“You heard who running?” Jerry said.
“I thought it was Aunt Alice at first, when she was talking to Mommy at the door. But it couldn’t have been Aunt Alice. She wouldn’t shoot Mommy. Besides, her gun was missing.”
“How do you know?”
“She said I took it from her room. She spanked me with a hairbrush for stealing it.”
“When did she spank you?”
“Sunday night, when she came home from church. Mommy said she had no right to spank me. Aunt Alice asked Mommy if she took the gun.”
“Did she?”
“She didn’t say – not while I was there. They sent me to bed.”
“Did you take the gun?”
“No. I never touched it. I was afraid of it.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid of Aunt Alice.”
She was rosy and sweating. She tried to struggle up onto her elbows. The doctor eased her back into her supine position, and made an adjustment to the needle. The girl relaxed again, and Jerry said:
“Was it Aunt Alice talking to your Mommy at the door?”
“I thought it was at first. It sounded like her. She had a big scary voice. But it couldn’t have been Aunt Alice.”
“Why couldn’t it?”
“It just couldn’t.”
She turned her head in a listening attitude. A lock of hair fell over her half-closed eyes. Alex pushed it back with a gentle hand. She said:
“The lady at the door said it had to be true, about Mommy and Mr. Bradshaw. She said she got it from Daddy’s own lips, and Daddy got it from me. And then she shot my Mommy and ran away.”
There was silence in the room, except for the girl’s heavy breathing. A tear as slow as honey was exuded from the corner of one eye. It fell down her temple. Alex wiped the blueveined hollow with his handkerchief. Jerry leaned across her from the other side of the table:
“Why did you say your Daddy shot your Mommy?”
“Aunt Alice wanted me to. She didn’t say so, but I could tell. And I was afraid she’d think that I did it. She spanked me for taking the gun, and I didn’t take it. I said it was Daddy. She made me say it over and over and over.”
There were more tears than one now. Tears for the child she had been, frightened and lying, and tears for the woman she was painfully becoming. Alex wiped her eyes. He looked close to tears himself.
“Why,” I said, “did you try to tell us that you killed your mother?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Alex’s friend Lew Archer.”
“That’s right,” Alex said.
She lifted her head and let it fall back. “I forget what you asked me.”
“Why did you say you killed your mother?”
“Because it was all my fault. I told my Daddy about her and Mr. Bradshaw, and that’s what started everything.”
“How do you know?”
“The lady at the door said so. She came to shoot Mommy because of what Daddy told her.”
“Do you know who she was?”
“No.”
“Was it your Aunt Alice?”
“No.”
“Was it anyone you knew?”
“No.”
“Did your mother know her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she did.”
“Did she talk as if she knew her?”
“She called her by name.”
“What name?”
“Tish. She called her Tish. I could tell Mommy didn’t like her, though. She was afraid of her, too.”
“Why haven’t you ever told anyone this before?”
“Because it was all my fault.”
“It wasn’t,” Alex said. “You were only a child. You weren’t responsible for what the adults did.”
Godwin shushed him with his finger to his lips. Dolly rolled her head from side to side:
“It was all my fault.”
“This has gone on long enough,” Godwin whispered to Jerry. “She’s made some gains. I want to have a chance to consolidate them.”
“But we haven’t even got to the Haggerty case.”
“Make it short then.” Godwin said to the girclass="underline" “Dolly, are you willing to talk about last Friday night?”
“Not about finding her.” She screwed up her face until her eyes were hidden.
“You needn’t go into the details of finding the body,” Jerry said. “But what were you doing there?”
“I wanted to talk to Helen. I often walked up the hill to talk to her. We were friends.”
“How did that happen to be?”
“I ingratiated myself with Helen,” she said with queer blank candor. “I thought at first she might be the lady – the woman who shot my mother. The rumor was going around the campus that she was close to Dean Bradshaw.”
“And you were on the campus to find that woman?”
“Yes. But it wasn’t Helen. I found out she was new in town, and she told me herself there was nothing between her and Bradshaw. I had no right to drag her into this.”
“How did you drag her in?”
“I told her everything, about my mother and Bradshaw and the murder and the woman at the door. Helen was killed because she knew too much.”
“That may be,” I said, “but she didn’t learn it from you.”
“She did! I told her everything.”
Godwin pulled at my sleeve. “Don’t argue with her. She’s coming out of it fast, but her mind is still operating below the conscious level.”
“Did Helen ask you questions?” I said to the girl.
“Yes. She asked me questions.”
“Then you didn’t force the information on her.”
“No. She wanted to know.”
“What did she want to know?”
“All about Dean Bradshaw and my mother.”
“Did she say why?”
“She wanted to help me in my crusade. I went on a sort of crusade after I talked to Daddy in the hotel. A children’s crusade.” Her giggle turned into a sob before it left her throat. “The only thing it accomplished was the death of my good friend Helen. And when I found her body–”
Her eyes opened wide. Then her mouth opened wide. Her body went rigid, as if it was imitating the rigor of the dead. She stayed like that for fifteen or twenty seconds.
“It was like finding Mommy again,” she said in a small voice, and came fully awake. “Is it all right?”
“It’s all right,” Alex said.
He helped her up to a sitting position. She leaned on him, her hair mantling his shoulder. A few minutes later, still leaning on him, she walked across the hallway to her room. They walked like husband and wife.
Godwin closed the door of the examination room. “I hope you gentlemen got what you wanted,” he said with some distaste.
“She talked very freely,” Jerry said. The experience had left him drained.
“It was no accident. I’ve been preparing her for the last three days. Pentothal, as I’ve told you before, is no guarantee of truth. If a patient is determined to lie, the drug can’t stop him.”
“Are you implying she wasn’t telling the truth?”
“No. I believe she was, so far as she knows the truth. My problem now is to enlarge her awareness and make it fully conscious. If you gentlemen will excuse me?”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “You can spare me a minute, doctor. I’ve spent three days and a lot of Kincaid’s money developing facts that you already had in your possession.”
“Have you indeed?” he said coldly.
“I have indeed. You could have saved me a good deal of work by filling me in on Bradshaw’s affair with Constance McGee.”
“I’m afraid I don’t exist for the purpose of saving detectives work. There’s a question of ethics involved here which you probably wouldn’t understand. Mr. Marks probably would.”
“I don’t understand the issue,” Jerry said, but he edged between us as if he expected trouble. He touched my shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, Lew, and let the doctor get about his business. He’s cooperated beautifully and you know it.”