Ellen had not moved from the door; she watched miserably. Haliday was strolling around, looking at things, a vase with pampas grass plumes, a bowl of seashells, a magazine...
“Was it a green seventy-nine Dodge two-door?”
“I don’t know,” Hilde snapped.
“You see, our information is that you took a Dodge like that to a body shop in Salem on Friday following the death of Philip Seymour. You told them your husband had driven it off the road into bushes or something and banged it up.”
Hilde didn’t move. After a moment she said, “I did one year. I don’t remember when it was.”
“The problem is I can’t figure out how you managed to get it in town from out here and still have your own car available. I mean, if you drove out here and drove the Dodge back to town, your car must have stayed here. But on Saturday that week you went up to Portland and picked up your husband at the airport. Didn’t you?”
She turned toward them; the low sun behind her was so brilliant that she was only a black shadow. “Whatever point you’re trying to make, Lieutenant, just make it.”
He nodded. “I think Seymour followed you out here to the coast the night of the party, and for a time your car, your husband’s car, and his van were all here. When he went back to town in the van, you followed in your husband’s car, and later drove the van back out, leaving your husband’s car in the garage at the faculty residence. The following week you drove your car back to town, took your husband’s car to the shop, and all the pieces were accounted for, or will be when you tell us where you dumped the van.”
“And I don’t give a damn what you think,” she said coldly. “Now if you’ll get out of here, I have things to do.”
“I’m afraid I have to search your house, Dr. Melton,” Haliday said.
“Just exactly what do you think you’ll find?” she demanded. She went to the telephone on an end table. “You said Captain Hersholt, I believe.”
Haliday nodded. “I’d be looking for Seymour’s manuscript, personal letters, probably a lot of photographs, maybe a blue tuxedo, and a gold ring that looks like a snake.”
Hilde looked past him at Ellen then. “You finally talked,” she murmured. She stood with her hand on the telephone, then slowly removed it.
“I told him everything except names,” Ellen said.
“Why stop there?”
“Why ruin a lot of other people? They were helpless, under his spell, as I was, and you were.”
“This has been interesting,” Hilde said, moving to the front door. “When you get a proper search warrant, Lieutenant, then we can talk about searching my house. Now leave.”
She opened the door and stopped moving. Winona Kelly and a uniformed officer were on the porch. Winona held out a paper; Haliday reached past Hilde and took it, and then closed the door again. Hilde had turned waxy and pale.
She walked stiffly to the glass door and out to the deck. Haliday motioned to Ellen and they followed her. Another man in a gray suit was on the edge of the cliff facing the house. Hilde ignored him. “Lieutenant,” she said, looking toward the ocean, “there’s no need to tear up the house. In my bedroom, a cedar chest, locked. The key is in my purse on the dressing table.”
When he left Hilde said in a low voice, “That Saturday, we played all day and ate out here at sunset. Such a beautiful day. Then he said he was going. I thought he would stay until Monday or Tuesday.” She glanced at Ellen. “I wonder that you didn’t break early. I thought you would. The need to tell someone is so terribly strong, isn’t it?” She moved to the edge of the deck and stood with her head against a support post. “When he held your face and kissed your forehead, I hated him. I realized then that what he had planned involved women, sex, a ritual of some sort. I said you couldn’t drive, you were drunk, or high or something. I told him if you crashed, if you killed yourself, he would be up against manslaughter. We followed you, watched you park and start to walk home. He wanted to stop, to get the van, but I kept driving.” The wind was very cold coming in from the ocean; she seemed unaware of it. Ellen was shivering.
“Then I turned down the lane to the sheep pasture. I wasn’t planning anything, I just did it. And he put his hand on mine on the steering wheel, and he said to keep going. Then farther on, he said, turn around here, and I did. He was saying things like Walter would be back in a few days, life would go on, we had our day in the sun, the sweetest memories were forged in tears and pain... I stopped the car, and he hurt my hand. Drive, he said, and I said no. No more. He said he would walk, but first he took my face in his hands, the way he had done to you. He said you were too young, but I was too old, and which was sadder, and he kissed me on the forehead and got out of the car and started to walk. He was in the headlights, walking away, nearly naked, covered with snakes... I don’t think I meant to do anything. It was Walter’s car, an automatic, and suddenly it raced forward and hit him.” She turned away from the wind finally. Her cheeks were wet with tears.
“He hit his head on the concrete at the end of the bridge,” she said. “He was half off the bridge; his skirt had come off, and one sandal. I took off the other one. And I took a ring. I rolled him the rest of the way off the bridge into the brambles. They supported him for a long time, but finally he sank down out of sight.”
She sighed and moved to one of the heavy chairs and sat down. “Men cast such long shadows, Ellen. My famous husband, then Pryor, and finally Philip. His shadow reaches across thirteen years.”
Ellen didn’t move. She felt she had frozen into the floor of the deck, had become an ice woman. Neither spoke again until Haliday came out to the deck.
“Dr. Melton, I’m afraid I have to place you under arrest.” Another man read her rights to her; Haliday asked if she understood, and she looked bored and said of course.
“I will make a statement, nevertheless,” she said then. “Philip Seymour came to my house and forced me to accompany him at knife point. He forced me to drive his van to that place by the bridge, where he undressed and was trying to take my clothes off. We struggled. The van door opened and he fell out and hit his head. I believe he died instantly. When I tried to help him, he fell off the bridge. I was panic stricken. I think I must have blacked out then because the next thing I knew I was here, at the coast house in his van. Later, I removed his personal belongings and kept them just in case his body was recovered and anyone claimed them. I left his van in the parking lot by the Hilton Head lighthouse.” She stood up and regarded Ellen for a moment. “That is my statement. I won’t change a word of it.”
She left with Winona Kelly and another detective.
When Haliday came back, Ellen was still standing rigidly fixed in place. “Will they believe her?” she asked.
“No. But who’s going to dispute her story? It’s her word against the wind. Come on, let’s go. Your lips are blue.”
At her car he said, “Blair, would you be offended if I drive? To tell the truth your driving scares the hell out of me.”
Wordlessly she handed him the keys.
“What will happen,” he said, heading back toward Crystal Falls, “is she’ll talk to her lawyer, who will talk to some of her trustees, who will talk to the prosecutor, and that will be that. She’ll go up for something — manslaughter, obstruction of justice — something like that. It will all be discreet with little publicity. Case closed now instead of dragging out for the next five years with an uncertain conclusion.”
“You’re driving too fast,” she said after a few minutes.
“You’ve got a nerve, Blair.”
“Look, Haliday, I know the road, every curve, and at this time of day, this is too fast.”