by Q. Patrick
Once again Jerry cut in, a perplexed furrow on his forehead. “Then you think, when he followed us to the garage today, he was after the will?”
“I think at first he hoped Lee was taking you to the place where the will was hidden. Of course, he was mistaken. All you got and all he got was an old copy of the Wentworth Clarion containing the pieces of those letters to you which Norma had torn up.”
Jerry said: “Then he did get them?
“He got them all right. But we have managed to get them away from him. They are being pieced together now down at police headquarters.”
I was completely out of my depth then. But there was one thing I simply had to know. I said: “You’ve got to tell me why he tried to kill Jerry in that ghastly way.”
Lieutenant Trant’s face was grave, inscrutable. “I think the attempt on Jerry’s life was the last act of a very desperate person. As soon as he knew it was not the will you were after but those torn pieces of letter, he realized there was no more hope of his ever getting the money. He probably realized too that between you you had it in your power to prove his guilt. Rather than take that risk—well, he was ready to do anything.”
Jerry’s face was very haggard now. “Then you think he would have killed Lee too if he’d had the chance?”
“I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had,” replied Trant grimly. For a moment we all sat around in silence. Although I was still utterly confused myself, I had the feeling that we were almost at the end. I also had the feeling that Jerry had guessed something which was still beyond my reach.
He said in a low, steady voice. “So you thought he’d try to kill Lee too? That doesn’t make him a particularly pleasant person, does it?” His blue eyes met Trant’s. “Well, you’ve got the will. You’ve got the letters that were in the Clarion. You know the person who murdered Norma. Aren’t you going to arrest him?”
Trant said: “It isn’t quite as simple as that. I have the evidence. And I’ve convinced Jordan. But he feels he can’t swear out a warrant yet, because there’s one thing still barring our way. The person in question has an alibi for the time of Norma’s death—a very well-established alibi. In fact, you and Lee and I are the star witnesses….” He paused, adding quietly: “There are only two things for us to do right now. We’ve got to go all out for a confession or we’ve got somehow to break that alibi.”
Jerry was still looking at him. Once again I had the sensation that he had stumbled to the solution and that both he and Trant were deliberately skirting around the real issue.
Jerry said at last: “I’ve given that alibi quite a bit of thought. And I think I can break it for you. You see, I’ve realized who you’ve been talking about.”
“I thought you had.” Trant nodded. “But do you really have an idea on breaking that alibi?”
“I think I have more than an idea. You see—” Jerry broke off, his eyes studiously not meeting mine. “It’d probably be better if we talked it out together. I mean—well, there’s no point in bringing Lee into it yet, is there?”
Trant looked at me with that unobtrusive, intent gaze of his. “I guess you’re right. How about leaving us alone for a while, Lee?”
I knew Jerry didn’t want me there and I knew he must have a good reason for it. So I asked no questions. I just slipped out of the room, waiting anxiously in the white, hygienic corridor. In a short time Lieutenant Trant came out and moved down the passage toward the telephone. After a moment’s hesitation I went back into the room. Jerry was there, standing by the window.
I went up to him. “Jerry, do you really know who did it?”
“Yes. I know.”
“And—and aren’t you going to tell me?”
He took both my hands in his. “I don’t want you to know just yet, darling. Not till this alibi business has been settled. I’ve asked Trant to let me reconstruct a particular moment at the dance last night. We’ll be going over to the gym right away. If my notion satisfies Jordan—well, I guess you’ll have to know then. It’s not going to be pleasant for any of us, you know.”
“I know that,” I said wearily. “From the beginning I’ve always, known it would be hard. But harder for you than for me.”
The morning sunlight from the window made his blond hair gold and his eyes a deep, dark blue. But it hurt me to see him so pale and drawn. All the life seemed to have gone out of his face, and there was a set, bitter curve to his lips.
“You’ve been swell, Lee,” he said huskily. “I guess it’s taken all these ghastly things to make me realize just how utterly unworthy of you I am.”
“Jerry, you mustn’t say things like that, please. Soon it’ll be over. Maybe we’ll be able to forget it all—sometime.”
“Sure. It’ll be over. No more damn doubts and suspicions. It’s going to be better that way, isn’t it?”
“Far better,” I said. Then impulsively, I added: “But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive Grace. It’s her fault really. Whoever killed Norma, it was because Grace did that terrible thing and left so much temptation behind her. If only she hadn’t dragged everyone into it! If only this second senseless thing hadn’t happened!”
“If only it hadn’t happened!” There was a little catch in his voice as he put out his strong hands and drew me toward him. “But it’s done. And it’s no use worrying about might have beens. You must try not to feel too badly toward me, Lee, because I’ve got to be the person to show who did it.”
“Of course you’ve got to,” I said.
And I wasn’t worrying any more because I felt him close to me, felt his lips warm and tender against mine.
XXVIII
Jerry and Trant went off to the gym together. I was told to go back to Pigot and wait until Chief Jordan came to pick me up. During those few interminable minutes of waiting, I deliberately kept myself from thinking. I knew from the way Jerry had spoken that the truth was going to be an unpleasant shock and I had enough sense to realize what a strain it had been listening to Trant’s terrible story of Grace Hough. I was conserving what little emotional stamina I had left.
And then Chief Jordan arrived and drove me over to the gym. It was eerie going into that large building which had been so gay and thronged last night and which now was desolate and empty except for Jerry, Trant and two plainclothes men. The heavy curtains had been drawn over the windows, shutting out all daylight. The main floor was illuminated as it had been for the ball with soft maroon and blue chains of light. But the gallery was dark—looming above us in a vague, shadowy rim.
Trant glanced at Jerry who nodded shortly. Then the detective turned to Jordan.
“Mr. Hough has a very ingenious idea, Jordan. He wants to make a test with Miss Lovering as the principal subject. If it works, I think you won’t have to worry about that alibi any longer. You’ll be justified in swearing out a warrant for the murderer of Norma Sayler.”
He glanced back at Jerry who was staring straight in front of him, his hands thrust in his pants pockets. “Okay, Jerry.”
Jetty glanced at Jordan and began jerkily: “Last night when Trant arrived at the dance, a lot of us saw Norma standing up in the gallery by the refreshment tables. She wasn’t seen again. From that, I guess, you’ve been figuring she was murdered some time later when Trant was having that talk with Steve Carteris. I want to give you another idea.”
He came to me, laying his hand lightly on my arm. He was drawing me back under the gallery toward the naked rows of chairs which still stood as they had been last night.
He said: “I want to run through that moment when Trant arrived at the ball. Lee and I were standing here. Steve Carteris came up to us. He said something. I forget what. Then Trant and Mrs. Hudnutt came toward us from the direction of the door.”
Very quietly Trant moved across the bare boards of the floor to our side. The three of us stood there together facing across the gym, instinctively staring up at the high gallery which was still shrouded in darkness.
Jerry went on: �
�Trant asked if anyone had seen Norma. Lee and I said we hadn’t. Then Steve said he’d seen her a few minutes ago up in the gallery with a lot of stags. He turned to the gallery and said: ‘Yes, she’s still there.’”
I remembered that moment so well, remembered that last glimpse any of us had seen of Norma Sayler alive, a slim figure in a gleaming gold dress up there in the gallery surrounded by a circle of admirers. Still confused and anxious, I waited uneasily for what was going to happen next.
Jerry’s fingers were back on my arm again. I saw his tongue come out to moisten his lips. Then, suddenly, he called up into the darkness of the gallery: “All right, Nick. Let it go.”
So Nick Dodd was up there somewhere, I thought vaguely. Then I didn’t think any more for the gallery had been flooded with light, the warm amber light which Nick and Jerry had used for the ball.
For that first instant everything seemed impossible. I saw—yet I couldn’t believe what I saw. Just at the corner of the gallery, her back to us, stood what seemed to be the figure of Norma Sayler. There was the same blonde hair, the same low cut back, the same unmistakable gown of glittering golden lamé. It was a weird, fantastic sensation as if, somehow, Norma had been brought back from the dead.
Dimly I heard Jerry’s voice: “Wouldn’t you have been prepared to swear that was Norma, Lee?”
“Yes,” I said almost inaudibly. “It is—it does seem to be Norma. It’s certainly her dress.”
Jerry called something to Nick again and the lights in the gallery snapped out, taking that brief hallucination with them.
Jerry and Trant were both looking at Jordan. Trant said: “Perhaps you can see how we were all fooled. Miss Lovering knew Norma Sayler as well as anyone did. Even now she was almost convinced.”
“But what—?” I faltered. “Tell me, what’s the explanation?”
As I spoke I heard the grating sound of heavy curtains being drawn up in the gallery. Daylight was pouring in now—pouring in on that girl still standing by the balustrade above the orchestra platform.
And I understood then.
The girl had turned slowly to face us. The dress which had gleamed gold in the small amber spot was not gold any longer. It shone a pale, shimmering silver in the sunlight. I saw the blonde bang, the very familiar face which was not the face of Norma Sayler.
Elaine, of course. Elaine in her ball gown of silver lamé!
Elaine stood there for a second in the gallery, staring down at us, her face very white and drawn. Then, suddenly, she turned and slipped away out of sight into the darkness where the curtains still covered the windows.
Trant was saying: “That’s Mr. Hough’s idea, Chief Jordan. He suggested that the murderer very cleverly took advantage of the lighting effects to make us believe Norma was here at the ball alive when in fact, even at that very moment, she was lying murdered in the fountain pool. He did that so that he could give himself a perfect alibi. Everyone knew, of course, that Norma’s was the only golden dress in the room. It never occurred to us that a silver dress in an amber spot looks gold.”
Jerry had moved to my side again as Trant continued: “And it isn’t only conjecture. Mr. Hough tells me the students were having some fool bet about Elaine’s back being the prettiest in the room. It would have been easy to persuade her to stand in any given spotlight without arousing her suspicions.” He looked at Jerry. “Thanks, Mr. Hough. I’m sure Chief Jordan will realize that Norma could have been murdered before I arrived last night and that alibis after that time cease to be valid.”
Nick Dodd came down from the gallery and Jerry moved to join him. Trant and I were left with Chief Jordan who was looking very grim.
At last he said: “Well, I guess that covers everything. I’ll get that warrant sworn out right away.”
I think it was then that I first began to realize for whom that warrant was to be sworn out. For a while I had been unable to think of anything but those moments at the dance last night when Elaine had grabbed me around the waist, had chattered about her back and a bet. But gradually and relentlessly this other idea reared up in my mind like some horrible weed, stifling everything else that was there.
Already Trant had told me everything about the murderer except his name. Now I saw how there was only one solution. The person who could have known about Grace’s suicide and the will from the very beginning; the person to whom that false glimpse of Norma gave so perfect an alibi, the person who had actually pointed Elaine out in the gallery saying: “There’s Norma….”
I turned desperately to Lieutenant Trant. “But you can’t mean him. It’s not possible. And Grace—Grace couldn’t have left her money to him. She didn’t like him. She …”
Trant laid his hand on my arm as if he knew just how much I needed something to steady me. “I never said that Grace left the money to him. I only said that he hoped to benefit by the new will. That makes quite a difference. You see, he hoped to benefit indirectly through the person who stood to inherit the money.” He paused, his gray eyes fixed intently on his thumb. “Of course, there won’t be any money now. But Grace made her new will, Lee, in favor of—you.”
Trant’s voice went on, soft and even, but I wasn’t really listening. I was struggling fruitlessly to keep myself from admitting what I knew now to be the truth.
“You, as Grace’s only friend, were the logical person for her to leave the money to. She couldn’t have realized what would happen. That someone, who wanted that money badly, would try to make you fall in love with him and…”
“Don’t tell her that, Trent.” Suddenly I felt the detective pushed aside and Jerry’s rough hands were on my arms. “They mustn’t make you believe that, Lee. Maybe he did want the money. It was a hell of a temptation, strong enough to make him murder Norma. But he wasn’t kidding you about loving you. I’m sure of that.”
Jerry was there, gazing at me intently, his young face soft, as gentle as I had ever seen it. And I remembered how those two had once been close friends.
After a long moment Jerry drew away, his eyes moving to Trent. He said very quietly: “We might as well get it over with. I promised I’d try to get a confession for you. I guess I can if you—you leave the two of us alone together.”
“Okay.” Trant nodded and came over to me. “We all better get out of here and let Jerry take care of the rest, Lee. You go over to Pigot and wait in your room. I’ll be there—soon.” He turned to Jordan. “You’ve made all arrangements?”
Jordan said: “Yes. One of my men is bringing Carteris over here right away.”
They had said Steve’s name now. It wasn’t just in my mind any more. There wasn’t any doubt any longer.
Somehow I stumbled out of that gaunt, dark building, out into the campus.
Mechanically I started down the drive toward Pigot. I didn’t really notice anything until I became conscious of two men bearing down upon me. One was square and inconspicuous, obviously a plainclothes man; the other, very tall and lithe in a light gray suit was—Steven Carteris.
I didn’t know what to do. They were almost up to me; I couldn’t possibly avoid them. And yet—what could I say to Steve now?
I made myself walk on, not looking, but I was terribly conscious of his nearness. Then, suddenly, I felt my arm gripped.
“Lee!”
I did look at him then. He was standing there, next to the detective, his hand on my arm, his dark eyes, steady but very desperate, fixing mine.
“Lee, there’s something I want you to know before it’s all over. This morning, in the garage, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never knew you’d open the door and jump out. I …”
“It’s all right, Steve,” I whispered. “I guess it’s all right.”
I couldn’t say anything more. I drew my arm away from his fingers and hurried toward Pigot. Vaguely I was conscious of a car parked outside. Steve’s car. That was just one thing more to remind me.
Then I was up in my room alone—in that small, bare room which had used to be just a ro
om in Pigot Dormitory but which now was a storehouse for so many memories I would have given my soul to forget. I sat down in my old work chair with my back to the window, staring pointlessly at the wall, waiting for Lieutenant Trant.
I shall never know how long I sat there. Now that I had made up my mind to face it, I could see the whole thing with hurting vividness. Steve had driven Grace from the service station that night. How easy it would have been for him to guess she was planning suicide. Perhaps she had even hinted it to him, told him about that crazy will she had written making me the beneficiary of that nonexistent $150,000. Then she had left him with the fur coat and all the letters in his possession. Steve was the one person who had had a chance right from the beginning of reading those letters—and knowing.
And last night he had appeared out of the bushes while I was watching Norma and Marcia in the formal garden. He could have heard Norma saying then that she had the real explanation. He could have realized then that she had to be killed. And later—how easy it would have been for him as Nick Dodd’s roommate to know about the lights, to persuade Elaine to stand there and build up that false image of Norma which gave him so very perfect an alibi. Steve, who had been alone with Lieutenant Trant all through that time when Norma was supposed to have been killed.
All that seemed pitifully clear. But it had no reality. Steve had always stood for something so definite in my life. Steve had been gay and gentle and considerate and absolutely straight. He’d been my very best friend and it was only now that I saw just how much I had always needed him. During all those years when Jerry had just been an exciting dream, there had been Steve. Almost without my realizing, he had become an integral part of me. And then last night he had told me be loved me.