Росс Макдональд - The Chill

I glanced up at Bradshaw. He gave me a reluctant nod. I said: “She’s a student at the college.”

“And now you say she’s under a doctor’s care? What doctor?”

“Dr. Godwin.”

“The psychiatrist, eh?” The Sheriff uncrossed his heavy legs and leaned toward me confidentially. “What does she need a psychiatrist for? Is she out of her head?”

“She was hysterical. It seemed like a good idea to call one.”

“Where is she now?”

I looked at Bradshaw again. He said: “At my house. My mother employed her as a driver.”

The Sheriff got up with a rowing motion of his arms. “Let’s get over there and talk to her.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Bradshaw said.

“Who says so?”

“I do, and I’m sure the doctor would concur.”

“Naturally Godwin says what his patients pay him to say. I’ve had trouble with him before.”

“I know that.” Bradshaw had turned pale, but his voice was under rigid control. “You’re not a professional man, Sheriff, and I rather doubt that you understand Dr. Godwin’s code of ethics.”

Crane reddened under the insult. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Bradshaw went on:

“I very seriously doubt that Mrs. Kincaid can or should be questioned at the present time. What’s the point of it? If she had anything to hide, she wouldn’t have rushed to the nearest detective with her dreadful news. I’m sure we don’t want to subject the girl to cruel and unusual punishment, simply for doing her duty as a citizen.”

“What do you mean, cruel and unusual punishment? I’m not planning to third-degree her.”

“I hope and trust you’re not planning to go near the child tonight. That would be cruel and unusual punishment in my opinion, Sheriff, and I believe I speak for informed opinion in this county.”

Crane opened his mouth to expostulate, perhaps realized the hopelessness of trying to outtalk Bradshaw, and shut it again. Bradshaw and I walked out unaccompanied. I said when we were out of hearing of the house:

“That was quite a job you did of facing down the Sheriff.”

“I’ve always disliked that blustering bag of wind. Fortunately he’s vulnerable. His majority slipped badly in the last election. A great many people in this county, including Dr. Godwin and myself, would like to see more enlightened and efficient law enforcement. And we may get it yet.”

Nothing had changed visibly in the gatehouse. Dolly was still lying on the studio bed with her face turned to the wall. Bradshaw and I hesitated at the door. Walking with his head down, Alex crossed the room to speak to us.

“Dr. Godwin went up to the house to make a phone call. He thinks she ought to be in a nursing home, temporarily.”

Dolly spoke in a monotone: “I know what you’re saying. You might as well say it out loud. You want to put me away.”

“Hush, darling.” It was a brave word.

The girl relapsed into silence. She hadn’t moved at all. Alex drew us outside, keeping the door open so that he could watch her. He said in a low voice:

“Dr. Godwin doesn’t want to run the risk of suicide.”

“It’s that bad, eh?” I said.

“ I don’t think so. Neither does Dr. Godwin, really. He says it’s simply a matter of taking reasonable security precautions. I told him I could sit up with her, but he doesn’t think I should try to do it myself.”

“You shouldn’t,” Bradshaw said. “You’ll need to have something left for tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.” Alex kicked at the rusty boot-scraper attached to the side of the doorstep. “I better call Dad. Tomorrow’s a Saturday, he ought to be able to come.”

Footsteps approached from the direction of the main house. A big man in an alligator coat emerged from the fog, his bald head gleaming in the light from the doorway. He greeted Bradshaw warmly:

“Hello, Roy. I enjoyed your speech, what I heard of it. You’ll elevate us yet into the Athens of the West. Unfortunately a patient dragged me out in the middle of it. She wanted to know if it was safe for her to see a Tennessee Williams movie all by herself. She really wanted me to go along with her and protect her from bad thoughts.” He turned to me. “Mr. Archer? I’m Dr. Godwin.”

We shook hands. He gave me a look of lingering intensity, as if he was going to paint my portrait from memory. Godwin had a heavy, powerful face, with eyes that changed from bright to dark like lamps being turned down. He had authority, which he was being careful not to use.

“I’m glad you called me. Miss McGee – Mrs. Kincaid needed something to calm her down.” He glanced in through the doorway. “I hope she’s feeling better now.”

“She’s much quieter,” Alex said. “Don’t you think it will be all right for her to stay here with me?”

Godwin made a commiserating face. His mouth was very flexible, like an actor’s. “It wouldn’t be wise, Mr. Kincaid. I’ve made arrangements for a bed in a nursing home I use. We don’t want to take any chances with her life.”

“But why should she try to kill herself?”

“She has a lot on her mind, poor girl. I always pay attention to suicide threats, or even the slightest hint of them.”

“Have you found out just what she does have on her mind?” Bradshaw said.

“She didn’t want to talk much. She’s very tired. It can wait till morning.”

“I hope so,” Bradshaw said. “The Sheriff wants to question her about the shooting. I did my best to hold him off.”

Godwin’s mobile face became grave. “There actually has been a murder then? Another murder?”

“One of our new professors, Helen Haggerty, was shot in her home tonight. Mrs. Kincaid apparently stumbled on the body.”

“She’s had dreadful luck.” Godwin looked up at the low sky. “I sometimes feel as though the gods have turned their backs on certain people.”

I asked him to explain what he meant. He shook his head: “I’m much too tired to tell you the bloody saga of the McGees. A lot of it has faded out of my memory, mercifully. Why don’t you ask the courthouse people for the details?”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea, under the circumstances.”

“It wouldn’t, would it? You can see how tired I am. By the time I get my patient safely disposed of for the night I’ll have just enough energy left to make it home and to bed.”

“We still need to talk, doctor.”

“What about?”

I didn’t like to say it in front of Alex but I said it, watching him: “The possibility that she committed this second murder, or let’s say the possibility that she’ll be accused of it. She seems to want to be.”

Alex rose to her defense: “She was out of her head, temporarily, and you can’t use what she said–”

Godwin laid a hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy, Mr. Kincaid. We can’t settle anything now. What we all need is a night’s sleep – especially your wife. I want you to come along with me to the nursing home in case I need help with her on the way. You,” he said to me, “can follow along in your car and bring him back. You’ll want to know where the nursing home is, anyway, because I’ll meet you there tomorrow morning at eight, after I’ve had an opportunity to talk to Mrs. Kincaid. Got that?”

“Tomorrow morning at eight.”

He turned to Bradshaw. “Roy, if I were you I’d go and see how Mrs. Bradshaw is feeling. I gave her a sedative, but she’s alarmed. She thinks, or pretends to think, that she’s surrounded by maniacal assassins. You can talk her out of it better than I could.”

Godwin seemed to be a wise and careful man. At any rate, his authority imposed itself. All three of us did as he said.

So did Dolly. Propped between him and Alex, she came out to his car. She didn’t struggle or make a sound, but she walked as though she was on her way to the execution chamber.