slipped."
"Perhaps, when she turned the lock, it did not catch," I suggested, a bit feebly.
Joe promptly turned and examined the lock, moving it backwards and forwards, and at last straightened up triumphantly. He put on the velvet glove and inquired gently, "You say you have been living here since the spring?"
I admitted it, warily.
"Then you should know that this lock doesn't make any noise at all, unless it catches. So, if you heard Miss Ballinger lock it, it was locked."
"All right," I said wearily. "It was locked. Now let me out of here."
Joe moved aside but called after me almost immediately, "Another thing. You shouldn't have touched the body or anything before I got here."
I turned around and gave him a chilly stare. "It was just that we thought the body might still be alive. Of course, next time, since you wish it, we won't consider that angle."
I marched on again but my head was swimming. "Next time— next time," I thought wildly. "My God! Surely there won't be any more. What on earth made me say that?"
I glanced back and saw that Richard had remained in the bathroom, and remembered that he was supposed to keep abreast of Joe's discoveries. I thought miserably that I had failed completely on my part of the job, and I wondered how far Berg had got with his.
I went to Freda's bedroom and found that Dr. O'Beirne had finished and had covered her with a sheet. Mrs. Ballinger stood on one side of the bed, having a mild attack of hysterics, while Berg patted her shoulder and murmured to her.
Amy stood on the other side, staring down at the sheeted figure and silently wringing her hands. Donald Tait was just inside the door, leaning against the wall and apparently staring at his feet. Rosalie Hannahs was crying quietly in a rocking chair.
Dr. O'Beirne was just leaving the room and spoke to me at the door. "We're going to do an autopsy. I'll come back at about seven with the ambulance."
I glanced at his wristwatch and saw that it was half past two. I nodded to him, and he went off down the hall and into the bathroom. He spoke to Joe, and I heard Joe say, "No, I'm staying here." He came out then and went downstairs, and I followed him and closed the front door after him when he left.
I hurried upstairs again and saw Richard and Joe emerge from the bathroom. They were not actually arm in arm, but they gave the same impression of chumminess, and they were talking amiably together. They approached me without any sign of recognition, but after they had passed Richard looked over his shoulder, winked at me, and said out of the corner of his mouth, "Coffee."
They went down the stairs, and I went on to Freda's room. It was empty except for Rosalie Hannahs, and she stood just inside the door, looking decidedly uncomfortable. She welcomed me with a little gasp of relief.
"Oh, Miss Smith! Won't you stay here for a while? I feel terribly inadequate, but I simply can't stand it any longer. Mrs. Ballinger insisted that someone must stay with her, and Miss Perrin has gone to bed. She said she'd be back, but I know she won't. Mrs. Ballinger won't allow Mr. Tait to stay here because he's married, and Berg is up in the attic and declares he will not rest until he gets to the bottom of it all."
I eased her into the hall and said firmly, "Get to bed and get as much sleep as you can. I'll take care of all this."
She smiled at me gratefully and hurried away, and I closed Freda's door and locked it from the outside. Then I went around to my room and locked the connecting door. On my way down the hall, I wondered a little anxiously w
hether there was enough coffee for a pot now and another pot at breakfast. I knew that all the supplies were very low, and Mrs. Ballinger, despite her troubles, was still tightly gripping the purse strings. If she found out that we were wasting coffee by drinking it at three o'clock in the morning, she was quite capable of recommending a glass of hot water as a healthful breakfast beverage.
As I passed Rhynda's door, I was diverted by the sound of her voice, and I slowed up to listen. I could not make anything of it and because I was a little uneasy about her, I opened the door a crack and peered in.
She was talking in her sleep in an odd, high whine, and it was unintelligible until she suddenly said quite clearly, "The baby must die."
CHAPTER 14
I backed out hastily and closed the door. I was shivering, and I tightened my bathrobe and told myself firmly that Rhynda was undoubtedly under a terrific strain, and that if she were really pregnant, her situation was very unfortunate. I made up my mind to try and get in touch with her relatives so that they could take her away and look after her. I went down to the kitchen and found Joe and Richard seated at the table, busily eating. There was a third place laid.
"For whom?" I asked, airing my grammar.
"Youse," said Richard.
I sat down and poured myself some coffee. "How did you know I was coming?"
He piled some food onto my plate and said kindly, "You always do. I never saw such a nose for refreshments in all my life."
"If you'd lived in this place for nearly nine months, you'd be constantly hungry, too," I said aggrievedly.
"I am constantly hungry, anyway. But, at that, I think Joe is the greatest trencherman of us all."
"No," said Joe, with his mouth full, "I never even got overseas. Still in trainin' camp when the armistice came."
Richard and I stopped chewing to stare at him, but he had his face in his plate again and took no further notice of us. It dawned on me, with sudden horror, that we were eating herring again.
"Richard!" I said weakly. "This fish—we ate it last night."
"That was another one. Do you ever tell lies, Smithy? You declared there's be a row about that first herring, and nothing happened."
"Because she decided to save it for Sunday. But there will be a row, now that we've eaten it twice."
"You'd better know the facts," he said firmly. "This afternoon, while you presumably were napping, Amy, Rosalie, Donald and I somehow became entangled in a game of bridge, and we were in the midst of the first scrap when Doris walked in on us. She said that what with Joe the well-known hog around—"
"The food here's terrible,"Joe interposed idly.
"It seemed," Richard continued, "that there was not so much as a piece of moldy cheese left in the house."
"She puts it in the mousetraps if it gets moldy," I murmured.
"Doris gave us a list of groceries, explained that she did not want to bother Mrs. Ballinger, and asked us if we would see to it. She said we were to charge the things, as Mrs. Ballinger had an account at the store. We piled into my car, went to the village, and bought all the things on the list."
"Even so," I said after a moment, "this herring was not meant for us."
"On the contrary," said Richard, "I bought it expressly for us. Mrs. Ballinger may have one of the others."
"One of the others?" I repeated hollowly.
"Smithy," he said patiently, "won't you realize that you have been fired, and that Mrs. Ballinger will have to kick somebody else's teeth in when she gets the bill?"
"She's forgotten about it," I said wearily, "and, unfortunately, I'll have to forget it, too, until I save a bit more money. Now please tell me how many herrings you bought, and what else."
He considered for a moment and then laughed reminiscently. "My only extravagance was the herrings. I bought six of them." I gasped, and he explained, "I noticed you liked them, and I thought it was a cheap way of keeping Joe stuffed."
"Beefsteak is more in my line,"Joe said ungratefully.
"The rest of the order was entirely Amy's affair," Richard continued, "and it would be easier to tell you what she didn't buy than otherwise. When she finally worked her way around to the liquor counter, I did point out that her aunt Mabel was a teetotaler, but she ignored me. She bought everything for a cocktail bar except the chairs and tables. The grocer had tears in his eyes when we left."
I clutched at my head and moaned. "Mrs. Ballinger will have a stroke when she gets that bill, after all that's happened to her—"
"Is she broke?"Joe asked.
"No," I said, "but she just doesn't like to spend money."
Joe nodded tolerantly. "I'm that way myself. I started out with nothing, and today I can sign my name to a check for ten thousand or better." He tilted his chair back, produced his toothpick, and surveyed us triumphantly.
"Nice work," said Richard admiringly. "Don't forget to send us a check when we get married."
Joe let his chair down with a bang and leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Are youse two planning to get married?"
Richard nodded sunnily. "Not necessarily to each other, of course, but in that case, you can split the check in half."
Joe relaxed and said, "Oh. Wise guy, eh?"
"Conceited, too," I supplied. "I don't care for his beauty myself. I prefer your type. More virile, you know."
Joe ran a reflective hand over what was left of his hair, then jammed it suddenly into his pocket and shot me a suspicious look.
"That won't get you nowhere, lady."
I said, "Oh," and gave him one of Amy's best pouts.
"How could I become a virile type, Joe?" Richard asked.
"If it means what I think it means,"Joe said disapprovingly, "she oughta be ashamed of herself talkin' about such things in front of two guys she don't hardly know. Now let's get down to business. I want to know the financial status of this family."
"Do you understand what he means by financial status, Smithy?" Richard asked kindly. "Or shall I explain it to you?"
"You keep outa this, Jones," said the Law. "Now I tried to question the old lady about it, but she shut up like a clam and acted like I was tryin' to sell her a gold mine. I'm gettin' in touch with her lawyer, so I'll find out about it anyways. But maybe you can give me a rough idea so I can get on with it."
I told him what I knew of the trust fund for John, Berg and Freda but admitted that I could only guess at the state of Mrs. Ballinger's finances. I believed, though, that her money had been put into insurance annuities for herself, which meant that when she died she would leave nothing but the house.
"And who gets the house, in that case?"Joe asked.
But I did not know. I felt convinced that she had not made a will, for I knew that she hated any mention or thought of her death, and I did not think that she had planned for it in any way.
Joe dropped it and returned to the trust fund. "Now that these two Ballingers are dead, does the third one get their share as well as his own?"
I didn't know that either. Richard said thoughtfully, "Probably Berg does get it. I don't know whether there was any provision for Rhynda in connection with it, but I think not."
"What about the baby?"Joe asked bluntly.
Richard shook his head. "Nothing to do with the trust fund, I'm pretty sure. But I know John has left Rhynda well provided for quite apart from that."
I raised my hand suddenly at that point to brush the hair away from my face and scratched myself badly on the pin that I had stuck into the collar of my bathrobe. I pulled it out impatiently and looked at it for a moment before I remembered that I had picked it up from the floor of the closet in the bathroom.
I noticed that it differed from an ordinary pin in that it had a black head, although that was the only difference. I said nothing about it but put it back into my collar and privately decided to search the house in the morning and find out if there were any more like it.
Joe yawned loudly, stretched, let his chair down with a bang, and got to his feet. "I'
m gonna sleep it off till the boys come," he announced. "Guess I'll have this thing cleared up by tomorrow night."
We followed him out of the kitchen and watched him settle down on a couch in the living room. He seemed to go to sleep on the way down, because he was no sooner settled than he gave a gentle snore.
"Quite a talent, that," said Richard admiringly. He turned to me and added severely, "Come on. It's time you were in bed. You keep the most abominable hours!"
We went up the stairs, and I said tiredly, "It's all been so horrible! I don't feel as though I'd ever sleep straight through the night again." He took my hand and squeezed it, and we walked down the hall to my door.
"Breakfast at nine," I said, "and the funeral's at eleven."
He nodded. He was looking down at me and did not seem to be thinking of either breakfast or the funeral. "Get a good night's sleep, Smithy, and try to put the whole thing out of your mind." He leaned toward me without haste and kissed me on the lips. "Just a sample, and I hope it shows Bill up as a tyro and a mug."
He went off towards his own room, and I backed rather hastily into mine. The reading lamp over the bed was lighted as I had left it, and I did not turn on the main switch. I locked the door, threw my dressing gown over a chair, and got into bed quickly. I turned off the light, drew the bedclothes up to my chin, and sighed with relief as I felt my body relaxing. The moon was very bright, and after my eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, I could see the larger objects in the room fairly well. I could see the rocking chair at the foot of the bed.
Suddenly, with a shuddering gasp and a violent jerking of all my muscles, I was sitting erect.
Freda was in the rocking chair, her face turned to the window and shining with a greenish pallor in the moonlight.
CHAPTER 15
I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION of it, but I must have put on the reading light, for they found it on later. I got to the door, somehow and struggled madly with the lock, but my fingers were numb and I could not seem to make them work properly. The door gave suddenly at last, and I stumbled out into the hall. My legs gave way then, and I fell onto the carpet. I could not get up again, but I cried out and was hazily conscious of a door opening down the hall.
The Black-Headed Pins Page 9
