The Seven File

Twelve

Crowley tapped lightly on Mrs. Bradley’s door and when she said, “Yes?” he hesitated for a second, wishing to God there was some way of avoiding this session. It would be difficult for him, and painful for her — but it had to be faced. “This is Crowley,” he said. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

“Please come in,” she said.

Crowley opened the door and stepped into her darkened room. He didn’t see her at first; the shades were drawn, and only a night lamp gleamed above the tufted crimson bedspread; its reflection shone on the face of an illuminated clock and struck splinters of brilliance from a bracelet on the dressing table. Then she said, “I’m over here,” and he turned and saw that she was sitting in a lounge chair near the windows, her arms folded tightly over her breasts. A bar of light from the blinds touched her sleek blonde head, but her face and eyes were in darkness.

“We’ve got what may be a lead,” Crowley said quietly. “Three weeks ago last Thursday a man came here to check your telephones. That’s what he told the nurse. But he wasn’t sent by the telephone company. We want to find that man, and we need your help.”

“I haven’t been much help so far, have I?”

“There’s been nothing you could do.”

“I might have kept quiet.” She looked up at him and he saw the misery in her eyes. “I don’t know why I took it out on Dick and his father. But I can’t think straight — I know the men who took Jill won’t bring her back. I’ve been through her room. They didn’t take the things she’ll need. Clothes, blankets, powder and oil-they didn’t touch them. They just took her.”

“They would have the things she’d need ready in advance, Mrs. Bradley. They wouldn’t bumble around the nursery, collecting them.”

“But I can’t hope, I can’t even pray. That’s the terrible thing.”

“I can understand that. I have a daughter, too. I can guess how you feel, believe me.”

“She’s home with her mother. There’s — a difference.”

Crowley wet his lips. “No, she’s in the hospital. She — she’s been having headaches, and the doctor thought a few tests might show up the trouble.”

“But what’s wrong with her?”

“They don’t know.”

“But that’s impossible.” Her voice was puzzled. “They’d know right away unless—” She stopped and made a futile little gesture with her hands. They looked at each other in silence.

“Sure,” he said finally. “They’d know right away unless it’s cancer or a tumor maybe.”

“I’m sorry.” A reflection of light touched her face and when she looked up at him he saw that she was crying. “Why aren’t you with her? Why aren’t you home with your wife?”

“Oh, Christ!” Crowley said. “I didn’t want to get started on my troubles. All I want you to understand is that I’m not just an adding machine sent out here to keep score. Look, how about a cigarette?”

“No — no thanks.”

Crowley lit his own and then stared at the lighter, turning it around slowly in his big hand. “I spent last night talking to your husband. About his schools, friends, business associates, your marriage. But I got a better picture of you than I did of him. You’re tougher than he is. Maybe stronger is a better word. You’ve worked for things all your life. That’s something I understand. Maybe there’s no particular credit due people like us. It just happened. But it didn’t happen to them. This is the first jolt they’ve ever taken that their money can’t fix. They’ve got to get their help somewhere else.”

“From me?”

“You’re all they’ve got. It’s your job.”

“What can I do?”

“Help me,” Crowley said. “I need a line on that fake repairman. Did Kitty talk to you about him? Think hard.”

She raised her head slowly and he knew from the expression in her eyes that she was coming over to his side. “I–I’ll try,” she said.

“Good,” Crowley said, sitting down beside her.

Ellie’s mental processes had been trained and molded by years in the business world. Her thinking habits were organized and precise. Within a minute or so she had pinpointed the day the repairman had been in the house.

“Yes, it was Thursday,” she said, and then, frowning slightly, she recreated the day in terms that had little or no meaning for Crowley. “There was a staff meeting on the Milburn account that morning, then a layout conference, lunch with the fashion group. I talked to a space salesman from New — let’s see, Dick called and we had cocktails at the Algonquin. We went on to dinner at a place in the Fifties. We were home around ten at the latest.”

“Did you talk to the nurse when you came in?”

“I — let’s see. I know I went up the nursery. Yes, Kitty was giving Jill a bottle. I took the baby and Kitty stayed to talk for a while.” Ellie rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “It — it was about the baby. I can’t remember anything specific.”

Crowley didn’t press her. He waited, hoping, but finally she shook her head helplessly. “I’ m no help, I’m afraid.”

“Did Kitty have any particular men friends?”

“No, I don’t believe so. There was a young man last winter — his name was Delancey, Bill Delancey — she saw him quite regularly. But it wasn’t anything serious. He was a lieutenant in the army and on his way to Germany, I think it was.”

“Has she any relatives in the city?”

“No. Her family is in Ireland.”

“I see. Did she have any close girl friends?”

“Several, I think. I can find you their names if you think it’s important.”

“I wish you would, please. Was Kitty attached to Jill? I mean, did you ever think she was too fond of her perhaps?”

“She loved Jill, of course.” Ellie turned away from him and shook her head quickly. “No, Kate wouldn’t do this.”

“There was no sign of a struggle,” Crowley said. “No locks forced. But she’s packed and gone.”

“No—” Ellie shook her head again. “She’s loyal and kind and good. We — knew her perfectly. She was like a younger sister to me. I knew all about her family, her younger brothers and sisters. They made little presents for Jill — colored post cards, wooden animals on wheels — you know. She isn’t involved in this. You can’t tell me she is.”

Crowley was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “Would you come up to her room with me, please?”

“Yes, of course,” Ellie said.

The nurse’s bedroom was at the head of the stairs on the third floor, a bright and cheerful place that had been decorated with the same care as the rest of the house; the walls were a shade of blue-green, the furniture was smartly simple, and the blue-and-white coarse linen draperies matched the spread that was folded at the foot of the wide studio couch.

Crowley stood in the doorway and watched Ellie as she looked through the closet. “She took her new spring suit, the tweed skirt, blouses.” Her voice was troubled and low. “Everything she’d need... street shoes, loafers. Raincoat...” She turned and crossed swiftly to the bureau and began to pull out the drawers.

“They’re empty,” Crowley said.

“Yes — I see.” Ellie moved to the small combination desk-table and touched the top of it with her fingers. “She — she always kept her diary right here.”

“That’s gone,” Crowley said. “Her overnight bag is gone. And her toilet articles. Comb and brush, cologne, perfume, toothbrush, toothpaste, soap — the works.” Without realizing it, Crowley had put a sharp, demanding edge to his voice. “Personal letters, pocketbook. cash, keys. All cleaned out. How do you explain that?”

“I–I can’t.”

“No locks were forced. There was no sign of a struggle. The baby and nurse are gone. Those facts may be interpreted a dozen different ways. But right now I see only one.”

“If Kitty took her away then Jill won’t be frightened,” Ellie said in an empty, lifeless voice. “Jill knows her. They’ve been together since Jill was born.”

Ellie sat down on the edge of the studio couch and looked at the faint indentation in the smooth white surface of the pillow. The bed had been slept in; the spread had been turned back, but the blanket and sheets were only slightly I disarranged. “She went to bed that night,” Ellie said softly. She was frowning. “That’s strange—”

“Why?”

Then Ellie said, “Wait!” in a high, breathless voice, and put her hand quickly under the pillow. “I knew there was something. Yes, yes!”

“What is it?” Crowley stepped around the foot of the bed as Ellie stood up quickly. “Look,” she said. She held a rosary in her hands, an old-fashioned one with heavy wooden beads and a large cross. “She wouldn’t have left this,” Ellie said.

“She might have forgotten it.”

“No, you don’t understand. In the daytime she kept it on the bureau. At night she put it under her pillow. She said a rosary before she fell asleep.”

“Yes but—” Crowley hesitated, then shrugged. “It’s a nice habit, Ellie. That’s all.”

“Don’t you see? She was in bed ready to go to sleep. Otherwise the rosary wouldn’t have been under the pillow. Something must have waked her. She got up to see what it was — and she never came back.” Ellie shook her head impatiently. “Don’t you understand? Why should she have gone to bed if she intended to take Jill away?”

Crowley looked down at the rosary she held in her hands. Yes, it made sense. Whoever had taken the baby had also taken the nurse. Very probably... Professionals then, organized and competent, able to improvise... And that was bad. Professionals would have no compunctions about getting rid of the baby.

“I told you Kitty wasn’t involved,” Ellie said. She was looking up at Crowley, her eyes suddenly bright with hope. “We know that now. Won’t that help?”

“Yes, of course,” he said. She didn’t understand, he realized. “Now I think you’d better go back to your room and rest. I’ll call the Inspector.”

Ellie looked down at the rosary in her hands. She hesitated a second, then put it in her pocket and walked quickly from the room.