Evan Hunter - Lizzie

“He’s been here once since. I don’t know whether he has or not since.”

“How many times this last year has he been at your house?”

“None at all, to speak of. Nothing more than a night or two at a time.”

“How often did he come to spend a night or two?”

“Really, I don’t know. I’m away so much myself.”

“How much have you been away the last year?”

“I’ve been away a great deal in the daytime. Occasionally at night.”

“Where in the daytime? Any particular place?”

“No. Around town.”

“When you go off nights, where?”

“Never unless I’ve been off on a visit.”

“When was the last time you’ve been away for more than a night or two before this affair?”

“I don’t think I’ve been away to stay more than a night to two since I came from abroad. Except about three or four weeks ago, I was in New Bedford for three or four days.”

“Where at New Bedford?”

“At Twenty Madison Street.”

“How long ago were you abroad?”

“I was abroad in 1890.”

Knowlton nodded impatiently. Her trip abroad was of absolutely no consequence to him, and he wondered why he’d even asked the question. He was determined to learn the whys and wherefores of John Vinicum Morse’s visit. Had it been expected? Had she known he’d be leaving the house on the morning of the murders? And had she seized upon this circumstance as the opportunity for bloody mayhem?

“When did he come to the house?” he persisted. “The last time before your father and mother were killed?”

“He stayed there all night Wednesday night.”

“My question is when he came there.”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t at home when he came. I was out.”

“When did you first see him there?”

“I didn’t see him at all.”

“How did you know he was there?”

“I heard his voice.”

“You didn’t see him Wednesday evening?”

“I did not. I was out Wednesday evening.”

“You didn’t see him Thursday morning?”

“I did not. He was out when I came downstairs.”

“When was the first time you saw him?”

“Thursday noon.”

“You had never seen him before that?”

“No, sir.”

“Where were you Wednesday evening?”

“I spent the evening with Miss Russell.”

“As near as you can remember, when did you return?”

“About nine o’clock that night.”

“The family had then retired?”

“I don’t know whether they had or not. I went right to my room. I don’t remember.”

“You didn’t look to see?”

“No, sir.”

“Which door did you come in at?”

“The front door.”

“Did you lock it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“For the night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And went right upstairs to your room?”

“Yes, sir.”

He still had no information as to what she had known or not known of John Vinicum Morse’s comings and goings, projected or otherwise. He moved closer to her. He put one hand on the witness chair. He leaned into her.

“When you came back at nine o’clock, you didn’t look in to see if the family were up?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“I very rarely do when I come in.”

“You go right to your room.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you have a night key?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you know it was right to lock the front door?”

“That was always my business.”

“How many locks did you fasten?”

“The spring locks itself. And there’s a key to turn. And you manipulate the bolts.”

“You manipulated all those?”

“I used them all.”

“Then you went to bed.”

“Yes, directly.”

“When you got up the next morning, did you see Mr. Morse?”

“I did not.”

“Had the family breakfasted when you came down?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What time did you come downstairs?”

“As near as I can remember, it was a few minutes before nine.”

“Who did you find downstairs when you came down?”

“Maggie and Mrs. Borden.”

“Did you inquire for Mr. Morse?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you suppose he had gone?”

“I didn’t know whether he had or not. He wasn’t there.”

“Your father was there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you found him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you speak to either your father or Mrs. Borden?”

“I spoke to all of them.”

“About Mr. Morse?”

“I didn’t mention him.”

“Didn’t inquire anything about him?”

“No, sir.”

And still not the trace of a hint that she’d known who would or would not be in that house on that fateful morning. Why hadn’t she gone to Marion as she’d planned? Had she stayed behind by design? To do the awful thing that had to be done in that house?

“Why didn’t you go to Marion with the party that went?” he asked aloud, surprised when the thought found voice.

“Because they went sooner than I could. And I was going on Monday.”

“Why did they go sooner than you could? What was there to keep you?”

“I had taken the secretaryship and treasurer of our C. E. society... had the charge... and the roll call was the first Sunday in August. And I felt I must be there and attend to that part of the business.”

“Where was your sister Emma that day?”

“What day?”

“The day your father and Mrs. Borden were killed.”

“She’d been in Fairhaven.”

“Had you written to her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When was the last time you wrote to her?”

“Thursday morning. And my father mailed the letter for me.”

“Did she get it at Fairhaven?”

“No, sir, it was sent back. She didn’t get it at Fairhaven. For we telegraphed for her... and she got home here Thursday afternoon... and the letter was sent back to this post office.”

“How long had she been in Fairhaven?”

“Just two weeks to a day.”

“You did not visit her in Fairhaven?”

“No, sir.”

“Had there been anybody else around the house that week? Or premises?”

“No, sir, not that I know of.”

“Nobody had access to the house — so far as you know — during that time?”

“No, sir.”

“I ask you once more how it happened that, knowing Mr. Morse was at your house, you did not step in and greet him before you retired.”

“I have no reason. Except that I wasn’t feeling well Wednesday, and so did not come down.”

“No, you were down. When you came in from out.”

“Do you mean Wednesday night?”

“Yes.”

“Because I hardly ever do go in,” Lizzie said. “I generally went right up to my room. And I did that night.”

“Could you then get to your room from the back hall?” Knowlton asked.

“No, sir.”

“From the back stairs?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not? What would hinder?”

“Father’s bedroom door was kept locked, and his door into my room was locked and hooked, I think. And I had no keys.”

“That was the custom of the establishment?”

“It has always been so.”

“It was so Wednesday? And so Thursday?”

“It was so Wednesday. But Thursday, they broke the door open.”

“That was after the crowd came. Before the crowd came?”

“It was so.”

“There was no access, except one had a key. And one would have to have two keys,” Knowlton said.

“They would have to have two keys, if they went up the back way, to get into my room. If they were in my room, they would have to have a key to get into his room, and another to get in the back stairs.”