Маргарет Миллар - The Listening Walls

“You claim it’s false,” Dodd interrupted. “But are you sure?”

“If I weren’t sure, would I have confided in you and put myself at your mercy? Would I have brought you and Amy down here, dragged Miss Burton into this, broken any number of laws? Believe me, Mr. Dodd, I’m sure. It’s Amy who isn’t. That’s why we’re here now. We can’t let her spend the rest of her life thinking that she killed her best friend. She didn’t. I know that, I knew it from the first.”

“Then why didn’t you give Consuela a quick, firm brushoff?”

“I couldn’t. By the time I reached Amy at the hospital, the damage had already been done. Amy was convinced she was guilty and Consuela stuck to her story. If it had been a simple matter of dealing with the girl alone, there would have been no problem. But there was Amy too. And on my side, I had no evidence at all, only my knowledge of my wife’s character. Bear in mind, also, that we were in a foreign country. I was completely ignorant of police procedure, of what the authorities might do to Amy if they believed her confession.”

When Rupert paused for breath, Dodd could hear the two women in the adjoining room talking, Amy softly, nervously, Miss Burton with brisk assurance, as if by putting on Wilma’s clothes and make-up she had assumed some of Wilma’s mannerisms. The stage was set but the leading character had yet to appear. The silver box should do it, he thought. She’s got to come back up to check Emilio’s story about the two Americans.

“I had no choice,” Rupert continued, “but to yield to Consuela’s demands and to stall for time. I talked it over with Amy and she agreed to do what I suggested, stay out of sight for a while. We got off the plane at L.A. and I checked her into a rest home under a different name, without even her own clothes to identify her.”

“That’s why you let the luggage go through to San Francisco?”

“The luggage and Consuela,” he added grimly. “She was sitting across the aisle from us. I was able to get official papers for her by pretending I was hiring her as a nurse-companion for my wife.”

“Didn’t Mrs. Kellogg object to the idea of entering a rest home?”

“No, she was quite docile about it. She trusted me and knew I was trying to help her. I felt reasonably certain that in a rest home, no matter what story she told, no one would believe her. As it turned out, she kept her secret to herself. And she obeyed my orders, gave me her power of attorney before we left Mexico City, wrote the letters I dictated in order to forestall any suspicions on the part of her brother Gill. I arranged with a business associate to have one of the letters postmarked New York but Gill wasn’t taken in. I didn’t realize how strong his suspicions would be or the extent of his dislike for me.

“As soon as I did realize, thanks to Helene, I began to get rattled and make mistakes. Big mistakes, like leaving Mack’s leash in the kitchen and giving Gerda Lundquist a chance to catch me in that fake telephone call. It seemed that with each mistake I made, the next one became easier. I could no longer think clearly, I was so worried about my wife. I had relied heavily on the theory that the passage of time would bring Amy to her senses. I was too optimistic. Time alone couldn’t do the trick; something more positive was needed. But I could do nothing positive, not even go down to Los Angeles to see her, to reason with her. I was trapped in San Francisco, with you and Gill Brandon on my tail. It was, ironically, Consuela herself who forced me to do something positive.”

They’d met, by prearrangement, in the back row of loges of a movie theater on Market Street. Rupert arrived first and waited for her. When she finally arrived, she had doused herself so extravagantly with perfume that before he saw or heard her approach he could smell her as she walked up the carpeted steps.

It was not the time or place for amenities, even if she’d known or cared about them. She said bluntly, “I need more money.”

“I haven’t any.”

“Get some.”

“How much were you thinking of?”

“Oh, a lot. There are two of us now.”

“Two?”

“Joe and I, we got married yesterday. I have always wanted to get married.”

“For God’s sake,” Rupert said. “Why did you have to drag O’Donnell into this?”

“I dragged no one. I simply wrote him a letter because I was lonesome. You do not understand how it is, being without friends, seeing only people who hate you and wish you dead. So I wrote Joe a letter, telling him how well I was doing, and about my pretty clothes and jewelry and my new hair, more blond than his even. I think it made him jealous. Anyway he borrowed some money and came up here by bus. Seeing him again, I thought, well, now that he’s here we might as well get married and regain the blessing of the Church. So now there are two of us.”

“To be supported by me.”

“Not you. Your wife. You have done nothing to be ashamed of. Why should you pay? It is Mrs. Kellogg who must pay.”

“This is blackmail.”

“I do not concern myself with words, only money.”

“You’ve told O’Donnell everything, I suppose?”

“We are man and wife,” she said virtuously. “A wife must confide in her husband completely.”

“You’re a damned fool.”

He felt her stiffen in the seat beside him. “Not such a fool as you might think.”

“Do you realize the penalty for blackmail?”

“I realize that you cannot go to the police and complain against me. If you do, they will have to question Mrs. Kellogg and she will admit her guilt.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said quickly. “My wife no longer believes your story about Mrs. Wyatt’s death. She remembers the truth.”

“What a bad liar you are. I can always tell a bad liar, I being such a good one.”

“Yes, I know that well.”

“Only I do not lie about vital matters, like Mrs. Wyatt’s death.”

“Don’t you?”

“Must I keep telling you? I was in the broom closet, sleeping, and I woke up when I heard someone screaming in 404. I rushed in. The two women were struggling over the silver box — they’d been arguing about it when I was in the room before. As I approached, Mrs. Kellogg got hold of the box and struck Mrs. Wyatt on the head. The balcony doors were open. Under the force of the blow, Mrs. Wyatt stumbled backwards out on to the balcony and fell over the railing. My mind is very quick. I thought immediately, what a terrible thing if the police accuse Mrs. Kellogg of murder. So I picked up the box and threw it over the railing. Mrs. Kellogg had fainted from shock. I poured some whiskey down her throat from the bottle on the bureau, and when she came to a little, I said to her, ‘Don’t worry. I am your friend. I will help you.’”

Friend. Help. Rupert stared in silence at the oversized movie screen where a man was stalking a woman, intent on killing her. He had a brief, childish wish that he were the man and Consuela the woman. If Consuela died, naturally, or by accident, or by design...

No, he thought. It would solve nothing. I must try to save Amy, not to punish Consuela. With Consuela dead I would have no chance of proving to Amy that she is suffering from a delusion. I must keep the devil alive because without her I cannot kill the delusion.

“The sea and the fog,” Consuela was saying. “They do not agree with my health. I want to go back home where it is high and dry. But of course I will require money.”