Маргарет Миллар - The Murder of Miranda

“Yes.”

“That will be all, Admiral.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I have no more questions. You’re free to leave.”

The old man didn’t move.

“Admiral? You may step down now.”

“Before I do I would like to make another statement.”

“Go ahead.”

“If this is all you wanted from me, you might have spared me the embarrassment of a subpoena. I haven’t told you anything you didn’t already know and I haven’t cast any new light on the situation...”

“Perhaps you have, Admiral. Thank you very much.”

“You didn’t even ask me about my wife’s death, how it must have happened.”

“We know how it happened, Admiral. Please step down.”

It was the second most important occasion in Cordelia’s life — the first being the Singapore incident — and she had prepared for it by buying a new outfit, a red and white polka-dot pantsuit and genuine red snakeskin shoes. (“Whoever heard of a genuine red snake?” Juliet said. “You were had .”) She put on her best wristwatch, three rings, a bracelet made of carved ivory elephants and as a last-minute addition the ruby necklace, formerly Miranda’s, which she’d bought from Mr. Tannenbaum a year ago. She hadn’t worn it since Miranda moved into the house and she didn’t know why she suddenly decided to wear it today, keeping it hidden under the collar of her jacket until she got into her car and on her way to the courthouse.

No one had clearly explained to Cordelia the actual function of the grand jury, but she wasn’t nervous. She had, in fact, the pleasant feeling that she was doing her duty, and she spoke in a loud distinct voice, giving her name, Cordelia Catherine Young, and her address, 122 °Camino Grande, and her occupation, none.

“Miss Young, have you discussed the testimony you’re about to give with any members of your family?”

“You asked me not to.”

“I’m asking you now whether you did.”

“Maybe I exchanged a few words with Juliet. I couldn’t very well not. The subpoenas arrived at the same time and there she was and there I was. We could hardly pretend nothing was happening.”

“Did you discuss with her in detail what you were going to say before this jury?”

“No.” Cordelia kept her hands in the pockets of her jacket, fingers crossed to protect her from a perjury charge, but in case crossed fingers had no legal significance she added, “Not really.”

“Do you know Miranda Shaw, Miss Young?”

“Naturally. She lives in the same house, day and night.”

“What is her job?”

“She’s supposed to teach me and Juliet things like etiquette, which we already know and anyway we’re never invited any place where we can use it. Mrs. Young just couldn’t get that through her head.”

“Mrs. Young is... was... your mother?”

“I assume she was. That’s what it says on my passport.”

“Did you get along well with your mother?”

“Nobody got along well with her. She was too hard to please and she had a terrible temper.”

The District Attorney stood up and walked around the table, partly to stretch his legs, partly to give the jury a chance to examine this new picture of Iris Young, considerably different from the one presented by the Admiral.

He returned to face the witness chair. “Miss Young — may I call you Cordelia?”

“I don’t mind if you think it’s etiquette.”

“We make our own rules of etiquette in this courtroom. Now, you said a moment ago, Cordelia, that nobody got along well with your mother.”

“It’s true.”

“If Mrs. Shaw, for instance, didn’t have a fairly pleasant relationship with her, what made her stay in the house?”

“Money.”

“Will you explain that?”

“Mrs. Shaw intended to leave after Mrs. Young hit her with the cane but Pops gave her a raise so she’d stay.”

“How much of a raise?”

“Two hundred dollars a month.”

“Do you know how Mrs. Shaw received the extra money? Was it added to her salary?”

“Good lord, no. That way Mrs. Young would have found out about it because she paid all the bills and salaries and stuff.”

“Then where did this extra two hundred a month come from?”

“Pops gave it to her. It worked out fine because she gave some of it right back.”

“How?”

“She bought him presents.”

“Mrs. Shaw bought your father presents?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever see any of them?”

“No. But Juliet and I heard him thanking her one night in the hall. He said her presents had made him very happy.”

“What did you think when you heard this?”

“Exactly what you’re thinking,” Cordelia said. “Hanky-panky.”

“Hanky-panky?”

“That’s Juliet’s expression for it. She hates to say dirty words when she doesn’t have to. Of course, I can spell it out for you if you—”

“No, no. Hanky-panky is fine.” The District Attorney sat down again, heavily, as though the pressure of gravity on him had suddenly increased. “I’d like you now to go back to the early evening of July the Fourth. Where were you and Cordelia?”

“Home.”

“Doing what?”

“Helping Miranda get the table ready for dinner. The sun was still shining but she made me pull the drapes so we could eat by candlelight. It’s supposed to be more civilized, that’s what she says.”

“Did your mother come to the table for dinner?”

“Long enough to gripe about the food and take her medicine. The doctor made her take a capsule for her arthritis at every meal.”

“And you distinctly recall her doing so?”

“Yes. She took one of the same capsules she always did.”

“What color was it?”

“One end was white and the other end blue.”

“The colored end couldn’t have been orange?”

“No.”

“Or red?”

“No. I was sitting right beside her. She took one of her ordinary blue and white capsules and after that she got up and left without finishing her food.”

“Where did she go?”

“Where she always went to escape from the rest of us, her sitting room. She even had a lock put on it to keep us out.”

“When?”

“About a month before she died. It worried the doctor because he was afraid something might happen to her and nobody would be able to get in to help her. But I told him not to fret, I could always pick the lock with one of my credit cards.”

“You could pick the lock?”

“It’s easy. Even Juliet can do it.”

“Getting back to dinner on the night of July the fourth, why did your mother leave the table before finishing her food?”

“She said the meat was tough and the candles had given her a migraine. Even though Miranda took the candles off the table right away, she left anyway.”

“Evidently she didn’t share Mrs. Shaw’s feeling that eating by candlelight was more civilized?”

“She never liked anything Miranda did.”

“Why didn’t she fire her?”

“Because Miranda took us off her hands, out of the house. Mrs. Young hated having us around but she worried about us when we weren’t. We spent a lot of time down at the beach club. I swam a lot but Juliet mostly ate because she had a crush on one of the waiters. It wasn’t very romantic. She got fat as a pig and then she found out he was married and had five children. It was a shattering blow plus having to go on a diet.”

“I’m sure it was. Thank you, Cordelia. I have no more questions.”

Cordelia stepped down from the stand with some reluctance. The second biggest occasion of her life was over and she didn’t know for sure what it was all about. In addition, the red snakeskin shoes were beginning to pinch and the ruby necklace felt quite heavy around her neck, as if Miranda herself had somehow become entangled in the silver clasp.