Читать книгу Murder Will In - Carolyn Wells - Страница 7

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Captain Raynor was conducting his investigation.

He was a methodical sort and he now had all the guests who were still there marshalled into a reception room.

With his stenographer at his side, he addressed certain people whom he knew or knew of, and who, his practised judgment told him, could not be implicated in this crime.

He had already examined and dismissed some of the older guests. He was a little surprised at the number of these; then he remembered that Hugh McCleod was years older than his wife, and these were his long time friends.

With his wide experience and knowledge of these things, Raynor reduced his audience to a few uncertain strangers and a group of younger guests who were Alma’s particular friends.

These, he announced, he would interview separately, one at a time, leaving Sergeant Colby in charge.

“Who first discovered Mrs. McCleod’s death?” he asked, and was immediately answered.

“I did,” Doris Day said, with a distinct air of importance.

“Then come with me, please,” and to her disappointment, Doris found herself conducted to another room. She had anticipated a dramatic scene when she would be in the limelight, and would impress all by her pathetic story.

But Raynor read her mind, and requested her to answer his inquiries briefly and concisely.

“Why did you go upstairs to the men’s dressing room?” he said. “Oh, it wasn’t only the men’s rooms,” Doris smiled at him, “some of us girls had left our wraps there, too.”

“Why?”

“Just happened so. You see, it’s a guest room, and there was a maid there, a new one—I suppose she just came for the party. Alma’s own maid was in the ladies’ dressing room.”

“Why did you go up there?”

Doris opened her mascaraed eyes.

“Why, I thought it was time to go home. I was tired, and I thought I’d start and then our crowd would all go. That’s the way we usually do.”

“So you ran upstairs for your wrap?”

“Yes, and I went in the room and I saw Alma lying on the chaise longue. I thought that was odd, and I said, ‘Get up, Alma, we’re going home now.’ And she didn’t say anything, and I spoke to her! two or three times. I was sitting at the powder table, you see, and I had my back to her, but I could see her in the mirror, and she didn’t say a word! I was frightened, and I went toward her, but she looked so queer, I screamed. I couldn’t help it! I didn’t think she was dead, you see, I thought she had a stroke or something queer! I screamed because I couldn’t help it!”

“And then someone came?”

“No, nobody came, and I ran downstairs, as fast as ever I could and I almost tumbled down—I was so frightened—and Ogden Murray caught me just as I was falling, and they laid me on a couch and brought me a drink—it was one of those new ones they’re all crazy about—”

“Never mind the drink, what happened next?”

“How do I know? They were taking care of me—I nearly fell downstairs—but Ogden began to tease, and Nadine said she thought something was the matter and she ran upstairs, she has a lot of curiosity always. Then Ogden ran after her, I think, and the others took care of me. I saw Doctor Lloyd go upstairs, and that’s all I remember; you see, I was ill from shock.”

“I see. And the new drink brought you round.”

“Yes, it’s a wonder! Van learned it in Honolulu or some place.”

“Miss Day, have you any idea as to who could have killed Mrs. McCleod?”

“Why, no. That is, she had lots of enemies, but they were not killers!”

“Why did she have enemies?”

“Oh, just because she was so beautiful and rich and important and—well, fascinating. The men adored her.”

“And Mr. McCleod?”

“Her husband? Oh, he couldn’t help himself. He just adored her with the rest.”

“Didn’t he mind her—er—flirtations?”

“Oh, he didn’t know of them, the serious ones. Of course, he saw her dancing with the boys, but you know he is awfully old.”

“Forty-five, I am told.”

“Well, that’s terribly old. But Alma was very discreet.”

“You said she had enemies?”

“Mostly among the girls, just envy and jealousy. You know how we are.”

“You mean, a woman might have killed her?”

“Well, more likely than a man! How could a man kill Alma! She was too beautiful!”

“Do you suspect any woman?”

“Mercy, no! You sort of led me on to say that. I can’t suspect anybody.”

“Yet somebody killed her.”

“Well, that’s what you’re here to find out. But I don’t believe it was any of the guests—”

“What do you mean?”

“I think Alma had other friends, that none of us knew about, and one of them came here secretly tonight, and—”

“You mean some lover, not of her own set?”

“I’d rather think that than to suspect one of our own crowd!”

“We can’t always think what we’d rather think. Have you the least knowledge of such a thing?”

“No, I haven’t. But if you must look among our set, keep your eye on Nadine Glenn. I don’t believe she did it, but she’s the only one who could.”

“What do you mean could?”

“Why she has temperament and deep passions and all that. You know. Most of us are just ordinary every-day girls, but Nadine has a soul that seethes—she told me so.”

“And just exactly how does a soul seethe? Do you know you are talking stark nonsense!”

“But it isn’t my nonsense! And Nadine is mystic, you know.”

“That’s in her favor. People who go in for cults are very seldom of homicidal instincts.”

“No, I don’t suppose she’d do it. Even if she wanted to, she’d balk at the last minute. Anybody would.”

“But somebody didn’t! Now, Miss Day, I want you to hold our talk confidential. If I find you’re telling what we have said in here, I shall be greatly mistaken in my judgment of your character.”

“I won’t tell,” said Doris.

She was dismissed and Raynor asked to see Nadine next.

Colby brought her, and she entered the room like a tragedy queen.

“It’s nearly six o’clock!” she exclaimed, angrily. “It’s outrageous keeping us here like this!”

“Murder is outrageous, Miss Glenn,” Raynor said, gravely. “Your name and address, please,” he nodded toward Barry, who wrote down the information she snapped out.

“Please be as quick as you can, Captain,” she said, and then she smiled at him, suddenly deciding that he was not to be intimidated by a grand manner.

“I will, Miss Glenn. Tell me, then, of your going upstairs when you heard Miss Day scream.”

“Well, Doris was so excited she hardly knew what she was saying. But she said Alma was asleep and wouldn’t wake up so I feared something was wrong and I ran up to see.”

“It was very late and Mrs. McCleod might well have been worn out. But when you heard she was asleep, why did you at once think there was something wrong?”

“That is a trap,” and Nadine looked at him calmly. “But it doesn’t frighten me at all. We always stay up late, and we are never so worn out at a party that we drop asleep from fatigue. I felt something was wrong more from Miss Day’s manner than her words, and I naturally went up to see. Fortunately Mr. Murray followed me; if I had gone in that room alone, I should have fainted, I know. Indeed, I was so sure there was a tragedy, I made Mr. Murray go in first. Then he beckoned to me, and I went in. Mrs. McCleod looked awful! Her face seemed bluish, maybe it was the lights, and her lip was cut and bleeding!”

“Then what did you do?”

“Then Ogden went to look for Dickson, Mr. McCleod’s man. He was hovering in the hall, and Mr. Murray sent him down to get Doctor Lloyd, and when he came up he sent Ogden and me away.”

“Have you any knowledge of anyone who could have caused Mrs. McCleod’s death?”

“No, indeed! How could I have?”

“Have you any idea, any suspicion?”

“None at all, Captain Raynor. I cannot think it was someone that Alma knew, and yet nobody else was here. I mean, all the guests were her friends, or her husband’s, so how could they be suspected?”

“Yet it was done by someone in the house. No one has voiced any suspicion of the servants.”

“Oh, no! A servant would have no reason to kill Alma!”

“Why do you say that so positively?”

“Why, because Alma was the grand sort. She had no association with the servants; they had no access to her, except just the tops.”

“The tops?”

“The upper servants, I mean. Foo Chow and Dickson and Linda, her own maid. She never saw the others to speak to.”

“What do you know about Linda?”

“Not much. She is a superior maid, and Alma set great store by her. But only as a servant. She never was friendly with her.”

“Would Linda, perhaps, resent this?”

“Oh, no. And Alma was generous. She gave her holidays and presents of money now and then, and she remembered her in her will.”

“Does Linda know that?”

“I don’t know. Probably. But Linda didn’t kill her to get the legacy! Don’t get that bee in your bonnet!”

“How do you know?”

“I know everything. I am psychic.”

“Psychology is a great science, Miss Glenn. But the psychic temperament does not greatly impress policemen.”

“No, it requires education to understand it.”

Though meant to be scathing, this remark only brought a slight smile to Raynor’s eyes, and he went on:

“There were two maids, I understand, looking after the ladies’ wraps.”

“Yes, an extra, from somewhere. But she cannot be suspected, Dickson had his eye on her.”

“I do not suspect her. Nor, at present, any of the servants. Also an intruder from outside seems to be out of the question. That brings us to the guests again. I daresay, if you suspected anyone, you would not divulge the name?”

“I’m not sure whether I would or not. But I have no suspect.”

“And that’s a pity! For you have told me you know everything—”

“I didn’t mean in that sense—but you cannot understand.”

“You might be surprised to know how fully I understand. I have made a serious study of psychology, under the best available teachers, and it is useful in my work at times. Yet plain police inquiry is necessary too. Tell me this, Miss Glenn. Supposing you were assured that it was one of what you call her crowd who killed Mrs. McCleod, would you surmise it was a woman or a man?”

“Man, most likely. A woman can hate harder, but her will isn’t strong enough for killing. A man kills in a moment of madness, and repents afterward.”

“You are right—as a rule. But rules have a way of possessing exceptions, you know.”

“Yes.” Nadine looked grave. “That is where your great responsibility lies.”

“You never wanted to put an end to Mrs. McCleod’s life, yourself, I suppose?”

“I’ve been waiting for that. And the truth is, that I should have welcomed the news of her death, had it come about by natural causes.”

Raynor nodded his head.

“Yes,” he said, “yes. You needn’t tell me why; I know. But does it not seem strange to you that a woman so lovely and so beloved, should invite murder?”

“You put it strangely. But it is not inexplicable to me. Alma was a queen and a tyrant. One time, she went too far.”

Raynor never noticed innuendoes.

“Have you thought at all,” he said, “as to a motive for the deed? Not often, but sometimes, we find the effect from the cause.”

“I have often read lists of the most usual motives for murder,” Nadine told him, “but in this case, I think it must have been jealousy or sudden, blinding rage.”

“Or both.”

They were silent a moment, and then Raynor said:

“You have helped me a lot, Miss Glenn. I thank you.”

A look that seemed almost fear flashed in her eyes, and accepting his tone as a dismissal, she rose to go.

“I may want to see you further, Miss Glenn, please leave your address with Mr. Barry.”

“I will. And Captain Raynor, I suppose you will be talking with Mr. Murray.”

“Yes, I believe his name is next on my list.”

“Well, and this is not merely ill-nature, take whatever he says with a grain of salt. I mean, if he tells you anything of great interest or importance, have it verified before you act upon it. And don’t believe anything he says about me.”

“Why not?”

“Because he will speak against me if he has a chance.”

“You stood beside him to look at your dead friend,” Raynor spoke gently. “Does not that constitute a bond?”

“Not between me and Ogden Murray, no! It was mere chance that brought that about. He did not love Alma, but he was making use of her.”

“As how?”

“Oh, just in a matter of finance. He has a new get-rich-quick scheme, and he wanted her to invest in it.”

“Did she do so?”

“I’m not sure. I think so. But get his word for it and then get somebody else to corroborate it.”

“I see. Is he in love with you?”

“He’s not in love with anybody but his own dear self. But he pretends he is.”

“Thank you, Miss Glenn.”

And Barry opened the door for her.