“I wanted to see how you were, for one thing.”
“Nearly recovered. It seems the strychnine, instead of killing me, provided just the jolt I needed. They tell me I was in some danger of losing my mind." She said all this matter-of-factly. She was in complete control of herself.
“You don’t remember anything? I mean about the strychnine. . .
She shook her head. “I didn’t come to until the ambulance.” “You were with Brexton when your brother was killed?” She nodded. “I’ve already told the police that, this morning when that awful little man came to see me.”
"They didn’t want to believe you, did they?"
“No, they didn’t. I can't think why.”
“Did you know they’ve arrested Brexton?”
Her eyes grew wide; she skipped a breath; then she exhaled slowly and shut here eyes. "I should have known,” she whispered. “No, they didn’t tell me but that explains why they seemed to disappointed when I told them. I think they wanted to cross-question me but the doctor told them to go. Paul couldn’t have done it. He had no reason to do it. He was with me."
“We haven’t much time, I spoke rapidly. “I don’t think Brexton did it either but the police do and they've got a good deal of evidence, or what they think is evidence. Now you must help me. I think this thing can be solved but I’ve got to know more about the people involved, about past history. Please tell me the truth. If you do, I think we can get the charges against Brexton dismissed."
“What do you want to know?"
“Who had any reason to kill your brother?"
She looked away. “It’s hard to say. I mean, what exactly is enough reason. There are people who have grievances but that doesn't mean they would kill...”
“Like Miss Lung?”
“Well, yes, like her. How did you know about that?"
“Never mind. What actually happened between her and your brother?”
“Nothing. That was the trouble. She was in love with him. He was not in love with her. We all lived in Boston then, as you know. We saw a great deal of each other. I suppose you know she wasn’t fat in those days . . . she was rather good-looking. It nearly killed her when he took up with Mildred. About that time she began to get fat ... I don’t think it was glandular, just neurotic reaction. She never went with another man, as far as I know, and she never stopped loving Fletcher...”
“Could she have drugged Mildred do you think?”
“I . . . I’ve wondered that all along. She hated Mildred. I think she hated Mildred even more when she turned down Fletcher . . . one of those crazy things: hates her for being a rival and then hates her even more for rejecting the man she herself loves. Yes, I think she might’ve drugged Mildred but it seems odd she should wait fifteen years to do it.”
"Perhaps this was her first opportunity in all that time.”
“Perhaps. I don’t know. Even if she did, why would she then kill Fletcher?”
“Revenge? for his having turned her down.”
“I wonder. At first I thought it was an accident, that Mildred had just taken an overdose of pills and gone in swimming but then, when the police got involved, why, it occurred to me that Mary Western Lung gave Mildred those sleeping pills if only because no one else there really hated poor Mildred...”
“Not even her husband?”
Allie shrugged. “He was used to her. Besides, he had plenty of better opportunities: he wouldn’t pick a week-end party to kill his wife.”
“You disliked Mildred, didn’t you?”
“She was not a friend of mine. I disliked the way she tried to hold on to Fletcher after she'd married Brexton. We quarreled whenever we met, usually about my keeping him in Cambridge when she thought he should live in New York where she could get her claws into him.”
“Did you keep him in Cambridge?”
She smiled sadly. “There was no keeping him anywhere except where he wanted to be. He was never interested in Mildred after she married. In fact, she bored the life out of him.”
“Yet she went right on . . . flirting with him.”
“If that’s the word. She was possessive certainly.”
“Would your brother have wanted her dead?”
Allie looked at me with startled eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I’m just trying to cover all the motives, that’s all. I wondered if for any reason he might’ve had a motive.”
“I can’t think why. Of course not. You don’t kill old girl friends just because they bore you.”
“I suppose not. Now for your nephew. Would he have had any reason to want to kill Mildred?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think he ever met her more than once or twice. Besides, he was in Boston. I happened to talk to him the night before she died, long distance.”
“Family business?”
“In a way. I also invited him to come down here. Rose had said it would be all right.”
“Then that rules him out as far as Mildred goes. Did he have any reason to want your brother dead?”
She shook her head, slowly. “No, not really. They weren’t very sympathetic. Two different types. Fletcher was his guardian you know. I don’t think they ever openly quarreled though last winter there was some kind of flare-up, over money. Fletcher controls Dick’s estate and Dick wanted to get it all in his own name. But Fletcher was firm and that was the end of that. They’ve seen very little of each other since."
“Then I gather Randan wasn’t eager to come down here.”
She smiled. “He refused when I telephoned him. He was nice about it but I could tell he didn’t want to see Fletcher. I thought he should . . . I’m the peacemaker, you know.”
“I suppose curiosity about Mildred brought him?”
She nodded. “He’s fascinated with crime.”
I had to work fast. “And Mrs. Veering?” Across the room I could already see the nurse growing restive.
“We met her about the same time we met Mildred ... we had mutual friends. Rose and I have always been close; Rose was more upset than anyone when Mildred didn’t marry Fletcher."
“Would she have any motive, do you think? for either murder?”
Allie shook her head. “None that I know of. Mildred was a trial but then she didn’t have to see her if she didn’t want to. For the last year, she hadn’t wanted to ... I was surprised when Rose asked us down and told us the Brextons would also be in the house. I thought she’d stopped seeing her. It seemed odd , . . Fletcher and I weren't sure we wanted to come. Oh, God, how I wish we hadn’t!” This was the first sign of emotion she’d displayed during our talk. The nurse looked disapprovingly at me. Allie bit her lower lip.
I was relentless; there was little time. “Mrs. Veering was friendly with your brother?”
“Of course. No, there’s no motive there. I can’t think of any possible reason for Rose to want to...”
“Then you’d rule her out altogether as the murderer?”
Allie only shook her head, confusedly. “I don’t know what to think. It’s all so horrible.”
The nurse said. “Time for you to go, sir.”
I asked my last question. “Are you in love with Brexton?”
She flushed at this. “No, I’m not.”
“Is he with you?”
“I . . . you’d better ask him, Mr. Sargeant.”
3
I found Liz on the terrace of the Club guzzling contentedly in the company of several distinguished members of the international set, including Alma the Marchioness of Edderdale, a raddled, bewildered creature with dark blue hair who had inherited a Chicago meat fortune with which she'd bought a string of husbands among whom the most glamorous had been the late Marquess. She wandered sadly about the world, from center to center, set to set, in a manner reminiscent of a homing pigeon brought up in a trialer.