IX
With that Mary Jane escaped into the hall flushed and humiliated. When will you learn to mind your own business, she reprimanded herself sternly. She was almost to the stairs before you remembered who had forgotten to ask Miriam about a key to her bedroom. After a moments' hesitation she retraced her steps back along the hall, stopping before Miriam's room. In her hasty exit from the room she had left the door open ajar and now it swung open until a good part of the room was exposed. Miriam was bending down beside a tall bureau, its bottom drawer pulled out, arranging a pile of silk and lace inside. Intent on her work she did not hear Mary Jane until she came up beside her. Miriam looked up, something strangely like fear stirring in her dark eyes.
"Did you want something, Janie?"
Quickly, Mary Jane outlined the mission that brought her back, feeling vaguely disturbed and wishing now that she had not returned.
When she finished Miriam smiled reassuringly. I'll have Jeeves bring you a key as soon as possible. She glanced at the pile of lingerie in her lap looking flushed, "I was just straightening some things."
"I see," Mary Jane replied mechanically. She picked up a flowered lingerie bag lying on a low table a few feet away. She held it out. Did you want this?"
Miriam paled. Suddenly she was on her feet. "Give me that!" she cued hoarsely. She tore the bag out of Mary Jane's unresisting hand, but in haste one side accidently dropped open and the contents tumbled out. A filmy peach negligee dropped soundlessly to the floor, something black and ugly lying among its folds. There could be no mistaking. It was a gun.
Mary Jane stepped backwards blindly. She reached out clinging to the table, trying to speak but no sound would come from her suddenly parched throat; at last she managed a breathless, "Miriam!"
Miriam did not answer. She had bent down again scooping the negligee and gun up in her hand and stuffed them back into the bag. With her face gone ashen she dropped it into the bureau losing the drawer with a violent bang.
She did not speak until she had straightened up and seen Mary Jane's terror stricken face.
"Janie, surely you don't think—but I didn't, I didn't kill her. You must believe me. I found the gun!"
Mary Jane stared at her. "Found it. How could you have found it when the police couldn't?"
Miriam sat down abruptly in the gray slipper chair; she pushed her soft brown hair away from her face with impatient fingers, the full skirt of her negligee billowing out around her.
"It's a long story Janie. This house is old and full of secret panels and hidden tunnels. I wrote you about that in my last letter, remember? The place where I found the gun is a little compartment near my door. I got to thinking about it last night. It's the only place of its kind where something like a gun could be hidden. I got up to look for it as soon as it was light this morning." Miriam drew a deep breath; "The gun is equipped with a silencer Janie." We weren't meant to hear those shots, storm or no storm."
"Who knows about this compartment?" Mary Jane asked harshly.
"No one except the family, Jeeves—and now you."
"Show this place to me."
"Of course." Miriam rose drawing the cream colored sash closer to her waist. They crossed the room; Miriam opened the door. "You don't believe me, do you, Janie?" She said slowly.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," Mary Jane confessed wearily, "I-"
"Hello, you two," said a cheerful voice.
The two women looked up. Paul was coming down the hall toward them, immaculate and smiling.
"Ladies," he told them, "I am about to become a brave man and face that bevy of wolves outside. After breakfast, of course," he added with a twinkle, "I could never live through it on an empty stomach. Then after that I shall have a conference with the Parker brothers."
Miriam raised her carefully arched eyebrows, "Is it a confidential matter or can anyone be in on it?"
Paul grinned, "Since you asked me so prettily how can I resist telling you. The truth of the matter is that I'm holding out for a private detective."
"A private detective? For us?"
Paul nodded, "That's the general idea. Well, I must be running along. See you later."
After he had disappeared down the hall, Miriam murmured to herself, "I wonder if Rich will think about it," Then as if reminding herself of a task not yet finished, she turned and moved Mary Jane to stand before the small antique table by one side of her door. Reaching up, she touched the paneled wall with an exploring forefinger.
Mary Jane blinked. Before her eyes a section of the wall had swung outward revealing a small nitch behind it. She walked over and put her hand inside of the compartment. It was empty.
"Why did you take the gun away?" Mary Jane asked.
"Don't you see?" Miriam demanded in a low tone, "The murderer is going to want the gun back. There are five bullets left in the magazine. He might even be planning to use it again."
"Don't ….say it, Miriam, don't even think it."
Miriam was silent for a moment; then she said abruptly, "I'm going to dress."
She closed the door quickly, holding up the full skirt of her negligee and vanished into her bedroom.
Mary Jane stared after her and then at the smooth panel finally wandered back down the hall to the stairs. She started down them peering absently over the balustrade.
Gene found Mary Jane again and looked up quickly; Mary Jane caught her breath and turned deliberately slow. Norma Turner continued to lounge against the archway leading from the drawing room, an unlighted cigarette in her hand; she was wearing a red plaid dress, a wide brown belt encasing her waist. As they watched, she sauntered toward them a smile curving her lips, but it was not a pretty smile.
"I didn't know you'd taken up eavesdropping, Norma," Gene said, his voice tense.
"Don't worry, Gene, I won't make a scene."
"Too bad," Gene murmured, "When you do so beautifully."
They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. Watching, Mary Jane had a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach. What is it exactly she could not determine; she only had a blind desire to escape. She started to move away when Gene's voice stopped her.
"Mary Jane! Wait. I-"
He broke off as the front door opened and Tim Harmon came in letting in a blast of cold air and Chief of Police Kelly. Mary Jane felt the old paralyzing fear come rushing back, with all its dreadful intensity. She curled her hands into two tight fists, her breathing jerky and irregular.
"Good morning," Kelly said gravely.
His cool words were like plunging into an icy pond.
Kelly's eyes were sweeping over them. "Miss Lansing, would you mind stepping into the library for a few minutes?"
Her heart leaped into her throat, beating furiously. "No of course not," she said quietly surprised at the calmness of her voice.
She led the way into a cheerful little room, each step she took more difficult than the other. She sat down abruptly on the rose sofa when her legs suddenly had refused to support her. Kelly drew up a chair opposite her and smiled, offering her a cigarette.
He said casually, "We've found out quite a few things since last night, Miss Lansing."
"Oh," said Mary Jane, "Really?"
"Amy Stanton had come into town on the morning train from New York. A railroad hand remembers seeing her. In his words she looked lost as if she didn't know where to go. In fact she asked for a hotel. He sent her to the Stephens where she checked in at about eleven. She signed the register as Mrs. Alice Newcombe and she carried a purse and a small suitcase. She ate lunch in the coffee shop about two and then she left the hotel. From there we've been unable to check her movements. The desk clerk says she returned about five. She ate supper in the dining room with a man at seven; he sat in the lobby for a while and then had gone upstairs to his room. She had gone out at eight and never returned.
Mary Jane shivered; her hand shook as she raised her cigarette to her lips. "This is all very interesting, but what has it got to do with me?"
Kelly stopped in front of her, "Amy Stanton registered under a false name as far as we know; we found proof of her known identity in the newspaper files and such. We have not as yet been able to trace her background. The man with whom she had supper with had checked into the hotel a few hours after she did, called himself Ronald Carson, but we know him by another name. Does that suggest something to you?"
Mary Jane looked puzzled. "It might be they didn't want someone to know they were in town."
Kelly walked across the room, left her and went to the door. "Tim," he called, "Bring him in."
In a moment two other men had appeared in the doorway, Tim Harmon and a short individual with a sharp, narrow face almost rat-like in appearance. Mary Jane eyed him with distaste.
"Do you recognize this man, Miss Lansing?" Kelly asked his shrewd eyes on her face.
Mary Jane frowned, "He looks familiar but-" She stared at the man before her. Where had she seen him before? Deep inside of her memory stirred, a man and a woman standing together in a doorway—
"I know," she cried suddenly, "He's John Carr, Amy Stanton's lawyer."
"Ronald Carson," said Tim, "Alias John Carr."
"And he has no idea why Amy Stanton sent for him," Kelly added contemptuously.
"It's the truth, I tell you," Carr spoke in a high voice, "She never told me anything. Even about herself."
"Why did you register under a false name," Kelly shot at him.
"I told you before," Carr whined, "She called me up the day before yesterday from New York and told me to meet her here. I was to go to the best hotel and register under Ronald Carson.
"Where was she staying in New York?"
"I don't know. I hadn't seen her for a month. She had told me she'd get in touch with me later."
"How did she act when you saw her yesterday?"
Carr's eyes glinted, "She was in a good mood, almost like she used to be. She said if things went right, we'd be out of here by this morning. And that was all."
"What did she say when she left the hotel last night?"
"She told me she had an errand to do and not to wait up for her; she might be back late."
"Then what did you do?"
"I went upstairs, read for a while and went to bed."
"All right, Carr, that's all for now. You're not under arrest, but you'd better stick around."
Carr sneered, "You're damn right I'm not under arrest. You haven't got a thing on me. But don't worry, Flatfoot, I'll be around, just in case you need me."
With that he left, his walk unmistakable and infuriating swagger. Tim following him to the door, where a policeman took over. Harmon came back searching for his cigarettes. "If what he says is true, Stanton had him under her thumb all right."
Kelly nodded, "Yeah, but I can't believe he's the sucker he makes out to be."
"Surely Amy Stanton wouldn't bring her lawyer all the way down here just to sit in the hotel and wait for her." A voice said wonderingly.
As the two men turned to her, Mary Jane realized, horrified, that it was she who had unconsciously spoken a though aloud. But before Kelly could answer, a sketchy knock sounded briefly on the door, and a policeman burst into the room.
"What is it, Dougherty?" Kelly asked sharply.
"Somebody to see you outside, Chief. A kid and her old man. Name of Harvey. The girl says she talked to a woman answering Amy Stanton's description around four o'clock yesterday afternoon."
