The Case of the Weird Sisters

by Charlotte Armstrong

  Finally he looked up and smiled. "I can see Gertrude," he said, "the eldest princess, with her drawing-room accomplishments, her china painting, her singing, her proper elegance. But what did Maud do?"

  "Do?" said the doctor. "Why, I don't know that Maud

  did any of those things. Maud was . . . well, rather more the hoyden. She had no accomplishments."

  "Bet she had a hammock," Fred said.

  The doctor looked at him queerly. "Yes," he said.

  "And Isabel?"

  "Let me see. Isabel was always busy. But I'm sure I can't tell you . . . She collected stamps at one time. It seems to me that she had quick enthusiasms that didn't last."

  "Say," said Fred eagerly, "could I ask hun something?"

  Duff looked pleased and interested.

  "I wondered if Maud's still mad at you," Fred said. "I had a kind of crazy idea that maybe she pushed that lamp over thinking it was you down below. I guess it's crazy, but I wondered, just die same."

  The doctor looked distressed. His eyes rolled. "I don't thmk . . ." he began.

  Duff said, "No, Fred, she isn't that mad at him. Not any more."

  "How do you know?" said a startled Fred.

  I>uff's eyes were on the doctor's face. "I daresay she carries on the old antagonism, but not seriously, Fred. A woman isn't angry enough to murder the suitor who jilted her twenty-five years ago."

  "Certainly not," said the doctor, gasping.

  "Especially since she's . . . er . . . had . . ." Duff stopped.

  The doctor said, "Who told you!"

  "You did," Duff said, "or at least you confirm my suspicion. As a matter of fact, Fred and Alice told me. Also, Josephine."

  The doctor took off his glasses and polished them frantically. "I tell you, Mr. Duff, she said things to me the other night that made me sick to my stomach. Terrible! A terrible woman. Lustful, horrible, disgusting. No moral starch in her."

  "I don't care for Maud, myself," murmured Fred, "but for God's sake . . ."

  "She taunted me!" the doctor said. "Dear God, as if I cared!"

  "Josephine touched her cross," said Duff. "I wonder, do her sisters know?"

  Fred looked illuminated, and then grim. "They can smell, can't they?" he said.

  The doctor looked greenish-white.

  "But I'll tell you one thing, Mr. Duff," said Fred. "What those two don't want to know, they don't let themselves know they know."

  "I think," said Duff, "you've put your finger on it. Yes, I think you have."

  "I have!" said Fred, amazed.

  A man in the dark clothes of a minister came up the front walk from the gate.

  "Here's Foster with a job for me, I suppose," said Dr. Follett. "The Methodist preacher, Mr. Duff. Our only Protestant Church. Wait. I'll... er ... send him away."

  Duff rose and stood quite still. "Do the Whidock girls go to church?"

  "No, no, but they're members. They used to be. Stephen . . ."

  "How I would like to ask that man three rude and prying questions," Duff said, "and I can't."

  He stood still, and the doctor bristled. "I think you can." He rose to the challenge in Duff's manner. "He's a friend of mine, and he doesn't gossip. Nether he nor I can afford it. Let me speak to him. I think I can guarantee you your answers."

  The doctor bustled importantly to the door and spoke with an air of great confidence to the sad-eyed man in the black suit. Fred would have winked, but Duff was looking with mild pleasure at a flowering tree visible through the window.

  . "Dr. Follett tells me you have three questions," said the Reverend Mr. Foster. "Please feel free to ask them. Anything I can do. Of course, there are some secrets . .."

  The man of God braced himself.

  Duff smiled his charming smile. "My questions aren't too shocking," he said. "This is the first one: Does Miss Gertrude Whitlock contribute generously to the upkeep of your church?"

  The minister looked judicious. He smacked his lips. "She contributes regularly," he said, "a sum which seems to me quite proper. Certainly, I appreciate her faithful support, and . . ."

  "A gcx)d answer," said Duff warmly. "Now does Miss Maud Whitlock contribute generously, and so forth?"

  "Miss Maud has been very generous on occasion," said Mr. Foster, upon taking thought. "She does not contribute regularly, but I have at times mentioned a special need to her and known her to empty her purse. Yes. Why . . ."

  "Thank you very much," said Duff with a gleam in his eye. "Does Miss Isabel Whidock, and so forth, and so fordi?"

  The minister said stiffy, "She has not contributed since I have been in Ogaunee. Of course, I cannot say what she may or may not . . ."

  "You are very kind," said Duff, "and I must keep my word and not keep you. Thank you, doctor, for your help. I am most grateful for it."

  The doctor blushed with pleasure. Duff could give pleasure. His thanks were sincere. But the minister looked rather baffled and disappointed. His sad eyes followed them as they left.

  "Mrs. Innes's house," Duff said, in the car.

  Fred chuckled. ''He coulda gone on."

  Duffs eyelids crinkled. "And on," he said. "An articulate man in a small town full of inarticulate people. Poor fellow. Well, he interrupted us, but perhaps to some benefit. We haven't time to wait him out, Fred. We are hot on the trail."

  "You don't say," said Fred with delight. "Of what?"

  "Lunch," said Duff.

  17

  Killeen, entering Innes's bedroom, sensed crisis in the air, and he walked softly. "I'm ready now, Innes. Shall I come back later?"

  "No," said Innes angrily, "come in now." He looked at Alice and spread a benign smile over his irritation. "Alice has got the colly-wobbles," he said.

  Alice faced him with an indignant murmur.

  "But I know," said Innes, holding up his hand in a traffic cop's stop gesture, "that no matter what she says, she is a friend of mine."

  Alice said, "That's true, of course."

  "So she'll do something for me," said Imies, keeping the third person, as if he were talking to a child, "she'll run down and fetch Josephine and Mr. Johnson."

  "Of course I will," said Alice, "if you want them. Innes, what are you going to do?"

  "I'm going to sign my will," he snapped, "and they're going to witness it."

  "You can't."

  "On the contrary." Innes was cold and his mouth was thin. "You don't seem to realize that your girlish doubts are interfering with a plan for my safety."

  "I have no doubts," said Alice, "girlish or otherwise."

  "I don't care whether you have or not. I intend to stay alive."

  Art Killeen was giving a good imitation of a deaf mute.

  "You have my permission," said Alice dryly, "to stay alive."

  "We mustn't quarrel," cried Innes, melting suddenly into panic. "Alice, don't you see! Here I am helpless, in bed! And you know what I'm afraid of. I had it all worked out, this scheme. To make it worth their while to protect me. And I'm going on with it. You shan't stop me. You have no right to stop me!"

  "Please don't upset yourself," Alice said quietly. "I'm not stopping you."

  "Helpless . . . helpless . . ." Innes tossed as much as he was able. "Now . . . now, when I need your support, when I need your loyalty . . . you choose this moment. . ."

  Alice picked up the pillbox, shook one out, and put it, with a glass of water, in his hand.

  "Don't stew," she said coldly. "It's not disloyal to tell the truth."

  "Alice, don't leave me!"

  "I think . . ." KiUeen backed toward the door.

  "Where are you going? You stay here," Innes commanded. He picked up briskness. "Alice, if you please, at least you can ask Josephine and Mr. Johnson to come up here. If this distresses you so much, remember, I can change my will again."

  "I can't stop you from making a will," she said. "Why

  can't you put another name in place of mine? Mr. Killeen's, for instance."

  Killeen looked start
led, and Innes looked stubborn. His hair was mussed, his little mustache out of order. But his eyes shot lightning at her.

  "I shall do as I planned. We'll discuss the rest of it later. Please hurry. YouVe delayed this already."

  Alice started to leave the room with what meek dignity she could, but she thought of something and turned back.

  "You'll stay right here?" she said to Killeen.

  AH his bewilderment showed through his mask. "Yes of course."

  "He mustn't be left alone."

  "I see. I see."

  "You'd better stay until Fred comes back," said Alice. "It seems I'm going to have the motive now."

  She walked out, leaving their two faces blank with astonishment.

  When Fred and Duff came in they found Alice roaming distractedly aroimd the sitting room. "He's signed his will," she annoimced.

  "Who's with him?"

  "Art ... Mr. Killeen."

  "Do they know?"

  "Not yet," Alice said. "Look, Fred, I'm sorry, but you're on duty, that is if there is any more guard duty. I can't be."

  "Why not?"

  "Well, that" she said. "Look at my big expensive motive. Besides, we had a fight. With a witness."

  "Are you nuts?" Fred said.

  "No. I broke my engagement." She dared him to wonder why.

  "Broke the . . . ?"

  "May I say, congratulations?" said MacDougal Duff gendy.

  Fred said, without smiling, "I hope you'll be very happy."

  He marched upstairs without looking back. Alice felt like a child who's been unjustly slapped. She looked around at Mac Duff, whose fine eyes were friendly.

  "I've been misunderstood," he said. "It's not a re-boxind, is it?"

  Her face cleared. "Oh, no." Then she said, "Oh." Then she blushed. Then she said. "Yes, but how ... ?"

  "My dear, I have the advantage of having been at school with the two of you, but that young man who drives for Mr. Whidock is clever enough . .."

  "I don't know what you're talking about?" said Alice in a fluster.

  "Of course not." Duff was being very placid. "I do that, you know. Speak in riddles every once in a whUe. It builds me up. Forgive me, Alice. Do you still want to know who tried to murder Innes?"

  "Of course I do. Mr. Duff, why did you congratulate me?"

  "Because I'm old-fashioned," said Duff. "Where are the girls?"

  "I don't know." She moved beside him toward the hall. "Did you get any dope at the doctor's?"

  "Some, about the past."

  "Did it help?"

  "It inclines me to wonder," said Duff evasively. "Where shall we find them?"

  "In their own rooms, I guess."

  "Then let us go to their own rooms. By all means. I want to see them in their lairs. You come along and introduce me. In fact, I want to see their lairs."

  "But who are you?" said Alice. She felt suddenly gay.

  "I hadn't thought," he said. "Who am I, after all?"

  "I haven't the faintest idea. What on earth are you doing here?"

  Duff shook his head.

  "It won't do," she said.

  "I am an historian."

  Alice was quick. "Are you interested in old families, by any chance?"

  "I dote on them. I'ma friend of yours, too."

  "All right. It'll work on Gertrude."

  "Well, then where does Gertrude hole up?"

  Alice giggled. "She looks as if she lives under a rock," she whispered. "In here. There's a door. I dare you to knock."

  "Before we knock," said MacDougal Duff, "let us review our objectives. Now let me see. First, we should like to know where Gertrude was last night and what she knows about where her sisters were. Also we are interested in her sleeves."

  "Oh, dear."

  "You try the sleeves. After all, she's supposed to be blind. Item two, is she blind? I think you'd better not be surprised at anything I do. Not out loud, anyway."

  "I'll be careful."

  "But most important, we want to know what Gertrude is. What, from her inside, might impel her to murder? Lines thinks she wants revenge. Fred thinks she wants his money. What does Gertrude want in this world, and how badly?"

  "Oh, dear," said Alice.

  "And watch the room. Notice. Look around. She lives there if she lives anjrwhere. It may tell us whether or not she can see, and other" things.

  "Look sharp, now," said Mac Duff, and he knocked on Gertrude's door.

  "Come in," called Gertrude.

  Alice opened the door. "Miss Gertrude, this is Alice Brennan. I've brought Mr. Duff to see you. He's a very old friend of mine, a professor of American History, from New York. Staying with Mrs. Innes," she wound up breathlessly. "And he's been so anxious to meet you."

  "How do you do, Mr. Duff," said Gertrude in her cool soprano. She inclined her head.

  "It's very good of you to see me," said Duff in his quiet voice. "Everywhere I go, I try to talk with members of old and important families. You can understand that, as an historian, I find them fascinating."

  Gertrude's face showed a flash of animation.

  "Please sit down," she said. "The armchair to the left of my bed, as you are standing. You'll find it comfortable."

  Gertrude herself, sat in an ancient rocker, upright, as usual. She wore gray sUk, a grim plain pattern, vastiy unbecoming and marred by a spot or two.

  Her room was large and square, almost cubic, it seemed, so high was the ceiling. It was very bare and pain-

  fully in order. Her bed wore an old-fashioned white bedspread. The window curtains were white. There was very litde color. Not a great deal of furniture. There were three tables in the big room, and Alice, conning the objects that stood on them, was surprised how few these were. The table near the bed had no lamp. A jug for water and a glass. That was all. The table near the window in the bay had a low bowl with bulbs in it. Narcissus. The table against the wall held a small wooden frame with some yam stretched across it, a device for weaving. It had scarcely been started. There was also a pack of playing cards.

  The walls were perfectly bare. There were no pictures, but the conventional mirror was attached to the dresser. There were no books in the room. In the comer stood an old-fashioned phonograph with a crank. No radio. Alice wondered about that. But the radio was the voice of the brawling, tumultuous world; and this bare orderly room was Gertmde's, into which the tumult did not penetrate. Alice thought: I wonder if it gets into her mind. I wonder if she knows there is a war.

  It was a sad room, somehow, and Alice looked with some pity at the woman's face.

  That all-over straw-colored effect, she thought, would vanish with a little rouge and a lick or two with an eyebrow pencil. But of course not, although, peering closer, Alice thought she detected a streak of face powder. Straw-colored face powder, she supposed to herself, with an inner smUe.

  Gertrude was speaking, "My father's forebears come from New England. My mother was of old southem stock, although of a branch that migrated north and west."

  She knew her stuff, thought Alice. The delicate disdain with which Gertrude skirted sheer boasting alienated her agam.

  Duff knew his stuff, too. He rounded out her picture with knowing murmurs. Through the room paraded the past, full of gallant and blue-blooded people.

  Alice got up and tiptoed toward the closet door, which luckily stood open a crack. CJertrnde's sightless face was toward her. She felt conspicuous and exposed. The door swung easily as she touched it. Gertrude's dresses hung in

  perfect order on a bar that ran across the closet. Surely, in no other closet did all the dresses face one way. All the left sleeves were toward her. She ran through them quickly. The right sleeves would be more difficult. She would have to burrow. And noiselessly.

  Duff was saying, "I wonder if you can describe your father for me, Miss Gertrude? lliat type of man, the aristocratic pioneer, I call him, seems to me to have made a great deal of our history."

  "I can see that you are right," agreed Ger
trude. "My father was a man of great vigor and ability." Two halves of a buckle clicked as the dresses swayed. Gertrude was rnunediately alert. "Alice . . . ?" she said.

  Alice caught her breath. How could she speak from behind Duff, where she shouldn't be? Desperately, she grabbed for the last sleeve to inspect it. She would do her job, anyhow.

  Then she took two steps, swiftly, away from the closet. "I thought, perhaps an ash tray," she said.

  Duff had a cigarette in his hand, like magic. "I believe I have automatically taken out a cigarette," he said apologetically. "Forgive me, Miss Gertrude? Do you mind smoke?"

  "Not at all," said Gertrude graciously. "Alice, dear, you will find an ash tray on the window sill of the bay."

  "That green dish?" said Duff.

  "A small glass dish," said Gertrude.

  "Oh, yes, I have it." Alice brought the dish, which was amber, to Duff, and he reached his hand for it.

  "Thank you."

  Then her heart jumped. Duff didn't move and he made no sound, but his face contorted with revulsion and horror and surprise. The glass dish in her hand was perfectly clean and empty. She could see that. There was nothing wrong with it. Unless invisible insects wriggled there. Or Duff could see something loathsome under her shaking fingers that were loosening, in spite of her. She nearly dropped it.

  Duff's hand went imder the dish. He said, and by a miracle of control, his voice reflected nothing that was in his face, "Do you smoke. Miss Gertrude?"

  "Thank you no," said Gertrude. There was no ripple in her. If she could see Duffs face at all, she, too, had

  miraculous control not to cry out, "What's the matter?" But she said, "I don't smoke, Mr. Duff. I think, perhaps, because I am blind, you know.''

  Duff put the ash tray down on his knee and lit his cigarette. He leaned forward, bringing his face only a few feet from Gertrude Whitlock. "I'm glad you said that," he told her. "One never can be quite sure . . . I've known blind persons who seem offended if their misfortune is mentioned. Why is that. Miss Gertrude? Because they wish to pretend . .. ?"

  Gertrude said in her superior way, "I am never offended. After all, to be blind is to be different from people who retain their sight." Her tone came close to suggesting that people often retained their sight through sheer vulgarity. "One can scarcely pretend. There are many difficulties, of course. But I simply resolved that I would not be a burden."