Something blue (13 page)

Dorothy said, "Lies and secrets and the poor man in prison ..."

Blanche said to her pityingly, "But he did the killing, Dorothy. There was no injustice."

Bait said, "You come with me, Sims." He rose. .1

"Bart?" Blanche's voice trembled after him, but her hus- i| band did not stop or turn.

Johnny followed him into the wide hall, past the stairs, into the study. Johnny's thoughts whirled.

In the dark, he was thinking. A young girl, sneaking downstairs in a dark house. A young girl, breaking and entering, excited—thrilled as they say—in a strange room

and smely almost in the dark. Whatever Blanche thought she knew, Johnny did not know it. Did not know it, at alll

The square study was dark. Bait turned up a light.

He began to rummage in a low drawer under one of the glass-doored bookcases. "I've kept a lot of stuff," he muttered. He pulled out manila folders. He rose from the squat-ing position. "The servants' names, maybe."

"It was so long ago," said Johrmy slowly. "I didn't know the people."

"Neither did I, it seems," snapped Bart.

"Tell me about Nathaniel," Johnny said. "An artist, was he?"

"He used to paint," Bart said dryly.

"I don't know what to think," said Johnny rubbing his head. "Do you?"

Bart stood still. "No, I don't. My mx)ther was fantastically devoted to Nathaniel. He took shelter in her, and that 'flattered her, I suppose. Whereas I struck away on my own. But I am the son who takes care of her, as my father did." Johnny suddenly saw this to be a tenet of his pride.

Bart had paused. Then he said, "Nathaniel was a liar. He hed when he claimed he'd had nothing to do with Kate Callahan. My mother knew that much. But he got 'Ay mother to cover for him—and lie." Bart's mouth was a little bitter. "He got his son to cover for him—and steal. I am as anxious as you are to get to the bottom of this, now." Then he was blimt. "You want to think Dick had done it?"

Johnny said, "What I want is outside this matter, I hope. Did Dick get your wife to cover for him, too?"

Bart said, "In the dark?"

"Who told her what time it was?" Johnny said gently.

Nervously, Bart opened a folder. "What about this money?" He raised his head. "Dick claims not to have knovwi that Nan was any kind of an heiress. But did he know?"

"He may have," said Johnny cautiously. "I've thought of that, too."

"The reason I ask—" Bart said. "Has it ever struck you that Dick is attracted to Miss Dorothy?"

"No," said Johnny with shock.

"Watch him," said Bart grimly. "She is a beautiful girl and a most magnetic one. A plum, that Dorothy I Why is a man hke Dick attracted to the Httler one? Littler, in every sense."

Johnny said stiffly, "Nan was always shy."

"I'd like you to understand about the business," Bart said, verring. "There are replacements to be made. We need bot-thng machines, crushers, tractors. I'm into the bank already. Now my mother will give her interests to Dick. I have no right to stop her. They amount to a small percentage. Now, if Dick produces a hunk of capital immediately, I ought to take his money, count him a full partner. My mother expects it." Bart's face was hard. "I have been in this business for years. Dick has been what they call 'around.' He's done the so-called adventuresome stuff. He is tough, you'd tliink?"

Johnny murmured, "Hadn't thought . . ."

"Dick is the weak one," Bart said. "He never, in his life, stuck to a thing and pulled it tlirough. Z am tlie stronger man."

"I believe you," said Johnny softly.

Bart turned his eyes. "I am committed, of course," he said. "Now, let's see. Account book. Household. Yes, here's the year."

Johnny copied names in his notebook. Bart had no idea where the cook was nor the upstaiis maid or tlie weekly cleaning woman. The yardman's name was Delevan.

"But would he have been here at night?" asked Johnny.

"As a matter of fact, he was here that night. I know the poHce heard his testimony. But he was never called."

"What was his testimony?"

"That I don't know."

"How come he was here?"

"Why he—There used to be a hammock slung between two trees in the grove out at the front. It seems when he had worked late, and wanted to be here early the next day, he'd sometimes beg a meal in the kitchen and sleep in the hammock. My father discharged him when this came out. The hammock was supposed to be exclusively for the family." Bart seemed to stand, with the family's pride falling raggedly across his shoulders.

"He was never put on the stand at the trial?"

"No."

"I wonder why not."

"Must be that he saw absolutely nothing," said Bart Bartee.

"Is there any kind of address? Wait . . ." Jolinny snapped

his fingers. "I know where he is. Somebody told me he lives in some little settlement. Twomey? His testimony alibied Nathaniel!"

"Nathaniel," said Bart contempuously, "couldn't kill spiders. My mother used to do it for himi."

CHAPTER 14

Johnny followed Bart along the red carpet. In the parlor, Nan was tucked close to Dick on a pale yellow sofa. Dorothy and Blanche were seated apart. The old lady had vanished.

As Bart strode in, Blanche sent him a begging smile. Her thin face, upon which the high-bridged nose seemed so prominent, became pathetic.

"Any luck?" asked Dick.

"Not much," said Johnny, when Bart did not answer, ^t^am-had gone out^f Bart. Whatever he had intended to do or say, he now hesitated.

"Well, do you give up?" Dick said impudently.

Dorothy said, as if she could hold this in no longer, "It's just incredible to me! People mustn't do that!"

"Do what?" asked Dick alertly.

"Conceal things. Make private judgments about the truth in a—in a public matter. A matter of murderl I'm sorry, but I think it's frightening."

No Bartee spoke. Nan said, "But, Dotty, when Dick's father asked for help, Dick wanted to protect him."

"You mustn't protect," cried Dorothy fiercely. "You must have the faith not to protect. I think there has been a terrible wrong done somewhere."

Dick said, "Kids, Dotty." His eyes rested on her.

"I understand," said Dorothy. "But that doesn't excuse. You can understand all you want to and all you ought to, but that doesn't mean you approve. Or that WTong is not wrong."

"She is right," said Bart firmly. "Too many people didn't tell all they knew. Mother. Nathaniel. You, Dick. Blanche."

"Oh, Bart, please," Blanche began to cry.

Dick said to Johnny with an air of anger suppressed, "Now that you've got Blanche in tears and the whole house unhappy, do you think you have proved McCauley innocent? Or me guilty?"

"No," said Johnny.

Nan raised her lashes. Her brown eyes were somber. "Johnny, you have done enough damage, really you have. Now, that you understand it all, please, will you just stop?" He didn't speak and the eyes began to glisten with tears. "Do you like making me unhappy? The past is past. I thought you . . ."

Johnny looked at her. Doubt was not for Nan. To tell her who she was would make no difference. It would only be unkind.

"I had better go," he said.

His hostess in tears, his host distracted, Dick unanswerable. Nan unhappy. And Christy McCauley dead these seventeen years. Yes, he had better go.

Dorothy went with him to the door. Johnny had nothing for her but a sad shake of his head. No proof. Nothing, in all that had come out, proved McCauley innocent. Must Nan, then, ever know who she was?

Dorothy, of course, did not know who Nan was. Dorothy said furiously, "There is too dam much that never was told straight. Johnny, what is the meaning of it? Who did kill Chi-istyr

"How do I know?" said Johnny gloomily. "How can I find out who killed Christy? It was seventeen years ago."

In the parlor, Dick said into Nan's ear, "You are right, love. Past is past. If we were only married, we could go away—go somewhere and just be happy."

"—just be happy," she echoed in a whisper.

"Let's," he breathed. "Those tests should be ready on Friday, at the latest. Maybe even on Thursday. I can put some Bartee pressure on."

"How long must we wait, then?"

"Why, not at all."

"Tomorrow is Thursday."

"Let's not wait at all. Friday?"

"I haven't anything to wear," Nan said foolishly.

"Wear red," he said. "My darling, you look so beautiful in red."

"A bride doesn't wear red, sillyl"

"Wear white," he said, "Wear blue."

"Dotty has a white dress. We could turn up the hem."

"Turn up the hem," he whispered, "love, if you love me."

Johnny said to Dorothy, by the door, "Good night. Dotty. Be kind to Nan. She needs somebody—" He went out and the night air was chilly. The fields were dark. What must I do for Nan's sake, he kept asking himself. He kept seeing Dorothy's eyes.

In the big back bedroom at the Bartee house, the cousins quarreled that night. Nan did not think Dorothy was kind.

Dorothy began it by another spirited denunciation of people who withheld information for any reason.

"But Dick didn't do anything really wrong," flamed Nan. "He just wasn't a tattler. And he helped his father. What's wrong wdth that? Everybody doesn't have to start telling all about absolutely everything he ever knew, just because somebody gets murdered." Nan was trembling. "Dick had absolutely nothing to do with the killing, no matter what anybody else ever said or did. And we are just tired. We are going to be mairied as soon as those tests are ready. Any day"

Dorothy said, "Honey, don't . . ."

"Then we are going away. We may get the license tomorrow. So Friday—"

"Oh, no!"

"Yes," said Nan. "Dick is asking Blanche about it. If she doesn't want to go to the trouble—well, then, well go to some minister's house, Dick knows about."

Dorothy was in her nightgowTi. She had begun to pull off her robe. Now she began, without thinking what she was doing, to pull it on again.

Nan said, "Dot, you are going to be at my wedding, aren't you?"

"Certainly," Dorothy said vidthout spirit. She felt stunned.

"Dot, Blanche wants it to be here . . ." Nan looked happier now. "Just a quiet ceremony with nobody but family—and that wouldn't take much getting up. If she does, could I wear your white silk?"

Dorothy said, "Wait." She sat down and they were knee to knee. "Nan, this is just not very smart. Why can't you wait?"

"I can be married in red," said Nan proudly. "Dick doesn't care. I can certainly wear my blue."

"I'm not talking about clothes. I'm talking about marrying into this family."

"I'm marrying Dick." Nan's eyes were dark and stubborn.

"Nan, don't you care that there was a murder?" said Dorothy quietly. '"That a young woman was beaten to death in this house?"

"Nothing to do with me," said Nan.

"But, there's all that about Nathaniel. Honey, he had the reputation of being a har. A coward—"

"He's dead. It's all past."

"He's going to make a swell ancestor for your kids," said Dorothy brutally. She got up and began to walk around.

Nan wa5 in tears, but sitting stiffly on the edge of her bed, not succumbing to them.

"And old Mrs. Bartee, their great-grandmother? She's cute, all right," Dorothy said. "Judge and jury. Blanche, too."

Nan said, sobbing and choking, "Why are you against me?"

"I'm far you," Dorothy said.

"No, you're not. You know I love Dick with all my heart. And he loves me. And we are going to be married. So why can't we^"

"But Nan, don't you want to see this straightened out? That poor man in prison all these years . . ."

"But he did itl" Nan said. "And he ought to be in prison and I don't see—"

"But if he didn't do it," Dorothy said slowly, "then he's in prison because somebody in this family, lied."

"You don't know that," sobbed Nan. "There's no reason to beheve that. And anyhow, I didn't kiU Christy. 1 didn't put the man in prison. I just want to marry the man I love."

"Honey," Dorothy sat down beside her and put her arm around the tense shoulders. "Just listen a minute, please. Johnny and I do care. And the one we care about the most is you. Now you know that."

i

Nan's head went down.

"Aunt Emily, too. Remember?" said Dorothy gently. "Honey, you had a wonderful dream. A wonderful man from a wonderful background came out of the blue and you fell in love. You did just exactly that. You fell. You were going to be married and live happily ever after. Now, you are fighting to keep that dream just as it was. But you shouldn't. Really, you shouldn't. There are some strange things about the Bartee family . . ."

"I don't care," sobbed Nan. "There probably are strange things about everybody's family. But people get married, when they're in love."

Dorothy said, ''True."

"I think it is too wonderful and rare!' Nan said. ''You just can't believe it."

Dorothy looked stem and sad. "I guess I'll have to tell you something."

"What now?" Nan sighed.

"Dick's awfully interested in your money."

Nan's body stiflFened. It wrenched itself from Dorothy's grasp.

"I'm going to tell you," Dorothy continued grimly, "no matter how it sounds, that if it weren't for your money, Dick would have fallen for me." -' ' ''

Nan said in a hushed voice, "You must be out of your mind! You can't say such a thing to mel"

"I guess you can't hear it, when I do," said Dorothy sadly.

Nan jumped up, vibrating. "Of all the conceitedl Why, he didn't know about the money. I didn't even-know about the money . . . You're just—you're just crazy!"

Dorothy sat on tlie edge of the bed, looking down at her feet. Now, she began to slip out of her robe.

"Are you jealous?" Nan cried. "Of me? Youve always had all the boy friends. Youve always been the popular one. Just because I found Dick! Dotty, please! How can you say a thing like that? You must be jealous!"

"I guess so," said Dorothy stolidly.

"But I'm going to marry Dick! I love him! You can't stop that!"

"I guess not," Dorothy said.