Cornell said, “Did you, Milly?”
She looked at him with surprise. He balanced the knife on two fingers and said, “He was stabbed to death. Stabbed a dozen times by somebody who hated him very much. He was killed with a knife like this.”
The blonde went pale. She glanced at Rulov. “I didn’t do it! I hated him, but I didn’t do it!”
“You’d have killed me if you could,” Cornell said.
“That’s different.”
“I don’t see how. Did you go to Stone’s last night?”
“No, I didn’t.” Her voice strengthened with defiance. “I think I know you now. What are your trying to do, solve this mess yourself?”
“If I can,” Cornell nodded.
“The cops will get you first.”
“I’ll make a good try,” Cornell said. He looked at Rulov, who stared. “Were you at Overlook last night?”
The gray-haired man nodded. “Yes, I was.”
“Yvan…”
“It is all right, Milly. I must tell him. He knows. I was careless, you see. There was some paint on my smock, and he saw it. I must have brushed against something. He knows I was there. But I did not kill Stone, Milly.”
She said “I know you didn’t.”
He looked at Cornell. “But I wanted to. It was in my mind. I meant to kill him if he—if he was not reasonable. This life is not easy for me. I could have had a fortune, I could have been famous, I could have given Milly the whole world, if it was not for Jason Stone and what he did to me.”
“I’ve got the world,” Milly said. “I’ve got you.”
Rulov smiled tolerantly. “I am not good for Milly, but I cannot convince her so. Milly began as my model, not too many years ago, and one night I asked her to marry me. She was foolish enough to accept. Now she feels she must defend me against you and the rest of the world.”
Milly spoke with sudden decision: “Yvan, we’ve got to trust him. He’s in as much trouble as we are.”
“Yes,” Rulov nodded.
“Maybe he can help us, too.”
Cornell said, “Perhaps we can help each other.”
Rulov said, “You didn’t kill Stone?”
“No.”
“A pity.”
Milly said something pungent. She seemed unconcerned about her negligee now. She sat close to the gray-haired man.
“Look,” she said, “none of us killed Jason Stone, even though we all wanted to. No matter what you think about that knife business, I didn’t go to Overlook or see Stone last night. He never met me. But I knew plenty about him. He’s why we’re stuck here, instead of having a decent place for Yvan’s talents to be used, instead of living decently. We have to cater to a bunch of nitwits who use art as an excuse for a lot of crazy drinking and having affairs. I didn’t go to Overlook. But Yvan did.”
Cornell looked at the man. “Why?”
“I wanted to appeal to his better nature—if he had one.”
“What did Stone ever do to you?”
“You would not know. It was just after the war, a competition, you understand, open to any artist, to do the murals for a new government building. There is no need for details. The board of judges accepted my preliminary sketches and awarded me the contract. It was a great triumph. I think then I was the happiest man alive. It was the crowning achievement.” The man hesitated. “I wonder if you can understand.”
“I think I do,” Cornell said. “And I think I can guess what happened.”
“Stone,” Milly said, spitting the word as if it were something vile. “After all the speeches and the contract, Stone came along and said Yvan’s murals were subversive, un-American, and I don’t know what-all. He started a campaign in his rotten newspapers and Yvan was smeared from hell to breakfast. Listen, there wasn’t anything wrong with those murals. And there’s nothing wrong with Yvan’s patriotism, either. He got out of Russia one jump ahead of the Bolsheviks in 1917. But Stone made the judges withdraw the award. We found out later he wanted one of his stooges to do the murals. They’re peeling off the walls right now, only five years after the paint was put on.”
The girl’s voice was bitter. Her wide mouth trembled. “Can you imagine what that did to Yvan? It killed him. He’s never been the same since. He’s dead inside, because of what Stone did to him. He can’t paint like he used to, because Stone put fear into him and put it in good, so he can’t sweat it out no matter how much he drinks. Yvan never drank before all this happened.”
Cornell nodded. “But this was five years ago, you say. What made you go to Stone last night?”
The man sighed. “It was a mistake.”
“Tell him, Yvan,” Milly urged.
“I had hope again. Milly gave me hope. There is a new competition. For a public building in Richmond. I submitted a design for murals, and I was told it would win the award. It may be a new beginning. It may mean a new life for Milly and me. But I forgot that a man like Jason Stone never leaves a thing unfinished. He had not forgotten me. He visited me here, a week ago, to tell me he would expose me and stop my winning the award. So last night, when I saw his car go by, I knew he would be at Overlook and I went to see him. I do not know. I had crazy ideas. I did not want anyone to know where I was going, because I myself did not know what I meant to do. So Milly made the party and invited all our students and there was much drinking and noise and confusion. And I slipped away for a little time, and went to see Mr. Stone.”
“Did you actually talk to him?” Cornell asked.
“No. I had no chance. Others were there.”
“Who?”
Rulov looked confused. “It is difficult to remember. When I came back, I got drunk. Good and drunk.”
“Why?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why did you get so drunk?”
Rulov said, “Because I had the feeling that this would happen. That someone would know I had been there. And then I would be finished.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Cornell said grimly. “You remember who was there. Perhaps you saw the murder committed.”
“I—I think I did.”
“You think?”
“I tell you it is all confused. I am sorry now I was weak and drank so much, because I want to remember everything I saw. But I was afraid, so I tried to forget, like an ostrich, and stuck my head in a bottle.”
“Yvan…” Milly said helplessly.
He patted her hand and smiled. “Perhaps another drink?”
She got up, but paused as Cornell spoke. “No. No more for him now. Not until he makes sense. It’s important, Milly.”
“Yes,” she said, and sat down again.
“You remember going there, don’t you?” Cornell asked.
Rulov nodded. “Yes.”
“Who let you in when you arrived?”
“No one.”
“There were no servants?”
“No. I just walked in. Mr. Hand and Mr. Stone were in that long room of his, and I—”
“Sam Hand?” Cornell asked sharply.
“Why, yes. Is something wrong.?”
“Hand is alibied in Washington last night. Are you sure it was Sam Hand with Stone when you arrived?”
“That much I remember,” Rulov nodded. “I have had dealings with Hand. The man is a monster. He would do every evil thing Stone asked him to do, and add a few touches of his own.”
“Did they see you when you arrived?”
“I think not. I heard their voices and I looked inside. The hall was dark. I made no noise. I was puzzled by the lack of servants. And then I heard them quarreling over that very matter. Hand was denying having sent a telegram of some kind.”
“Yes, I know about that,” Cornell said. “Go on.”
Rulov shivered. “I remember little more. It is hazy, clear in spots and lost in others. I am sorry I got drunk.”
“Tell me what you can,” Cornell urged.
The man looked haggard. “I went outside. Presently, while
I waited, a car drew up and I saw Congressman Keach get out. He went in and they all quarreled. The Congressman was objecting to something Stone wanted him to do. He wanted some papers back first. Your name was mentioned, Mr. Cornell. Keach sounded almost desperate. Stone and Hand rebuked him and told him he had to go on with it, whatever it was. Keach kept asking for the papers, and Stone said they would be returned when the job was done. Finally Stone went out of the house, into the garden, and smoked a cigar. I was about to approach him when another car came along. I hid in the shrubbery and watched.”
“Why were you hiding?” Cornell asked.
“I knew this was not the time to speak to Stone. And I thought I might learn something to help my argument. I am not sure what my motives were.”
“You weren’t armed, were you?”
Rulov shuddered. “I had a gun. Not a knife.”
“Who was in the second car?”
“Mrs. Stone and—I do not recall the name.”
“Paul Evarts?” Cornell prompted.
“Yes. Yes, that is right.”
Milly said suddenly, “Look, Yvan is sick, he can’t—”
“It is all right, Milly,” Rulov said wearily. “The man is fighting for his life. We all are. We must help each other, but I am sorry it is all so vague to me. I remember Mrs. Stone went inside, and then out into the garden. She, too, quarreled with Stone, but I could not hear them distinctly.”
“Where were Hand and Keach at this time?”
“I do not know. I do not remember where Evarts went, either. Eventually, Stone went to the boathouse. Mrs. Stone walked in the garden. She was crying, I think. I—I am not sure now.”
“You’ve been pretty detailed this far.”
“Yes. But now I had a drink. I had a flask with me. I drank it all, trying to get courage to go to the boat-house and ask Stone to leave me alone, to let me get the award. I lost touch with the people around the house. If I had known that he would be murdered in a few minutes, of course, I—” He paused and shrugged helplessly. “I was in the garden, or on the edge of it, when Stone cried out. I was not sure then it was Stone, or what was happening. I had finished my flask. Someone came out of the boathouse, and a few minutes later Congressman Keach ran to his car and drove away. I saw him strike you as you came walking up the driveway. I slipped into the house from the garden side, and that is where you almost caught me. I ran away, and came back here. The party was still going on, but I remember nothing of it, except that Milly helped me get to bed.”
Rulov seemed to have exhausted his strength. He sank back on his elbows, chest heaving, the pale skin along his ribs wrinkled and flabby. Milly got up and put her glass away. The cat had curled up in a corner, after lapping up half the rye in Cornell’s glass.
Milly’s eyes and bold, half-naked figure challenged him. “Satisfied? Yvan was telling the truth. He didn’t kill Stone.”
Cornell said, “He hasn’t told me all of it.”
“Now, look—”
Cornell gestured toward the paint-stained smock. “Yvan, you were at the boathouse, too, weren’t you?”
“No,” the man whispered.
Milly said harshly, “He doesn’t remember! He was drunk!”
“Then he could have killed Stone and blacked out about it, couldn’t he?”
Milly’s face was white. “Look. He tried to help you. He’s told you everything he remembers.”
Cornell ignored her. “Yvan!”
The man’s eyes were closed. His breathing was heavy and irregular. His naked torso glistened with sweat. Milly made a brief sardonic sound in her throat.
“He’s out cold. It was that last drink.”
Cornell said, “But he hasn’t solved anything.”
“You won’t get any more out of him for a couple of hours. Take my word for it.”
He hesitated. He hadn’t got much except for the introduction of Sam Hand as a definite element in the picture. But he was disturbed about Rulov. The man might be lying, but there was no way to find out about it. The order of events at Overlook last night was clearer, assuming that part of Rulov’s story to be true, but the important part about the boathouse was lost in the alcoholic fog in the man’s brain. He wondered about Milly. She wasn’t stupid. Behind her bold green eyes was a protective ruthlessness that stood like a shield between his questions and the snoring man on the bed.
Still in her tatters and unconcerned as before, Milly started for the door. Cornell followed. The cat woke up and staggered down the steep stairway after them. In the disheveled room below, Milly sighed and said:
“I’m glad you’re not going to pester him any more. I’m sorry I lost my head and went for you with the knife. I just go crazy when something threatens Yvan. You know how it is between us?”
“I have a pretty good idea,” Cornell said.
“I doubt it. He was the first man who was ever decent to me, without wanting payment. You know. I was just a big hunky kid from around Scranton, and all I knew were the roadhouses between the coal patches, and drunken miners pawing me before I was fourteen. I thought that was the way things always were, until I met Yvan. He was painting the collieries, and he wanted me to pose as a model. I posed for over six weeks, and he never put a finger on me. And then he asked me to marry him. So I did.”
Cornell said nothing, and Milly looked beyond him into a past that was both ugly and beautiful. Her voice was thoughtful. “I’ve cheated on him, you know. I couldn’t help it. I even had some ideas about you, the minute you came inside.”
“I know,” Cornell said.
“Sure. The men always know. But Yvan doesn’t know.”
“Keep it that way,” Cornell said. He watched the Maltese try to jump to a couch under the sunny window. Cellini was too drunk to make it. Cornell stooped and picked him up and deposited him in the sunlight. The cat looked at him vaguely and curled up to sleep. Cornell said, “You’d kill to keep Yvan happy, wouldn’t you, Milly?”
“I would. But I didn’t,” she said.
Cornell said, “All right. There’s something else I want to ask about. There’s a girl, Sally Smith. Was she around here earlier today, asking questions?”
“The same questions?”
“Yes.”
Milly shrugged her bare shoulders. “I was dead to the world. If she came here before noon, she could have knocked the door down, and I wouldn’t have heard her. Yvan was still asleep, too. So I can’t help you on that. Who is Sally Smith, anyway?”
“A girl I know.”
Milly said quietly, “Worried about her?”
“Yes. She said she was coming here, and that was over four hours ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Milly said. “I didn’t see her.” She paused. “Wait around a while, and I’ll get dressed and fix us something to eat. You don’t want the cops to catch you on the street.”
“I’ve been all right so far.”
“Don’t stretch your luck. I’ll be right down.”
Without waiting for his answer, she went upstairs. Cornell stood by the window and idly scratched Cellini’s ears. He heard the girl’s ballet slippers move softly up above, but there was no sound of conversation, and he decided Rulov was really out cold. There was nothing more he could learn here. There was no way of finding out if Sally had come here. He was sure now that something had gone wrong with her plans for this morning. She was in trouble, and his frustration deepened as he realized there was little he could do about it.
Through the window he could see a small portion of Main Street. There was no one in sight. And then, just as he decided to leave quietly without seeing Milly again, someone came quickly around the corner and crossed toward the barn. A tall man with a gaunt face and eyes that regarded the disreputable lawn, with its beds of discarded liquor bottles, with extreme distaste. Cornell stiffened and a wry grin touched his mouth as the man decided to come on. In a moment all his plans were changed as he waited for the newcomer. It was Congressman Ira Keach.
CHAPTE
R TWELVE
THE man had no chance to retreat. Cornell slammed the door behind him and leaned back against it before Keach could open his mouth to exclaim. Entering from the bright sunlight, he did not recognize Cornell for a moment. Then the man’s mouth thinned to an uncompromising line. His hawk’s face was harsh and puritanical as he regarded Cornell. He said finally:
“This is an unpleasant surprise.”
“I can imagine,” Cornell said. “But not unpleasant for me. This gives me an opportunity to reverse our positions, Congressman.”
“I won’t stay here.”
Cornell said, “You’ll stay here long enough for me to ask you a few questions, Congressman.”
“Nonsense. You can’t get away with it. The police are looking for you. You killed Jason Stone.”
Cornell said, “Did I?”
“Well, they believe—”
“You know I didn’t kill Stone—you above everyone else, because your car almost killed me when you came tearing away from Overlook last night. You saw me when I arrived. And the reason you were in such a frantic hurry to get away was that Stone was already dead, murdered before I got there!”
“I don’t know—I can’t say—”
“You do know,” Cornell said grimly. “And you will say.”
Keach looked ghastly. A muscle twitched along the bony ridge of his jaw, and his eyes darted right and left. There came a soft footfall from the stairs and Milly was there, in a thin striped blouse and a gray skirt, her blonde hair combed and lipstick on her wide mouth. She regarded Keach with no pleasure.
“Is this Grand Central Station?” she demanded.
Keach seized on her presence. “I want to see Mr. Rulov.”
“What for?”
“About his visit to Overlook last night,” Keach said tightly. “I must speak to him about it.”
Cornell said, “I’ve gone through it with him. He’s drunk or frightened, and can’t tell you anything. But he saw you there, and mentioned your brief visit to the boathouse.”
Keach licked his lips. “His testimony is worth nothing.”
“Then why did you come here?”
State Department Murders Page 10
