Читать книгу Orchids to Murder - Footner Hulbert - Страница 5

Table of Contents

MRS. GANNON occupied a small but very smart apartment just off Fifth Avenue in the thick of things. She was a dark, thin little woman with a passion for keeping what she called her figure. She enjoyed a moderate income as a result of some former marital association—the circumstances were obscure—and she had nothing in the world to do but amuse herself. Her dresses and hats were always a little ahead of the most advanced fashions; she had been nominated as one of the ten best-dressed women. In her sleekness and perfect grooming, she always reminded Lee of a toy black and tan terrier; her sharp, quick voice was like the yapping of such a little dog, too. Lee did not care much for her, but she had one great merit in his eyes; she was devoted to Mary Stannard.

The moment Lee entered her pretty living room, she exploded a bombshell. "Mary and Jack Fentress were to have been married last night."

"What?" cried Lee.

"It's quite true. In the chantry of St. Michael's and All Angels'. Jim Rutledge and I were on hand to stand up with them. But Mary never showed up."

"Good God!" cried Lee. "Why was she so secretive about it?"

"That was because she knew her friends didn't think much of Jack.... Oh, there's nothing specially wrong with Jack," she hurried on, "he doesn't drink too much—at least no more than anybody else these drinking days—and I never heard anything very discreditable about him. But he has no brains, he has no money, he isn't even particularly handsome. There's nothing to him but that curious magnetic attraction that he has for women—and that sort of thing doesn't last."

"You have felt it?" murmured Lee.

"Of course I have! The worst of it is, I have felt sometimes that Mary was secretly aware she was backing the wrong horse. But she couldn't help herself. This has been going on for a long time. She was determined to marry him."

"I take it you opposed it," suggested Lee.

"I did not," said Nina sharply. "I was too much afraid of losing Mary. When a girl is in that state, to oppose her is like throwing gasoline on the fire. She knew I didn't approve of what she was doing but I never said a word." Nina put her handkerchief to her eyes. "Ah! my poor Mary was too innocent! A more experienced woman would have known that such a feeling, however powerful, quickly burns itself out."

"But you said the marriage did not take place," said Lee. "Perhaps Mary's better self got the upper hand at the last moment."

"Not much chance! She was too far gone in love for that. I cannot help but feel that she was prevented from coming. Other men were in love with her. I fear that something terrible has happened." Nina broke down and wept into her handkerchief.

In such a brisk and self-confident little woman, Lee found it very affecting. "Please, please," he said in distress. "Don't imagine the worst until we have something to go on! ... Mary told her grandfather that she was going up to Greencliffe Manor Inn."

Nina nodded. "Yes. That's what she told me. For the honeymoon."

"In that case it seems strange that no reservations were made for them."

"Very strange indeed!" Nina wept afresh.

"Please try to pull yourself together!" begged Lee. "I need your help. Tell me exactly what took place last night."

Nina called in her sobs. "Well, you know St. Michael's and All Angels' Church on lower Fifth Avenue. It has a little chapel that they call the chantry, very popular for marriages. And Reverend Damien Stair, the sporting parson, he's well liked by the people we know. The wedding was set for nine o'clock. Jim Rutledge and I were on hand in good time. We waited in the vestry off the chapel, chatting with the minister. Jack was late, but only a minute or two. He breezed in with a policeman."

"A policeman!"

"He explained that he had run through a red light on Broadway in his excitement, and was stopped. He tried to talk himself out of it by saying he was on his way to be married, and since the church was only a block away the policeman came with him to check his story. When he found it was true, he shook hands with everybody and went away."

"Go on," said Lee.

"Jack was in the customary state of a prospective bridegroom; dithering with excitement and scared as hell. Kept pulling the ring out of his pocket to make sure he had it. He was carrying a little box ..."

"What was in it?" interrupted Lee.

"I don't know. It was never opened. Orchids for the bride, I suppose."

"You didn't happen to notice what florist it was from?"

"The box was wrapped in plain white paper. There was nothing written or printed on it."

"How big a box?"

Nina measured with her hands. "About ten inches long, four inches wide and four inches deep."

"You don't know what became of it?"

"No. It was lost sight of in the excitement."

"Well, go on."

"As the minutes passed without bringing Mary, Jack became wild with anxiety. Jim asked him why the devil he hadn't made sure of her by bringing her down himself, and he said he wanted to, but Mary wouldn't allow it because of the old superstition that a bride and groom mustn't see each other before the ceremony on the wedding day. At quarter past nine I called up Mary's house and the old man said she had left some time before, he couldn't say exactly how long."

"Wait a minute," put in Lee. "Had the old man been told of the wedding?"

"Certainly he had not been told," said Nina. "But he might have guessed what was up. Selfish old brute! The mere suggestion that Mary might marry and leave him put him in a rage. He hated every young man who seemed to have serious intentions, but he had a special and poisonous hatred for Jack Fentress. Just for the sake of peace, Jack kept away from the house."

"What happened after you telephoned?"

"Nothing. We waited nearly an hour. The parson was very patient. Jack was in a pitiable state. He assumed that he'd been jilted. He made up his mind that Mary had finally fallen for her millionaire admirer."

"George Restorick?"

"Yes. We finally left the church, after Jack had made the parson promise to say nothing of what had happened. We walked up and down in the street for fifteen or twenty minutes longer. There seemed to be nothing we could do. I must say I wasn't altogether displeased with what had happened. I thought then, as you did, that perhaps Mary had seen the light at the last moment. It wasn't until you called me up this morning that I became really frightened. The boys drove me home in Jack's car and went away together. I have heard nothing from them. Very likely Jack got drunk. You could scarcely blame him."

There was a silence while Lee considered what he had been told. He said: "You spoke a while ago of other men who were in love with Mary. Whom had you in mind?"

"You must not think that I suspect anybody," Nina said quickly. "Neither of the two men who loomed biggest in the picture would be capable of harming Mary."

"One was George Restorick," suggested Lee. "The other? ..."

"Ewart Blanding."

"Yes. Lottie Vickers told me something about him."

"A man in a thousand," said Nina. "The sort of young fellow who could take the job of chauffeur without apologizing for it, without losing a bit of his independence and self-respect. And how he loved Mary! He never had the slightest hope of winning her, poor fellow. Jack was ahead of him. Ewart did his best to hide his feelings, but of course he couldn't—not from me, anyhow. It was the real thing, Mr. Mappin."

"Lottie's words," murmured Lee.

"It was the sort of love," Nina went on, "that every woman dreams of arousing in a man, but it seldom happens. If any man had ever loved me like that I'd be a better woman."

"What about Restorick?"

"A fine man!" said Nina. "Of course he's forty years old; that's the best age for a man, really, but I suppose he was too old for our Mary. She's only twenty-four."

"What's Restorick's history as regards women?"

"Oh, he's no Galahad, if that's what you mean. Such a vigorous man, how could you expect it? He has never married; too leery of the gals who were always chucking their caps at his millions. It's disgusting the way girls make up to an eligible multimillionaire. Like street-walkers. It was Mary's utter independence that got George Restorick going in the first place."

"You don't think that he could have..."

"How do I know?" was Nina's unexpected reply. "What do any of us know about anybody else? We live on the surface. George has the reputation of being a violently passionate man. That's because he looks the part. I never heard of anything specific. He has himself under iron control."

"But when that type of man does break out..." suggested Lee.

Nina shivered. "Don't speak of such a thing! It's horrible!"

Lee took a new line. "Lottie spoke of a party after the theater on Saturday night that wasn't altogether successful."

"Anything but," said Nina grimly. "It was to be Mary's farewell to spinsterhood, but nobody was supposed to know that except me—and of course Jack. She asked George Restorick and Ewart Blanding to come because, as she told me, they were the two who loved her best. I told her it was a fool idea, but she would have it so. She loved them both, she said, simply because they loved her."

Lee shook his head at the folly of girls.

"George, naturally, refused to come," Nina went on. "He had too much sense. But Ewart turned up. I should explain that Jack Fentress hates Ewart, though since Jack himself was copping the girl they were all after, I don't know why he should. It may be that he knows in his heart Ewart is the better man, and that is unbearable."

"Well, Ewart can't exactly love Jack, either," suggested Lee.

"I suppose not. But Ewart is a natural-born gentleman. He wanted the party to be a success for Mary's sake. He hid his feelings. Ewart has beautiful eyes for a man. His expression..."

"Go on about the party," prompted Lee.

"We had a private room at La Perouse. The party was doomed from the start because of Jack's hateful sniping at Ewart. I couldn't believe that a man who was to be married the next day could be so hateful to his unsuccessful rival."

"What sort of sniping?" asked Lee.

"Oh, you can imagine it; sly boasting about his success; just to rub salt in Ewart's wound."

"A pretty short sport!" murmured Lee.

"For a long time Ewart took it like an angel," Nina went on. "Making a joke of it, laughing, trying to change the subject. But Jack seemed determined to provoke a quarrel. He kept hinting about the coming marriage, though Mary had expressly forbidden him to refer to it. Toward the end I could see the muscles of Ewart's jaw stiffening. Finally Jack suggested that Ewart would have to console himself with the riches of his present employer. That was too much. Ewart jumped up, knocking his chair over backwards. Jack was up, too, and Ewart gave him a smashing blow in the face that stretched him flat on the floor. I didn't mention, did I, that Jack turned up for the wedding with a ghastly black eye? It had been skillfully painted out, but you could tell."

"How did Mary take all this?" asked Lee.

"She was angry with Ewart. She took Jack's part. How could you expect an infatuated girl to be fair?"

"What happened then?"

"That was the end. Mary was kneeling beside Jack on the floor. Ewart gave Mary a sort of desperate look and ran out of the place. We all went home."

"Good Lord!" said Lee. "Imagine the feelings of that poor young wretch when he ran out of the restaurant. That's dangerous ... dangerous!"

Nina wept again. "I wouldn't have been surprised to hear that Ewart had killed Jack Fentress!" she sobbed. "I wouldn't have blamed him. But how could he hurt Mary?"

Lee jumped up. "We don't know anything yet," he said. "Jack may have had some communication from Mary since I tried to get him on the phone earlier, but there was no answer."

Nina nodded toward the telephone. "Try Jim Rutledge's place. They may still be together."

Lee looked up the number and asked for it at the phone. Jim Rutledge answered. "Can you tell me where Jack Fentress is?" asked Lee.

"He's here," said Rutledge.

"Let me speak to him, please."

Presently Lee heard Jack's surly voice over the wire. "Who is it?"

"Lee Mappin," said Lee. "A friend of Mary Stannard's. Perhaps you have heard her speak of me."

Jack's voice became more friendly. "Sure, I know you, Mr. Mappin. What can I do for you?"

"Have you heard anything from Mary today?"

The voice hardened again. "What's that to you, sir?"

"Well, all her friends are wondering where she is. We're anxious."

The voice was electrified. "What? What?" cried Jack. "Do you mean she's disappeared? Nobody knows where she is?"

"That's right."

"That changes the picture! I haven't heard anything from her. This is terrible! I ... I can't talk to you over the phone, sir. Where are you? Can I come to you?"

"I was about to suggest that I come to you."

"Yes! Yes! that would be better, if you can come. I'll wait for you here at Rutledge's, sir.... But can you give me half an hour or a little more?" he added deprecatingly. "I'm ... I'm not in very good shape, sir."

"I'll be there in an hour from now," said Lee.

He hung up and looked around for his hat. "Be of good heart," he said to the weeping Nina. "We mustn't give way to imaginary horrors. I'll keep in touch with you.... First I'm going to drive down to St. Michael's and All Angels'. Would you be kind enough to call up the Reverend Mr. Stair and tell him I'm a friend of all the parties, so he won't refuse to talk?"

Nina nodded.

Lee was shown into the parson's study. The first thing his eyes fell upon was a spray of six blossoms of an exquisite rare green and black orchid standing in a slender vase on Mr. Stair's desk. This, Lee knew, was Mary Stannard's favorite flower—perhaps because it was the most expensive.

Mr. Stair entered the room, saying: "Mrs. Gannon telephoned that you were on the way, Mr. Mappin. Of course you are well known to me by reputation, sir." The fashionable preacher was a handsome, full-bodied man with a high color, evidently one who enjoyed life. His manner was gracious.

"Good!" said Lee. "That saves explanations." He pointed to the orchids. "One of the questions I came to ask you has already been answered. Those, I take it, were intended for the bridal bouquet."

"I assume so," said Mr. Stair. "I found the box on the floor after they had gone. It seemed indelicate to try to return them to the disappointed bridegroom, so I just put them in water. Lovely, aren't they? And scandalously expensive, I have no doubt."

"Quite," said Lee dryly. "Did you happen to notice what florist they were from?"

"Unfortunately, no," said Mr. Stair. "The box was wrapped in plain white paper without any markings. I dropped the wrappings in my wastepaper basket and it has been emptied. Excuse me for a moment, and I will find out if the contents are still in the house."

He returned to the study in a moment or two with the box in his hand. It was the same size box as that Lee had found in Mary's living room earlier. "From Lamarr at Madison Avenue and Eighty-sixth Street," said Mr. Stair.

"One more question," said Lee. "Did you happen to notice the time at which the bridegroom got to the vestry?"

"Yes. He was a little late and I had just looked at my watch. It was nine-five."

Lee arose. "Thank you very much, sir."

"Excuse me," said Mr. Stair. "Your questions make me anxious. May I ask? ..."

Lee shook hands with him. "In your profession you must have learned to cultivate discretion," he said. "The young lady has disappeared. That is to say, none of her friends know where she is."

"How dreadful!"

"If anything has happened to her, of course it must be published, but until we have something to go on, we wish to keep the matter private."

"Naturally," said Mr. Stair. "You can rely on me, Mr. Mappin. I am so sorry. I have seen the young lady in her play. So pretty! so charmingly natural!"

"That is her character, Mr. Stair."

On his way uptown, Lee stopped at Forty-second Street to consult Stan Oberry. Stan's office door bore no lettering. He conducted a quiet and efficient private agency that Lee had employed with success in former investigations. Stan himself was a big man with a small head; he had the great professional advantage of looking like a fool without being one. He was the type of man who is difficult to remember or to describe.

After he had laid his present problem before Stan in full particular, Lee said: "To hide is so completely foreign to this girl's character that I fear something has happened to her. It is possible that she never left her house last night. After eight o'clock she and the old man were alone there together. That old man hates everybody including the granddaughter to whom he owes everything. I asked Mary once why she put up with his intolerable exactions and she said: 'Well, he's the only creature in the world who belongs to me. A woman must have somebody who belongs to her, Lee.'"

Stan was making brief shorthand notes.

"The flower beds in the back yard of Mary's house would make a convenient hiding place," Lee continued, "though God forbid they were so used! The rear windows of the house on either side overlook the flower beds; also the rear windows of the apartment house in the next street. Make inquiries without showing your hand. Did anybody see the old man working in the flower beds, or did a light shine there last night?"

"I'll do that," said Stan. "But if the old man had it on his conscience, would he have come to you?"

"That would be the cleverest move he could make."

"That's a fact, Mr. Mappin."

Lee went on: "The old man claims that Mary had a male caller shortly after eight o'clock. I thought this might be an invention, but it was partly corroborated by finding a florist's box in the living room. It came from Schracht on Lexington Avenue. If there was such a visitor, perhaps Mary left the house with him. The old man said there was a big red convertible coupe with a khaki top standing in front of the door while the man was there. Please make discreet inquiries among the neighbors. Did anybody else see such a car?"

"Right," said Stan.

"Here's another angle," said Lee. "I am informed that Ewart Blanding, who formerly worked for Mary as her chauffeur, is desperately in love with her. He is now working for Miss Amy Dordress, the girl who has so much money. I have very good reports on his character from two sources; on the other hand, I am told that he and Jack Fentress quarreled in a restaurant on Saturday night and that Blanding knocked Fentress down. You should investigate Blanding's subsequent movements."

"Why not start now?" suggested Stan. He pulled the telephone book toward him and searched for Miss Dordress' number. Finding it, he said: "She lives on Park Avenue. I know that house; most expensive in town; triplex apartments. The girl is an orphan; has complete control over her money, they say. Every young fellow about town is after her, but she can't make up her mind."

"How is she for looks?" asked Lee idly.

"Not so hot," said Stan. "Well, you can't expect everything."

Meanwhile Stan was calling the number. A man-servant answered, and when Stan asked for Blanding, he was promptly switched to the mistress. A shrill, angry voice came over the wire and Stan held the receiver away from his ear so Lee could hear what she was saying.

"No, I don't know where he is! I'd be glad if you would tell me! He took one of my cars last night without permission and I've seen neither hide nor hair of him since, nor the car either. If I don't hear from him within an hour I shall report it to the police!"

"Which car was it, miss?"

"The Packard. It's a red convertible with a khaki top.... Who are you, anyway? Do you know where he is?"

"No ma'am. Just a personal friend."

She hung up.

"Well, I'll be damned!" murmured Lee.

"I'll follow it up," said Stan.