What meant something to Crump, in Hester’s private opinion, was the garden house. Although Junior was far too much of a dunce to realize it, Crump’s reaction to finding a spy stationed there had been excessively violent. One could accept his resentment, and even understand his ordering Junior off the property, but how could one explain the threat to run Junior through with a spiral dog stake, to say nothing of calling him a young son of a bitch? That was certainly extreme, and it aroused suspicion. After all, Junior was almost completely impotent between the ears, and his mere presence in the garden house, however annoying, did not justify such an unrestrained uproar.
Implications were all over the place, and Hester, being clever, had thought and thought about them. Now, however, the time for thinking was past, and it was high time, if ever it would be, for aggressive action. Indeed, she hoped that it was not too late. Things had been happening too fast and too erratically for comfort, that was all. Mrs. Crump was dead, old Brewster was dead, and Flo, in spite of her optimism, was halfway to jail. Yes, there was no doubt about it. Sense and order must be given to events that, up to now, had seemed disorderly and senseless. It was time to do instead of think, and Hester, who always knew what time it was, had already started doing.
It was almost midnight, and Hester, wearing a sweater and slacks and flats, was expecting callers. Perhaps it was extravagant to call them callers, only Lester and Junior, but she had drafted them into service as being more help than none, and here they were right now, apparently, for her bell was ringing.
She let them in, noting with some relief that they were dressed, according to instructions, in dark sweaters and pants. Experience had made her skeptical of their ability to follow even the most simple and essential orders.
“Well, here you are,” she said. “Did you bring the crow bar and the shovel?”
“Yes, we did,” said Lester. “They’re downstairs in the MG, and I don’t mind saying that they make it damn crowded. Are you sure that they’re necessary?”
“I’ll decide what’s necessary and what isn’t, if you don’t mind. We had better be on our way without delay, for it’s almost midnight.”
“Where are we going?” Junior said.
“You’ll find out.”
“What are we going to do?”
“You’ll know when we get there.”
“Damn it, Hester,” said Lester, “why do you have to be so mysterious about everything? I agree with Junior that it would be much more comfortable if we knew where we are going and what we are going to do when we get there.”
“No, thank you,” Hester said. “I’ve had quite enough of confiding in people who seem to have a positive genius for ruining things at the last moment.”
“At least,” said Junior, “you could give us a drink before we leave.”
“There’s no time for drinks. Junior, can’t you do anything at all without having a drink first? You’re getting as bad as Uncle Homer. By the way, are Uncle Homer and Aunt Madge waiting for us at Mother’s, as I requested?”
“Oh, they’re there, all right, and they’re wondering why. Uncle Homer was threatening to come along with us, but we slipped off without him.”
“Good. Uncle Homer would be a handicap at best. Now we simply must go. There’s someone we have to meet at midnight.”
“Who?”
“Lester, will you please stop asking questions? If I had wanted you to know who, I’d have told you who.”
“Well, regardless of what you want or don’t want, I’m not going an inch anywhere until I know who we are going to meet at midnight.”
“Oh, all right. I suppose that it can’t do any harm for you to know now. We are going to meet Lieutenant Bones.”
“Lieutenant Bones! Hester, are you sure you know what you are doing? I can’t think of a single good reason for meeting Lieutenant Bones at midnight or any other time.”
“Neither can I,” Junior said. “Why are we?”
“Because,” said Hester, “I want an official witness to what, I am convinced, will shortly be discovered.”
19
To Hester’s importunate request for his midnight assistance, Bones had acceded reluctantly, and he was waiting impatiently. He had, indeed, first refused flatly, but he was eventually brought around by an eloquent appeal to his sense of duty, plus an oblique threat to his professional prestige if he should miss through pig-headedness such a rare opportunity for a major coup. Now that he was here, somehow waiting, where he had not intended to wait, for a mysterious engagement that filled him with apprehension, he wondered uneasily why he had not had the good sense to remain obdurate and detached. His knowledge of the night’s affair, whatever it might turn out to be, was as scant as that of Lester and Junior, of whose commitment he was unaware.
He was also unaware that he was parked at the curb of the street directly behind Grandfather Hunter’s house. He was unaware, that is, that the house was, or had been, Grandfather’s property. But he could see it rising like a Victorian monster in the moonlight, and he could tell from its size and the quality of its structure that it was surely the residence of someone who, however wretched his taste, did not lack the means of indulging it. Bones, observing the house, felt his uneasiness increasing measurably with every tick of his watch. Was it possible that Hester could have the effrontery to solicit the aid of a reputable detective in a job of simple housebreaking? Bones laughed hollowly at this notion and told himself that it was absurd, but he wasn’t sure. What was worse, having had some experience with Hester, he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t be talked into agreeing.
Well, it was almost midnight. Lacking, he saw by his watch, two minutes. Midnight was the time of meeting, set by Hester herself, and he was therefore relieved of his commitment at that hour. That was fair and reasonable. If she did not arrive in two minutes, now slightly less, he would drive away and be done with it. Hope rose within him, and he watched his watch with one hand on the ignition key. But he was doomed by seconds to disappointment. An MG, packed with passengers, wheeled suddenly around the corner and pulled in behind him. There was Hester hopping out, and with her, God help Sylvester Bones, were Lester and Junior.
“Here we are,” said Hester, approaching, “on time as I promised.”
“So I see,” said Bones, without enthusiasm. “Who’s we? Is that your brother?”
“Yes, it is. It’s Lester. The other one’s Junior. He’s my first cousin, although he frequently doesn’t act like it. Sitting on his lap in an MG is rather hazardous.”
“What’s that he’s got? It looks like a shovel.”
“That’s what it is. And Lester, if you’ll notice, has a crowbar.”
“Would it be too much to ask what we are going to do with a shovel and a crowbar?”
“Not at all. I’m going to prise and dig. Or Junior and Lester are. That’s why I brought them along.”
“I was wondering why. Junior and Lester weren’t in the agreement, as I recall.”
“Well, they aren’t good for much of anything except odd jobs under close supervision, and so I thought I might as well make use of them when I could. Why don’t you get out of your car? We’re not going any farther.”