“You’re being quite a bore. I haven’t yet heard a word that is worth the smallest fraction of fifty thousand dollars.”
“You want me to go on? I’d much prefer not having to become any more personal than I’ve already been compelled to be.”
“And I’d much prefer not having to hand you fifty thousand dollars.”
“I see your point.” He distorted his lips to show that the taste of what he was going to say was already sour in his mouth. “Well, your father devised an explanation for your absence. He said you were in Switzerland, I believe, but that’s irrelevant to the matter in hand. You were actually, of course, elsewhere. Los Angeles and points south, to be precise. Much of the time in Mexico City. I suppose, actually, that it would take a corps of psychiatrists to explain this period in your life. Let’s just say that you were living with your queer streak. Satisfying a rather perverted need for questionable thrills. Many things were involved. Narcotics for a while. A number of men, naturally. You were known to everyone as Maria Melendez. Your appearance and a fluency in Spanish made it quite easy for you to pass as a cultured Mexican woman. Have I said enough?”
“Not quite.”
“You’re very hard to convince, Mrs. Fenimore. I admire your spirit, and I truly regret the necessity for taking my present position in this.”
“It’s possible that you’ll regret it even more before you’re finished. I understand, however, that one must pay his brandy bill. Go on, please.”
“One more point should be sufficient. Among the men Maria Melendez knew was one named Brannigan. He had a private lodge in the mountains. He died there one night. Shot to death. There was some evidence of a woman’s having been there at the time. The police worked on that angle but never came up with anything conclusive. I knew Brannigan. Many people even thought we were friends, but that was something of an exaggeration. Believe me, I did not grieve for him then, and I don’t regret his death now. Vengeance, I mean, is no consideration. Anyhow, I had access to certain information that the police did not have, and I know that there was, in fact, a woman at the lodge, and I know who she was. Her name was Maria Melendez.”
“Can you prove this?”
“I’m sure I can. However, I’m equally sure that I’ll not be called upon to do so. Maria Melendez is dead. Mrs. Fenimore, I think, does not want her resurrected.”
“True. Maria Melendez is dead. Without benefit of psychiatry. Did you ever see her? Do you know what she looked like?”
His brows arched in the faintest expression of surprise. “Allowing for the possibility of a little dye and certain tricks of dress and makeup, I rather fancy that she looked like you, Mrs. Fenimore. However, I never saw her, actually.”
“You don’t, then, actually know what she looks like now.”
“Oh, yes. Certainly. Would you like me to describe her? It will be a pleasure after the regrettable things I’ve been forced to say about her.” His eyes made a leisurely inventory of the woman opposite him. “She is quite tall and slender. Beautiful body. Incredibly lovely face. Very dark brown hair which she wisely pulls back simply into a bun. Impeccable taste in clothes. Truly a ravishing woman.”
“How charming of you to say so.”
“I prefer being charming when I’m allowed. It makes one’s relationships so much more amicable. Are you prepared to deal with me now?”
“Yes,” she said, “I’m prepared to deal with you.”
And then a small series of events happened in very rapid sequence. The brittle crystal in her hand dropped softly to the carpet. The remains of the martini it contained ran out into the pile of the gray carpet, making a dark stain. In the hand that held the glass, a stubby blue automatic appeared in an instant, apparently taken from the purse on the prim knees. In accomplishing this, Mrs. Fenimore hardly seemed to move. She still sat poised, in an instant resumption of stillness, on the edge of her chair.
In the eyes of the man who called himself Agnew was a flickering of fear that was barely discernible before it was gone. He leaned forward slightly toward the automatic, apparently trying to convince himself that such a vulgar element had actually been introduced.
“I do hope you don’t intend anything indiscreet,” he said. “I’d never rest easily, I assure you, if I were, as a victim, even incidentally responsible for the execution of a beautiful woman.”
She smiled, nodding her head in a slight gesture of acceptance without disturbing the stillness of the rest of her body.
“It’s the worst kind of mistake to compliment the wrong woman.”
“I accept your judgment, but I don’t see how it pertains.”
“It’s simple. I mean that I’m not Mrs. Fenimore. My name is Ellen Melton. I’m Mrs. Fenimore’s secretary.”
“I see.” He leaned back and made a tent of his fingers, looking at her over the tips. “A prerogative of the rich. She sent you to handle the matter for her. I apologize for my mistake.”
“It’s not the only one you’ve made. Nor the worst.”
“Is that so? I’m becoming deeply ashamed of myself. Tell me the worst at once.”
“Gladly. Your worst mistake is trespassing.”
“Perhaps I’m dull. Again I don’t understand.”
“Let me clarify it. I’ve known Mrs. Fenimore for quite a long time. In fact, I knew Maria Melendez. I know about her all the facts that you know, and many others besides. I was on the west coast with her. When she returned here after the death of her father, I couldn’t bear to be separated from her. Especially after I’d discovered who she really was. She told no one she was coming here, of course, and none of us had known her true identity. By methods that were no doubt similar to yours, I traced her. She had assumed, naturally, a way of life that could not possibly afford to recognize the old way. Besides, she had married and wished to remain married. She was living quietly, as she now does, avoiding publicity and never permitting her picture to appear in print. Wisely, when I arrived, she accepted me. I have a position that requires of me precisely nothing. I am paid a salary that is twenty times the normal salary of a secretary. I live exceedingly well and have many pleasures. All this in spite of the fact that Mrs. Fenimore would like to see me dead.”
“Now I understand clearly.” His lips formed what was very close to a sneer, a common expression he would ordinarily have scorned. “You are yourself a blackmailer. An unpleasant word, I know, but surely one that you and I can use between us.”
“Use whatever words you like. I have no fear of words. I’m determined, however, that my position shall not be jeopardized. Mrs. Fenimore is practical. She accepts our relationship as being the most tolerable and least dangerous one possible, especially since I have intelligence enough to be conservative in my requests. But I remember her as Maria Melendez. Maria Melendez was a dangerous woman, and she is not dead, after all, as we previously said. She is still alive, still dangerous. Alive and dangerous in Mrs. Fenimore, who can be forced only so far. She accepts me, but she would not accept you. Not both of us. There is no accommodation for another blackmailer, and you can see, of course, that your position makes mine extremely vulnerable. Whatever action she took against you, I would surely be included and destroyed incidentally. I’m trying to tell you, Mr. Agnew, that you are about to spoil a good thing. You are, in brief, a trespasser.”
“I can see that you have some justice to your claim. I admit it.” The suggestion of a sneer was gone from his lips now, and he watched her intently. “Tell me, Miss Melton. Since Mrs. Fenimore did not send you here, how did you learn of our appointment?”
“Perhaps you’ll remember that I answered the telephone when you called. I listened on an extension while she talked with you.”
“Well, really! Eavesdropping? That’s a crudity I’d not have believed of you.”
“My life is precarious, and my position is delicate. I resort to all sorts of crudities to preserve both. I’ve already left a note for my employer, telling her that the appointment has been cancelled.�
��
“Quite right, too. We can’t permit the niceties to interfere with self-preservation, can we? That, in a way, is my argument now. However, I concede your prior claim. I’ll withdraw my own.”
But he was lying, of course, as she knew perfectly well, and when he lifted his glass as if to pledge his word, she shot him three times with the small blue automatic. The explosions made very little noise, and so did he. He gasped and coughed and sighed and lay back in his chair as if he were suddenly very tired. Rising, she put the automatic in her purse, retrieved the martini glass from the floor, walked into the bathroom. She washed the glass in the lavatory, wiping it dry on a hand towel and carrying it in the towel back into the living room. She replaced it on the table from which Agnew had taken it, returned the towel to the bathroom, and then, without looking at the body in the chair, she went out of the room into the hall and back to the lobby by way of the stairs.
But she did not leave the hotel at once. Crossing the lobby, she entered a cocktail lounge and sat at a tiny round table and ordered a martini, which she drank slowly. Drinking, she thought of Mrs. Fenimore, quietly cultivating her own special terror. She decided that she would have just one more martini before she left.
MOST AGREEABLY POISONED
Originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, October 1957.
“Darling,” Sherry said, “I’m so glad you’re behaving like a civilized being.”
“Oh, I’m a great believer in civilized beings,” I said. “In my opinion, they are essential to civilization.”
“Nevertheless,” she said, “it is absolutely exceptional of you to suggest that the three of us get together and talk things out quietly and courteously. Not,” she added, “that it will change anything in the end.”
“What do you mean, not that it will change anything?”
“I mean that I am quite determined to leave you, of course. Surely you understand that.”
“I understand that it’s your intention, but I am hoping to change your mind.”
“Well, it’s only fair to give you a chance, which I am willing to do, but I assure you that it’s impossible. I am in love with Dennis and am going to marry him and that’s all there is to it. I’m truly sorry, darling, but it’s necessary to my happiness.”
“This means, I take it, that you are consequently no longer in love with me. Is that true?”
“Not at all. Please don’t be absurd. I love you very much, as you very well know, but in a less exciting way I am madly and deliriously and irresistibly in love with Dennis.”
“Once you were madly and deliriously and irresistibly in love with me. At least you said you were.”
“So I was, but now the way I am in love with you is unfortunately changed. It’s sad, isn’t it, the way things change?”
I looked at her with a great aching in my heart, for however sadly and unfortunately her way of loving me had changed, my way of loving her had not changed at all. So bright and fair and incredibly lovely, I also saw that she was wearing a soft white gown that achieved a perfect balance of exposure and suggestion.
“Will you have a martini?” I said.
“When Dennis gets here, we will have one together. It will make everyone feel relaxed and comfortable, don’t you think? Martinis are quite good for that.”
“I thought we might just have one beforehand. We can have another later, of course.”
“Well, I’m not averse to that, but there’s the doorbell now, if I’m not mistaken, and it’s surely Dennis.”
She was right about its being the doorbell. She was almost certainly right, too, about its being Dennis. I was compelled to accept this reluctantly.
“You had better let him in,” I said.
She went out into the hall and opened the front door, and it was Dennis outside. He came into the hall, and Sherry put her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was nothing new for her to kiss various men, but this kiss was different and plainly special. It was ardent, to say the least, and it lasted for quite a long time. From my position in the living room, I could see it clearly, but I quit looking at it before it was finished, and started mixing martinis, and I was still mixing the martinis when Sherry and Dennis came in.
“Well, you two,” Sherry said, “here we are.”
“That’s true,” I said. “We’re here, all right.”
“This is Dennis, Sherm,” Sherry said. “Dennis, this is Sherm.”
“Glad to meet you, Sherm,” Dennis said.
He was not as tall as I, nor quite so heavy, but I had to admit that he looked like he was probably in better condition. He had short blond hair and a face like the guy who plays juvenile leads until he’s thirty, and he apparently felt that he was playing the lead in this particular turkey. Which he was, even though I didn’t like to admit it. I put down the shaker of martinis and shook his hand.
“His name is actually Sherman,” Sherry said, “but I call him Sherm.”
“Sometimes we got real intimate,” I said.
“This is exceedingly decent of you, Sherm,” Dennis said.
“Civilized,” I said. “I’m being civilized, which makes everything much more comfortable for everyone. Will you have a martini?”
“Thanks. I don’t mind if I do.”
I poured the martinis, and they sat on the sofa and held hands. When I served the martinis, he took his in his left hand, and she took hers in her right hand, and this made it possible for her left hand and his right hand to go on holding each other. As for me, I was in a position to hold my martini in either hand or both, as the notion struck me.
“I suppose,” I said, “that we might as well get it over with.”
“Sorry, Sherm,” Dennis said, “but I suppose we had.” He looked at me with a man-to-man expression.
“Well,” I said, “as I understand it, you want something of mine, and I naturally want to keep what I have, and this poses a problem.”
“Problem?” he said. “I don’t see that there’s any particular problem.”
“Neither do I,” Sherry said. “No problem at all. You and I will simply get divorced, Sherm, and you and I will simply get married, Dennis, and that’s all there is to it.”
“As I see it,” Dennis said, “that’s all.”
“As I see it,” I said, “not quite. I’m willing to be civilized and congenial, which is one thing, but I’m not willing to surrender supinely, which is another. I must insist on a fair chance in this affair, but at the same time I want to be agreeable, which is evident, and so I have thought of a way in which everything can be settled amicably. Would you like to hear it?”
“I don’t think so,” Dennis said. “I don’t think I care to hear it at all.”
“Oh, let’s hear it, Dennis,” Sherry said. “It can’t do any harm to hear it.”
“All right,” Dennis said. “I suppose it’s only fair.”
“Good,” I said. “You two just continue to sit here and hold hands for a minute, and I’ll be right back.” Crossing the room to a liquor cabinet, I got three small bottles filled with red port and returned. I lined the bottles up on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
“Whatever are they?” Sherry said.
“Little bottles of port wine,” I said. “I prepared them myself earlier today.”
“It seems perfectly ridiculous to me. Whatever for?”
“Well, they are part of my plan to settle our problem amicably. One of these bottles is slightly different from the other two, you see. Two of them are filled with plain port, as I said, but the other one contains also enough poison to curl your toes in a minute. It’s my plan that one of us shall drink the poisoned port and curl his toes and cease forthwith to be a problem to the other two.”
“Sherm,” Sherry said, “you’ve always had a perverted sense of humor, and it’s obviously time you were told about it.”
“It’s a reasonable chance for everyone to get everything or nothing,” I said. “It’s civilized, that’s w
hat it is. Besides being civilized, it’s sophisticated. It’s quite appropriate and acceptable for three civilized sophisticates like us.”
“Now that you’ve explained it,” Sherry said, “I believe you’re right. It’s certainly about as civilized, and sophisticated as it could possibly be.”
For the first time since sitting down, she disengaged her held hand and put her chin in it. Before putting her chin in the hand, she put her elbow on her knee. She sat staring at the little bottles of port, plainly intrigued by the prospect of two amicable men risking having their toes curled on the alternate chance of possessing her if the port didn’t happen to be spiked.
“Look here,” Dennis said. “There are three bottles there. Do you seriously expect Sherry to participate in this fantastic business?”
“It’s necessary,” I said, “in order to give all alternatives a chance. If I get the poisoned port, you get Sherry. If you get the poisoned port, I get Sherry. If she gets the poisoned port, neither of us gets her. This thing must be done properly and thoroughly, if at all, and I’m sure Sherry will agree.”
“I do agree,” Sherry said. “It’s only fair that I participate.”
“I absolutely forbid it,” Dennis said.
“Don’t be presumptuous, darling,” Sherry said. “You are hardly in a position to forbid anything.”
The Second Fletcher Flora Mystery Megapack Page 17