Маргарет Миллар - Vanish in an Instant

“Have you any idea what happened to the missing objects?”

“They could have been — s-stolen.” But she stumbled over the answer. It was fairly obvious, both to Meecham and to Cordwink, that she didn’t believe the articles had been stolen.

“Or pawned, maybe,” Cordwink said. “Was he in the habit of pawning things?”

“He — when he had to, when he was desperate. He had such terrible expenses. And then there’s his mother, he sends her money. Last fall he scrimped and saved to send her some and when he did she blew it all in — went out and bought the desk set I told you about, and mailed it to him. It was a nice gesture, of course, only it was such a foolish thing to do. But then, she’s very refined, she doesn’t realize that people have to scrounge around for money these days.”

“You think, then, that Loftus pawned this stuff of his that’s missing?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea where?”

“There’s a little place in the east end, right next to the bowling alley. Devine’s, it’s called.”

“Did Loftus tell you that’s where he usually went?”

“I... no. No, he didn’t.” Her skin looked flushed. “I found a pawn ticket once when I was dusting his bureau. It was for his wrist watch. He never got the watch back. He told me he’d lost it. It wasn’t a real lie, Earl never lies. It was just a fib to save his pride. Being poor,” she said, “having to pawn things, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. But Earl isn’t used to it the way some people are. His father was well-to-do — he was a broker in Detroit before he died — and of course when Earl was working steadily he got a very good salary. Being poor is new to Earl. It’s his disease that’s dragged him down, his disease and his mom— No. No, I won’t say that. His mother can’t help herself, she’s very refined.”

Cordwink lit a cigarette. He rarely smoked, and the package from which he had taken the cigarette looked as though it had been in his pocket for months. He said, “When did you last see Loftus wearing this trench coat?”

“Saturday night. I was on my way to the hockey game, one of my boys is on the team. I met Earl on the sidewalk out in front of the house. I stopped to chat, I always do, and Earl said he’d just finished dinner downtown and that he was going to bed early because he was tired.”

“After the game you got home around...?”

“Eleven, it was just about eleven. Earl had gone to bed by that time.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Well, I thought he’d gone to bed. It never occurred to me that he hadn’t, and his lights were off.”

“Did you see him on Sunday at all?”

“No, Sunday’s my day off. I always go over to Chelsea to visit my sister and her kids. My sister and I had a little disagreement, nothing serious, but I left earlier than usual. I got home around 8:30. Earl’s light was on, I saw it shining under the door when I went into the hall. I thought of dropping in on him a minute, I was upset and Earl always cheers me up. But when I stopped outside his door he was talking on the telephone so I went on up to my room.”

“How long did you pause there, in the hall?”

“Oh, half a minute, no longer.”

“And you heard him talking?”

“Yes.”

“But not necessarily on the phone.”

“I... no, not necessarily, but...”

“In fact, there may have been someone in here with him.”

“Well, I can’t swear to it, of course, but I’m sure there wasn’t anyone here. Earl never has company.”

“No girl friends?”

Mrs. Hearst frowned. “No, none . Of that I am sure. He doesn’t bother with girls, young girls.”

“Was it a question of money?”

“No. Earl considers himself... well, deformed. He told me once that he couldn’t expect any woman to go out with a freak like he was.” She rubbed her eyes with the corner of her apron. “He isn’t a freak. It hurt me, his saying that. He isn’t a freak. A lot of women would be glad to — to look after him, see that he got the proper rest and food and didn’t go traipsing around in the cold without his galoshes and overcoat. A lot of women would be... would be...”

She hid her face in her apron, in silent grief. Watching her, Meecham wondered if the grief was for Loftus, or for all the women like herself who wanted a man to look after.

His eyes shifted to Cordwink. Cordwink’s face was grim and the cigarette he was smoking was chewed at one end like a cigar. He opened his mouth, and Meecham thought he was going to say something to the woman. But the Sheriff didn’t speak. Instead, he went over and helped Mrs. Hearst out of the chair and guided her out into the hallway as if she were blind.

When he came back he slammed the door shut behind him and looked bitterly across the room at Meecham. “Okay, you got any smart cracks to make, Meecham?”

“No.”

“That’s good, because I’m not in the mood to listen to any.” He closed the suitcase with a bang, picked it up and turned off the lights. “I’ll drop you off at Barkeley’s so you can pick up your car.”

“Thanks.”

Cordwink didn’t speak again until he got into his car and pulled away from the curb.

“The fact is,” he said, “I’m a very emotional man where women are concerned.”

The light of morning coming in through the barred window was dingy, and along the corridor a cool damp wind blew, erratically, first one way and then the other.

Miss Jennings wore a heavy cardigan over her brown dress, and instead of piling her hair high on top of her head as usual, this morning she had let it hang to keep the draft off her neck. As Miss Jennings was in the habit of pointing out, to anyone who was interested and a great many who weren’t, weather never bothered her, she rose above it. The clicking of her heels against the floor was overpoweringly cheerful, and she was humming, off-beat and off-key, but with a good deal of spirit.

Virginia pretended not to hear either the footsteps or the humming. She ignored Miss Jennings right up to the last moment; and then it was no longer possible to ignore her because Miss Jennings took her key-ring and slid it playfully and noisily across the bars of the cell like a child running a stick along an iron fence.

“Hi!” Miss Jennings always addressed her charges in a good loud voice, as if out of a conviction that imprisonment, like age, impaired the hearing. “Well, you’re all prettied up already. That’s good, because someone wants to see you right away.”

“If it’s that greasy little psychiatrist again tell him to go peddle his dreams.”

“Now, really. Now, is that any way to talk about nice Dr. Maguire? Besides it’s not him — he. It’s Mr. Meecham. He has a big surprise for you.”

“I wonder.”

“He has, too. Guess what it is.”

“I don’t like guessing games.”

“Oh, don’t be a little old spoilsport. Go on, guess.”

“I’m going home,” Virginia said.

“Yes! How about that now, aren’t you happy? Aren’t you surprised?”

“My mother sent me a message last night. So did Meecham.”

“Oh. Well, they couldn’t have known for sure , though. The lab reports weren’t in, the blood, and so forth.”

“What blood?”

“Why, he had blood all over his clothes, same as you had. They say he’s a nice young man, no record or anything. What amazes me is the amount of blood in a person, it’s simply amazing.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Well, all right,” Miss Jennings smiled, rising above the blood as she rose above the weather.

She unlocked the cell door and Virginia stepped out into the corridor. She was pale, and the skin around her eyes looked blue, as if bruised by pressing thumbs.