The So Blue Marble (16 page)

    Con said, “I prepped two years at Berkshire, and I spent one summer at a camp on Queechy.”

    Irish wanted to say something. He gulped it. “We just come this morning, had to ground at Albany. Then we picked up that rattletrap and drove down here. I was sure surprised when I saw folks in the house.” His alibi unloaded, he felt better.

    Jasper opened his eyes. “Do we have to stay here? I haven’t had a bit to eat since breakfast.”

    Schaffer yawned. “No sense starving you to death, I guess. Go on down to the hotel and get Mis’ Strombaugh to fix up something for you. The Sheriff’s coming up from Chatham and a coroner. We’ll need you to tell us a few things so don’t leave town until I say so.”

    Con promised, “We won’t, Sheriff.” He braced Griselda, “Think you can make it, kid?”

    She had to hold tight to him. She didn’t mind. I’m dizzy. Probably it’s no food.”

    They all went out. Schaffer stayed on the porch, waved. Irish languished at the black motor, “Jeez, what a boat!”

    Griselda said, “We might as well all drive down together.”

    Jasper was still saffron. “I can’t drive, Griselda. Look at my hands.” They wobbled.

    “Let me drive it.” The yellow-hair was in at the wheel, his hands tender among the dash-board gadgets. Jasper climbed beside him. Con handed Griselda in back, sat by her.

    He wasn’t playing a part with her now. “How the hell did you get in this mess?”

    “I told you. Nesta disappeared. Oppy-Oppensterner-was badgering Jasper. I said I knew where she was and that I’d drive up with Jap to get her.” She began to shiver. “I didn’t think she’d be dead. I didn’t know it.”

    Con barked, “Don’t snivel.”

    They all went into the old frame hotel. Con called Mrs. Strombaugh, parched, ginghamy.

    “Ed Schaffer says to feed us and I think you’d better let us have a room. My wife’s not feeling so well.” He smiled his confidential smile. “Maybe we could have food in there?”

    The woman liked Con and she couldn’t get over the great Coldwater. “Well, I should say. You come right along.” She took Griselda’s arm.

    Con turned away. “I’ve got to phone. You all go on with Griselda. I’ll be up in a jiff.”

    They watched him cross to the postoffice before they followed the hotel keeper. Irish’s eyes slanted dubiously. Griselda lay on an old-fashioned double bed again. Jasper sank in a chair.

    Irish watched out the window. “I’d like to know who Con’s calling in New York.” Griselda glanced at him, but his face was untouched as a child’s. “Who do you think he’s calling?”

    Griselda answered, “Probably the newspapers. He used to be a newspaperman. And it’s a big story.”

    Jasper sat down again, worried. “Oppy’ll die when he reads about it in the papers. Do you think we could wire him?”

    Griselda said, “Let’s eat first.”

    Con banged in, threw his hat on the bureau, and straddled a chair. “I called Toby and he’s…”

    Griselda stiffened. “Inspector Tobin?”

    Irish started over, belligerent. “What you want to do that for?”

    Con said, “Shut up. Do you think I want to be stuck up here for the next two weeks playing ball with hick sheriffs? Toby’ll guarantee us and get us back to New York before Christmas.”

    Irish licked his mouth. “You got no right to be calling in the New York police.”

    Con took a bottle out of his pocket, unscrewed the cap, swallowed twice, put it back. He wiped his mouth with the knuckles of his hand. “I said for you to shut up. I covered you up on why we’re in Canaan, didn’t I? Suppose I’d told that guy that you had orders to rent a big dump in the country and that you were pea green because you’d get the finger put on you if you didn’t get it rented? So I helped you out. Suppose I told him that?”

    Irish was peaish again. “You wouldn’t do that, Con.”

    He lit a cigarette. “Suppose I told him the truth, that the only reason I’m along is because you went across the border, without orders, and got yourself in such a mess that you couldn’t get back in the States without me guaranteeing you, and that I got you back in because I have a sneaking liking for you after having you on my tail for months, and I didn’t want you to be bumped off because you couldn’t obey orders.”

    Irish muttered, “I didn’t mean it, Con. Forget it” Shame was on his face.

    “I’m not forgetting it.” He banged the chair around. “Now suppose you tell me who sent those orders to you.”

    The boy’s eyes rolled. “I can’t. Honest to God, Con, I can’t!”

    He broke off to the knock, to Mrs. Strombaugh and four gangly girls, all carrying good-smelling platters, all with white pieces of paper to present to Jasper. The girls sidled to him. He was gracious. He signed, handed the papers back, then made his first statement for the public. “I just can’t talk. No one will know what Miss Fahney meant to me.” He turned his back, took a maroon square from his pocket and blew his nose. It was a good scene.

    Mrs. Strombaugh was saying, “Now, if there’s anything else you want you just sing out. Couldn’t do so well not being regular meal-time and no notice, but it’s victuals.” She looked proudly on the chicken platter, the apple pies and applesauce, the hot biscuits, piccalilli, currant jelly, green beans, coffee, cream gravy, potatoes. “Had to fry the potatoes ‘stead of mashing them. Knew you didn’t want to wait for no potatoes to boil.”

    “No, sir!” Con saw her to the door, closed it after her and the string of girls. He put his back against it, continued, “You can’t tell me. Well, you can tell me this. Did you rent that house to have a place to murder Nesta Fahney?”

    Jasper seated himself at the table and began to eat. Griselda joined him.

    “Honest to Christ, no!” Irish was livid to his curls. “I never even heard of her. I swear to Christ!”

    “Answer this one and keep your voice down or it’ll all go back to Schaffer.” Con interjected to the table, “Save some for us,” then back to Irish, “Why were you ordered to follow me?”

    Irish stared at him.

    “It didn’t have anything to do with a blue marble, did it?”

    The boy goggled. He whimpered, “You’ve known all along. You’ve known the whole damn thing!” Rage ate at his face. Griselda cowered. Jasper looked up curiously. “You’ve been making a fool out of me!”

    Griselda screamed, “Look out, Con! He’ll kill you!” She jumped in front of Con, but he shoved her back into the chair.

    “He won’t kill me. I took his stinking gun away from him last night but he doesn’t know it.” He looked at her furiously. “And if anyone is going to kill me keep your puss out of it!”

    She swallowed the throat lump and nibbled again.

    Jasper said coldly, “Do you and your friend have to stage your revolting scene now, Mr. Satterlee? Why don’t you eat first? It’s really quite good.”

    Con said, “Smart idea.” He swung a chair to the table, watching the boy. “Sit down, Irish, and eat.”

    Irish took a step. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”

    Con mumbled through a chicken leg, “As you will. But it won’t help you much to tie up with the Montefierrows right now.”

    Irish licked his lips again, started to speak, then sat down and ate.

    

    

    They heard the plane. Jasper laid down the movie magazine and came out of the chair. Griselda lifted her head. ‘That’s Tobin.” Both looked out the window. They went back to their places.

    Jasper sighed. “I hope he gets things fixed up quickly. Do you suppose that Con reached Oppy? I don’t think I’ll go back to Hollywood until this blows over. What was that fight about at lunch?”

    She closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”

    Jasper threw the magazine aside. “Do you think we might go find them?”

    She shook her head. “Con said for us to stay here, together.” He was rotten to her, but he didn’t want her to be alone. He’d insisted Jasper stay with her.

    They waited. It was a long time before the others came; it was twilight. Con, Irish, Tobin, Schaffer, and the Sheriff of Hudson County, his name was Dardess.

    She swung her legs off the bed, tried to flatten her hair.

    Tobin said, “Hello, Griselda.”

    Her smile was weak. “You’ll find me all over that room.”

    He nodded. “Yeah. I figured so.”

    Jasper didn’t care about the law. “Did you reach Oppy?”

    Con nodded. “Poor old goat. He was crying over the phone, after he got over the first shock. He’s flying East.”

    Jasper turned away.

    Tobin put his chair in front of Griselda. Con lounged beside her.

    “Now, suppose you tell me about this. You didn’t say you were coming up here.”

    “I didn’t know, Tobin.” She explained it step by step until she and Jasper were in the room; there she stopped. She couldn’t say anything about Nesta.

    He nodded. “Where are your pals? The twins?”

    “I haven’t seen them.” She insisted that he believe her. She couldn’t say anything about the twins either. Not with Con here. He would go after them if he knew, and they were killers. “I thought they were with Nesta.”

    Schaffer drawled, “They’re up at Queechy Lake. We’ve sent word for them to come down.”

    Dardess was an orator. “Must have been a tramp. The way she was chopped up.”

    Jasper wobbled towards the bathroom. Con put his hand on Griselda’s knee, hard. It helped.

    “No ceevilized body’d do that,” he concluded his address. “We get a sight of tramps in the spring.”

    Tobin asked softly, “You wouldn’t know anything about it?”

    She denied. “No, no! I’ve told you the truth.” She knew who did it. Of course she knew. She wouldn’t say. Not unless she could tell of the twins too. They’d made Missy what she was.

    Tobin spoke dryly, “Yeah. I think you’re safe about this.”

    Jasper returned. He was laundry white. “May we go back now?” He collapsed in his chair.

    Schaffer told him, “Sorry, but you’ll all have to be at the inquest in the morning.”

    Tobin added, “Mere formality, you understand.”

    Jasper walked to the door. To their questioning faces he said, “I’m not leaving. I’m just going to get a room and go to bed.” He half-banged the door after him.

    Dardess asked, “Suppose he means it?”

    “He does.” Tobin strolled to the window.

    Dardess lit a cigar. “What beats me is what a movie star like Nesta Fahney was doing up here anyway!”

    No one spoke. Irish stood in the corner, his fingers nervous. Con held Griselda’s knee. Schaffer walked. Tobin said, “There’s a big car coming in now.” Schaffer and Dardess went out.

    Irish bleated, “I better get me a room if we have to stay all night.”

    Con said, “Sit down.”

    Tobin turned, “It’s the twins.”

    Griselda’s throat was dry. “And-Missy?”

    He nodded, went out.

    Irish pleaded, “You said yourself the place would be overrun with photographers and newspapermen as soon as the planes could get here.”

    Con said, “Hide in the bathroom if you don’t want to see them. Tobin’s going to bring them up here.”

    Irish shot in; the bolt clacked. Con and Griselda didn’t say a word until the corridor door opened. David in hunter’s green coat, black boots, a crop; Danny in sand color; Missy, a tiny boy in jodhpurs, checkered jacket. Three city vacationers. The three officials were behind them.

    David came to Griselda. “This is horrible. Inspector Tobin just told us. I’m too shocked to be lucid.”

    Danny wiped his forehead. “I can’t believe it. It’s impossible.”

    Missy said, “She was so beautiful,” but behind her face a leopard licked his chops.

    David’s dark brows raised. “And how ghastly for you, Griselda, to discover it.”

    She nodded, “Con, these are the Montefierrow twins I’ve spoken of.” She completed the introductions, “My husband, Mr. Satterlee.” They shook hands, everything mannerly.

    Con said, “You don’t remember me, Missy?”

    She wriggled. “I remember your name. And the wedding.”

    Griselda spoke again. “I don’t believe you’ve met my sister, Inspector Tobin, my other sister, I mean.”

    “Only downstairs. I’ve heard of you.” They shook hands, Missy dimpling up at him like a child. Jasper Coldwater had a word for it: revolting.

    Dardess was impatient of the preliminaries. He rolled his cigar from the left corner of his oblong mouth to the right. “You folks knew the deceased?”

    It was commedia dell’ arte: David, Danny, Missy, all feeling for their cigarettes, the monogrammed ones, all lighting them from separate matches.

    Danny spoke first “Know her? Yes. She drove up here with me on Sunday night I’d mentioned the place and it appealed to her. She was worn out from her Hollywood schedule and had a hard London session ahead. She really needed a rest. She asked if I’d mind if she came along.”

    Schaffer’s voice was gentle. “Why did you claim to be husband and wife?”

    “Oh, that!” Danny didn’t give his schoolboy smile. He was solemn, respectful. “She didn’t want to be known. She explained how in the cinema there was no privacy and she needed it And also,” he was delicate, “she didn’t wish anyone to be shocked, our staying together. Although the house was large enough, as you know, for a half dozen or more. That is why.” He seemed to think it was well-explained.

    Danny went on, distraught now, but Griselda watched his eyes. They were like glass, as if they did not know what his voice and hands and brows were doing.

    “I don’t know who could have done this fiendish thing. My brother and Missy,” he spoke as if she were a little girl, “drove in early Tuesday morning.”