Figure Away

by Phoebe Atwood Taylor

  “The shears,” Asey pointed out, “was way over by the stove. She come in the dinin’ room door. If she’d detoured way around to the stove an’ dropped’em there, she certainly would have r’called the fact before she got halfway down the steps. B’sides, what’d she detour for? She was after somethin’, an’ she was on her way to it. Why cross over to the stove?” Lane pounded on the table with his fist.

  “Then why, will you tell us, are the scissors there? She had them in her hand when she entered the house. I saw them. Now, you explain why they were on the floor by the stove!”

  “She threw them at someone.” Asey knew perfectly well what Lane’s reactions would be, and he was not disappointed.

  “Threw them at—” Lane began scornfully. “Asey, you—”

  “Now just a moment, Lane,” Cummings interrupted. “I wonder if – yes, Asey’s right. I know Eloise. Suppose, as she starts down the stairs, she hears someone. Turns around, sees someone. Someone menacing. She recognizes the fact that she is in danger, and hurls at the person her only weapon, the shears she has in her hand.”

  Lane ridiculed the doctor’s story.

  “If she had scissors, and recognized someone as a menace, why didn’t she wait and use them to stab with? That’s the logical thing for anyone to do,” he said. “Why, throwing the scissors at someone would be like throwing a loaded gun instead of shooting it!”

  Dr. Cummings sighed. “Of course, Lane, of course! That’s just my point! That’s what a logical person would do. I agree. So does Asey. But you fail to take into consideration the fact that Eloise is not logical. Never in this world would it have occurred to her to hold her ground and stab her assailant. Never. It’s a perfectly characteristic gesture for her to hurl the shears futilely – de mortuis and all that sort of thing, and of course the woman had many good points, but she was none the less a futile woman.

  “All right, all right,” Lane said. “Be psychological, if you want to, but it’s the practical things that interest me. Why, if someone pushed her, is the swinging railing intact? She had either to be pushed through it, or if she was on the top step, on her way down, she’d have been clinging to it – and her grip on it would save her, or the railing would be down there with her. One thing or the other.”

  “Lane,” Cummings said plaintively, “you just simply do not understand the type of woman involved. You claim she pestered you – can’t you tell, couldn’t you tell, that she was a futile individual? Can’t you tell from what you know that she never knew which way to turn a key to unlock a door? She couldn’t tune a radio to save her life. She couldn’t unscrew a dead electric light bulb and put in a new one. Did you ever see her try to drive that beach wagon? Man, she was a menace to public safety when she drove that vehicle! Your trouble, Lane, is that you’re practical. Eloise is not practical. You’d grab the railing. Eloise would not grab the railing. Put Eloise in a shipwreck. Throw a life preserver to her. Would she put it on? No. She’d try to sit on it. Lane, can’t you grasp this?”

  “The woman tripped and fell,” Lane said doggedly. “That’s that.”

  “The woman,” Asey said, “was pushed an’ thrown. Lane, walk over to the head of the steps. That’s it. Now, what do you do first, starting down, before you touch the rail, even?”

  “Put on the light, of course,” Lane said impatiently.

  “That’s what I’d do, too. But the light was off. You can say she started down, turned to put it on, an’ fell. But that’s the one way she couldn’t have fallen, because she’d have to be leanin’ more over the rail. She couldn’t help but save herself if she started to fall then.”

  “Whyn’t you tell me about the lights?” Lane demanded.

  “You never gave me any chance. I think she started down, was reachin’ to put on the lights from the top step, an’ heard someone. Turned around, there on the top step. Someone comes toward her, from over there by the stove, an’ she throws the shears. He rushes over, takes her by the shoulders, an’ hurls her down.”

  “There were the marks of your rubber soles going down and coming up,” Lane said. “No marks for her, but then she came across the wooden walk and wasn’t in the damp grass. But if someone threw her down, wouldn’t you think they’d have gone down to make sure she was dead? And if they came from outdoors, why can’t we find some marks? Any marks, here or—”

  “Give the feller credit for stockin’ feet,” Asey said. “B’sides, after hurlin’ her straight onto a concrete floor nine feet b’low, he could be reasonably sure he’d achieved his purpose. He could have made sure by snappin’ on the light an’ lookin down. Let’s go down there again for one more look.”

  The four of them went gingerly down the almost perpendicular steps.

  “Why are so many cellars on the Cape circular, like this?” Hamilton wanted to know.

  “In the old days, bricks was scarce an’ expensive,” Asey said. “A circular cellar took fewer bricks than a square one. Most are semi-circular. Mine at home is.”

  “But this is new. Those concrete blocks aren’t any old time things.”

  “Prob’ly laid’em against the old brick,” Asey said, “when they made the house over.”

  To the right of the steps was an electric pump and a water tank, and near them an electric meter. Behind the steps was a neat pile of corrugated paper boxes and another pile of folded sheets of brown paper, all obviously salvaged. Apparently Mary Randall was a thrifty soul.

  “Why’d she keep this stuff down here, and not in the barn cellar?” Hamilton asked.

  “Rats,” Asey explained briefly.

  Hamilton wandered around, peering at the old book case whose shelves were filled with preserves and “put-up” jars of vegetables and fruit. He even removed the lid from an old stone crock, and after sniffing at its contents, hastily replaced it. The odor of sauerkraut filled the cellar.

  “Let’s get back upstairs,” Lane said. “I don’t see anything here that’s doing us any good. If she was killed, she was killed, and we might as well get to the Warren girl and get it over with.”

  “What?” Asey asked as they climbed back to the kitchen. “What’s that?”

  “Jane Warren. She came in the house after Eloise did. I saw her. She was here a couple of minutes. I saw her come and I saw her go.”

  “You didn’t tell us about that.”

  “You didn’t,” Lane said tartly, “give me any chance to. Don’t you want to amend your ideas, and say she fell or tripped, instead of was pushed?”

  Asey shook his head. “Nope. Doc, how did Jane take it, when you told her Eloise was sick?”

  “She said Eloise had eaten any quantity of lobster salad and peach shortcake with whipped cream for lunch,” Cummings replied, “and had been taking soda mints by the pound ever since. I should say that Jane was philosophical, and more or less unmoved about it all. Eloise’s stomach and its eccentricities are hardly a closed book to anyone who ever slept under the same roof with her, you know.”

  “Didn’t seem to see anythin’ strange about your cornin’, or your wife’s cornin’?”

  “She said it was thoughtful, and that she couldn’t possibly have managed the tourists alone.”

  “Brazening it out,” Lane said. “Remember what she threatened, Asey! One more word from Eloise about Mike Slade—”

  “You’re so obvious, Lane.” Cummings began to put things back into his bag. “I knew you’d say that. I’ve been waiting for you to say it. Tell me, what sort of things do you eat, usually?”

  “I eat what I can get,” Lane was annoyed. “What do you think?”

  “Specifically, what?”

  “Oh, meat and fish and vegetables—”

  “Obvious foods,” Cummings said cheerfully. “See how it works out, Asey? Eloise eats futile things – you get the idea.”

  “You tell me,” Asey said, “what the feller we want feeds on, an’ I’ll pay your grocery bills for a year. Hamilton, bring Jane in, will you?” He lifted the curtain and peered
outside. “The tourists seem to have let up.”

  He led Jane into the dining room and motioned her to a seat from which she could not possibly see the blanket-covered figure on the living room couch.

  “How’s Eloise? Was it indigestion again? And Asey, wasn’t she sporting about that sock? I’ve felt a beast. Sara laid me out in lavender, in a few well-chosen words. Oh, I’m so tired!”

  “Jane,” Asey said, “what’d you come indoors for, just after Eloise?”

  “Cards. Shop cards, you know. Business cards. Those tourists were yelling for’em, and the ones in the barn had all been taken off.”

  “Where were they?”

  “The cards? In the corner cupboard here. See, I spilled some on the floor, I was in such a rush. D’you know what Eloise said? She said if I could sell that oak chest, I could have the money for myself, and I did! To a friend of General Philbrick’s. Now I have a dowry, isn’t that swell? Mike told you about the man who bought his pictures—”

  “Did you go into the kitchen when you came in?”

  “No, I just got the cards and went out. Asey—” she looked at him, “whatever’s the matter now? Does Eloise think she has appendicitis again? Because she did have her appendix out, and Mary has a thing signed by the doctor saying so. She had to get it, because Eloise has fits of thinking that they just opened her up and peered at her appendix, and left it there. Why, I can’t imagine. I should think it would be one of those things you’d just naturally sense, whether you had an appendix or not, no matter how much you mistrusted doctors. Asey, we’re going to be married next week, did Mike tell you?”

  “Jane,” Asey said, “Eloise has had an accident.”

  “A – what? What happened?”

  “On the cellar stairs. She—”

  “Oh, I thought you meant she was killed, like Mary – you nearly took my breath away! Is she badly hurt? I hope not. You know, she’s terrified of those stairs. The three of us always worry about them. We used to have a sign tacked up, saying ‘Stop, Look, Grab.’ Is she badly hurt?”

  Involuntarily Asey looked toward the living room. Jane followed his gaze and saw the figure on the couch.

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh!”

  She got up and went into the other room. In a moment she came back.

  “You did your best to tell me, didn’t you?” she said in a flat voice. “Well, tell me. Everything. I suppose she just didn’t fall.”

  “No. Jane, did any of you – you, or Mary or Eloise, ever really fall down those stairs?”

  “Never. We were so afraid we took particular care, all of us.”

  “What about that bruise on your shoulder?”

  Jane flushed. “Oh. Kay told you? You want to know the truth? Eloise struck me.”

  Asey paused in the process of lighting his pipe.

  “That’s the truth,” Jane said. “Monday. She was mad with me. She often was. She was jealous, because she thought Mary cared more for me than for her. Mary didn’t, of course, but – well – can’t you see how hard it would be to be affectionate about Eloise? She – she cluttered so. Everything she did or said I’ was cluttery. Then she’d be perfectly swell, like she was about my socking her the other night. And just as you thought how swell she really was, she’d tip the ink bottle over your knees, or something, and be more cluttery than ever. And Mary wasn’t cluttery, and it was hard for her—”

  “Tell me about those paths to the ice house,” Asey said.

  “I don’t know anything about them,” Jane told him. “I was scared to death to set foot off the place here, if you want to know. I – I can’t explain, but there always seemed to be something so evil about those swamps, and the mists, and everything. It’s a queer place.”

  “You got that gun license ’cause you was scared?”

  Jane nodded. “Mike said it was foolishness and there was nothing to be afraid of, and then he realized how I felt, and he said he’d get me a gun, and it would make me feel better, even if I couldn’t use it so well.” She sighed. “After I learned more about shooting, he was going to get me a gun—”

  “Where’d you meet Mike, Jane, down by the ice house?”

  “Truly, Asey, I never went near the place but once. I’m scared around here. Like Kay, I’m a city person. The country quiet and noises simply terrify me. I usually met Mike at the beach. He couldn’t come here because Eloise raised such a rumpus. It was all open enough.”

  “I wonder,” Asey said, “who did go down there by the pond from this house?”

  “I don’t know, but it always seemed to me I heard droves of people around. Mary laughed at me and said it was my imagination, but she wouldn’t stay here alone at night! There was a noise that drove me crazy – a sort of laugh. It was the most uncanny thing, but I found out what it was.”

  “You found out – what?”

  “A whistle sort of arrangement, only it looks more like an ocarina than a whistle. I found it out by the barn, weeks ago. I decided what I’d been hearing was local boys and girls, parking around – those back roads are simply stopped up with cars, sometimes. I’ve heard the sound since, but it hasn’t bothered me so much now that I know what it was. I thought at first it was an escaped lunatic. It sounded that way. Probably some kids signalling.”

  “Haven’t got the thing now?” Asey asked. “Or do you know where it is?”

  “I stuck it in the fire. I think it came from candy, or popcorn, or something like that. You know, one of those gadgets they put in packages – Asey, what’ll we do about Eloise?”

  “We’ll have to explain it as we did about Mary. Jane, did you kill Eloise?” She looked him squarely in the eye. “No, on my word of honor, I didn’t. I thought I could have, the other night. Things were all mixed up. Once I’d really taken a stand about Mike, they all cleared up. I – I think you believe me, but what about Lane and the others?”

  “We’ve proved you couldn’t have killed Mary,” Asey said. “You was with Sara an’ Jeff an’ the rest when Kay an’ I had our meetin’s with the feller. We can’t prove a thing about Eloise today, but I b’lieve you. I’ll see to Lane.”

  It was no easy task to convince Lane that Jane Warren had not killed Eloise, but Asey and Dr. Cummings kept at him until he gave in.

  “All right, have it your own way! She didn’t. Let this go, let that go, let the other thing go! Neither of my men saw anything outside. Not a soul come into the house but Jane. I’m sick and tired of hanging around this house, and so are my men. And what’s the use, if you won’t—”

  Still grumbling, he strode out of the kitchen.

  “He’s just sore,” Hamilton said. “He’ll get over it. Doc an’ I’ll take care of things, Asey. You take the girl and Mrs. Cummings back, and then you and I can settle about someone staying here, because you still want a guard, don’t you? Come up later, after Lane’s cooled off.”

  Asey drove Mrs. Cummings home and then took Jane back to Aunt Sara’s.

  “I suppose,” she said, “we’ve got to tell them the truth, here. Oh, Asey – what’s someone trying to do?”

  “I wish I could tell you,” Asey said. “Come along in, an’ we’ll get it over with.”

  Around nine that night he returned to the hollow.

  “Everything’s all settled about Eloise,” Lane said. “Cummings fixed it up. He saw your cousin Weston, and he said Weston nearly collapsed at this. So did Brinley. Brinley was there at the office, too. Asey, you want a guard here tonight, don’t you?”

  “No, I’m goin’ to stay here myself,” Asey said. “One of your fellers might drop in every so often. Maybe if we could fox this feller into thinkin’ the place was empty an’ unguarded, he might get to what he’s after. He wasn’t after Eloise the other night, ’cause she was uptown. I’ve left my car up the road, hidden away. Fireworks time seems to be his pet time for action. ’Bout then, you might be in the neighborhood. Anyway, we’ll see what we can see.”

  “Asey,” Lane said earnestly, “I’m sorry I was such
a fool this afternoon, but as Cummings said, killing Eloise was simply adding insult to injury. And under my eyes! I can’t understand it – oh, if you say Jane’s innocent, all right. But I still don’t understand it. And listen, I don’t like to leave you here alone. We ought to have some signal.”

  “If I run into that feller,” Asey said, “you won’t need signals to know it. I’ll be okay.”

  He took up his stand on the porch, in the shadows of the bushes near the house; but as the minutes passed, the drizzle that had begun in the afternoon turned into a heavy rain. Asey unlocked the door and let himself into the house.

  As he closed the door, someone ran up on the porch after him.

  Asey wheeled around. “Who—”

  “Don’t shoot,” Kay said. “I’ve been opposite, across the road, for half an hour, trying to make out if it was you lurking here, or my imagination, or my friend of the other night.”

  “Haven’t you had enough?” Asey demanded. “For heaven’s sakes, do you want any more of what you got Wednesday? Go ’way. Go home. Go off—”

  “The Thayers,” Kay said, “have a nasty stubborn streak, Mother says. Father claims it’s the Harding blood. Both are pretty stubborn. Rugged individualists. Horses and buggies—”

  “Sulkies, if you ask me,” Asey said. “Who told you I was here?”

  “I guessed. You’ve got a score to settle with that fellow. And when you come right down to it, so have I. You can have your eye and your tooth, but why shouldn’t I have mine?”

  “Oh, come in!” Asey said. “Come in. You take the window an’ I’ll take this. Anyone fool enough to prowl around in this rain d’serves to lose both eyes anyway.”

  The minutes ticked on.

  “I guess the fireworks are thwarted tonight,” Kay said at last. “It’s long past the time. Philbrick should have something in the fireworks line that coped with rain. Waterproof fireworks. Probably a lot of money in it. You might dally with the idea in your spare time. Why was Eloise killed?”