Маргарет Миллар - The Listening Walls

“It’s all right, Miss Burton,” Rupert said. “I should have given you advance notice. You know Mr. Brandon, of course?”

“Why yes. Good morning, Mr. Brandon.”

Gill rose and nodded briefly. He’d seen Miss Burton at least a dozen times but he would never have recognized her meeting her casually on the street. She seemed to assume different faces and personalities with each new hair color. Only her voice remained the same, brisk brunette, no matter how blond her inanities.

Miss Burton fondled Rupert with her eyes. “This is such a nice surprise finding you home. I just came by to give Mack his breakfast and take him for a run, and lo and behold, here you are instead. My goodness. How is Mrs. Kellogg?”

“She’s fine, thank you,” Rupert said.

“Where’s Mack? Now that I’m here I might as well...”

“You run along to the office, Miss Burton. I’ll — take care of Mack.”

“All rightie, whatever you say.”

“I’ll be down this afternoon sometime.”

“Good. Things are getting a mite behind. Borowitz has a new girlfriend and can’t concentrate. She’s absolutely nothing to look at, just young.”

“Yes. Well. You’d better run along now, Miss Burton.”

“I’ll do that. Good-bye, Mr. Brandon. It was real nice seeing you again. And you’ll be along later then, Mr. Kellogg?”

“Yes.”

“My, I’m glad you’re back. Borowitz is making a real fool of himself.”

After she’d gone Gill said heavily, “What are you going to do about Amy?”

“Wait.”

“Just sit on your rear and wait?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re a fool.”

“That’s your opinion.”

“You’re damned right it is,” Gill said and stamped furiously out of the room and down the hall to the front door.

I handled him wrong, Rupert thought. He may do something crazy, like go to the police.

On Friday of the same week, when Rupert returned from lunch, he found Helene Brandon waiting for him in his office. She was wearing a sable-trimmed suit and matching hat, and she carried the commuters’ essential, an enormous handbag. She had obviously been passing the time going through the handbag. Half its contents were on Rupert’s desk: paperback books, a magazine, two pairs of spectacles, cigarettes, pills, a candy bar, a collapsible umbrella, plastic rain boots and a pair of low-heeled black shoes.

The feminine clutter reminded Rupert of Amy and he tried to avoid looking at it by keeping his eyes fixed on Helene’s face. A pretty face, round and plump and without secrets.

She began thrusting everything back into her handbag. “Gill would have a cat fit if he knew I was here, so it goes without saying that I’m not, eh?”

Rupert smiled. “For a lady who isn’t even here you’re looking very pretty.”

“We Peninsulans have to dress to the teeth when we come to the city just to prove we haven’t gone to seed in the suburbs.”

“That hardly seems likely in Atherton.”

“Oh, you think not? Listen, I haven’t had on a pair of high heels for weeks. My feet are killing me.”

“Change your shoes.”

“No, I’d rather suffer. I’ll enjoy the trip more in retrospect if I suffer now.”

“That’s logic, I presume?”

“No. It’s just true.” She snapped the handbag shut and said with no change of tone, “I know about Amy. Gill told me.”

“I’m glad he did. I wanted you to know.”

“You haven’t heard from her?”

“I didn’t expect to. She told me she wouldn’t be writing for a time.”

“She could at least let you know where she is.”

“She could, yes,” Rupert said. “But she hasn’t. And I’m not in a position where I can tell her what to do.”

“Maybe that’s what she wanted.”

“What is?”

“To be where people can’t tell her what to do. I wouldn’t mind it myself for a few weeks.” Helene contemplated this idea with half-closed eyes. Then she dropped it, with a sigh, and said abruptly, “Listen. Gill’s spoiling for trouble. I thought I’d better warn you.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I’m not sure... You’d better close the door. If Miss Burton’s ears perk up any further she’ll take off in the first high wind.”

“I have no secrets from Miss Burton.”

“Well, I have,” Helene said dryly. “And you might be going to.”

Rupert closed the door. “What does that mean?”

“Gill has ideas.”

“About what?”

“You and Miss Burton.”

Rupert let out an explosive sound like an angry laugh. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

“I think it’s funny too, but I’m not laughing. Gill’s dead serious. He’s managed to convince himself that you don’t want Amy back because you have — other interests.”

“What possible basis could he have for such a screwy idea?”

“Miss Burton has a key to your house.”

“Naturally. I gave it to her so she could feed Mack twice a day while I was away.”

“Gill said you usually put him in a kennel.”

“The last time we left him in a kennel he picked up mange.”

“You see? There’s a logical explanation for everything but Gill just won’t believe it. He’s practically irrational on the subject of family. I don’t know why, and I prefer not to think about it since there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I often think about it,” Rupert said.

“So do I, really. It’s useless, though. We might just as well say ‘Gill is a nice guy but he’s nuts on the subject of Amy,’ and let it go at that.”

“Consider it gone.”

Helene took a deep breath to signify that that subject was closed and another about to be opened. “Then there’s the lipstick.”

“What lipstick?”

“On the highball glass in the den. Gill says it was exactly the same shade as Miss Burton was wearing.”

“And thirty million other American women. It was a new color introduced last spring, something or other sherbet.”

“Tangerine sherbet?”

“Right. I gave it to Amy for Easter in one of those fancy doodad cases. Now is that all?”

“Not quite.”

Rupert struck his palms together in helpless fury. “What else, for God’s sake?”

“I wish you wouldn’t keep swearing. It upsets me. And if I get upset heaven knows what will happen. I seem to be the only calm one in the whole caboodle. Now what was I going to say?”

“I’d be a fool to guess,” Rupert said grimly and sat down behind his desk to wait while Helene sorted through her mind, as she had sorted through her handbag, coming across all sorts of odds and ends she thought she’d lost.

“I should have taken notes, but I couldn’t very well because Gill thought he was talking to me in confidence. I mean, he had no idea I’d come here and tell you. He’d have a cat fit if it...”

“You said that.”

“Did I? Well, it only goes to show. Oh, I remember now. The cigarette butts in the den.”

“There were no cigarette butts in the den.”

“That’s just it. None in the ash trays, none in the fireplace. Amy’s a very heavy smoker — it’s one of the few things she’s ever defied Gill about. And since she was particularly nervous that night, Gill said you’d expect to find all the ash trays overflowing.”

“With fifty years of training, Gill might make a detective.”

“Well, he does notice things,” Helene said defensively, “even if they turn out to be wrong.”

“Even if, yes. In this case he didn’t notice far enough. Amy spent no more than five minutes in the den. He should have taken the trouble to examine the rest of the house. Tell him that next time he’s to bring his microscope.”