Give Up the Body (27 page)

“I could see him under water and there was blood on the side of the tub and in the water. I screamed and pulled him out. He was wet and heavy and kept slipping out of my hands, and hitting his head on the back of the tub. He was completely unconscious when I found him.

“At first I thought he had bled when he slipped, but by the time Mr. Hilton came in I saw that he had slashed his wrists. The razor blade was on the bottom of the tub.”

“She didn’t give it that coherently,” Tiffin said when he was through. “She was all broken up.”

“Naturally,” I said. I shuddered. It would be a horrible experience for anyone, let alone his wife. “Then what happened?” I asked.

Then it seemed Frew came in after Hilton, both of them attracted by Mrs. Willow’s screams. Daisy fainted from habit at the sound. They found her later crumpled in her closet.

“Has anyone thought of any reasons?”

“Not a one,” Tiffin said disgustedly. “None of them can imagine anything whatever. Willow is given a slim chance to live, but besides the loss of blood he came close to drowning. He either threw himself in the tub or fainted at the sight of his own blood and hit his head when he fell. He has a nasty concussion out of it.”

“Mrs. Willow’s inability to hang onto him didn’t help his head, did it?” I asked.

Jocko’s grin was sour. “From the look of his skull I’d say he nearly had his brains knocked out.”

It was a fair trade so I came out with a cut version of Tim Larson’s story. When I was through, Tiffin said, “I don’t think we need further proof, sheriff.”

“You’d better find out if Glory did telephone,” I suggested. “And cut me in on the questioning and I’ll do you another favor. I’ll go you one better,” I said, sounding magnanimous. “If I can see Daisy alone I might get your answer. There must be a connection somewhere between two suicide attempts in the same family—so close together.”

“We can’t get any place with her,” Jocko admitted. She’s back having hysterics again. They’re going to give her a sedative.”

“Give me a shot at it, anyway,” I said.

Tiffin nodded jerkily. He was tired and hollow-eyed and almost human at this moment. I should have known he wouldn’t stay that way. “Go ahead,” he said.

They took me to Daisy directly from the stateroom. She had a very small bedroom done in feminine pastels. She was propped on a fluffy bed and lace-decorated pillows and other such bric-a-brac were scattered all over the floor. A worried uniformed policeman stood helplessly and uncomfortably in all this femininity. He looked vastly relieved when Tiffin chased him out. Daisy lay on the bed, a down puff over her so I could see she was wearing a thin robe over her long evening slip. I signalled to Jocko and he eased Tiffin away. I went up to Daisy and sat on the edge of the bed.

She wasn’t making any noise but she kept shuddering so that her whole body rocked, and it shook the bed. When I pulled the puff completely over her she turned her head.

Her expression was horrible, twisted and ghastly as if she suffered from facial paralysis.

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked softly.

Daisy raised clenched fists and drove them violently into the headboard. “Why didn’t they let me die?” she moaned. “Why didn’t they let me die?”

I L
ET HER WORK IT OFF
and when she was calmer she lay and panted as if she had run a race. “How about a drink?” I asked again. Then I changed my mind. “Or a nice cup of tea?”

This was more to Daisy’s taste and she raised her head long enough to nod. She was wan but not quite so awful-looking now. I got up and opened the door. Tiffin was standing impatiently outside, looking somewhat like a horse about to start pawing.

“Well?” he asked.

“I’ve been in there ten minutes,” I said. I’ve been treated to a fine example of hysterious feminous—for God’s sake go away. Bring me a cup of tea and then come back in an hour.”

“An hour!” he bawled.

“Godfrey,” I said chidingly, “this isn’t one of your criminal floosies. This girl wouldn’t even understand your ideas of a third degree. Keep away from her if you want results.”

I went back inside and fussed with Daisy’s pillows. “Just rest for a few minutes,” I said. I tried to sound professional.

“What are you doing here?” Daisy wanted to know.

“I’m the nearest thing to a nurse they could get on short notice,” I lied sweetly. I left her. I found Tiffin in the kitchen. I took a pan from his hands, filled it with water and placed it on the electric stove. I turned on the juice under the pan, hunted around the room until I found a package of tea and a china teapot. I set them together on the sideboard. “Now,” I said, “when the water boils, use a little to rinse out the pot. Then put in the tea, a nice level teaspoonful to the cup. Add the water. Make about four cups, she may like the stuff.”

One of the watching men snickered. “Thought you weren’t married, Tiff,” he said.

I glanced at a glowering Tiffin. “Let me use the phone,” I said to him. “You can listen in,” I added coaxingly.

It took his mind off the tea and put it back on me. “I still don’t trust you, Adeline,” he said nastily.

Jocko came into the room then and I repeated my offer. “Sure,” he said. Tiffin shrugged and together they escorted me into the living room. Hilton and Frew were there, both of them silent and glum. When he saw me, Hilton offered a faint smile, but Frew only glowered.

The phone was in a sort of foyer by the front door. With Tiffin breathing in one ear and Jocko in the other I put a call in to Jeff’s hotel.

I identified myself. “Is the young lady still in the room?”

I could feel Tiffin stiffening like a pointer. “Why, yes,” the clerk said. “She went out some time ago but she returned. She—ah, she said she had called Mr. Cook and he suggested that she remain here. I hope,” he added worriedly, “it was all right to let her keep the room. It was charged to Mr. Cook.”

“Fine,” I said. “And if she tries to leave, detain her, will you?” I was about to hang up when I thought of something. “Did she make any phone calls?”

He took a moment to answer. Then, “Not through us,” he said.

“When she came back she had a package, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” he said. “A-er …”

“It’s okay,” I said. “It was probably a fifth of bourbon.”

“It was liquor,” he admitted.

“Then,” I assured him, “she won’t try to leave.” I did hang up this time. “All set, Godfrey,” I said. I gave him the address and the room number. “And don’t hurry,” I added. “She’ll be plastered.”

But Tiffin wasn’t listening to me. With Jocko in tow he was headed for the back door. I watched him go and then opened the front door. A uniformed policeman was guarding it. Jeff was nearly to the top of the stairs. He had got that far by now.

“Go home, Jeff,” I said. He looked blankly at me. “Go home,” I said again. Then the reporters started forward and the policeman slammed the door on me. Jeff evidently got the idea because a moment later I heard a grunting and a clatter. Then a loud thud followed by some lovely cursing. Later, I learned that Jeff had stumbled over the other men and they had obligingly tossed him on down the stairs.

When I got back to the kitchen I found the water boiling. My instructions had been a waste of breath. I had to make the tea myself. Those Portland policemen just sat there and stared at me. Then, when I was ready to take the tea to Daisy, an important-looking plainsclothesman came in from the porch and tried to stop me. I gave him the nurse routine and he let me by. Once in the room I locked all the doors I could see and settled down to do battle.

Having thoughtfully put two cups on the tray I had some tea myself. Daisy was quiet while the tea thawed her and it gave me time to study my sins. Perhaps it had been a dirty trick to turn Glory over to the police but I was having theories and I felt that for her own protection as well as that of others she would be better off under guard.

Having salved my conscience, I went to work on Daisy. It was no simple task. Not only was she reticent, she was downright stubborn at times. I had to keep away from the subject of suicide. When it was approached she backed off—and fast.

I concentrated on the earlier events of this evening. I finally got her started and kept her going long enough to get three important facts from her. First, there had been a phone call. Second, it had upset her father. He seemed angry too. At least that was the impression she gave me. Third, he had gone into private consultation with her mother; and Hilton seemed quite disturbed about the whole affair though Daisy was sure no one had given him the gist of the call.

After getting that off her chest she became as mulish as Frew. We finished the contents of the teapot and I tried a few more subjects. But they all led around to suicide and she shied off before I could learn anything.

She was either getting sleepy or making an excellent pretense of it. So I got up to go. I stood by the foot of her bed, looking at her and decided on a last try.

“By the way,” I said casually. “are you sure you didn’t see anyone come up the path while you were in the trees—the night Delhart was killed?”

Daisy came very wide awake. It only lasted an instant and then she was her pouting self again. “No,” she said. “And I already gave my statement to the police.”

I hadn’t expected an answer, just some kind of reaction. And I had got it, so I let her go to sleep.

There were four doors in her room. One went to a closet, one into the hall, one directly to the storeroom, and the fourth I wasn’t sure of. I unlocked it and eased it open. I found myself in the presence of a suddenly awake and very angry Mrs. Willow.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded in a grand manner.

“Thought I’d see how you were,” I said, using my professionally soothing voice. “I’ve calmed your daughter. She’s sleeping now.” I looked the door behind me and pulled a chair to the side of the bed. I offered her a smile. “I’m pinch-hitting for a nurse,” I said. “So don’t get excited. I’m sure you prefer me to a policeman.”

“This is outrageous!” she snapped. But there wasn’t much steam in it. “And why should the police feel it necessary to guard me?”

“It’s this way,” I said vaguely. “There’s been too much violence already.” I made myself comfortable and lit a cigaret, all as if I were oblivious of a frigid stare directed at me.

“Now,” I said, “the police will want to know about your husband’s phone call this evening.”

“I’m sure that is none of your affair,” she said icily.

I wasn’t having any. I could see underneath the ice and I knew she was a badly frightened woman. Not just upset, but genuinely frightened. I wasn’t surprised to find her so calm about Willow. I had seen her when Daisy had tried to commit suicide. She had been angry then, more than anything. I was beginning to believe she was above average in callousness. Or perhaps she was one of those people who could never show their true feelings in public. Whichever it was, I lost my patience.

“Now,” I said again, without gentleness, “Tiffin has gone to get Glory Martin. Your husband isn’t and won’t be capable of talking for some time. And there
were
witnesses to the telephone call, so being coy about it won’t help you.” I could see the building up of the good old feminine cut-em-dead hauteur on her face. “And that won’t get you anywhere either,” I added. “I’m impervious to snubs.”

She compressed her mouth and stared coldly at me. I said, “Tiffin will find out Glory was trying to blackmail Mr. Willow. It’s inevitable. The circumstantial evidence of the bloodstained suit is enough to put Tiffin on the right track. Besides, Tim Larson was with Glory when she gathered her blackmail information.”

Then she got under my skin. “Glory Martin,” she said disdainfully. “A dipsomaniac. And Tim Larson. Who will take the word of a servant?” I began to simmer, and worked fast toward a boil.

“What were you?” I said angrily, “in the days when you worked for Delhart?”

I think I could have slapped her, kicked her, accused her of murder, and still not had half as much reaction as I got now. She lost her icy aplomb completely. In the moment before she managed to regain it I saw true, naked fear.

“Who told you that?” Her superior voice was only a travesty of its former self.

“A witness to your quarrel,” I said. She was looking dangerously angry now, but I chose to ignore it.

“It’s a lie! I met Carson Delhart through my husband.”

I shrugged. “There’s always a record,” I said. “The police will get it straight.”

“Get out of here! Get out of here!” She was sitting straight up in bed now, shaking her hand wildly at the door. She started from the bed, quivering all over with anger. I could understand why meek little Daisy was afraid of her if she had spells like this very often.

“Get out!” she screamed shrilly.

I was moving toward the door. “Why the excitement? Does your relationship with Delhart give your husband another motive for murder?”

“Get out!” And suddenly her violence collapsed and she sagged back on the bed, spent, and she was a worn, shaken woman who was growing old and showing it. “What difference does motive make now? The police have their proof. Why can’t they let the rest of us alone?”

All of which was a nice, tacit admission of Titus Willow’s guilt, but it didn’t satisfy me.

• • •

I found Tiffin but no Jocko when I went back to the living room. He seemed almost glad to see me and I was suspicious at once.

He came over beaming and rubbing his hands. “She’s safely away now,” he said.

“Any trouble?” I asked warily.

“Trouble? No. She was drunk. Dead drunk.” He concentrated his fishy gaze on me. “Interesting to learn how she got there.”

I saw what he was driving at. I laughed in his face. “You can’t do anything about that, Godfrey. She was there of her own free will.”

“The charge is complicity, Adeline. And maybe obstruction of justice.”

“In Multnomah County, Godfrey? What jurisdiction do you have here? And since when was I supposed to play special police for you? You’re out of the water now. There was no warrant for her arrest that I know of.”