“Are you finished?” Alton Humffrey said.
“Yes,” Jessie whispered.
“No, wait, Miss Sherwood. Before you go.”
Jessie turned at the door, praying for escape.
“You know my wife’s condition.” The nasal tones dripped venom. “I don’t know what it is you and this man Queen are up to, but if through any act of yours my wife gets worse or my name is exposed to further public humiliation, you will account to me. To me. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.” Jessie’s throat was dry. “May I go now, Mr. Humffrey?”
“By all means.”
She fled those unwinking pop-eyes, fixed on her like something in a museum.
Ten minutes later Jessie was on the phone, crying. “Richard, please ask Mrs. Pearl if I can come over tonight. I don’t care where I stay. I’ll sleep in my car or bed down on the floor. Anywhere! But I won’t stay in this house another night.”
Inspector Queen was waiting for her on the other side of the causeway in Beck Pearl’s Plymouth. He got out, waving wildly, as Jessie pulled up.
“Jessie! You all right?”
“Oh, Richard, I’m so glad to see you.”
“But what happened?”
“Nothing, really. Mr. Humffrey’s sent his wife to a sanitarium and discharged me, and I’m afraid I let on that you and I weren’t going to let the case drop, and he sort of threatened me—”
“He did, did he?” the old man said grimly.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking of me. I’ve never acted this way before in my life. Mrs. Pearl must be having visions of some hysterical female throwing fits all over her rug—”
“You don’t know Beck Pearl.”
“I’d go back home — I have a little house in Rowayton — but I rented it to some summer people till after Labor Day. I’m so ashamed, Richard. I’ll go to a motel or some place for the night—”
“Becky says if I don’t bring you right over I don’t have to come back myself. You follow me, Jessie!”
In the plain sanity of the Pearls’ little beach cottage Jessie felt safe for the first time in weeks. Mrs. Pearl looked into her eyes and smiled approvingly at Richard Queen, and Chief Pearl blundered about making her feel as if she were an honored guest.
“You’re not really an ogre after all, Mr. Pearl,” Jessie told him. “Do you know I was afraid of you?”
The big man glanced guiltily at his wife.
“Did he bully you?” Beck Pearl looked at her husband.
“I’ll get your bag out of your car, Miss Sherwood.” Abe Pearl went out hurriedly.
“Put it up in Richard’s room, Abe!”
“Mrs. Pearl, I won’t hear of it—”
“You’ll have Richard’s room, Abe and Richard will sleep in our room, and I’ll take the daybed down here. It’s the most comfortable bed in the house.”
“Oh, no—”
“That’s the way it’s going to be,” Mrs. Pearl said firmly. “Now I’m going to fix you and Richard some supper. Then Abe and I are going to the movies...”
When the Pearls were gone, Jessie said softly, “You’re lucky to have such friends, Richard.”
“You like them.”
“They’re absolute darlings.”
“I’m glad,” he said simply. “Now you tackle this casserole, or Becky will feel terrible. Abe says she can do more things with clams than a Siwash Indian.”
Afterward, Jessie washed the dishes in Beck Pearl’s tiny kitchen and Richard Queen dried them and put them away, while he told her about his summer with the Pearls and never once referred to what had brought her flying to him. Jessie listened mistily. I mustn’t feel so happy about this, she kept thinking. I’ll just build myself up to another letdown, the way I did with Clem... It was hard to keep from comparing them, hard and unfair. It had been so many years ago. Clem had been so much younger — tall and self-sufficient, with quick surgeon’s fingers and his eyes always tired-looking. Thinking about him even now, when he had been dead such a long time, Jessie felt her pulse quicken... This, this was so different. Working over a kitchen sink and drainboard side by side. She couldn’t visualize herself doing that with Clem. Clem had meant excitement, a life of high spots and crises, and long stretches of loneliness. This quiet man, with his fine-boned face and gray brush of mustache, his reserve of strength and knowledge about ordinary people — it was hard to think of anything they couldn’t do together, the everyday little things that made up a life. And she could be very proud of him, she knew that instinctively. Proud and complete... I mustn’t let myself run on this way! Jessie thought despairingly.
“You’re tired,” Richard Queen said, looking at her. “I think, Jessie, I’m going to send you to bed.”
“Oh, no,” Jessie cried. “I’m enjoying this so much. I want to tell you everything that’s happened in the past few days, Richard. Please.”
“All right. But just for a few minutes. Then up you go.”
He put the dish towel over the towel bar to dry, and they went into the little living room. He sat her down in the most comfortable chair, lit her cigarettete for her, and listened noncommittally while she told him about Sarah Humffrey’s suicide attempt and the substance of her conversation with Alton Humffrey. He made no comment beyond, “He’s a queer duck, all right,” and then he said, “Time’s up, Miss Sherwood.”
“But aren’t we going to talk about your plans?”
“Not tonight.”
“Then how about mine?”
He laughed. “I’ve made six-foot police sergeants shake in my time, but I guess I’ll never learn how to handle a woman. All right, Jessie, shoot.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“I know that.”
“You don’t!” Jessie said, piqued.
“I’m not flattered,” he said dryly. “I didn’t do it. It’s Alton Humffrey who’s made up your mind.”
“Well, it’s true I don’t like to be threatened,” Jessie said, pinching her skirt down, “but that’s not the only reason.”
“The baby.”
“And other reasons.”
The old man looked at her searchingly. “It might not be a picnic, Jessie.” He got up suddenly and began to walk about. “In fact, I’m wondering if I haven’t let you in for something risky out of plain selfishness. This is a very peculiar case. Why was the baby murdered? While Frost was a suspect, with his inheritance motive, it made some sort of crazy sense. With Frost eliminated, the Humffrey fortune doesn’t seem to be involved. So the motive must lie in a different direction. Do you see a lead, Jessie?”
“I’ve thought about it, too,” Jessie said quietly. “The only thing I can think of is that it must be connected with Michael’s adoption.”
“Ah,” the Inspector said, and he sat down again, eagerly. “You saw that. Where does it take you, Jessie?”
“It may have something to do with the real parents. You know, Richard, neither side knows who the other side is. The whole adoption was handled by a lawyer acting for both sides.”
He nodded. “A lawyer named A. Burt Finner. That was his name, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“I know of him. He’s a clever shyster who specializes in black-marketing babies for people who either can’t swing a legitimate adoption or for some reason would rather handle it under the counter. If Humffrey’s had dealings with him, it’s probably because Finner guarantees no trouble and no publicity. The important thing, Jessie, is that Finner knows the real parentage of that baby. So that’s where we start.”
“With Finner?”
“With Finner.”
“But if the real parents don’t know who got Michael—”
“One step at a time,” Richard Queen said. “We’ll go into the city in the morning. Meanwhile, you’re going to bed.”