The So Blue Marble (15 page)

    Jasper said, “Not from mine. You are wonderful. No one can talk that way to Oppy.”

    “I can.” If she could talk that way to others-but no thinking of that now. She finished the drink. “Now for tomorrow. Call Oppy’s New York man, tell him to get you a car. We’ll have to get up early if we’re going to locate Nesta and be back here tomorrow night. Let’s say we leave at nine. Now don’t make faces. It’s as hard on me as on you. But it’ll take us at least four hours to make it up there-or near that.”

    “But nine o’clock-that means I’d have to be up at I don’t know what hour to get the car and all.” He didn’t like it.

    “Have the hotel take care of calling for you. Let’s say nine-thirty, get in by one-thirty. We don’t want them to go out on us, fishing or what.”

    He sighed. “Nine-thirty. It’s revolting.”

    “It revolts me too and after all it’s not my affair, getting Oppy’s problem child on the boat. I don’t know why I’m in on it anyway.”

    Jasper spoke quickly and worried. “You won’t walk out on me now? You’ll go along?”

    “I’ll go.”

    “I will sound my horn before your place at nine-thirty on the dot,” he promised.

    “No, not my place!” Tobin might not let her go. She mustn’t get involved in all of that again, not tomorrow. “Meet me in front of the Plaza.”

    “But…”

    ”Do it,” she ordered. She put on her silly hat. “Goodnight, Jasper.”

    “Goodnight. You’re a peach.”

    For the moment she was afraid he was going to turn on the charm for her, but he didn’t. He let her put on her own wrap; he didn’t offer to see her home.

    In the lobby below she saw Tobin. He was just sitting there; why, she didn’t know. She hoped he didn’t see her, hurried out the door.

    

    

    She walked the few blocks to the apartment, decided then to spend the night out. No use risking her early morning callers; Gig would take her in. And he needn’t be embarrassed tonight. He had twin beds. She rang his bell. He answered.

    “It’s Griselda. I’m coming up.”

    He was ready for bed but in the hallway waiting. “Anything wrong?” He had that scared expression.

    “Nothing at all. Except I’ve decided to spend the night with you.”

    He hesitated but only slightly. “All right”

    “You don’t mind?” She was opening the door of her place. “No one else in there?”

    He was red. “Of course not.”

    “Come in while I take off these things. I’ll explain.”

    He sat in the living room. She talked towards it while she undressed, put on brown silk pajamas, her heavy white robe and slippers.

    “I have to make a get-away early in the morning and I’m afraid if I stay here I’ll have my usual callers. I could have stayed with Jasper if I’d thought.”

    “You mean that movie fellow?” He sounded shocked.

    “Yes.” She selected clothes for the drive, gray tweeds and matchings, a sweater golden to match her hair, tooth powder and accessories. She put the small things in a week-end case, carried the clothes over her arm. “We’ve located Nesta. Jasper and I are going to drive op to the country and get her. Oppy, their boss, and incidentally mine in a minor sort of way-I’ve done some designing for his stars-at any rate, Oppy is having a catfit out in Hollywood because Nesta’s not playing ball on publicity.” She returned to the living room and said, “Get the lights, Gig. Besides she’s sailing Monday and after all she ought to do something for her board and keep, not chase after Danny Montefierrow.”

    They crossed to his apartment. She hung her clothes, remarking, “We won’t have to break rules tonight with two beds.” He flushed and she was sorry. “I won’t talk foolishly, Gig. You’re grand to help me in this way.”

    He smiled a little, shyly, “I’d do more than this for you.”

    Remembering David’s statement, she was herself embarrassed. She asked, “Do you have an alarm clock by any chance? I’ll just leave my bag here when I go. Get it later.”

    He didn’t. “I always wake by seven-thirty, to get to the University by nine. I like my breakfast in leisure. Shall I call you?”

    “Please.” She asked which bed, climbed in.

    He took the other. “Did you learn the results of the investigation in your apartment?”

    “No, I didn’t.” Her cigarettes were on the bed table. She took one; he tossed the matches to her. She drew in smoke. “I’ve had a fairly nice day. It is restful having the twins out of town.”

    He commented, “Yet you are invading their territory.”

    “Yes “

    “Just why?”

    She spoke slowly.
“I
don’t exactly know. I get drawn into these things. I felt sorry for Jappy, he was so upset, and I think Nesta ought to come back.” She couldn’t, wouldn’t, express her vague fears. But nothing would happen to Nesta Fahney. The twins wouldn’t do anything to her. They wouldn’t have any reason for that. And they wouldn’t let Missy hurt her. They’d be there to see that Missy didn’t do anything. There was no reason to have any worry about it. She had finished the cigarette.

    Gig put out the light Then he said, “You mustn’t do this too often, Griselda.”

    “What do you mean?” She didn’t quite understand.

    His voice was subdued. “Even professors are human.”

    He couldn’t see her face when she answered, “And you’re Con’s best friend.”

    He didn’t say anything else except goodnight.

    

    

    Jasper
would
have a glittery car. It was enormous, black as a well-groomed horse, low-slung as modern furniture.

    They drove along the smoky blue river and the little towns had the first look of spring. It was after twelve when they reached Chatham, then off the highway through rolling farmyards, to the few houses of Canaan.

    The Wilson house was a nice old New Englandish place, white frame, even a cupola. It was set in a treey yard already greening. Vines on the house must be roses in summer. They climbed the steps to the porch, twisted the old-fashioned bell, beard its metallic ring.

    Jasper had a new tremor. “I hope she won’t be mad. Nesta’s definitely revolting when she gets mad.”

    Griselda rang and rang to no answer. “I suppose they’re out picnicking.”

    Jasper said, “Let me try.” He was annoyed. He pounded.

    She told him, “It rings.”

    He rattled the knob. “It’s unlocked.”

    “Country style. We didn’t think.”

    They went inside. It was a big cheerful house, paneled with sun, too many ferns but that was to be expected. Griselda called, “Hello. Anyone home?”

    They wandered out through the dining room and kitchen, back into the spotless parlor bedroom.

    Jasper was cross. “They aren’t here.”

    “Obviously,” she answered. “Let’s go up. Make sure they haven’t flown the coop. It’s so tidy. It doesn’t look as if anyone was here. Not even an ash for diversion. They must have brought Bette along.”

    She led the way up the stairs; he followed. She said, “Bedrooms! We’re getting warm.” The first was open, again perilously clean. She was dubious at the starch in every inch of lace and linen.

    “You don’t suppose we’ve made a mistake in the house, that we’re making ourselves at home in some stranger’s place?” Then she saw tucked under the edge of the old marble-topped bureau something that had escaped notice. “No, we’re right.” She picked it up, the diversion, a gold-banded cigarette stub with the tiny gold letter. She laid it on the hand-painted blue forget-me-knots of the pin tray. He was in the hall again.

    He said, “Right or wrong, I’m looking for the bathroom.”

    He opened a door, said, “Yes, they’re here.” She peered in after him. Nesta’s opened bag was on the floor, clothes messily frothing out of it. She followed Jasper into the room. The door had hidden the bed. He was staring at it, the color of mayonnaise. His hand faltered towards the brass bedpost. She spoke furiously, “Don’t touch anything!”

    It must have happened a long time ago. It didn’t look like blood; it was like ugly brown paint all over the sheet, on the flowers of the rug, all over the white net and lace that didn’t cover Nesta’s body. It was Nesta. Those were her rings on the hand, her silver-tipped toenails. It was her hair, what there was of it, on her shoulders. There wasn’t any face at all.

    

    

    

    Jasper said, I’m going to be sick.”

    She clenched her nails on his arm. “You can’t be sick. If I’m not sick you can’t be sick.”

    He gulped. “I can’t-help-that-I’m-going- to b…”

    They heard the call from downstairs. “Hullo? Company? Who’s there?”

    Her fingers tightened on him. “Come on.” She pulled him out, closed the door after them. “Come on.” She dragged him to the stairs, looked down on the face of a stranger, a nice young stranger with curly yellow hair and sunburned face. He seemed as surprised as she. She ran down, still pulling Jasper with her. She demanded, “Who are you?”

    He began, “I’m…”

    But she looked beyond him and didn’t listen. She dropped Jasper’s arm; her eyes grew wider and wider; her head began to go around and around. It looked as if it were Con coming through the living room into the hall. Then her eyes went dark and she knew she was fainting.

    She was lying on a bed when she remembered again. She sat up quickly but this bed was clean. She put her head down again; it was still dizzy like a merry-go-round. She had seen Jasper in the chair.

    She was surprised at how tiny her voice sounded. “What has happened?”

    He looked resigned. “So you’ve come to. I don’t know what is happening. After you fainted the one called Con said Good God he didn’t think he’d be so much of a shock, and I told him it wasn’t him, it was Nesta dead upstairs, and that I was going to be sick and I was-loathsomely. And he and the one called Irish…”

    She whimpered, “Irish?”

    “Yes, Irish. Ridiculous name. They went upstairs and came racing down and told me to stay with you until they returned.” He added, “I don’t want to stay here. I want to get out of this revolting place. And what will Oppy say?” He closed his eyes at the mere thought.

    She wondered, “What is Con doing here? And Irish?”

    He was amazed. “Do you know them?”

    “I know Con. I used to be married to him. I’ve heard of Irish.”

    He looked out of the window. They were in the parlor bedroom. “They’re coming back. I suppose they brought the constable and he’ll ask us foolish questions.”

    It was really Con in the doorway. “Feeling better, honey?”

    “I think I can get up.”

    He told her, “Don’t. Not yet. Wait until I come down.” He went away. She closed her eyes; Jasper’s were already closed.

    They could hear men’s steps upstairs, then coming down. Con wasn’t alone now. The young blond boy was with him and a quiet farmer man.

    “Don’t get up, baby. This is Ed Schaffer. He’s the deputy. And this is my friend, Irish Galvatti. Mr. Schaffer, my wife, Mrs. Satterlee. And if my eyes haven’t deceived me, Jasper Coldwater.”

    Jasper admitted it

    Con sat on the edge of the bed near her. Irish leaned against the door. Schaffer squatted on the window ledge. He said, “Mis’ Wilson’s going to have a fit when she’s seen what happened to her bedroom.” He seemed in a way to relish the idea.

    Con said, “Now, baby, if you can give me an idea of what happened?”

    She nodded. “Jasper and I drove up from New York this morning to get Nesta.” She shivered. “Nesta Fahney.” He held her hand. “It was about one o’clock I think when we reached Canaan, a little after. I asked at the postoffice and the man directed me here. We thought they’d gone picnicking or something and we started looking around to make sure this was the place. When we looked in that room…” She was weak again.

    Con said, “Steady.”

    She opened her eyes. “We’d just seen her when you called from downstairs.”

    Schaffer twanged, “Anything you got to say, Mr. Coldwater?”

    If he said it was revolting or loathsome or the most revolting sight he’d ever seen, she would scream. He didn’t. He said, “Nothing.”

    Con said, “You can understand what a surprise this is to us, Mr. Schaffer. Irish and I needed a rest. We rented the place by mail.”

    Schaffer nodded. “Yes. Mis’ Strombaugh was expecting you. She cleaned the house spick and span last week. Then Sunday night these folks come for the keys, said they was friends of yours. Said their names was Mr. and Mis’ Green. I didn’t lay eyes on them but I expect that was the girl. I wonder where the man’s gone to.”

    Con said,
“I
never met Nesta Fahney. I never saw her before except on the screen. Irish never did either. I wonder who the man was.”

    Griselda feared to speak but Jasper said wearily, “It was Danny Montefierrow. That’s who it was. She went off with him Sunday. She didn’t come back.”

    Con acted as if he’d never heard the name. Schaffer hadn’t. Irish twitched but didn’t speak.

    Con patted Griselda’s hand. “You didn’t know I was coming back so soon, did you, baby? I’ve been saving it for a surprise.” He explained to Schaffer. “I’ve been away on an assignment. I’m a radio newsman.”

    Schaffer said, “Sure. I’ve heard you speak, Mr. Satterlee.”

    ”My wife’s been in New York. I was planning to wire her and here she is.”

    The law wasn’t dumb. “How did you happen to pick Canaan? Most city folks haven’t even heard of it.”