Murder at Bridge

by Anne Austin

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "I'll read you the note, Lydia, but I can't let you touch it," Dundeesaid sternly, taking good care that she should not touch either thepaper on which the note to herself had been written or the sheet whichcontained that strange, informal will. Informal, in spite of the deadwoman's obvious effort to couch it in legal phraseology....

  Was Lydia's frenzy assumed? Did she hope to leave fingerprints now whichwould account for fingerprints she had already left upon it? Was it notpossible that Lydia's had been the prying fingers which had opened theenvelope after Nita Selim had sealed it with God only knew what fears inher heart? If so, Lydia Carr had found that she was her mistress' solelegatee.... _Revenge, coupled with greed...._ What better motive formurder could a detective ask? And who had had so good an opportunity asLydia Carr to dispose of the weapon?

  The woman crouched back on her haunches, an agony of pleading in hersingle eye.

  "Lydia, I think you know already what this note tells you," Dundee saidslowly.

  To his astonishment the maid nodded, the tears starting again. "I askedher once what she wanted to keep that old dress for, and she--she saidI'd find out some day, but I never dreamed she'd want it for a--oh, myGod!--for a _shroud_!"

  For the second time that evening Lydia Carr completely routed Dundee'scarefully worked-up case against her. It was inconceivable, he toldhimself, that a mind cunning enough to have executed this murder wouldgive itself away in such a fashion. If she had indeed pried among hermistress' papers and found the will and note, would she not, from themost primitive instinct of self-preservation, have pretended totalignorance of the note's contents?

  "I'll read the note, Lydia," he said gently. "It is addressed: 'Myprecious old Lydia'--"

  "She was always calling me that!" the maid sobbed.

  "And she writes: 'If you ever read this it will be because I'm dead, andyou'll know that I've tried to make it up to you the only way I knew. Inever could believe you really forgave me, but maybe you will now. Andthere is one last thing I want you to do for me, Lydia darling. Youremember that old royal blue velvet dress of mine that you were alwayssniffing at and either trying to make me give away or have made over?And remember that I told you that you'd know some time why I kept it?Well, I want you to lay me out in it, Lydia. Such a funny old-fashionedshroud, isn't it?... But with dresses long again, maybe it won't look sofunny, and there'll be nobody but you and Lois to see me in it, becauseI've said so in my will. And I want my hair dressed as it was the onlytime I ever wore the royal blue velvet. A French roll, Lydia, withlittle curls coming out the left side of it and hanging down to the leftear. You brush the hair straight up the back of the head, gather ittogether and tie a little bit of black shoestring around it, then youtwist the hair into a roll and spread it high, pinning it down on eachside of the head. _And don't forget the little curls on the left side!_I hope I have enough hair, but if it hasn't grown long enough, youknow where those switches are that I had made when I first bobbed myhair.... You won't mind touching me when I'm dead, will you, Lydia? I dolove you.... Nita.'"

  Dundee was silent for a minute after he had finished reading the strangenote and had returned it to the envelope, along with the will. At last,speaking against a lump in his throat, he broke in on the desolatesobbing of Nita's maid:

  "Lydia, how old was your mistress?"

  "You won't put it in the papers, will you?" Lydia pleaded. "She--shewas--thirty-three. But not a soul knew it except me--"

  "And will you tell me how old the royal blue velvet dress is?" hecontinued. "Also, how long since girls dressed their hair in a Frenchroll?"

  "The dress is twelve or thirteen years old," Lydia said, her voice dullnow with grief. "I know, because I used to do dressmaking during thewar. And it was during the war that girls wore their hair that way--Idid mine in a Psyche knot, but the French roll was more stylish."

  "Did your mistress ever tell you about the one time she wore the dress?"

  Lydia shook her head. "No. She wouldn't talk about it--just said I'dknow sometime why she kept it.... Royal blue velvet, it is, the skirthalfway to the ankles, and sleeves with long pointed ends, lined withgold taffeta, and finished off with gold tassels. It's in a dress bag,hanging in her closet."

  "Do you think it was her wedding dress, Lydia?" Dundee suggested, theidea suddenly flashing into his mind.

  "I don't know. I didn't ask her that," Lydia denied dully. "Can I takeit with me--and the switches she had made out of her curls?"

  "I'll have to get authority to remove anything from the house, Lydia,"Dundee told her. "But I am sure you will be permitted to follow Mrs.Selim's instructions.... So you're going to accept the Miles' offer of ajob as nurse?"

  "Yes. I'd rather work. Mr. and Mrs. Miles have always been speciallynice to me, and I--I could love their children. They're not--afraid ofme--"

  "Perhaps you're wise," Dundee agreed. "By the way, Lydia, did Mrs. Selimhave a pistol in her possession at any time during the past week?"

  The maid shook her head. "Not that I seen. And if she'd got one becauseshe was afraid, she'd a-kept it handy and I'd a-been bound to see it."

  Convinced of her sincerity, he was about to let her go to pack her bagwhen another belated question occurred to him. "Lydia, will you tell mewhat engagements Mrs. Selim had this last week?"

  The woman scowled, fanatically jealous, Dundee guessed, of her mistress'reputation, but at last she answered defiantly: "Let me see.... Mr.Sprague had Sunday dinner here, and spent the afternoon, but Sundaynight it was young Mr. Ralph Hammond. He come whenever she'd lethim.... Monday night?... Oh, yes! She had dinner at the Country Clubwith the Mileses and the Drakes and the Dunlaps. Mr. Miles brought herhome, because Mr. Sprague wasn't invited.... Tuesday night--let methink!... Yes, that's the night Judge Marshall was here. Nita had sentfor him to talk about finishing up the attic--"

  So that was the "business engagement" which Judge Marshall had hemmedand hawed over, Dundee reflected triumphantly.

  "--and Wednesday night," Lydia was continuing, with a certain pride inher mistress' popularity, "she was at a dinner party at the Dunlaps'."

  "Did Mr. Peter Dunlap ever call on Mrs. Selim--alone?"

  "_Him?_" Lydia was curiously resentful. "He wasn't ever here. Nita saidto me she wished Mr. Peter liked her as well as Mis' Lois did."

  "Thursday night?"

  "Mr. Ralph Hammond took her somewhere to dinner, to some other town, Ithink, but I wasn't awake when they got home. Nita never would let meset up for her--said I needed my rest. So I always went to bed early."

  "And yesterday--Friday?" Dundee demanded tensely. For Friday she hadbeen driven to making her last will and testament....

  "She was home all day, but about half past four Mr. Drake came," Lydiasaid slowly, as if she too were wondering. "She was awfully restless,couldn't set still or eat. I ought to have suspicioned something, butshe was often like that--lately. Mr. Drake stayed about an hour. Ididn't see him leave, because I was cooking Nita's dinner.... But littlegood it did, because she didn't eat it, so there was plenty for Mr.Sprague when he dropped in about seven."

  "Did Sprague spend the evening?"

  "I guess so, but I don't know. Nita made me take the Ford and drive intotown for a picture show. She was in bed when I got back, and--" but shechecked herself hastily.

  "Did Nita seem strange--troubled, excited? Did she look as if she'd beencrying?" Dundee prodded.

  "I didn't see her," the maid acknowledged. "I knocked on her door, butshe told me to go on to bed, that she wouldn't need me. But now I thinkback, her voice sounded queer.... Maybe she _was_ crying, but I don'tknow--"

  "And this morning?"

  "She seemed all right--just excited about the party and worried about mytooth. Mr. Ralph Hammond come to make the estimates on finishing up thetop floor, and we left him here--"

  "What was her attitude toward Mr. Miles when he dropped in on her thismorning?" Dundee interrupted.

  "Mr. Miles?" Lydia echoed, fro
wning. "He wasn't here this morning, or ifhe was, it was after Nita and I left for town."

  While the maid was packing a bag, which Dundee would examine before shewas allowed to take it away with her, the detective rejoined TraceyMiles, who had made himself as comfortable as possible in the livingroom.

  "Lydia's going with you, and is grateful for your wife's kindness,"Dundee informed him, and felt his heart warm to the boresome,egotistical little cherub of a man when he saw how Miles' face lit upwith real pleasure. "By the way, Miles, you saw Ralph Hammond when youcalled here this morning, didn't you?"

  "Yes," Miles answered with some reluctance. "He answered the door when Irang and told me Lydia and Nita had gone into town."

  "Mr. Miles," Dundee began slowly, throwing friendliness and persuasioninto his voice, "I know how all you folks stick together, but I'dappreciate it a lot if you'd tell me frankly whether you noticedanything unusual in Hammond's manner this morning."

  "Unusual?" Miles repeated, frowning. "He was a little short with mebecause he was busy, and, I suspect, a little jealous because I'd comecalling on Nita--" He broke off abruptly, in obvious distress. "Lookhere, Dundee! I didn't mean to say that, but I suppose you'll find outsooner or later.... Well, the fact is, the whole crowd knows RalphHammond was absolutely mad about Nita Selim. Wanted to marry her, andmade no secret of it, though we all thought or hoped it would be littlePenny Crain. He's been devoted to Penny for years, and since Roger Crainmade a mess of things and skipped out, leaving Penny and her poor motherhigh and dry, we've all done our best to throw Penny and Ralph together.But since Nita came to town--"

  "Was Nita in love with Ralph?" Dundee cut in, rather curtly, for he hada curious distaste for hearing Penny Crain discussed in this manner.

  "Sometimes we were sure she was," Miles answered. "She flirted with allof us men--had a way with her of making every man she talked to think hewas the only pebble on the beach. But there was something special in theway she looked at Ralph.... Yes, I think she _was_ in love with him! Butthen again," he frowned, "she would treat him like a dog. Seemed to wantto drive him away from her--but she always called him back--Oh, Lord!"he interrupted himself with a groan. "Now I suppose I _have_ put my footin it! You've got the damnedest way of making a chap tell everything hewould cut his tongue out rather than spill, Dundee! But just because ayoung man's in love, and happens not to show up at a party, is no reasonto think he sneaked up to the house and killed the woman he loved andwanted to marry. For I'm not so dumb that I haven't seen the drift ofyour damnable questions, Dundee!... Do you know Ralph Hammond, by anychance?" he concluded, his round face red with anger.

  "No--but I should like to meet him," Dundee retorted. "He seems quitehard to locate this evening."

  "Well, when you do meet him," Tracey Miles began violently, his blueeyes blazing with anger, "you'll soon find you've been barking up thewrong tree! There's not a cleaner, finer, straighter--"

  "In fact, he is a friend of yours, Miles," Dundee answered soothingly,"and I respect you for every word you've said.... By the way, did all ofyou go to the Country Club for dinner after you left here?"

  Somewhat mollified, Miles answered: "All of us but Clive Hammond. Hesaid he was going to have a look around for Ralph himself. Seemed tohave an idea where he might find him.... And, oh, yes, Spraguedisappeared in the scramble. He hasn't a car and nobody thought ofoffering him a lift. Guess he took a bus into Hamilton.... Ah! Here'sLydia!... Hello, Lydia!" he called heartily to the woman who wasstanding, tall and gaunt, in the doorway. "Mighty glad you're coming tolook after the kids!"

  From behind the black veil which draped her ugly black hat and hid herscarred face, Lydia answered in the dull, harsh voice that wascharacteristic of her:

  "Thank you, sir. I'll do my best."

  She made no protest when Dundee, with a word of embarrassed apology,went rapidly through the heavy suitcase she had brought up from thebasement with her. And when he had finished his fruitless search, sheknelt and silently smoothed the coarse, utilitarian garments he haddisarranged.

  Five minutes later Dundee was alone in the house where murder had beencommitted under such strange and baffling circumstances that afternoon.He was not nervous, but again he made a tour of inspection of the firstfloor and basement, looking into closets, and testing windows to makesure they were all locked. Everywhere there were evidences of thethoroughness of the police detectives who had searched for the weaponwith which Nita Selim had been murdered. In the basement, as he hadsubconsciously noted on his headlong dash to question Lydia Carr, thefurnace doors swung open, and the lids of the laundry tubs had been leftpropped up, after the unavailing search....

  He plodded wearily up the basement stairs and on into the kitchen.Perhaps the ice-box had something fit to eat in it--the fruit intendedfor Nita's and Lydia's Sunday breakfast. Those caviar and anchovysandwiches had certainly not stuck with him long....

  He was making his way toward the electric refrigerator when he stoppedas suddenly as if he had been shot.

  The kitchen door, which he had taken especial pains to assure himselfwas locked, when he had made the rounds immediately after the departureof Captain Strawn and his men, was standing slightly ajar!

  _Someone had entered this house!_

  Dundee stared blankly at the door, which was equipped with a Yale lock.Someone with a key.... But why had the door been left ajar? _To makeescape more noiseless?_

  With the toe of his shoe Dundee pushed the door to and heard the clickof the lock, then, all thought of food routed from his mind, made aquick but almost silent dash into the dining room to secure one of thepair of tall wax tapers, which, in their silver candlesticks, served asornaments for the sideboard.

  If the intruder was still in the house he could be nowhere but in thatunfinished half of the gabled top story. The nearer stairs were those inthe back hall, and Dundee took them two at a time, regardless of thenoise. Who had preceded him stealthily?... By the aid of his lightedcandle he discovered an electric switch at the head of the stairs,flicked it on, and found himself in a wide hall, one wall of which wasfinished with buff-tinted plaster and with three doors, the other ofrough boards with but a single door.

  With his candle held high, so that its light should not blind him, andwell aware that it made him a perfect target, Dundee opened theunpainted door and found himself in the dark, musty-smelling room thathad served Nita Selim and the Crains before her as a storeroom. From theceiling dangled a green cord ending in a cheap, clear-glass bulb, butits light was sufficient to penetrate even the farthest low nooks madeby the three gables. He blew out his candle and dropped it, as uselessnow.

  A quick tour convinced him that nothing human was concealed behind oneof Nita Selim's empty wardrobe trunks, or behind one of the severalpieces of heavy old furniture, undoubtedly left behind by thedispossessed Crain family.

  Big footprints on the thick dust which coated the floor showed him thathe was being no more thorough than Captain Strawn's brace ofplainclothes detectives had been much earlier that evening. Two pairs ofgiant footprints....

  With an exclamation he discovered a smaller, narrow pair of prints, andfollowed their winding trail all around and across the attic. And thenhe remembered.... Ralph Hammond's footprints, of course, made thatmorning as he went about his legitimate business of measuring andestimating for the job of turning the storeroom into bedrooms andbathrooms.

  Dundee had not realized that he was frightened until he was in the hallagain, facing one of the three doors in the plastered wall. Withsurprise, and some amusement, he became aware that his hands weretrembling, and that his knees had a curious tendency to buckle.

  The fact that the door directly in front of him was open about twoinches served, for some odd reason, to steady his nerves. Pushing thedoor wide open with his foot--for he never forgot the possibility ofincriminating fingerprints which might easily be obliterated, hediscovered a light switch near the door frame.

  The instant illumination from a ceiling cluster rev
ealed a largebedroom, and less clearly, another and smaller room beyond it, facing asthe house faced--toward the south. Knees and hands steady again, heinvestigated the finished portion of the gabled story swiftly. Acharming layout, he told himself. Had Penny Crain once enjoyed thisdelightful little sitting-room, with its tiny balcony built out upon thesloping roof?... And it gave him pleasure to think that this big,well-furnished but not fussily feminine bedroom had once been hers, aswell as the small but perfect bathroom whose high narrow windowoverlooked the back garden. The closets, dresser drawers and highboydrawers were completely empty, however, of any traces of her occupancyor that of any other....

  With these rooms going to waste, why--he suddenly asked himself--hadNita Selim coaxed Judge Marshall to have the unfinished half of thegabled attic turned into bedrooms and baths? Why couldn't Lydia haveslept up here, if Nita thought so much of her "faithful and belovedmaid"?

  But even as he asked himself the question Dundee realized that theanswer to it had been struggling to attract his attention.

  _These rooms had not been wasted!_ Someone had been occupying them aslate as last night! Weaving swiftly through the three rooms, like abloodhound on the scent, Dundee collected the few but sufficient proofsto back up his intuitive conviction. A copy of _The Hamilton EveningSun_, dated Friday, May 23, left in an armchair in the sitting-room. Allwindows raised about six inches from the bottom, so that the nightbreeze stirred the hand-blocked linen drapes. And, clinging to thesedrapes, the faint but unmistakable odor of cigarette smoke. Finally,with a low cry of triumph, Bonnie Dundee flung back the colored linenspread which covered the three-quarter bed and discovered that thesheets and pillow cases, though clean, had, beyond the shadow of adoubt, been slept upon.

  Bending so that his nose almost touched a pillow case he sniffed._Pomade!..._ Who was the man who had slept in this bed last night?