The Late Clara Beame (12 page)

“What about Sam, Alice? Why did you marry him?”

She turned away. But he caught her arm. “What about Sam?”

She would not look at him. “I loved Sam, in a way. I saw it was useless waiting for you. I’d been waiting most of my life for you, and you weren’t even aware of it. When you met Laura, I knew it was all over, the waiting, everything. I was fond of Sam,” she added dully. “I thought we could be happy together. He didn’t want to leave New York, but I did. I couldn’t stay here, thinking of you and Laura in that house, the house and you not belonging to me.”

The sun was gone suddenly, and the sky grew full of ominous, purple-shadowed clouds. A strange light filled the air, gray but clear. Alice’s misery was obvious as she turned to Henry. “I’m sorry I said that I wished Laura had died last summer,” she told him. “That was cruel of me.”

“But you meant it?”

She sighed. “I suppose I did, when I said it. I don’t, now.”

Large flakes of snow began to fall, and the wind rose, swirling the flakes around them. Alice asked, “When did you know I loved you, Hank? Not before I married Sam!”

“That’s true,” he admitted.

She smiled at him sadly. “And you haven’t yet said you love me.”

“Do you want me to say it?”

“Not unless it’s true.”

He looked at the sky, and felt the sting of the wind on his face. “I’ve been absolutely faithful to Laura, Alice. I intend to remain faithful. That’s all I can tell you.”

“All?”

“All.”

“Very well.” Alice sounded tired. “Let’s go on to the Ulbrich house. It’s still a quarter of a mile from here. And forget we ever had this fascinating conversation. What makes you think the telephone might be all right there?”

“I thought I’d find out.” He stopped suddenly, as a thought occurred to him. “Damn it! I’d forgotten! We have the same party line! If we’re out, so are they.”

The wind was growing stronger. Henry groaned. “Better take my arm, Alice. It’s getting dark. We can easily lose our way.”

They stumbled in the growing dark of the storm and the almost blinding snow. They didn’t speak again; when Alice stumbled into a snowbank, Henry shook her coat and brushed the snow from her head. The way back was longer and more arduous than the way they had come. They wiped the snow from their faces. Their tracks had already been smoothed over by the wind and then the house was before them, looming like a dark shadow. Henry led Alice to the door, then stopped. “Go on in. I have something to do before I come in.”

She put her hand on his arm; her face was a mask in the gloom. “Hank, please forget what I said, won’t you? I don’t know why I said it at all.”

He pressed her hand. “I’ve already forgotten, Alice. Go in, now.”

He turned before she had reached the door and made his floundering way to the woodshed. He found the door, and reached up for the bullet which had been fired at him. There was nothing there. Incredulously, he took off his glove and felt for the hole. It was a round hollow, but the bullet was gone. It could not have fallen. Only the end had protruded from the wood. It had been removed.

Stunned, Henry Frazier stood for a moment. Then he was terribly afraid.

Alice went into the quiet hall, where the only sound was the old clock ticking majestically. Wearily, she removed her coat and wiped her wet face with her handkerchief. Then she started. David stood at her elbow, watching. She read the question in his eyes.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s all I can tell you. Yes. I’ve got to lie down. I’m exhausted.”

Her brother watched her slow progress up the stairs, her hand on the bannister. He waited until she shut her door, but couldn’t see her collapse on her bed or her terror as she stared into the darkness.

David returned to the living room, where a big fire burned brightly. John Carr sat forward on a round stool, smoking and staring into the fire. He looked up, and David nodded. Both men regarded the fire in silence. Then John Carr asked: “Where is he?”

“He didn’t come in with her. I have an idea — ”

They heard the hall door open, and felt an icy flow of air. In a moment Henry Frazier came into the room. Both men turned to him, and David yawned. But Henry paused some distance from the fire.

“Have either of you been out today?” he asked.

“Who? Me?” David sounded surprised. “No, indeed. I’m not a polar bear like you. And John’s been here all the time, with me.”

“Are you sure?” Henry advanced a little farther into the room.

“What do you mean?” David asked. John turned his head again.

“I wasn’t out. Why? Is there something the matter?”

“Only that the bullet that was shot at me was taken from the woodshed door.” Henry walked to the fire and looked down at his guests.

“Fell into the snow, probably,” David suggested.

“No. That’s impossible. It was taken out. I felt the edges of the hollow. There were splinters.”

“Bullets usually do make splinters,” David said easily.

Henry’s pale face flushed with anger. “Don’t be funny. The bullet’s gone. And now I have nothing to show the police but the hole.”

“How about your handyman with the girlish name?”

“He wouldn’t take it.”

“Why don’t you ask him? Maybe he collects souvenirs.”

Henry looked from one smiling face to the other. He felt frightened, for there was not only mockery but hatred in the room. They were so tangible that he stepped back from the fire. The men continued to smile at him.

“Or perhaps Mrs. Daley or Edith?” David suggested.

Henry moistened his lips. He looked at the windows, which were freshly covered with snow. He had an unfamiliar but desperate urge: to flee his own house.

“There’s something wrong,” he said, feeling his heart beating too fast, too painfully. “Evelyn wouldn’t take the bullet. Let’s not be stupid. It couldn’t have fallen into the snow. Someone took it out.”

“Alice?”

Henry’s voice rose. “Don’t!” he exclaimed. He swung to John Carr. “Did you take it out?”

“Why should I?” John’s voice was hard.

Henry paused. “Do you have a gun?”

The smile was gone. “No,” he said emphatically. “Why should I? What would I need a gun for?”

Henry stared at John. Then he said, “Dave, I’d like a word with you.” He walked out of the room and stood in the hall. David looked at John before he rose and went out to his host. Henry spoke quietly, “I told you he had a gun. And now he’s taken the bullet.”

“You should have removed it when you had the chance, yesterday.”

“I was too — ”

“Scared?”

“All right! Wouldn’t you have been, damn it?”

David shrugged. “I suppose so.” They could hardly see each other in the darkness. “You don’t seem very concerned,” Henry remarked resentfully.

“I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. You’ll find the bullet in the snow, come spring, if it’s ever spring around here.”

“I’ve lost my evidence. For the police. Can’t you see that?”

David didn’t answer. Henry glanced through the archway into the firelit living room. John Carr was smoking, and studying the fire.

“Can you keep him here?” Henry asked. “I never thought of it this morning. I’m going to empty his gun.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Henry!”

“He denied he has a gun.”

“What would you do under the same circumstances? Admit it?”

“Why does he have a gun at all?”

“Why don’t you ask him? Why don’t you tell him you found his gun in his suitcase?” David’s eyes caught a gleam from the leaping firelight.

“You didn’t tell him I found it!” Henry’s throat felt tight; he could hardly breathe.

“Of course not. Didn’t you ask me not to?”

Henry rubbed his chin. “I don’t know.”

“He’s your guest, not mine. You know him, I don’t,” David pointed out. “By the way, did you get to a telephone?”

“No. No.” Henry spoke absently. He looked again at the man by the fire. “Keep him down here. I’m going to look for his gun and empty it.”

“He’s not going to like that, when he finds out, and he will just as soon as he goes to his room.”

“I can’t help that!” Henry said, his frustration growing.

“What’s to prevent him from killing us, if he’s insane or something?”

“I’ll keep him down here,” David promised.

Henry ran up the stairs quickly. He felt almost as though he were being pursued. He heard Laura singing a Christmas carol behind the closed door of their room, and welcomed so normal a sound in the midst of his fear. Tiptoeing to John Carr’s door, he felt his way along the wall in the dusk. He opened the door silently, then entered the warm, neat room. Faint light reflected from the snow filled it. The suitcase was where it had been that morning. Henry held his breath, then went to it and released the catch. The gun was not there.

He opened all the drawers of the single chest in the guest room. They were filled with the few things John had brought with him. Henry ran his frantic hands over the garments, and in the corners of the drawers. Nothing. Opening the closet door he made a fruitless search of the pockets of the suit, which was still damp. In his frenzy he even explored the comfortable wing chair in the room, lifting its cushion, feeling under the frilly chintz of its skirts. He lay on the floor and ran his hands over the polished bare boards. He stood up and flung aside the heavy draperies at the window and looked at the broad window sill. He was finally satisfied that the gun was not in the room. But wherever it was, there was danger. John Carr had discovered, in some way, that his gun had been found by someone in the house. But where had he hidden it? The house was large; there were hundreds of hiding places.

“I’ve got to stay calm,” Henry thought. “Maybe he has the gun with him.” He glanced over his shoulder. Someone had turned on the hall light. He left the room, shutting the door behind him. Then Alice’s door opened, and she stood in the doorway. As she saw Henry in the hall, she started to speak.

“Hush!” he cautioned her. Her blonde hair, loosened to dry after her fall in the snow, hung to her shoulders. Henry could feel her apprehension. “I found a gun in Carr’s room this morning,” he whispered. “One bullet had been fired. Yesterday. At me.”

Alice stepped back, clasping the palms of her hands together. Henry went on: “I looked for the bullet a few minutes ago. It had been dug out.”

“Tell David right away!” Alice’s voice echoed Henry’s own fear.

“I told David this morning about finding the gun in Carr’s room. And I told them both, just now, about the missing bullet. David’s keeping him downstairs so I could search his room.”

“David knows?”

“Yes! But he doesn’t seem very concerned. Thinks the bullet may have dropped into the snow. That’s impossible.”

“What is John Carr doing with a gun?”

“That’s what I’d dearly love to know.”

The sound of Laura’s singing came to them faintly.

“Lots of people have guns, and even carry them,” Alice said after a pause. “Perhaps that’s why David isn’t too upset.” She sounded hopeful. “And you don’t know if the bullet came from John’s gun.”

“The gun is a forty-five. So’s the bullet. Now I’ve lost my evidence against him.”

Alice thought for a moment. “I wish to God I’d never come. Hank, what do you really know about John Carr?”

“Only what I’ve been told by half a dozen, or more, of the most reputable people,” Henry answered. “There’s nothing wrong about him; all on the level. Unless it’s all a ‘cover’.”

Alice sighed. “He’s probably perfectly all right. If David isn’t worried, then there’s nothing to worry about, I suppose.”

“Well, I’m worried,” Henry told her grimly. “Damned worried.”

Alice shook her head. “You said Dave’s keeping him downstairs. Search his room.”

“I did. The gun’s gone.”

Alice sagged against the side of the door. She moistened her lips. “Perhaps he thought it was dangerous to leave around. Maybe he hid it.”

“It’s not in his room at all. I went over everything.”

Alice was silent. She started to lift her hands, then dropped them. “Did he deny taking the bullet out of the woodshed door?”

“Yes. Dave said he was with him all the time while we were out.”

“Then, it
must
have fallen into the snow!”

Henry shook his head. “No. That’s impossible. It was dug out.”

“I’ll talk to David myself.”

“I hope you have better luck than I did.” Henry hesitated. “Keep your door locked tonight, Alice. I’m going to lock mine.”

“This is incredible,” she told him. “If I can only get out, I’m going to leave tomorrow. I’d leave tonight if I could.”

He touched her gently on the cheek. “I’m sorry I had to frighten you. But I wanted you to be warned. Please talk to Dave.”

She watched him silently as he went into his room, and then waited at the top of the stairway. In a few moments David and John Carr came up, laughing together. They stopped abruptly when they saw her.

“David,” she said coldly, “may I speak to you for a moment?”

“All right. But we came upstairs to dress. Make it fast, will you?”

John touched his forehead lightly in a salute to Alice. But she merely stared at him. David entered her room and she shut the door.

“I said, before we came, that we’d have no cozy-corner chats together,” David told her, frowning. “We did all our talking before we came. I told you what you should do. Now, what’s up?”

She told him what Henry had said a few moments before. David lit a cigarette and sat down in a wing chair. He took quick puffs at his cigarette, as he listened intently. Then he grinned at his sister.

“Much ado about nothing,” he commented. “Let’s keep our voices down. Carr has a gun. Hank says he saw it this morning. He swears it was a forty-five and is positive that the bullet that almost hit him came from that gun. He finds the bullet gone later. He looks for the gun and it’s gone, too. My explanation? People carry guns, often. I frequently do, at night, on night calls when they’re necessary. Nothing unusual. Maybe Carr likes guns; doesn’t feel comfortable without them. He’s knocked around. Then, thinking one of the women downstairs might get curious about his suitcase — people are usually damned curious — and find the gun, he hides the damn thing. Oh, all right, Hank can’t find it. Carr would be sure to hide it where it couldn’t be found. For safety’s sake. What a stink you’ve both raised!”

“And the missing bullet?”

“In the snow. Or that Evelyn’s got it.”

“There was a bullet gone from the gun.”

“A coincidence.” David smiled at his sister. “What could be nicer than Hank having the hell scared out of him at this time?”

“Don’t! Don’t be so — so frivolous. I’m frightened, David. Terribly frightened.”

“I knew you would be, before you came up here. I told you so.”

“If only you were sure — ”

“I am. Absolutely sure.” David stood up. “We’ve got to find out what he knows. And don’t talk about leaving.”

Alice closed her eyes and shuddered. “Laura,” she whispered.

“We’ve started something, and we’re going to finish it. Is that clear, Alice?”

“All right,” she murmured listlessly. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared bleakly at the floor, not even noticing when her brother left.