"Your address was on your check," Cheryl said. "She could have gotten it from the auctioneer. And we stopped for supper, that took a couple of hours. Mrs. Grossmuller is a big, stout woman, in spite of her age. And insane people are supposed to have unusual strength."
THE manic strength of the insane… Karen didn't know whether it was true or not, but the idea accompanied her through the day like an unwelcome guest who will not go home. She could not decide whether she preferred to be the victim of a hopped-up young thug or a crazy old woman-or, if Mark was right, the unwitting possessor of a valuable object that might or might not be still in the house. On the whole, Tony's theory was less threatening; random violence was not likely to recur.
Rob saw the scratches on her throat and demanded to know what had happened. When she replied briefly that she had been mugged, he shrugged-"Welcome to the club, sweetie-" and went on to tell her in laborious detail about his own encounters with crime.
Monday was usually a slow day, and Karen's boredom was increased by her desire to get back to the house and deal with the chores that awaited her-not only the endless laundry but a number of other tasks she had allowed to accumulate. One, which she might not have thought of doing, had already been done for her. Mark had called a locksmith and asked him-or ordered him- to make an emergency call. The man had telephoned just before she left the house to say he'd be there between one and three.
Cheryl had offered to wait until he came. "I hope you're not mad," she began guiltily.
Karen smiled. "You're a fine one to lecture me about apologizing for the things other people do. I'm grateful- to you and to Mark. Please thank him for me."
But neither of them had mentioned one unpleasant corollary implied by the need for additional locks-that the intruder had not had to force a window because he had a key to the house. It was only an unproved theory, after all.
Karen had not had time to take the necklace to the bank, or to call Mr. Bates. The latter task at least she could do now. She wasn't keen on having Rob eavesdrop, which he would undoubtedly do, but if she waited till she got home, Mr. Bates might have left for the day. She couldn't keep putting things off. Jack's vicious verbal attack had shattered her apathy and inspired her with an urgent need to be done with him.
Knowing Mr. Bates' busy schedule, she expected she would have to leave a message and wait for him to call her back, but when she gave her name, the secretary put her straight through.
"I had expected to hear from you before this" was Mr. Bates' only greeting. "In fact, I tried several times to reach you, without success."
His critical tone filled Karen with resentment, probably because it followed a similar complaint from Jack. Really, people had a lot of nerve yelling at her because she wasn't available when it happened to suit their convenience.
"I've been busy," she said. "There are several questions-"
"Do you still have the Madison jewelry?"
Karen was still annoyed, and his peremptory tone did not soothe her feelings. "I haven't hocked it yet, if that's what you mean."
"I am glad," said Mr. Bates, in a tone that flatly contradicted his words, "that you can joke about it. One would think that after having been physically assaulted-"
"How did you hear about that?"
"I received a telephone call from Congressman Brinckley."
"Oh."
"The jewelry-"
"I have it." Karen heard an audible sigh of relief. She went on, "That was one of the things-"
"I strongly suggest that you bring it to me immediately."
"Now?"
"Immediately."
"I can't. I'm in charge here, and we don't close until five. After that-"
"After that I am attending a cocktail party." Mr. Bates brooded briefly. Karen fancied he must be looking through his appointment book. "I will return to the office afterward," he announced. "Can you be here by seven-thirty?"
"I-yes, I suppose so. Why not tomorrow?"
"The answer to that should be self-evident. Not that I subscribe to Congressman Brinckley's fantastic theory that your assailant was a member of the gang that stole the Rolls-"
An uncomfortable prickling sensation touched the nape of Karen's neck. "Wait a minute," she said. "Wait just a minute…It didn't dawn on me at first…How did Mark-Mr. Brinckley-know I had something of Mrs. MacDougal's? Did he mention the jewelry?"
"Why, yes. I assumed you had-"
"No. I didn't tell him."
"Then Mrs. MacDougal must have done so. Really," the lawyer said impatiently, "this is all beside the point, Mrs. Nevitt. Although I am convinced there is absolutely no connection between the two events, I do most strongly urge-"
"Yes, all right," Karen said abstractedly. "I'll come at seven-thirty. I also need the name of a good divorce lawyer."
"I will have the information for you this evening."
"Have you heard anything from-" Karen began. But the lawyer had hung up.
He was definitely annoyed with someone, and Karen suspected it wasn't she. Mark must have read him the riot act. It would be like Mark to concoct a wild theory just for the fun of getting the lawyer's back up. Mrs. MacDougal must have told Mark what she planned to do with Dolley's jewelry. Or possibly Cheryl had mentioned it to him.
She hung up and went back to the office. His feet on the desk, Rob was busily reading a paperback novel- one of the popular best-sellers focusing on the lives of the rich, dissolute, and famous. His look of profound concentration would not have deceived a child.
"I hope I talked loudly enough for you to hear without straining yourself," Karen said.
Rob put the book down and smiled sweetly. "It was fascinating, darling. I'm so pleased you've decided to press on with your divorce; it's a fatal mistake to delay these things. But what's all this about Mrs. MacDougal's car, and necklaces and urgent appointments?"
Karen couldn't remember having mentioned the car. Rob must have been listening in on the extension in the office. Rather than allow him to speculate and invent preposterous stories, she explained briefly.
Rob admitted he had heard about the Rolls. "So thrilling, like one of those super crime films." The necklace, which Karen described only as a relatively inexpensive personal memento, didn't appear to interest him. However, Karen made a point of mentioning that she intended to hand it over to the lawyer that evening.
In fact, Rob was the last person she would have suspected of trying to throttle her. He would have been more likely to scream and run when she caught him in the house. As for the Dolley Madison jewelry… Oh, surely it was absurd to think it was involved. The fact that the intruder had not found it was no proof that he had not looked for it, but no ordinary thief would be aware of its presence. No ordinary thief… Her assailant had been no ordinary thief. That thick, hoarse whisper… There were only two people, aside from Mr. Bates and Cheryl, who knew she had Dolley's jewelry.
No, Karen thought. It couldn't have been Horton. Horton would not have run from Cheryl. Horton's big-muscled hands could have snapped her neck like a twig.
At five o'clock she left Rob to lock up and hurried home. Alexander was waiting; he led her directly to his empty food dish. Not until the dog's demands had been satisfied did Karen see the note Cheryl had left. The locksmith had come and gone; the keys were on the hall table.
Karen went to look. The keys made a formidable heap; there were three for each new door lock, front and back, and several more for the elaborate latches that had been added to the downstairs windows.
It must have taken the locksmith most of the afternoon. Congressman Brinckley's influence, Karen thought; usually it took days to get a service person to come, even in an emergency. But who was she to complain?
She went back to the kitchen and finished reading Cheryl's note. "I hope you don't mind, I did a little mending and washing. Love working with those things. Have to go to some boring party tonight, will call if we aren't too late getting home."