Frank wondered about Evangeline who had never been on the beam, but he didn’t bring the subject up because he felt a degree of sympathy for Jack. Like Willett, he was persecuted by his own indecision because he had never been compelled, or privileged, to make any decisions by himself.
“Avoid trouble,” Jack said. “That’s my motto. When you see it coming, walk away.”
“Unless it’s too late.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Here’s Ethel.”
The heavy, black Lincoln rolled ponderously down the driveway like a hearse and came to a stop beside the convertible. Ethel was behind the wheel and Willett was slumped in the seat beside her, his eyes shut, his skin tinged a greyish-yellow. He got out of the car and began walking toward the house, his shoulders heaving with silent retches.
Ethel got out, too, and closed both of the car doors carefully before she spoke: “What are you doing here, Mr. Clyde?”
“There’s no law against a neighborly call, Mrs. Goodfield.”
“I must ask you to leave. I don’t happen to feel very neighborly this morning.”
“Other people do. Mr. Goodfield here has been very neighborly.”
Ethel wheeled around and faced her brother-in-law. “What have you been telling him?”
“Nothing,” Jack said. “Not a thing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Now don’t go off your — don’t get excited, Ethel, old girl.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Why, nothing but the truth, old girclass="underline" that you weren’t very hospitable and I intended to leave.”
“When?”
“Right away.”
“Good. The sooner the better. I’ll get your luggage.”
“I already have my luggage,” Jack said with pained dignity. “But before I go I must say that—”
“Don’t say anything, Jack. Too much has been said. It doesn’t help matters.”
“Well, I’ll just pop in and say goodbye to Willett.”
“Don’t bother,” Ethel said sharply. “I’ll say goodbye for you. Willett is not feeling very well. He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Oh. Well then—” He opened the door of the Buick and climbed behind the wheel, awkwardly, because Ethel was staring at him, her pale eyes cold and suspicious. “Honestly, old girl, if I were you I’d visit a doctor. You’re not acting like yourself.”
“If I acted like myself, I’d get on a slow boat to Sweden and forget I ever heard the name Goodfield.”
“You see, Ethel? That’s what I mean. You should visit a doct—”
“For heaven’s sake, will you please go?”
“All right, all right.” He started the engine. “Goodbye, Ethel.”
Ethel didn’t say goodbye. She just watched the convertible until it slid around a curve and out of sight.
Frank was shocked by the change that a few days had made in her appearance. He had seen her twice before: at the inquest, wearing a wispy green silk dress and an expression of complete disinterest; and at Rose’s funeral, in a dark suit that made her look very fair and delicate. The fairness was real enough, but her frailty and her unconcern and her benign stupidity were illusory. Perhaps Ethel herself had been taken in by the illusion, did not realize the extent of her passions and her strength and did not want to realize.
“Mrs. Goodfield.”
“Please leave. My husband is sick and I have to look after him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why should you be sorry? You’re a stranger to us.”
“I’m not as much of a stranger as you think.”
“I see. Jack’s been shooting off his mouth, has he?”
“A little.”
“That egghead, that silly, meddling egghead. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t realize the damage he—” She drew in her breath sharply and it made a tinny sound passing through her throat. “Jack’s an awful liar,” she added finally.
“It takes one to catch one.”
“Then you’d better not catch any, Mr. Clyde. Your reputation might suffer.”
“We can stand around all day exchanging beautiful thoughts but it won’t get us anywhere.”
“That hardly matters to me since I’m not trying to get anywhere.”
“I think you’re trying on all eight cylinders.”
“Oh?”
“But somebody put sugar in the gasoline.”
A blank expression crossed her face. “You’re beginning to confuse me.”
“I don’t believe you’re confused. I believe you’re in trouble, maybe very serious trouble. I’d like to help you.”
It was clear that the offer came as a shock to her, that the last thing in the world she expected was sympathy; and when it was offered it disturbed her, softened her emotions and dulled the edges of her purpose. “You’re a stranger to us,” she repeated. “Why should you want to help? No. No, I don’t believe it. That policeman sent you.”
“Greer didn’t send me.”
“Policemen can be so stupid, so terribly stupid. You’ve got to leave now, Mr. Clyde. You’ve got to. This is my last warning. There’s a gun in the house. We have a right to protect our property.”
“Where’s Murphy, Mrs. Goodfield?”
“We have a right to—”
“Where’s Murphy?”
“In her room. Sleeping.”
“Jack told me he used her room last night.”
“He’s lying.”
“No, you are. Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” she said in a whisper. “I simply don’t know. If I knew, I’d kill her.”
“Why did you tell Greer she’d come back?”
“I had to satisfy him, to keep him away from here.”
“Why do you have to keep him away?”
“I was warned.”
“By Murphy?”
“Someone called me. I think it was Murphy trying to disguise her voice.”
“What was the warning?”
“To keep the police away.”
“Or what?”
“Or they’d — I can’t tell. That was part of it — I’m not to tell or something terrible will happen to her.”
“To Murphy?”
“Not to Murphy. To her. Willett’s mother.”
“You’d better call Greer right away and ask for police protection.”
“Police protection? What good will that do?”
“They can put guards around the house.”
“Guards around the house. That’s funny.” She began to laugh quietly to herself, her head bent, her hands cupped over her eyes as if she was looking down into some private joke.
Frank touched her shoulder. “Stop that.”
“It’s funny.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You wouldn’t know. Guards around the house. They could put a million guards around the house. You can’t guard something that isn’t there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Willett’s mother was kidnapped,” Ethel said. “Last night. Drugged and taken right out of her bed. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”
“Call the police.”
“I can’t. They’ll never bring her back alive.”
Frank didn’t say what he was thinking — that she might not be alive to bring back. “Has any ransom been asked?”
“Asked?” Ethel repeated shrilly. “We’ve already paid it. This morning. That’s where we were, leaving the money where they told us. Everything happened so quick. Everything was so quick and yet so planned and deliberate. Even the amount of money they asked for — it was the exact amount we had in the house. Don’t you see? It must be someone who knows us, who knows how Willett feels about his mother — someone who may be watching me right this minute. I don’t know what to do.”
This time Frank didn’t tell her what to do. He did it himself, went inside the house and phoned Greer.