Маргарет Миллар - The Listening Walls

“A lot of people are suddenly saying please to me,” Dodd said dryly. “I guess it takes trouble to make people talk polite.”

“I’m not in trouble.”

“Any friend of Kellogg’s is in trouble. Have you heard from him?”

“No.”

“He didn’t call to say good-bye?”

“No.”

“And you wouldn’t tell me if he had, would you?”

“No.”

“You can get away with saying no to me, but the police aren’t going to like it. They’re probably at your apartment right now, waiting for you. And from now on that’s the way it will be. You’ll be watched, followed, every place you go. If they can get to your mail before you do, they will. Your apartment will be bugged and your phone tapped.”

“I have no information.”

“You’re loaded with information, Miss Burton. And they’ll get it all. They’ll take you apart like a watch, your insides will be laid out on a table. No watch ever works the same once it’s been taken apart like that, unless it’s done by an expert. The police aren’t expert, they can be pretty damned clumsy.”

As if to emphasize his point, a police car with its siren open turned the corner on two wheels. A few drivers pulled over to the curb, the rest proceeded as if they’d heard and seen nothing.

“Why,” she said painfully, “why are you being so cruel?”

“Maybe, someday, you’ll realize it’s kindness, not cruelty, to warn you what to expect when the police start asking questions.”

“I can’t give out information I don’t have.”

“And you won’t give out what you do have?”

“I told you...”

“Miss Burton, what are you doing in this neighborhood?”

At first she shook her head as if she didn’t intend to answer. Then she said, slowly and carefully, “Mr. Kellogg left the office at noon. He wasn’t feeling well. I decided to drop by his house and see if there was anything I could do to help.”

“That’s what you intend to tell the police?”

“Yes.”

“They’ll think you’re a most solicitous and devoted secretary.”

“I am.”

“In fact, they might think you’re more than a secretary.”

“I can’t help the dirt in other people’s minds. Including yours.”

“My mind doesn’t have any dirt in it, where you’re concerned.”

“No?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I believe you’re exactly what you claim to be, a devoted secretary, with very little talent or taste for lying. Miss Burton, why were you running away when I stopped you?”

“I heard that there’d been a — a murder.”

“Who told you?”

“A woman, a stranger. She said a murder had been committed in the Kellogg house.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. I didn’t wait to hear any more. I didn’t want to get involved so I left.”

“Without asking any questions?”

“Yes.”

“Weren’t you even curious about who was murdered?”

She turned away, silent and obstinate.

“Miss Burton, your employer was living alone, or presumably alone, in that house. Wouldn’t it have been natural for you to assume that he was the one who was killed? Wouldn’t it also have been natural for you to stay long enough to find out?”

Her lips moved but she didn’t speak. He wondered if she was praying. He hoped so; she was going to need all the help she could get.

“Miss Burton, did you have a good reason to believe that the victim was not Rupert Kellogg?”

“No!”

“I suggest that he called you to tell you he was leaving town because something had happened. Perhaps you didn’t believe him and that’s why you came out here tonight, to check up on him. Or perhaps he didn’t tell you exactly what had happened and you wanted to find out for yourself. Which was it?”

She put her hands over her ears. “I don’t have to listen to you! I don’t have to talk to you! Go away! Go away or I’ll scream!”

“You are screaming,” he said.

“I can scream louder.”

“I’ll bet you can. But you don’t want to see the police any sooner than you have to, so let’s play it calm, eh? You can’t drown out the truth by screaming.”

“What you think isn’t necessarily the truth.”

“Then why all the reacting? Simmer down. Do some thinking. Your story doesn’t hold up. The police won’t believe it any more than I do.”

“I can’t help...”

“You can help. Tell the truth. Do you know where Kellogg is?”

“No.”

“You haven’t seen him since he left the office at noon?”

“No.”

“Or been in touch with him?”

“No.”

“Miss Burton, a woman has disappeared and a man has been killed. Under those circumstances, withholding information is a very serious matter.”

“I have no information, for you or anyone else.”

“Well, I have some for you.” He paused, letting her wait, giving her time to wonder, to worry. “When Kellogg left town he wasn’t alone. He took his girl friend with him.”

She didn’t move and no expression crossed her face, but a column of color rose up from her neck to her cheek-bones and the tips of her ears. “That’s a very old and very cheap trick, Mr. Dodd.”

“For your sake, I wish it were a trick. But it happens to be a fact. They were seen together at noon, and again later when he picked up the dog at the kennel.”

“I don’t believe it. If he had a — a woman with him it must have been his wife.”

“Not a chance. The girl was a pretty blonde, years younger than his wife.”

“Younger.” She mouthed the word as if it had an acrid taste but must be swallowed.

“Twenty-two, twenty-three.”

“What’s her — name?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you.”

She was silent, huddling inside her yellow coat for protection, not from the wind outside but from the storm inside. She said at last, “I guess you’ve told me enough for tonight.”

“I had to. I can’t watch a woman like you jeopardize herself for a worthless man without trying to stop you.”

“How do you know what kind of woman I am?”

“I do know. I knew last night when I talked to you at the dancing academy.” It seemed, to Dodd, a very long time ago.

She glanced at him bitterly. “I suppose you followed me last night when I went home after class.”

“You didn’t go home, Miss Burton.”

“So you were following me.”

“No.”

“Then how can you be sure where I went?”

“Kellogg told me.”

“That’s a lie. He doesn’t know you, he’s never spoken to you in his life.”

“Let’s say his actions spoke for him. This morning he used his power of attorney to take fifteen thousand dollars out of his wife’s bank account. I deduced that someone had warned him I was on his trail. You.”

He guessed from her shocked expression that it was the first time she’d heard about the money and the power of attorney. He pressed his advantage: “Did Kellogg forget to mention the fifteen thousand to you? He has a convenient memory.”

“It was — the money was — is — none of my business.”

“Even if he used it to skip town with a blonde? I suppose he also forgot to mention the blonde.”

“You’re a bad man,” she said in a whisper. “A hateful man.”

“If, by that, you mean you hate me, I’ll have to accept it. If you mean I’m full of hate, I must correct you. I’m not full of hate. I wish you well, I’d like to help you.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’re a nice girl, who’s doing some wrong things with the right intentions.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Let’s say ill-advised, then.” He jammed his fists into the pockets of his topcoat as if to prevent them from taking a poke at someone. “You went to Kellogg’s house last night to warn him. I know that, so don’t bother denying it. Now listen. This is important. You went to the front door and Kellogg let you in?”