by Lionel White
^Please don’t joke my dear,” I said. “I—”
Are you sure, Howard, that you don’t have something to do? Some other appointment or some important work mat you should be—”
The only thing in the world I have to do,” I said, “is to
THE MERRIWEATHER FILE
take one of the sweetest and nicest and prettiest ladies in the world to a nice, quiet restaurant where we can have a cocktail and whatever in the world you like to eat. And for the next hour, neither of us is going to think about what happened on Tuesday or Fairlawn Acres or anything else except how to enjoy ourselves. I’m just sorry that Charles can’t be here to join us.”
“I’m sorry too,” Ann said, “but I’ll promise to eat enough, and be gay enough for both Charles and myself.”
CHAPTER THREE
Mondays are usually busy days at the office, that is, if I can be said to have any particular day which is more busy than another. Actually, no one day is of outstanding significance; the type of work I handle has no particular urgency and it is only that on Mondays I normally make it a practice to clean up my correspondence and any loose ends of work which may be hanging over from the previous week.
It was on a Monday when Ann Merriweather first came to my office to tell me her amazing story.
I did something which I have very rarely done. After we had enjoyed a leisurely lunch I took Ann to a little French-Italian restaurant on the East Side which is not very well known but which has excellent food and reasonable prices. I excused myself while the waiter was bringing us two small glasses of В and В to have with our coffee, and I went to the phone booth in the small lobby near the cashier’s desk. I called Miss Taylor, my secretary, and told her that I would not be in for the rest of the afternoon гПп to.PostPone апУ appointments I might have until the ollowing day. And then I returned to the table.
You said, Ann, that you have all of the time in the World?”
She nodded, looking just the slightest bit perplexed.
“All right then, I am going to take you at your word. I want to borrow some of that time.” I looked down at my wrist watch. “It is now a quarter to two. I want you to spend the rest of the afternoon with me. We can do anything you wish—go to a movie, visit the Museum of Modern Art, take a ferry ride.”
She looked up at me, suddenly smiling.
“Why Howard!” she said. She laughed. “I know. You want to pump me, don’t you? But you also want to put me at my ease. I think maybe you are a very good lawyer in spite of what you say. Well, I’ll go along with you. By the way, do they still have that nickel ride on the Staten Island Ferry?”
“I believe they do. And I might add that it is probably the outstanding ocean-going tour, for the money, in the entire history of sea travel. So let’s finish our coffee and get out of here and we’ll go to Staten Island and maybe even take a jaunt to the Statue of Liberty. Nobody who lives in Greater New York ever visits the Statue of Liberty.”
She frowned for a moment and then asked if I shouldn’t be going back to my office and taking care of my legal business, but I assured her that there was nothing of importance pending.
And so Ann Merriweather and I spent that afternoon together.
I had to convince her of the seriousness of what she had told me, of the need to take protective measures, of the desirability of taking Charles into her confidence. And I wanted to find out if there could be any possible motive
for anyone’s making an attempt upon her life; if there was any person in the world who would benefit by her death.
It was one of the most pleasant afternoons I had ever spent in my life; at the same time it was one of the most frustrating.
When it came to taking protective measures, Ann absolutely and definitely objected to my taking the one most important step which I deemed necessary for her protection. She refused point blank to report the matter to the police authorities or let me report it.
“I would just feel too foolish,” she said. “They would ask questions and sooner or later they would find out about that time when I had that silly, momentary lapse into depression and hysteria and tried to take my own life. I don’t want that to come out. And they would just believe that I was making the whole thing up out of whole cloth. Another thing, they would be sure to tell Charles about it.” They should tell Charles,” I said. “You should tell him
yourself.”
She shook her head, a stubborn, determined expression on her face.
That is the one thing I will not permit,” she said. “I’ve explained to you, Howard. Charles’s work takes him out of town a great deal. He’s on the road between four and five days a week. If Charles knew about this, the first thing he would do would be to quit his job.”
‘Well, even if he did—”
Again she shook her head.
Howard, Charles’s job means everything to him. He’s een xvith the firm for almost ten years. He’s finally really
getting someplace. Why only last spring they made him a vice president. That’s when they put him in charge of the entire northeastern territory. It would break his heart to have to quit and start over in something else. And then there’s the matter of money. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but Charles made some rather bad investments in the market. He took most of our savings and invested in a Canadian uranium stock and, well, it turned out to be worthless. It’s bothered him a lot. And it’s put him in the position which make things very difficult. Our expenses—”
“Surely Charles—”
“Oh, we can handle the normal living costs all right,” she said. “Even if times have become terribly inflated. But Charles is carrying a tremendous amount of insurance. He took out a very large policy, while Billy was still alive to protect us in case anything should happen to him. You know, he had a slight heart attack about six years ago and-”
“I didn’t know.”
“Oh, he recovered fine. The doctors have told him, in fact, that his heart has completely healed and that if he just lives a normal life he can go on for years. But the point is he has the huge policy and the monthly payments are really something fierce. He can’t give it up—and of course he doesn’t want to—without taking a terrible loss. You know how those companies—”
“I know,” I said.
“Well, if anything should happen now and he had to quit his job, it would be disastrous. And I know Charles.
If we told him, or the police told him about this, the first thing he would do would be to resign his job so that he could be at home with me at nights.”
“Well couldn’t his firm arrange so that—”
“No. Charles is a salesman and his value to the firm lies in his ability to handle the customers and the customers are out of town. And I can say this,” Ann continued. “Charles is a very good salesman, but the only line he knows is the line he’s in. He would have a lot of trouble finding a new job, and certainly a job which would bring him the same income. No, it is out of the question.”
“All right, Ann,” I said. “We’ll agree for the time being —Charles shouldn’t know anything about this. But in the meantime, something must be done.”
“At least Charles is home now,” Ann said. “He’ll be here all week. He doesn’t start out on a sales trip again until next Monday.”
“Well that’s something,” I said. “Now about general protective methods—assuming that you are really right and someone is trying to kill you. You should have a gun. Do you know how to use—”
She smiled.
Howard,” she said. “You are being very dramatic. Of course I don’t know a great deal about guns, but I could probably shoot one. And the Lord knows there’s no dearth °f guns in our house. Are you forgetting—”
Of course. I had been stupid. Charles Merriweather was a great one for hunting and fishing and he never missed is annual trip down to Maryland during the duck season, °r a drive up to the Catskills for deer in the fall. He had,
in his den,
two double racks of rifles and shotguns, which he kept in immaculate condition, constantly oiling and cleaning them. I really believe he liked the guns as much for themselves, as fine pieces of craftsmanship, as he did for their effectiveness in getting game.
He also had a number of small sidearms. He had been an infantry officer during World War II and I guess it was then that he had become fascinated by revolvers. In any case, in a locked cabinet with a glass front, he had on display at least a dozen six-shooters and automatics or whatever they call them. I recall one time asking him about them—I was curious to know how he was able to get permits for so many weapons. He’d told me that he belonged to a gun club which met once a month and that the club had a firing range where the members were allowed to practice. Yes, there were plenty of guns available in the Merriweather house.
“All right then, Ann,” I said. “That brings us to the next point. You must get another dog.”
She shook her head.
“It isn’t a case of a pet,” I said. “1 want you to get another dog. Preferably a German shepherd or a Doberman. And not a puppy. A dog at least two or three years old. If someone actually did put Puddles out of the way—”
“Well,” she interrupted, “there’s no doubt about that. But, of course, the two things might not actually be related. You know how it is out at Fairlawn. Almost every home has nice lawns and shrubs and all that sort of thing. Some mean person could just possibly have poisoned Puddles because he was digging up their—”
4°
“No Ann,” I said. “I don’t think so. Of course it could have happened that way. It wouldn’t be the first time a person poisoned a dog because he was making a nuisance of himself. But not in this case. To begin with, Puddles never did cause any trouble; he was hardly away from home enough. And then there was the method used. If Dr. Stevenson was right in what he told you, someone took a hypodermic needle and injected the poison into his veins. Irate gardeners don’t do that sort of thing. And the coincidence is too great. The dog is poisoned—and someone breaks into your home a day or so later and turns on the gas and tries to kill you. Someone wanted that dog out of the way.”
She thought for a long time and then said, “Well at least it narrows it down to a certain extent. It had to be someone who didn’t know the dog. After all, Puddles was friendly with everyone and I guess everyone who knew him was aware of it. He wouldn’t have barked or anything if he had been in the kitchen when a friend had come in.”
I nodded, thoughtful.
An idea, which I had had in the back of my mind and which I had been trying desperately not to recognize, suddenly leaped at me. I was ashamed of myself, but I must admit that subconsciously, I had considered the possibility that it might have been Charles Merriweather himself who had turned on those gas jets. Then I breathed a silent sigh of relief. If the potential killer had, for some fantastic reason, been Charles, it wouldn’t have been necessary for him to have poisoned that dog.
‘The point is, Ann,” I said, “no matter who did it or
4'
THE MERRIWEATHER FILE
,4
why Puddles was killed, I want you to promise me that you will get another dog at once. I want you to take other steps. I want you to get a special burglar lock for both the back and front doors. Chain locks as well as the regular type barrel locks. I also want you to have the windows checked and get special burglar locks for them. They make a type now which permits you to open the window an inch or so, at night, and lock it in place.
“Actually, if you really refuse to go to the police, you should let me hire a private detective agency. Someone should be on guard. Besides, a detective agency can investigate and find out if there is any person who wants you out of the way. Perhaps there is someone you are overlooking. Something—”
“There can’t be anything, Howard,” Ann said. “I don’t have any insurance—” this time she blushed and I knew that in making the statement she could only be thinking of her husband who would be her heir. “I am not going to inherit any money, I don’t remember ever injuring anyone in my entire life, I can’t think of anyone who either has reason to, or does, hate me.”
“Maybe it is something you might have unconsciously—”
Again she shook her head.
“No—no, I’m sure, Howard.”
“But somebody did try and kill you. At least a private detective—” ,
“Hl do what you say about a dog and about the locks,” she said. “But for the time being I would a lot rather leave any detective out of it. Charles will be home for this next
THE MERRIWEATHER FILE
week and I don’t have to worry while he’s there. Perhaps afterward, after I have a little mpre time to think—”
And so we left it at that.
We’d changed our plans, not going to Staten Island first but taking the ferry to the Statue of Liberty from the slip at the Battery and standing up on the foredeck with the wind off the bay in our faces as we talked.
Once on Bedloe’s Island, I’d purchased two tickets for a dollar and a half and we’d taken the guided tour up through the inside of the statue itself. We stayed for a long time, up in the gallery that runs around the crown, and looked out of the great windows that gave us a marvelous view of the tankers and tugs and ocean liners beating up the Narrows. It was the first time Ann Merriweather had ever made the trip and I myself hadn’t been there since I was a child.
By four-thirty we were back in Manhattan and I suggested that we have a drink and then catch the train out for Fairlawn.
Ann smiled and shook her head.
‘I’m sorry, Howard,” she said, “but I promised to pick up Charles at hr office. I told him I would be in town today shopping and that I would stop by for him. We are planning on having dinner somewhere down in the Village and then taking in a show. And, Howard, I want you promise me one thing—don’t say a word to Charles
about my seeing you. Don’t let him have any hint—”
Of course, Ann,” I said. “After all, we’ll consider this a professional visit. But I do want you to try not to worry.
вы
Take every precaution and don’t worry. I’m going to rack my brains and see what can be done.”
She looked up at me with that odd little girl’s expression of trusting innocence and again smiled, a bit pathetically.
“I’ll try not to worry, Howard,” she said. “I’ll try. And I’ll be seeing you Thursday night, in any case, and perhaps we can find a few minutes to talk further.”
“Thursday night?”
Her small hand jerked at the lapel of my coat where she had rested it as she was saying goodbye.
“Howard, you are the limit,” she said. “Have you forgotten? Thursday night. The party. Our anniversary party. Why, I can even remember you telling Charles you were going to help him with the steaks and—”
“Of course! How stupid of me.” The party had been planned for at least two weeks and Charles and I had discussed it several times. It was Charles’s party for Ann to celebrate their eighth wedding anniversary, and I had already bought a present for them, a beautifully framed set of Aiken sporting prints which I had picked up at an auction on Fifty-Seventh Street. Yes, I knew about the party and it is true that I had told Charles I would handle the broiling of the steaks over the charcoal in their playroom fireplace while he worried about the drinks. How could I have forgotten?
“Until Thursday night then, Ann,” I said. “And for goodness sake, take care of—”
But she had already turned and started off, hurrying to keep her appointment with her husband, whose office was down in the financial district.
That evening, instead of eating alone in some small restaurant and returning home to my music or books as I usually did, I went back to my office. Miss Taylor had already left and I let myself in with my key. The night elevator man was a little surprised to see me; I believe it was the first time I had ever gone back to my office in the evening.
But I wanted to be alone and to think. I wanted to think of what Ann Merriweather had told me. I wanted to think with the clear, cool, detached mind of a lawyer and not with the emotional mind of a friend and neighbor.
I wanted to go over everything she had said, try to make some sense out of it. Find some logical, reasonable justification for her amazing story.
At one time during the evening I very seriously considered calling up someone I know, Detective Lieutenant Clifford Giddeon, who is attached to the Nassau County Police in the Homicide Squad. Frequently since that night I have regretted that I kept my promise not to do so. Because, should I have, certainly one and perhaps two lives would have been saved.
I know that I also considered taking Charles Merriweather into my confidence, also in spite of my promise to Ann. And again I may say, that had I done so, it could have made every difference. Two people who are now dead might just possibly be alive.
I can only console myself with the thought that even had I spoken out, it might very well have made no difference.
The Merriweathers had their party on Thursday night 45
as planned. Seven or eight couples, all from Fairlawn. I was the only man there who was not accompanied by his wife, but the Merriweathers had thoughtfully invited Emmy Parsons, a young woman in her twenties who is a third grade teacher in the local grammar school and who boarded with the Goulds down the block, so as to make an even number of men and women. Emmy Parsons is a large, good-looking, gregarious girl, always laughing and ready for fun. She is said to be extremely intelligent and is very well liked and I was pleased to have her as a partner for the evening. She’s a lot of fun.
We had a fine steak dinner, cocktails beforehand and plenty of drinks afterward. Games—we played charades— the hi-fi going full blast and everyone ending up dancing after the carpet had been rolled back. Things broke up around midnight as, it being a weekday, most of the men had to get up early and make the seven twenty-five or eight-ten train into New York the next morning.