Erle Gardner - The Case of the Half-Wakened Wife

“No thank you. I... I’ll call my brother-in-law. He’ll know what to do.”

She snapped her purse shut and moved away from the window.

Lawton Keller answered the telephone and Jane was relieved to hear his voice on the wire. There was something about Lawton’s voice that always reassured her, probably its ringing note of confidence.

During his lifetime, Jane’s husband, Gregory, had never cared greatly for Lawton; but Jane had put it down to brotherly jealousy. Lawton was the older; he had a smooth, easy assurance, a graceful, extemporaneous charm of manner. Gregory, on the other hand, had been reticent, inarticulate, sensitive, a man who modestly refrained from tooting his own horn and didn’t like to hear others talk about themselves.

After Gregory’s death, Lawton had taken Jane under his wing, advising her what to do with the insurance money, always offering alibis for their losses, which were invariably due to “conditions,” and taking great credit to himself for their profits.

When Lawton answered the phone, Jane exclaimed with relief, “Oh Lawton, I’m so glad you’re there!”

“What’s the matter, Jane? You sound worried.”

“I am.”

“Where are you?”

“At the bank — in the phone booth.”

“The bank’s closed, isn’t it? It’s after three — or is it?”

“Yes. They’re just closing it, the outer doors.”

“Make your deposit all right?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Lawton, you remember that oil lease on the island?”

“It wasn’t exactly a lease,” Lawton said judicially. “I consider it more an option for a lease. However, it’s all over now.”

“No, it isn’t. A man who is the representative of Mr. Shelby caught me at the bank.”

“At the bank?”

“Yes.”

“How did he know you were going to be there?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to pay me five hundred dollars.”

“For what?”

“To keep the lease alive.”

Lawton Keller’s voice showed excitement. “Don’t take it, Jane. Don’t touch a...”

“I didn’t, Lawton. I gave it right back to him.”

“Gave it back to him,” Lawton all but shouted. “You mean you took it?”

“Well I just sort of held it. He shoved the money into my hands, of course, well naturally... But I handed it right back.”

“You shouldn’t have ever touched it in the first place. What did you tell him?”

“I told him I couldn’t take it, that the lease had expired.”

“That’s right. Don’t tell him anything about the sale.”

“Oh, but I did.”

Lawton Keller’s voice showed irritated impatience. “Don’t tell all you know.”

“Well, I thought... I thought he was entitled to an explanation.”

“You didn’t tell him the name of the person who is buying it, did you?”

“Why... why, yes. Shouldn’t I have done it, Lawton?”

Lawton groaned over the telephone. “Jane, why didn’t you call me?”

“There wasn’t time. I’m calling you now.”

“Well there’s nothing you can do now. Come and see me right away. I’ll wait here.”

“All right. I have to go by and see Martha first.”

“What does Martha want now?” Lawton Keller’s voice was cold.

“Why, she doesn’t want anything, Lawton, except — well, you know, after all, she’s my sister. I want to see how Margie is getting along.”

“Well, cut it short and then get in touch with me. Jane, here’s something you’d better do.”

“What?”

“While you’re there at the bank draw out every cent in your account.”

“But why should I do that?”

“It’s just a hunch. They might try to tie up your bank account.”

“Who?”

“Shelby.”

“But I don’t see how he could.”

“Never mind about that. You go over and draw out all your money.”

“But the bank’s closed.”

“Just the front door. You’re in there, and you can find someone to wait on you. Draw out every cent you’ve got. How much is it?”

“I don’t know. Something over two thousand dollars.”

“All right. Draw it out, every penny of it. Get it in the form of cash and carry it with you.”

“Well... all right, if you say so, Lawton... if you think it’s best.”

“I think it’s best, Jane, and don’t talk with anyone else. Don’t tell anyone about it.”

“All right, Lawton.”

“And then get in touch with me just as soon as you can get away from Martha.”

“Yes, Lawton.”

“Don’t let Martha know you’ve got any money with you,” he warned, and hung up.

Jane Keller took a streetcar to South Omena Avenue, walked two blocks to a three story brick apartment house and pressed the bell marked “Manager.”

After some five seconds the electric buzzer threw back the latch and Jane Keller entered an ornamental lobby which was as stiff as a nurse’s starched uniform. She climbed half a dozen stairs to a corridor and stopped in front of the first door on the left, which was marked MANAGER, and below that in a little container a card bearing the words Mrs. Martha Stanhope.

Jane Keller tapped nervously on the door and Martha opened it.

Martha was Jane Keller’s older sister. In her early forties, she was inclined to put on weight but still had enough pride in her personal appearance to combat the tendency. Her husband had died fifteen years earlier and she had never remarried. The necessity of making a living for herself and her daughter Marjorie had kept her watchfully eager to grasp every opportunity which might come her way. This eager, objective selfishness had become a dominant trait in her character. Her eyes were bright, alert, and greedy. Even when she smiled, her eyes remained watchful.

“Oh, hello, Jane. I didn’t know it was you. I was dressing and thought it was someone looking for an apartment. You can put up a sign NO VACANCIES and still they come, asking questions about whether someone isn’t going to leave, or if you don’t know of some place... Come in and sit down. Margie will be in a minute.”

Jane followed Martha into the over-furnished apartment, sank down in a chair, placed her hands on her lap and smiled a wan, vague smile.

“What’s the matter? You look all in,” Martha said.

“Well, I... I’ve just had a jolt.”

Martha Stanhope’s eyes were hard and probing. “What sort of a jolt?” she asked, running the words together in a quick staccato of inquiry.

“I was at the bank.”

“Yes, go on.”

“A man tried to give me five hundred dollars.”

“Oh,” Martha said, and smiled. Relief relaxed the tension of her manner. She ceased to stand rigidly poised in front of her sister and moved easily over to a little locker, brought out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. “A little drink will do you good.”

“Yes, I... I suppose so... not much, Martha.”

Martha Stanhope poured out two stiff slugs of the brandy. “So you’re upset because someone paid you five hundred dollars?”

“It was on that oil lease.”

“What oil lease?”

“On the island.”

“Oh, that ,” her sister said scornfully. “That was one of those deals Lawton promoted... I thought it was all over.”

“I thought so too but I guess it isn’t. The lease had some funny provision in it... that’s what the man told me.”

“Jane Keller, will you tell me what you’re talking about?”

“Well, Mr. Shelby seems to think he can reinstate the lease by paying five hundred dollars.”

“Go on,” Martha snapped. “What would happen then?”