“Why didn’t she bring it to us?”
“The same problem … why should she? She had nothing against Jed. The death of Ella didn’t disturb her one bit and she realized that now with Miles dead the case was over. And it would really have been over if, for some reason we may never know, Magda hadn’t become suspicious of Jed. She began to think that perhaps Miles had not died naturally. She made a date to talk to him; she told him that she had the Party card and he asked her for it. They were to meet after the rehearsal. I admire the way he went through that rehearsal, not knowing what to expect from Magda who was sitting there with the rest of us on the bench, waiting for him to finish. After the ballet they went into the empty classroom … or rather Wilbur joined Magda there after Jane had left her … a break for him, the room being empty. She told him that she had the card with her; they quarreled. She demanded to know whether Miles had died naturally or not. There was some sort of scuffle and he grabbed the purse and, either accidentally or on a sudden impulse, he pushed her through the window. Then, taking the card out of her purse, he rushed back into the studio.”
“Then he has the card?”
“Yes. Magda, however, the day she died came to Jane’s apartment as you know, intending to move in. Since the apartment is a small one I was forced to move out … which naturally irritated me. So, shortly after Magda arrived, I left … after first shoving my own suitcase under the bed and taking hers with me to my own apartment where it remained unopened until an hour ago.”
“What was in that suitcase?”
With a look of quiet triumph I handed Mr. Gleason the photostatic copy Magda had had made of Jed Wilbur’s membership card in the Communist Party, dated 1937.
4
It was a blissful evening. I had sold the exclusive story of my apprehension of the murderer to the Globe for what is known in the trade as “an undisclosed amount,” meaning a good deal … to the fury of one Elmer Bush whose own story on the arrest of Jane Garden had to be killed at the last minute at great expense, and now Mr. Washburn was entertaining Jane and myself at the Colony Restaurant for dinner.
“You know,” said my erstwhile employer expansively, offering me a cigar, “though it may sound strange, I always suspected Jed. You remember how I repeatedly maintained that no one connected with my company could have done such a thing? Well, in a sense, I was right … it was the newcomer who was responsible, the outsider.”
“Very sound, Mr. Washburn,” I said, glancing at Jane who glowed in coral and black.
“But what made you suspect him … when did you get on to him?”
“The evening I went to see him in his apartment and tried to get him to talk about the murder. At first he wouldn’t, which was suspicious. But then, after much coaxing, he did suggest that perhaps Eglanova had done the murder and then put the shears in her own dressing room to make herself appear victimized. Well, I knew that only three people in the company knew where those shears had been found originally … you, Eglanova and myself. Only the murderer could have known that they had been placed in her wastebasket because it was the murderer who had put them there. Very simple.”
“Isn’t he wonderful?” sighed Jane. I preened myself.
“Now isn’t that remarkable,” said Mr. Washburn with a gentle smile.
“Remarkable?”
“Why, yes. You see I told Wilbur about those shears … or rather I mentioned it to Eglanova in Wilbur’s presence. I felt at that time it would make no difference since the case seemed solved … Miles was dead and the police were satisfied. I must say it was fortunate, all in all, that you were able to locate Wilbur’s Party card. Otherwise he would have said that he’d learned about those shears from me.”
“That may be,” I said evasively, feeling a little sick to my stomach. “Anyway, it’s all over and he’s confessed.”
“And you did a bang-up job,” said Mr. Washburn, riding high on the wind he had knocked from my sails. “Not only did you save this little lady from an unpleasant experience but you have cleared the whole company of these crimes. I am more grateful than I can say.”
To this tribute, I made chivalrous answer.
“We are also fortunate that the arrest didn’t take place earlier because now, I am happy to say, the new ballet is in good enough shape for the Chicago opening. A real bit of luck under the circumstances. It’ll be a sensation … the Murderer’s Ballet … I can see the papers now.”
Reflecting sadly that the Ivan Washburns of this world always win, Jane and I went home to celebrate. A row of Miss Flynn’s asterisks could alone describe our bliss.