Margaret Millar - The Devil Loves Me

Jane sat down and finished her meal in a cold and disapproving silence. After lunch she went up to her room and locked her door.

“Sulking,” Nora told Prye in the drawing room. “Duncan used to do the same thing. She’s copying him. It’s not Jane’s real nature to sulk. She’d prefer to weep prettily to an audience of six or more males.”

“God grant I be not one,” Prye said fervently. “I’m a bit weary of weeping ladies.”

“I’m sorry for that. I’m due to break down any minute.”

“You’re different,” Prye said. He kissed her thoroughly to prove how different she was.

“I don’t feel much better,” Nora said gloomily. “Is it true that you haven’t tried to help Inspector Sands?”

“No.”

“But you just can’t do anything, is that it?”

He did not reply. She looked at him sharply.

“Paul, you know who did it? Tell me.”

“Do you want to know?”

She turned away. “No. I don’t know. It’s all such a muddle. That young boy—”

“Sammy,” Prye said. “Without Sammy we couldn’t have found out—”

“We?”

“Sands and I.”

“Is he — going to arrest anyone?”

Prye said, “It’s Sands’ problem. I’m keeping out of it.”

“Because of me?”

Prye took her hand. “Don’t think or talk of it. We don’t know what’s going to happen or when. But there’s nothing we can do, except go on as we have been.”

“Until somebody else is murdered?”

“There won’t be any more murders,” he said quietly. “The only person who is in danger realizes her danger — and locks her door.”

In her room Jane sat in front of the dressing table applying a new brand of cold cream. It was Jane’s infallible cure for her injured feelings. The sight of her own face in the mirror was a tonic.

She followed the directions religiously, crying a little at the same time. After all, people had treated her dreadfully. Even Duncan. Duncan had left her to starve.

She got up and went to the clothes closet to examine her last year’s mink coat. The thing was in tatters, really, but it might do for one more year. The silkiness of the fur on her arm was pleasant and she was almost cheerful when she went back to the dressing table to remove the cream.

It’s too bad Dennis isn’t here, she thought. I think I could have become quite fond of Dennis. But there’s Jackson—

She changed into a blue wool dress, powdered her face, applied lipstick very cautiously, and went downstairs. There was no one in the hall except a large policeman, who smiled at her. Jane smiled back and went on through the dining room into the kitchen.

Jackson was sitting at the table playing solitaire. He got to his feet hurriedly when he saw her and said, “Oh. Sorry, Miss Stevens.”

She laughed and said, “Sorry? Have you got anything to be sorry about?”

He shifted his feet and looked embarrassed.

“Mayn’t I sit down?” she asked with an arch smile. She sat down in the chair he’d been sitting in. The warmth of him was still there. It crept through her dress and she shivered and looked up at him.

“You’ve made the chair warm for me.”

Jackson blushed painfully. “Yes. I... I was just playing solitaire.”

“Were you lonesome?”

God, this is awful, she’s trying to make me, Jackson thought. He said, “Yes, madam. Hilda has gone.”

“Has she? Is that what’s making you lonesome?”

“I miss her,” he said.

Her eyes lost some of their warmth. “It’s funny the police let her go, isn’t it? I mean, she was here like the rest of us.”

“The police let Mr. Williams go. And Hilda’s just a kid, eighteen. She wouldn’t have anything to do with the murders.”

“I’m twenty-two,” Jane said.

He was surprised. He was going to say she looked older but he caught himself and laughed instead. “Are you? Well, you’re just a kid then too.”

“I feel very old,” she said. “So much death — makes you feel old.”

Her eyes were sad and her mouth drooped. Jackson thought she looked adorable and so did she.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

A lovely fat tear rolled down each cheek. “I’m going to be poor. Duncan didn’t leave me anything. I’m all alone.”

She didn’t look quite so adorable now to Jackson.

“Not a thing?” he said.

“Except some stocks.”

“Good stocks?”

“I don’t know. Duncan was awfully clever, so I guess they must be good stocks.”

“But there aren’t enough of them?”

“Not nearly,” she said sadly. “Not nearly enough.”

Her hand lay limp and soft and helpless on the table near his own. He touched it.

“How nice you are!” she whispered.

“You won’t starve,” he said. “Everything will be all right, I’m sure. What I mean is — some man — marriage, you know—”

The bell rang in the kitchen and Jackson said, “I have to go.”

“Oh, don’t go.”

“The bell—”

It rang again. He was stroking her hand. Gosh, he thought, she smells swell.

After the third ring Dinah strode in, eyed the tableau coldly, and said, “All tied up, Jackson?”

Jackson said nothing.

“Has she reached the stage where she’s borrowed your handkerchief?” Dinah said. “No? Good. She may have one of mine.”

“No, thanks,” Jane said with dignity. “Really, I don’t understand the meaning of this intrusion.”

Dinah smiled grimly. “No? Well, I’d hate to explain in front of Jackson. Come along. We need a fourth for bridge.”

“I don’t want to play bridge.”

Dinah grasped her shoulder, not gently. “You can always sneak back to the kitchen in the dark.”

Jane threw Jackson an appealing glance. He flushed and averted his eyes.

Jane said sweetly, “Thank you for a very stimulating conversation, Jackson. Perhaps we can continue it some time when there are no rude people to interrupt.”

“Do,” Dinah said. “Hire a hall.”

She followed Jane out. Jackson let out his breath and sat down violently in his chair.

Dinah put her hand on Jane’s arm and pressed it. “Now that I have saved Jackson from the well-known fate which is worse than death—”

“What do you mean?” Jane demanded haughtily.

“You are subtle like a cyclone. I shall be equally subtle — lay off Jackson. He’s just a boy.”

“He’s old enough to take care of himself.”

“Certainly, and you’re old enough to take care of him. But I repeat, lay off Jackson.” Dinah paused outside the drawing room. “Has your bridge improved any?”

“I don’t like bridge,” Jane said. “I’m only playing as a special favor, because I’m not as selfish as the rest of you are. I don’t mind putting myself out for another person.”

“Another person such as Jackson.”

“I don’t believe in the class system and besides he went to Harvard, didn’t he? And he’s just as good as I am.”

“Better,” Dinah said. “Much, much better.”

They went inside. Nora and Prye were sitting at the card table talking and dealing out bridge hands.

“Here she is,” Dinah said. “It’s too bad the Humane Society doesn’t offer a medal for rape prevention. I’ve always wanted a medal.”

“That isn’t funny,” Jane said distantly. “You have an evil mind which twists the most innocent thing.” She turned to Prye. “I’m not a very good bridge player because I think spades and clubs look so much alike. But I’ll oblige you and Nora.”

She sat down, looking every inch the martyr, and the game began.

It was three o’clock.

Sands was still in the library sitting at the big desk with his head resting on his hands.