Маргарет Миллар - The Listening Walls

“Yes.”

“There’s a long hall with several rooms off it. Did you walk down that hall?”

“Yes.”

“Were the doors to those rooms open or closed?”

“Open.” “Where did you and Kellogg talk?”

“In the den, at the back of the house.”

“Did you go into any of the other rooms?”

“Just what are you getting at?” she said shrilly. “Are you implying that he and I...”

“Please answer.”

“I went to the bathroom. Make something of that. I went to the bathroom, and combed my hair and washed my face because I’d been crying! Now make something of it!”

He looked pained, as if the thought of her crying depressed him. “I’m not going to ask you why you were crying, Miss Burton. I don’t even want to know. Just tell me one thing. Did you get the impression, while you were there, that someone else might be living in the house besides Kellogg?”

“I suppose you mean the blonde?”

“You suppose wrong. I mean Amy.”

“Amy.” One corner of her mouth jerked upward in a sudden little half-smile. “That’s a funny idea, that’s really funny.” She drew in her breath and held it like a swimmer about to go underwater. “No, Amy wasn’t in the house, Mr. Dodd. Not alive, anyway, not listening, not able to listen.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He would never have said the things he did if anyone else had been there. Especially Amy.”

So the bastard made love to her, some degree of love. Dodd found himself wondering, too hard, what degree of love. “Thank you, Miss Burton. I realize how difficult it was for you to tell...”

“Don’t thank me. Just please leave me alone.”

“Are you going home?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll drive you. My car’s just down the street.”

“No. No thanks. There’s a bus due in five minutes.”

So she even knows the bus schedule, Dodd thought. That means she’s made a lot of trips to these parts, too many. “Well, at least let me walk you to the corner.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“All right. Go by yourself. Good night.”

Neither of them moved.

He said brusquely, “Hurry up or you’ll miss your bus.”

“I wish I knew what side, whose side, you were on in this business.”

“I was hired to find Amy. Kellogg’s various extracurricular activities, like murder, theft, adultery, don’t interest me except to the extent that they might lead me to Amy. Dead or alive. So you might say I’m on nobody’s side. I could be on yours, but you don’t want to play it that way.”

“No.”

“That suits me. I work better as a free agent anyway.” He turned to leave. “Good night.”

“Wait. Just a minute. Mr. Dodd, you can’t — you can’t really believe Rupert did all those things.”

“I can. I’m only sorry you can’t.”

“I have — faith in him.”

“Yeah. Well. That’s that, isn’t it?”

He wondered how long her faith would last after she’d had a talk with the police.

They were waiting for him at Kellogg’s house, a sergeant whom he didn’t recognize, and Inspector Ravick whom he did. Only a few hours before, the place had been, except for the dead man in the kitchen, very orderly and well-kept. Now it was a shambles; the furniture had been disarranged, cigarette butts and used flash bulbs were scattered on the floors, rugs were caked with mud, and everything in the kitchen, walls and woodwork, stove, refrigerator, sink, taps, chairs, bore the black smudges of fingerprint powder.

“I see you’ve been making yourself at home, Inspector,” Dodd said. “Is this your version of gracious living?”

A scowl crossed Ravick’s broad, pock-marked face. “O.K., Weisenheim, where the hell have you been?”

“The name’s Dodd. Only my best friends call me Weisenheim.”

“I asked you a question.”

“Well, I’m thinking of an answer.”

“Make it good. Start talking.”

Dodd started talking. He had a lot to say.

For fifty miles the road had been winding tortuously along the cliffs above the sea. In places the cliffs were so high that the sea was invisible and unheard. In other places they were low enough for Rupert to see the foam of the breakers in the light of the quarter-moon.

The little dog had begun to whimper in the back seat. Rupert spoke to him soothingly and quietly. He said nothing to his companion. They had not spoken since Carmel, and they were now passing through the Big Sur, where the redwoods stood in massive silence, disowning the wild wind and the reckless sea.

She was not asleep, although her eyes were closed and her head rested against the door. He thought, not for the first time, what if the door should fly open on a curve, what if she fell out? That would be the end of it all. I could drive on by myself... But he knew it wouldn’t be the end, the end wasn’t even in sight. He reached across her suddenly and locked the door she was leaning against.

She shrank back as if he’d aimed a blow at her head. “Why did you do that?”

“So you won’t fall out.” So I won’t be tempted to push you out.

“Is it much farther?”

“We’re not even halfway.”

She muttered some words that he didn’t understand; they might have been a prayer or a curse. Then, “I feel sick.”

“Take a pill.”

“All these curves, they make my stomach feel bad. There must be another road, one that is straight and smooth.”

“The better roads have more cars on them. You’d feel a hell of a lot sicker if you heard a siren behind you.”

“The police are not watching for this car. They don’t know Joe had a car. Maybe they even don’t know who he is. I took his wallet out of his pocket. That will make it harder for them.” But she didn’t sound very sure of it, and after a time she added, “What will we do when we get there?”

“Leave that to me.”

“You promised to look after me.”

“I’ll look after you.”

“I don’t like the way you say that. Why can’t we make plans, right now, right here? There is nothing else to do.”

“Watch the scenery.”

“We could start deciding what...”

“The deciding’s done. The plans are made. You’re going back.”

“Back? Not — all the way back?”

“You’ll take up exactly where you left off. Tell everyone you’ve been away on a little vacation and now you want to resume your ordinary manner of living. Act natural and don’t talk too much. And remember, this isn’t advice I’m giving you, it’s an order.”

“I am not forced to obey. I have money. I can disappear, I can get lost in the city.”

“Nothing would please me more, but it won’t work.”

“You mean you will not let it work,” she said bitterly. “You will tell.”

“I’ll tell. Everything I know. That’s a promise.”

“You don’t care what happens to me, do you?”

“Not a hoot in hell. If you went up in smoke I’d just open the windows and air the car out.”

“You are — you are a very changed man.”

“Murder changes people.”

Even above the noise of the engine he could hear the sharp intake of her breath. He turned to look at her, wishing it were for the last time. She was tugging at the red silk scarf she wore on her head as if it constricted her, prevented her from getting enough air.

He said, “Leave it on.”

“Why?”

“Your hair’s rather noticeable. To say the least. Keep it hidden until you can get to a beauty parlor and have it changed.”

“I don’t want it changed. I like it this way. I have always wanted to be...”