“How are you, Elmer,” I said quietly, undoing my hand from his.
“Top of the world. Looks like us country boys are traveling in real society, doesn’t it?” Which meant of course: what the hell are you doing here, you little squirt?
“Always go first class,” I mumbled, wondering what he had in mind, why he was in Washington.
“You talking to the Vice-President?”
I nodded casually. “He was telling a story. It seems there was a farmer who …”
Elmer laughed loudly. “Know it well,” he said, before I could get started. I had intended to bore the life out of him with it. “Marvelous old devil, marvelous. Say, I saw your by-line the other day.”
I nodded gravely.
“Didn’t know you were still in the game. Thought you were mostly involved in publicity.”
“I am,” I said. “This was just one of those things.”
“Rhodes hired you, didn’t he?”
“Couple days before he died.”
“I may drop by and see you … living in the house, aren’t you?” I nodded. “Terrible tragedy,” he said thoughtfully, the Vice-President still in focus in the background, me slightly out of focus in the foreground since the eyes can’t look two places at once. “I thought I might do a program about the case. You might like to be on it. I’m on television now, coast to coast.”
I said that I knew all about this, that I probably wouldn’t be able to go on television and that he probably would not be allowed to visit the house since all newspaper people were rigidly excluded. I was on to him: he was ready to move in, positive that for a half hour’s display of my pretty face to the television audience of America, I would give him the beat on the murder. Not a chance in the world, Brother Bush, I vowed.
“Mrs. Rhodes is an old friend of mine,” said Elmer with a hurt expression. “The Senator and I were very close, very. Well, I suspect young Winters will be able to fix it for me, unless he’s too busy with the arrest.”
This was unexpected, but then Elmer Bush was no fool; he was still a first-rate newspaperman despite his sickening homespun television manner. He had already closed in on Winters who was doubtless giving him all the information he needed. All he needed me for was to get to know the family, and to get me sidetracked along the way.
“Arrest?” I looked surprised.
“Pomeroy … tonight … that’s the word. Matter of fact I plan to get down to the police station about one o’clock to see him booked.” Then Elmer was gone to join the group around the Vice-President.
This gave me pause. Thoughtfully I made my way to the men’s room, a large locker room, as it turned out. I was meditating on what to do next when I noticed that Walter Langdon was standing beside me.
“Nice party?” I asked.
He beamed foolishly. “Just fine,” he said. He sounded a little drunk.
“Ellen having a good time?”
“Doesn’t she always? She’s dancing with some Ambassador or other now.”
“Jilted you already?”
“Oh no.” He missed the humor of my remark. “She’s just having a good time.”
“I suppose you’ll be publishing the banns soon.”
“How did you know?” He turned very red and I felt like kicking him for being such a baby. Instead I arranged my garments and departed, leaving him to his dreams among the tile and enamel.
I glanced at my watch. It was eleven-forty. At twelve I would go back to the house, alone. Langdon could manage Ellen by himself; if he couldn’t, well, it was his business now.
I danced a few times with various ladies, all belonging to the embassies of South American powers, dark vital girls devoted to dancing.
I saw Ellen only once, whirling by in the arms of a sturdy Marine officer. She gave me her devil-leer, over his bulging arm. That might very well be the end of little Walter, I thought, extricating myself from the last Latin girl under pretext of having to join my wife.
Shortly before midnight, Hermione, a large precious-looking white poodle, made her appearance. After being introduced to the more interesting people, she sang, rather badly while the orchestra played what accompaniment it could. There was a great deal of applause when she finished and Hermione was given a sherry flip. Thinking of the decline of Rome, I left the club, bowing first to Mrs. Goldmountain who, under the impression that I was a new Congressman, said she would see me at the House Office one day soon when she paid the Speaker a call.
Since neither Ellen nor Langdon was in sight, I left without telling them of my plans. Actually, I preferred to be alone at this stage of the game. We were approaching a climacteric, as Mr. Churchill would say, and I was becoming tense. I took one of the fleet of taxis in front of the club, and set out for Washington.
For some reason I expected to find the house blazing with light and crowded with television cameras while Pomeroy, shrieking vengeance, handcuffed to Lieutenant Winters, awaited the Black Maria.
Instead everything was as usual. The plain-clothes man still stood guard and no more lights were on than usual.
In the drawing room, I found Mrs. Rhodes and Verbena Pruitt. Both looked quite shaken.
“Has it happened?”
Miss Pruitt nodded, her chin vanishing into its larger fellows. “They took Roger away half an hour ago.”
I sat down heavily opposite them. “Roger!” said Mrs. Rhodes, but I could not tell whether or not she spoke with sorrow or anger or fright. I fixed myself a drink.
“Where is Mrs. Pomeroy?” I asked.
“She’s gone to the police station with him. Brave girl. But then it’s a woman’s place to be beside her mate when dark days come,” announced Miss Pruitt in a voice not unlike her usual political manner. She talked for several minutes about the ideal relationship between man and wife, not in the least embarrassed by her own maidenhood.
“Then it’s all over?” I asked.
Mrs. Rhodes closed her eyes. “I hope so,” she murmured.
Miss Pruitt shook her head vigorously; hairpins flew dangerously across the room. “They have to prove it,” she said. “Until then we all have to be on hand. God knows how long it will take.”
“We won’t have to stay here during the trial?” I was becoming alarmed.
“No, just the preliminaries … Grand Jury … indictment. Then we can go. Even so it means the rest of the week is shot.”
“I always liked Roger,” said Mrs. Rhodes thoughtfully, looking into the fire.
“The whole thing is a bad dream,” said Miss Pruitt with finality.
“I’m sure he would never have done such a thing.”
“Then who would’ve done it? Not I, nor you, nor this boy, nor Ellen … and I doubt if that newspaper boy or Rufus or Camilla would have done it. Of course I will admit that I suspect the servants, especially that butler. Oh, I know how fond you are of him and how devoted he is supposed to be to you but let me tell you that on more than one occasion domestics of unimpeachable character have been found to be murderers, and why? because of this habit of leaving them money. Think how many old ladies are undoubtedly murdered by their beloved companions for money, for a small inheritance. An everyday occurrence, believe you me.” Verbena Pruitt rattled on; Mrs. Rhodes stared at the fire. Neither asked me what I was doing in evening clothes. Ellen had not been missed either, or if she had neither mentioned it.
Soon they left the drawing room and went to bed. The moment I was alone, I telephoned Winters. To my surprise I was put through to him. He sounded very lively.
“I suppose it’s all over?” For some reason my voice had a most lugubrious ring.
“That’s right. We’ve arrested Pomeroy.”
“Has he confessed?”
“No, and doesn’t seem to have any intention of confessing. Won’t make any difference, though.”