Jean Backus - Ellery Queen. The Best of Suspense

Money, she thought. Worrying about the future. Seeing the savings growing smaller instead of larger, feeling the need for an increased income which she’d never get from her job now that she was this close to retirement. So that apartment upstairs that she had built and used herself years ago while her parents were still living in the downstairs quarters was the answer to her need for increased income, just sitting there waiting for another tenant.

She had tried: the nice young couple both of whom worked and were therefore out of the house all day — until she discovered that the girl had been three months’ pregnant at the time of signing the lease, and then there was the baby, waking Nell at night with its incessant crying, until she had finally had to give them their notice. What was $85 a month weighed against her peace of mind?

And then the nice-looking middle-aged woman who worked downtown and brought home man after man and was such a wretched housekeeper that some of her roaches had finally invaded Nell’s living quarters. Notice served.

And there were others, even less desirable, particularly the ones who managed to evade rent day, and those who wanted to be sociable, wanting to use her telephone or her washer, wanting her to accept C.O.D. packages and forgetting to repay her, and always and forever the excuses for not being able to pay the rent. (“Just a week or two, Nell dear — I’m expecting a check in the mail any day.”)

She had hated being a landlady, but now she was hating, even more, seeing her small savings depleted in order to take up the slack caused by inflation. Nevertheless, no more bothersome tenants — until suddenly she had thought of Emma.

Emma had been her closest friend, her chum, when they were in high school together, her confidante, nearer to her than anyone else had ever been. Arms entwined, heads together, whispering about boys, daringly discussing the origins of life — a commitment they knew would last for life. It didn’t, of course.

Nell had gone her way to college and other friends, to love affairs and marriage, to divorce and finally a job with the state, and somewhere along the way Emma had been almost forgotten. Except for one definite and unfailing commitment that had lasted all these years: they exchanged long letters on each other’s birthday and thus at least kept in touch once a year. But as time went on there was little to tell each other about their lives which had remained almost static in their later years.

They were both in their early sixties now, but this one contact remained; they dared not neglect this birthday acknowledgement for fear that whoever didn’t write would be considered dead by the other. So they had continued writing.

Emma. Nell thought now. I know she doesn’t have much money. I wonder if she’d like to take the apartment overhead. I could bring the rent down to $75, and I’d be company for her, and she’d be company for me — but not too much, not as if, heaven forbid, we had to live in the same rooms. Nell enjoyed her privacy too much, her own way of doing things — letting the dishes go if she felt like it, or flying at the cleaning chores some weekend if that was what possessed her at the time, or playing the radio late at night, or the TV, or painting in her little studio room. Snacks at any hour of the day when she was home, instead of regular meals. Quiet reading. Walks alone along the country road where she lived. Just to be alone when she wanted to be—

However, the apartment upstairs was entirely separate, and even had an outside staircase of its own, and someone like Emma, who had always been so thoughtful of others, would not make much noise. The $75 would help; it would just about take over the depletion that present-day prices had made in her savings. Well — a few more years and she’d be able to retire on her pension and what she had managed to save during the years of her enslavement. But there’d be no savings left unless she rented the apartment.

Emma was delighted. She wrote, “I have been so depressed, dearest Nell, because I thought the rest of my life would have to be spent alone, no family, even my friends here are dying off; and you make the little apartment sound so fascinating. I’ll give notice on this dinky room I live in.” Room, thought Nell: is that all she has? — and began to feel qualms along with the Good Samaritan warmth within her. “I’ll just pack up my things and get a bus ticket and be with you in a week.”

More qualms. Why was Emma in such a hurry? What was she doing that she could pack up and leave her way of life and her job and what friends she had, without another thought — too eager, perhaps, to join Nell’s life? Well, no matter, they could still lead their individual lives. Emma would be getting a cheap apartment and Nell would be getting an increased income.

Nell spent the following weekend giving the little apartment — sitting-room, kitchen, bedroom, and bath — a thorough cleaning. She laundered the curtains, put everything in place, even added a little bouquet of flowers from the garden just before she went off to the bus station to greet her friend.

“I can’t believe it!” Nell exclaimed over and over as they drove back to the house. “You seem just the same, dear. I just can’t believe it, how long has it been, you’ve hardly changed at all—”

“Nor you,” said Emma, beaming, both of them fully aware they were lying. “How could we ever have been separated for so long?”

“Well, like everyone else, we got busy with our own lives. Here we are,” and she pulled into the carport at the side of the house. “Do come into my little nest for a bite before I take you upstairs.”

“What a darling place!” Emma exclaimed, looking around Nell’s cozy living room. “Don’t bother with anything, dear, I won’t want to put you to any trouble.”

Nell beamed. “Well, if you’re not hungry, how about some sherry?”

“No, thanks, but you go ahead.”

They sat there, in Nell’s charming little living room, and for a moment said nothing. What was left to say? They had chattered all the way from the bus station, but now there was nothing left that hadn’t already been said in their long exchange of letters. They had changed, indeed: Nell, the tall, graceful, darkhaired high-school girl, was now lean rather than slender, her dark hair mostly white, her once lovely eyes shadowed by glasses, her lipstick not quite even; and Emma, the plump, plain little high-school girl was now plumper and plainer. Her faded blonde-white hair was cut in a Buster Brown fashion, making her look like a prematurely aging kindergartener, her dress was flowery, her shawl askew, and her face, as always, bland.

Out of the silence Emma finally said, “What a lovely home you have here, dear. Shall we go upstairs and look at mine?”

She exclaimed joyfully over the neat little apartment. “Just right for me!” she said. “And with you downstairs for company I’ll never get lonely—”

Apprehension washed over Nell like a sudden splash of cold water. “Well, I keep pretty busy all the time,” she explained hastily. “Working all day, then doing my chores at night, and I’ve kind of taken up painting — oh, not commercially, of course, just for my own amusement though it might develop into something someday. Now about the rent, dear. As I told you, seventy-five a month for you, though I usually get a lot more, but I decided I just didn’t want strangers up there any longer.”

“Oh, yes,” said Emma. And then, “But I don’t guess you want a deposit of a month’s rent or a lease or anything like that, do you? Being friends and all.”

“No,” said Nell patiently. “I don’t think a lease is necessary between us. Just the month’s rent.”