I’d like, he went on thoughtfully, to see how Miss Brady lives. There we have unmistakable quality and the preposterous innocence that too often goes with it. A twenty-five-cent weekly allowance until she was eighteen; a careful exposure to the procreative process when she was old enough to have a dog and properly call it a bitch; a well-schooled belief that sin is spelled with the same scarlet A that Hester Prynne wore… Would a grown-up childlike Miss Brady stay on the tracks when she met a situation that refuted her code and turned her world upside down? Or would she do as most children do, turn savage and strike? Turn and strike. Lie and run… It was worth thinking about. Rich Miss Brady, poor Miss Brady, who read all the books and knew all the words and was younger than Moke and Poke. Resigning because she was fed up. Tut-tut, he grieved, not fed at all.
Someone rapped smartly on the living-room door, and he hurried to open it. A girl stood in the hall, stooping as if she wanted to disguise her height.
“I’m Kitty Brice,” she began. “Miss Small said you—”
He knew her. When he reminded her of their first meeting, she wasn’t amused, although she pretended to be. He talked persuasively, apologised for taking her away from her work, condemned his own job ruefully, asked questions and seemed not to need the answers. After a few minutes he was almost sure she was telling the truth, not all of it, but enough.
“I didn’t pay much attention that night she came,” she said. “She was dopey, so I didn’t pay attention. You always hope somebody nice is coming, but they never do. I don’t know why they’re digging her up like this. Trouble for everybody.”
“I know,” he sympathised. “But suicides always stir some people up. Like my client, for instance. She doubts the suicide theory. Do you, even a little?”
“No. She was dopey. But—”
“But what, Miss Brice? Come on, you’re not going to stand in the way of a guy earning his living!”
“I don’t know anything, but some people did talk. You know, whispering. There’s always somebody in a place like this that whispers. About anything. And this time they really had something. Like why does a girl jump out of a window when she’s only lived in a place two days and didn’t get any mail, or phone calls, or anything. It won’t do you any good to ask me who said that, because I don’t know. I just picked it out of the air. And I don’t say I believe it, either.”
He nodded. “You know, I can’t help wondering why she wasn’t missed that night. She was a new girl. I’d have thought the rest of you would watch her, help her have fun. Didn’t you see her at all?”
“Get somebody to show you the costumes. You wouldn’t know your own mother.”
“But there was an identifying mole on Ruth’s mask. Didn’t you know that?”
“Sure I knew. That was one of those secrets that was too good to keep. Everybody knew. But I don’t remember seeing her.”
“Did you ever leave the party, Miss Brice?”
“I sure did. I’ve got drops that I have to take, and I went up to my room and took them. I walked up, I live on second. I didn’t go up to seventh at all.”
“You’re giving me more information than I asked for,” he smiled. “That’s fine. Were you in costume, too, Miss Brice?”
“Sure. Everybody was, except Heads, maids, and Plummer.”
Plummer again. “Plummer?” he asked.
“Ethel Plummer. She works at the desk, too, and she’s kind of old. She talked to Miller once or twice, I know that.”
“Does Miss Small know?”
“I couldn’t say. Maybe not, unless Plummer mentioned it herself.”
“I see.” He studied her face, noting the bad colour, the blue line around the mouth that wasn’t entirely hidden by lipstick. ‘I’ve got drops that I have to take.’ Heart. “Ever see Ruth Miller before she came here?” he asked carelessly.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I shop at Blackman’s sometimes, for little things. Same price as other places for little things. She worked on the main floor, so I might have seen her without knowing it.”
“So you might, I can understand that. Well, that’s all for now, thanks. Is the next one waiting?”
“With tongue hanging out.” She grinned. “Dot Mainwaring.”
He disliked Miss Mainwaring at once. She was wide-eyed, voluble, and saccharine. The wide eyes said he was a handsome man and she was a young girl and they were alone. She kept him at a distance, prettily, and he felt as if she were crawling into his lap. She is, he told himself, the kind of modest violet that chokes the life out of the poison ivy. He asked as few questions as possible. She didn’t seem to notice.
“I saw the poor creature the night she arrived,” she informed him. “But I didn’t remember it until Miss Small reminded me. I was too disturbed myself at the time.” She waited expectantly.
“Disturbed about what?” he asked dutifully.
“My roommate was—well, she was—ill. I had stopped at the desk to get a check for her dinner tray. I didn’t mind doing that, and I carried the tray upstairs, too, because nothing is too much trouble when you’re helping a fellow being. But Minnie May, that’s my roommate, she said she wasn’t hungry, and that worried me. I’d always been told that food should be taken when alcohol—”
“I’m not interested in your roommate, Miss Mainwaring.”
“Oh, you will be, Mr East. You must be. Miss Small is looking for her now. I’m purposely bringing her into our little conversation because I think she’s important and I want to save you time and trouble. I think it will help you in the end. We all have our little weaknesses, I cheerfully admit to mine, and they play a very large part in our lives and colour our actions, I think. And if I can help you understand Minnie May, why then I’ll feel as if I’d done something really useful. There’s nobody that’s perfect, Mr East, we’re all human, but if we listen to reason and look to a Higher Guidance—”
He let her run on, slipping her neatly and wearily into the correct file. This, he mourned, is the self-appointed martyr who confesses other peoples’ sins in public, radiates watery sunshine, and grabs the burdens off the neighbours’ backs. He wondered what she’d do if she found herself with no immediate martyrdom to play with. Negotiate some? By any means? Maybe. They were a hungry lot, the self-appointed martyrs, sometimes too quick on the trigger and always too smooth on the talk. Quick on the trigger, such as, “Everything went black.” Smooth on the talk, such as, “I’m not sorry for what I did. I tried to show her the error of her ways. God spoke to me. I did God’s will.” They had fun in jail, too, got fan mail, got lawyers hired by a religious sect, and sometimes even got off. They rarely paid the full price… He forced himself to listen.
“And as I say, Minnie May simply will not understand how she’s killing herself with that poison. I was so worried about Minnie May that I hardly noticed the other poor creature. If I’d really noticed, I’m sure I’d have seen she was in distress. I’m very sensitive that way. But Minnie May was on my mind. You can forgive me, can’t you?”
He smiled bleakly. “I can and will. Miss Mainwaring, did you know Miss Miller before she came here to live? Even casually?”
“Oh no! I have a wonderful memory. Oh no, I’d never seen her before, I’m sure of that… At least, I’m almost sure.”
He saw a speculative flicker in the pale eyes. “All right,” he said hastily. “That’s fine, that’s all I wanted.”
“But we must be sure, mustn’t we? You want me to be sure, don’t you? If you want me to think back into the past, why I’m perfectly willing. I don’t mind going over to that corner and closing my eyes and thinking back into the past. I might find something.”
Here was the framework for some nice carrying-on if he made it seem worthwhile. He tried not to shudder. “Not here, Miss Mainwaring,” he said playfully. “In your own room. And if you remember anything, write me a letter. That will be all, thank you.”
“All?” She was distressed. “But Miss Small said to tell you everything!”
&
nbsp; “You have,” he said. “And thanks again.” He rose and crossed the room. “Now who’s next?”
She followed him slowly. “I’d do anything for Miss Small, anything. She said I was to tell you anything—”
They had reached the door and he opened it. Miss Mainwaring found herself out in the hall.
“Good evening,” he said to the girl who was waiting. “Come in, please. You are—?”
“Jewel Schwab.”
8
He was surprised to find that he liked and pitied Jewel on sight; probably, he told himself, because her flat, stupid face was a pleasant change from that of her predecessor. And she was no talker. She leaned against the door and watched him with a sleepy look, her arms folded at her waist as if they were rolled in a kitchen apron. Domestic service, he guessed, and not too far back. She looked hopeless, but he couldn’t afford to send her away unheard. There would be no badinage with Jewel. He’d be lucky to get a yes or no.
“Sit down, Jewel. Do you know why I want to see you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Were you a friend of Ruth Miller’s?”
“No, sir.”
“Mind if I ask you a few questions anyway?”
“No, sir.”
“Fine. Jewel, you’re a very important person for two reasons. You were the first girl to reach Ruth Miller’s body and you also operate the elevator. You see and hear things. Now, on the night of the party did you recognise Ruth when she rode in your car?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You did? That’s interesting. How did you know it was Ruth?”
“She was with April. You always know April.”
“Of course. I forgot about that. You couldn’t mistake Ruth when she was with April. But when she left the party and went up to her room, did you recognise her then?”
“I didn’t take her up.” Jewel looked over his head.
He heard the faint note of alarm in her voice. She heard it, too, and tried to cover it up with a tuneless little whistle.
“Jewel,” he said reproachfully, “stop kidding me. Of course you took her up, you can’t get in trouble for that. What’s the matter with you?”
“I didn’t take her up. She lived on seventh, and I never went to seventh after the party began. Other floors, but not seventh.” Only the big hands, gripping the raw, red elbows, betrayed her nervousness.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir.” She whistled again, with elaborate indifference, and examined the room with a bored look. It said he was wasting his time as well as hers. “I made three trips, that’s all,” she went on carelessly. “Miss Small said I didn’t have to make any, she said the girls could run the car themselves, she said I was to enjoy myself. But I made three trips anyway. But not Ruth Miller.”
“Three, eh? How do you know one of your passengers wasn’t Ruth? If they all looked alike, and if she wasn’t with April that time.”
She looked over his head again. “Because I know where I went. I never went to seventh. The first trip was two girls for fourth. I remember it was fourth because they talked disguised and I had to ask the floor twice. And they wanted me to wait for them and I did. And the next trip was one girl by herself. To sixth. I don’t know who she was. I remember it was sixth because I went past the floor and had to go back.”
“Easy to walk from sixth to seventh, isn’t it?”
“If you want to.”
“What about the third trip?”
“Mrs Marshall-Gill. She wanted fifth, this room here. This one. She always comes to this room here to fix her face. After I took her I came on down and went in the lounge to watch the dancing. I never went near the car again. It was eight-thirty-five when I went in the lounge. It was Carlin’s band on the radio right after the news.”
The first break, he told himself. She’s volunteering the time. Shrewd, or coached, or self-rehearsed.
“Can I go now?” she asked. “I’ve got my work.”
“So have I,” he smiled. “This is it. But I won’t keep you much longer. Jewel, do you think Ruth took the car up herself?”
“Maybe. Or maybe she walked. I’ve seen her walk.”
“To seventh, when there was an elevator? Hardly. But I wish I knew for certain, because when she went upstairs she died.” He let that sink in. “She went upstairs, alone or with someone, and died. Died at nine o’clock… You say you were in the lounge at eight-thirty-five?”
She brushed a hand across her mouth. “Yes, sir.”
“In costume, of course?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Kitty Brice says your own mothers wouldn’t have known you.”
“That’s right.” She studied the pattern on the rug, turning her head from side to side. “That’s what everybody says.”
He went through his pockets, slowly and deliberately, and she abandoned the rug to watch him. “I’m interested in that girl who rode up to sixth,” he said. “Do you think she stayed there?”
“I don’t know. I only know I didn’t bring her down. People ran the car themselves after I quit.”
“What about Mrs Marshall-Gill?”
“I don’t know. Maybe somebody went up and got her.” Her eyes were on his hands as they moved from pocket to pocket. “But she got down all right. I saw her myself, over by the elevator, fifteen or twenty minutes later.”
“Fifteen or twenty? Are you sure?”
“Carlin’s band was still on.”
“Considering all the excitement,” he said, “I should think the girl who brought Mrs Marshall-Gill down would brag about it. You know—‘There we were on fifth and there Ruth Miller was on seventh.’ Because, according to you, Mrs Marshall-Gill was on the fifth floor when Ruth Miller was preparing to die.”
“Nobody said anything like that.” She started to whistle again.
It was time to find his notebook and pen, and he did; and he gave a pleased exclamation. The whistling stopped, and he heard her shift from one foot to the other. He ignored her and wrote steadily, sometimes frowning, sometimes looking pleased.
Finally she said, “What are you putting in that book?”
“I’m making a timetable, thanks to you.”
“You can’t prove nothing by what I said.”
After a pause he said, “Prove what?” She didn’t answer.
He read what he had written, shook his head with disbelief, and returned the book to his pocket. “I don’t believe it,” he said softly, “but there it is. In black and white… Jewel, will it upset you too much to tell me how you happened to be the first girl on the scene?”
She made a small sound, like a sigh of relief. He knew why. They had come to a safe place, a safe place for everybody. Ruth Miller had been long dead when Jewel went into the courtyard. The trap had been sprung, the trapper had vanished.
“That’s no secret,” she said. “Everybody knows what I did, everybody knows it was me. We had our masks off. Everybody knew each other then.”
She said she had gone to her room at midnight. Some of the others had stayed downstairs. And she had opened her window and seen Mrs Cashman and her dog in the court. “They were coming through the gate. I watched because sometimes the dog upsets our garbage. Then I heard her holler, not loud, but surprised. I thought she’d found something that was our property so I went down. I live on second and it didn’t take long, and I went right out the front door without speaking to anybody. And when I was half in the court I heard her scream. And then I saw it.”
“Who came out next?”
“Everybody. Out the kitchen door, out the front, some looked out the windows. Miss Brady got the doctor and police. They didn’t know who it was. Even when they cut the mask off they didn’t know. Then they saw her ring.”
“That must have been terrible. A terrible shock. I suppose nobody slept that night.”
“I suppose so.”
“If I’d been in your place, if I’d seen that poor girl lying in the rain, I’d never get over it. I’d feel h
aunted… Jewel, what went through your head when you first saw her? What did you think had happened?”
“I thought she fell. If you fell from seventh you’d look like that. That’s what I thought.” She was eager. “That’s what you’d think, too.”
“No,” he said gently. “No I wouldn’t. Because I wouldn’t know who she was then. I wouldn’t know who she was until much later.” He saw her nails bite into her palms.
“You’re mixing me up,” she said thickly. She started to advance, slowly, and then her head snapped back and she stopped. She was listening. He listened too. Someone was coming down the hall with quick, firm steps. She had the door open before he was out of his chair. It was Miss Brady.
“Well,” Miss Brady said. “Having your kind of fun?” Jewel sidled away.
“You came too soon,” he said dryly. “Who’s next?”
“Minnie May Handy, if we can find her. It may take some time.”
“I have plenty of time. How about taking me to see Lillian Harris?”
“What for? She can’t talk. She’s unconscious.”
“Even so, I’d like to see her. She’s on Miss Small’s list. Maybe if I see them all tonight, I won’t have to come back again. Mull that over. You’ll be rid of me. Isn’t that tempting?”
“It’s corruption. But you’ll walk up. The elevator’s too public at the moment.”
He followed her up the stairs, smiling at her monotonous chant of “Man coming, man coming.” It was superfluous. The halls and stairs were dim, silent, and deserted. No huddled, bathrobed figures, no high chattering voices. Not even a whisper. Somewhere behind him the elevator hummed steadily, stopped, and hummed again. People were going from one place to another, up and down, back and forth, moving against time. He could see them, like a steady stream of ants, pouring in and out, running here and there. But not to the seventh floor. And, like ants, they carried burdens heavier than themselves.
Death of a Doll Page 17