Rex Stout - Alphabet Hicks

“Sit down,” Hicks said.

“I want—”

“Sit down.”

She sat on an edge of the boulder. On her upper cheek two thin red lines were the scratches the smudge had covered and were vivid on the gray of her skin. Hicks sat on an angle of the boulder facing her and said:

“You’d better put that ten bucks back in your purse or you’ll lose it.”

She looked at the bill still clutched in her fingers as if in an effort to make out what it was. “Oh,” she said. “That’s for you.”

She looked at him. “I remembered what that article said, that you like to pretend you do things only as a matter of business.” The hand she held out with the bill in it was trembling.

Hicks took the bill from her fingers, got her handbag from where she had laid it on the rock, put the bill in the bag and placed it back on the rock. When his eyes returned to her face he saw that her eyes were shut.

“What am I supposed to be doing?” he asked.

Heather didn’t reply. After a silence she said in a dull dead voice, “All of a sudden I see her. The way she was — her head. Then I shut my eyes, and then I see her plainer than ever.”

“Sure,” Hicks agreed. “It wasn’t anything to look at. What am I supposed to be doing?”

“Somebody did that to her. Didn’t they?”

“Yeah, somebody killed her.”

“George didn’t do it.” Her eyes opened. “It wasn’t George. He said he didn’t. And he had only just got there — Mrs. Powell told him she thought she was on the terrace and he found her there—”

“You say he had just got there?”

“Yes, he came in his car.”

“Even so.” Hicks shook his head. “Do you want to make a deal? I’ll make a deal with you. Dundee has decided he made a show of himself there in the office, when he came in and saw me. In case you’re asked about that, you can forget about him ordering me off the place. Just say he wanted to speak privately with Brager and I went outside to wait. It’s a small detail, but if you’ll do that I’ll forget you were crying when I first saw you, and also I’ll forget what you said there on the bridge. Isn’t that what you wanted to retain me to do?”

Heather was staring at him. “How did you know?”

“That was pretty obvious. Was there anything else?”

“No.”

“There ought to be.” Hicks stared back at her, not with approval. “Naturally you’re all shot to pieces, but that only makes it worse if you’re going to try to conceal the tangle George’s emotions had got into. For instance, there on the bridge you started to tell me something he did Monday evening, and then stopped. What did he do, phone you?”

“No.” She tried to swallow. “He came out here and talked with me.”

“Did anyone else see him?”

“Yes. Mrs. Powell and Ross Dundee — and I guess Mr. Brager too. I don’t know.”

“Then you can’t conceal the fact that he was here. Have you already lied about it?”

She shook her head. “They didn’t ask me anything like that. They didn’t ask me hardly anything.”

“They will before they’re through. Have you had a talk with George and agreed on what you’re going to say about his visit Monday evening?”

“Of course not, how could I? At first — you saw how he was — and then they came, the doctor and the police—”

“Then don’t be silly. This isn’t for matches. Don’t you realize your sister was murdered?”

“Yes. I shouldn’t—” Suddenly she stood up and held her head up. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t—” She started off.

In two steps Hicks had her arm and headed her back. “You sit there and decide what you’re going to do,” he said gruffly. “Or decide who to get to decide for you. Do you know a lawyer?”

“No.”

“Where’s your father and mother?”

“They’re dead.”

“Brother?”

“No.”

“Fiancé?”

“No.”

“Have you got any money?”

“I’ve got three hundred and twelve dollars in Postal Savings.”

“My God.” Hicks was glaring at her. “What did you do there at the house, skip out and dive for the woods?”

“I didn’t skip out.” Heather’s voice was no longer from a constricted throat. “They wouldn’t let me stay there on the terrace and I went inside. One of them was talking to George and another one to Mrs. Powell and Ross Dundee. Then Mr. Brager came and wanted to ask me things, but I couldn’t talk, and I went up to my room, but after a while I decided to see you and I came down and went out the back door—”

She stopped and turned her head to listen. The sound of a car engine came from the direction of the laboratory. It grew faint, then was louder again, loudest when they could also hear the noise of the wheels on gravel as they passed on the near-by road through the woods, and they caught one glimpse of the car.

“That guy may have come for Dundee and me,” Hicks observed, “but if he was after you they’ll be starting to yell in a minute. Of course you can stall them for today at least by being overcome by shock, but sooner or later you’ll have to talk.”

Heather wet her lips with her tongue, and the tongue stayed there, visible, its red tip quivering. It disappeared and she said, “She was murdered.”

“Yes.”

“Murdered!”

“Yes. About what you told me there on the bridge, was that straight? I mean about George’s emotions. Sure you weren’t in love with him too?”

“Of course I’m sure. That’s not it.”

“What’s not what?”

“George didn’t do it, I know he didn’t, but I’m thinking about Martha.” Her lip trembled on the name, and she halted to control it. “I suppose I’m thinking about myself too, but anyway Martha wouldn’t want—”

She buried her face in her hands.

Hicks looked at her in silence, and finally shook his head.

“One thing certain,” he declared, “the cops are going to be partial to George, no matter when he got there. He could have — are you listening to me?”

She nodded without uncovering her face.

“He could have come twice, the first time without knocking. I advise you to go back to the house and go up to your room and be overcome. You are, anyway. I’m a good lawyer, probably the best disbarred lawyer in the country. They have no legal right to any information from you about anything, but it isn’t a good idea to go dumb. By tomorrow morning your wits may be good enough to stand them off. You can take it for granted that they already know about George’s visit Monday evening, since Ross Dundee and Mrs. Powell saw him, and when they ask you what he came for, say you prefer not to tell them. Then they’ll jump on you, but just keep your head and stay polite, and above all don’t try to invent anything or they’ll tie you in a knot. If you get a chance alone with George, don’t try to cook up a story. That’s impossible. By the way, do you happen to know whether your sister knew a man named Vail? James Vail? Jimmie Vail?”

Heather shook her head.

“Sure?” Hicks insisted. “Did you ever hear her mention him? It may be important.”

Heather’s face came up, grayer than ever. “Why would it be important?”

“It might be. Have you ever heard mention that name, Vail?”

“No.”

“Did Brager or either of the Dundees know your sister?”

“No, how could they? She was in Europe.”

“She only went to Europe a year ago. Didn’t she ever come here to see you?”

“Just once — no, twice. I’ve only been working here a little over a year. I went into town oftener when she was there.”

“The twice she came, didn’t Brager or Ross Dundee meet her?”

“Mr. Dundee wasn’t here. He came in June, just three months ago. And Mr. Brager — I’m sure he was away both times. He often goes to town in the evening to confer with Mr. Dundee Senior.”