Calamity Town

Nora Talks

At first all Wrightsville could talk about was the fact itself. The delicious fact. A body. A corpse. At the Wrights’. At the Wrights’! The snooty, stuck-up, we’re-better-than-you-are First Family!

Poison.

Imagine. Just imagine. Who’d have thought? And so soon after, too. Remember that wedding?

The woman. Who was she? Jim Haight’s sister. Rosalie¯Rose-Marie? No, Rosemary. Well, it doesn’t make any difference. She’s dead. I saw her once. Tricked up. You felt something about her. Not nice. My dear, I was telling my husband only the other day . . .

So it’s murder. Rosemary Haight, that woman from heaven knows where, she got a mess of poison in a Manhattan cocktail, and it was really meant for Nora Haight. There it is right in Frank Lloyd’s paper . . . Frank was there.

Drinking. Wild party. Fell down dead. Foaming at the mouth. Shh, the children! . . . Cinch Frank Lloyd hasn’t told the whole story . . . Of course not. After all. The Record’s a family newspaper!

Four-sixty Hill Drive. Calamity House. Don’t you remember? That story in the Record years ago? First Jim Haight ran away from his own wedding, leaving Nora Wright looking silly¯and the house all built and furnished and everything! Then that Mr. Whozis from Where? Anyway, he dropped dead just as he was going to buy it from John F. Wright. And now¯a murder in it!

Say, I wouldn’t set foot in that jinxed house for all the money in John F.’s vaults!

Bess, did you hear? They say . . .

For some days Wrightsville could talk about nothing but the fact.

* * *

Siege was laid, and Mr. Ellery “Smith” Queen found himself inadvertently a soldier of the defending force.

People streamed up and down the Hill like trekking ants, pausing outside the Wright and Haight houses to pick up some luscious leaf-crumb and bear it triumphantly down into the town. Emmeline DuPre was never so popular. Right next door! Emmy, what do you know?

Emmy told them. Emmy’s porch became a hiring hall for the masses. If a face showed at a window of either house, there was a rush and a gasp.

“What’s happening to us?” moaned Hermione. ”No, I won’t answer the phone!”

Lola said grimly: “We’re a Chamber of Horrors. Some Madame Tus-saud’ll start charging admission soon!” Since the morning of New Year’s Day, Lola had not left. She shared Pat’s room. At night she silently washed her underwear and stockings in Pat’s bathroom. She would accept nothing from her family. Her meals she took with Jim in the “unlucky” house.

Lola was the only member of the family to show herself out of doors the first few days of January. On January second she said something to Emmy DuPre which turned Emmy pale and sent her scuttling back to her porch like an elderly crab in a panic. ”We’re waxworks,” said Lola. ”Jack the Ripper multiplied by seven. Look at the damn body snatchers!”

Alberta Manaskas had vanished in a Lithuanian dither, so Lola cooked Jim’s meals.

Jim said nothing. He went to the bank as usual.

John F. said nothing. He went to the bank. In the bank father-in-law and son-in-law said nothing to each other.

Hermy haunted her room, putting handkerchiefs to her little nose.

Nora was in a tossing fever most of the time, wailing to see Jim, being horridly sick, keeping her pillow blue with tears.

Carter Bradford shut himself up in his office at the County Courthouse. Large plain men came and went, and at certain times of the day he conferred in pointed secrecy with Chief of Police Dakin.

Through all this Mr. Queen moved silently, keeping out of everyone’s way. Frank Lloyd had been right. There was talk about “that man Smith¯who is he?” There were other remarks, more dangerous. He noted them all in his notebook, labeled “The Mysterious Stranger¯a Suspect.”

He was never far from Nora’s room.

On the third day after the crime, he caught Patty as she came out and beckoned her upstairs to his room.

He latched the door.

“Pat, I’ve been thinking.”

“I hope it’s done you good.” Pat was listless.

“When Dr. Willoughby was here this morning, I heard him talk to Dakin on the phone. Your County Coroner, Salemson, has cut his vacation short, and he’s come back to town on the double. Tomorrow there will be an inquest.”

“Inquest!”

“It’s the law, darling.”

“You mean we’ll have to . . . leave the house?”

“Yes. And testify, I’m afraid.”

“Not Nora!”

“No. Willoughby refuses to let her leave her bed. I heard him say so to Dakin.”

“Ellery . . . what are they going to do?”

“Establish the facts for the record. Try to get at the truth.”

Pat said: “The truth?” and looked terrified.

“Pat,” said Ellery gravely, “you and I are at the crossroads in this labyrinth¯”

“Meaning?” But she knew what he meant.

“This is no longer a potential crime. It’s a crime that’s happened. A woman has died¯the fact that she died by accident makes no difference, since a murder was planned and a murder was executed. So the law comes into it . . . ” Ellery said grimly . . . ”a most efficient law, I must say . . . and from now on it’s snoop, sniff, and hunt until all the truth is known.”

“What you’re trying to say, and are saying so badly,” said Pat steadily, “is that we’ve got to go to the police with what we know . . . and they don’t.”

“It’s within our power to send Jim Haight to the electric chair.”

Patty sprang to her feet. Ellery pressed her hand.

“It can’t be that clear! You’re not convinced yourself! Even I’m not, and I’m her sister . . . ”

“We’re talking now about facts and conclusions from facts,” said Ellery irritably. ”Feelings don’t enter into it¯they certainly won’t with Dakin, although they might with Bradford. Don’t you realize you and I are in possession of four pieces of information not known to the police¯four facts that convict Jim of having plotted and all but carried out the murder of Nora?”

“Four?” faltered Pat. ”As many as that?”

Ellery sat her down again. She looked up at him with her forehead all tight and wrinkled. ”Fact one: the three letters written by Jim and now at the bottom of Nora’s hatbox next door¯the three letters establishing his anticipation of her death at a time when she wasn’t even ill! Clearly premeditation.”

Pat moistened her lips.

“Fact two: Jim’s desperate need for money. This fact, which we know because he’s been pawning Nora’s jewelry and demanding money of her, plus the fact Dakin knows¯that on Nora’s death Jim would come into a large inheritance¯combined would fix a powerful motive.”

“Yes. Yes . . . ”

“Fact three: the toxicology book belonging to Jim, with its underlined section in Jim’s characteristic red crayon . . . a section dealing with arsenious trioxid, the very poison with which subsequently Nora’s cocktail was spiked and from which Nora nearly died.

“And fourth,” Ellery shook his head, “something I alone can establish, because I had Jim under observation every moment New Year’s Eve: the fact that no one but Jim could have put poison into the fatal cocktail, or did. So I’m in a position to establish that Jim not only had the best opportunity to poison that drink, but the only opportunity.”

“And that doesn’t even include his threat against Nora that afternoon when we brought him away from the Hot Spot blind drunk¯when he said he was going to get rid of her. Dakin heard it, Cart heard it . . . ”

“Or,” added Ellery gently, “the two previous occasions on which Nora’s been poisoned by arsenic¯Thanksgiving and Christmas, coinciding with the dates of Jim’s first two letters . . . Pretty conclusive, put together, Patty. How could anyone disbelieve, knowing all this, that Jim planned Nora’s death?”

“Yet you don’t believe it,” said Pat.

“I didn’t say that,” said Ellery slowly. ”I said . . . ” He shrugged. ”The point is: We’ve got to decide now. Do we talk at the inquest tomorrow, or don’t we?”

Pat bit a fingernail. ”But suppose Jim is innocent? How can I¯how can you¯set up as judge and jury and condemn somebody to death? Somebody you know? Ellery, I couldn’t.” Pat made faces, a distressed young woman. ”Besides,” she said eagerly, “he won’t try it again, Ellery! Not now. Not after he killed his sister by mistake. Not after the whole thing’s out and the police¯I mean, if he did . . . ”

Ellery rubbed his hands together as if they itched, walking up and down before her, frowning, scowling.

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he said at last. ”We’ll put it up to Nora.” Pat stared. ”She’s the victim, Jim’s her husband. Yes, let Nora make the decision. What do you say?”

Pat sat still for a moment.

Then she got up and went to the door. ”Mother’s asleep, Pop’s at the bank, Ludie’s downstairs in the kitchen, Lola’s next door . . . ”

“So Nora’s alone now.”

“And Ellery.”

Ellery unlatched his door.

“Thanks for being such a swell clam¯”

He opened the door.

“Taking such a personal risk¯being involved¯”

He gave her a little push toward the stairs.

* * *

Nora lay in a knot under the blue comforter, staring at the ceiling.

Scared through and through, thought Ellery.

“Nora.” Pat went quickly to the bed, took Nora’s thin hand between both her brown ones. ”Do you feel strong enough to talk?”

Nora’s eyes flew from her sister to Ellery, and then darted into hiding like timid birds.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” Her voice was tight with pain. ”Is Jim-did they¯?”

“Nothing’s happened, Nora,” said Ellery.

“It’s just that Ellery feels¯I feel¯it’s time the three of us understood one another,” said Pat. Then she cried: “Nora, please! Don’t shut yourself up! Listen to us!”

Nora braced herself and pushed against the bed until she was sitting up. Pat leaned over her, and for an instant, she looked like Hermy. She drew the edges of Nora’s bed jacket together.

Nora stared at them.

“Don’t be frightened,” said Ellery. Pat propped the pillow against Nora’s shoulders and sat down on the edge of the bed and took Nora’s hand again. And then in a quiet voice Ellery told Nora what he and Pat had learned¯from the beginning. Nora’s eyes grew larger and larger.

“I tried to talk to you,” cried Pat, “but you wouldn’t listen! Nora, why?”

Nora whispered: “Because it isn’t true. Maybe at first I thought . . . But it’s not. Not Jim. You don’t know Jim. He’s scared of people, so he acts cocky. But inside he’s like a little boy. When you’re alone with him. And he’s weak. Much too weak to¯to do what you think he did. Oh, please!”

Nora began to cry in her hands.

“I love him,” she sobbed. ”I’ve always loved Jim. I’ll never believe he’d want to kill me. Never. Never!”

“But the facts, Nora¯” said Ellery wearily.

“Oh, the facts!” She took her hands away; her wet eyes were blazing.

“What do I care about the facts? A woman knows. There’s something so horribly wrong you can’t make sense out of it. I don’t know who tried to poison me three times, but I do know it wasn’t Jim!”

“And the three letters, Nora? The letters in Jim’s handwriting announcing your illness, your . . . death?”

“He didn’t write them!”

“But Nora darling,” said Pat, “Jim’s handwriting¯”

“Forged.” Nora was panting now. ”Haven’t you ever heard of forgery? They were forged!”

“And the threat against you we heard him make, that day I told you about, when he was drunk?” asked Ellery.

“He wasn’t responsible!”

No tears now. She was fighting. Ellery went over the whole damning case with her; she fought back. Not with counter-facts. With faith. With an adamant, frightening faith. And at the end Ellery was arguing with two women, and he had no ally.

“But you don’t reason¯” he exploded, throwing up his hands. Then he smiled. ”What do you want me to do? I’m softheaded, but I’ll do it.”

“Don’t say anything about these things to the police!”

“All right, I won’t.”

Nora sank back, closing her eyes.

Pat kissed her and then signaled to Ellery.

But Ellery shook his head. ”I know you’re pretty well pooped, Nora,” he said kindly, “but as long as I’m becoming an accessory, I’m entitled to your full confidence.”

“Anything,” said Nora tiredly.

“Why did Jim run out on you that first time? Three years ago, just before you were to be married, when Jim left Wrightsville?”

Pat looked at her sister anxiously.

“That.” Nora was surprised. ”That wasn’t anything. It couldn’t have anything to do¯”

“Nevertheless, I’d like to know.”

“You’d have to know Jim. When we met and fell in love and all, I didn’t realize just how independent Jim was. I didn’t see anything wrong in-well, accepting help from Father until Jim got on his feet. We’d argue about it for hours. Jim kept saying he wanted me to live on his cashier’s salary.”

“I remember those battles,” murmured Pat, “but I didn’t dream they were so¯”

“I didn’t take them seriously enough, either. When Mother told me Father was putting up the little house and furnishing it for us as a wedding gift, I thought I’d keep it a surprise for Jim. So I didn’t tell him until the day before the wedding. He got furious.”

“I see.”

“He said he’d already rented a cottage on the other side of town for fifty dollars a month¯it was all we’d be able to afford, he said; we’d just have to learn to live on what he earned.” Nora sighed. ”I suppose I lost my temper, too. We . . . had a fight. A bad one. And then Jim ran away. That’s all.” She looked up. ”That’s really all. I never told Father or Mother or anyone about it. Having Jim run out on me just because of a thing like that¯”

“Jim never wrote to you?”

“Not once. And I . . . thought I’d die. The whole town was talking . . . Then Jim came back, and we both admitted what fools we’d been, and here we are.”

So from the very first it had been the house, thought Ellery. Queer! Wherever he turned in this case, the house was there. Calamity House . . . Ellery began to feel that the reporter who had invented the phrase was gifted with second sight.

“And these quarrels you and Jim have been having since your marriage?”

Nora winced. ”Money. He’s been asking for money. And my cameo, and other things . . . But that’s just temporary,” she said quickly. ”He’s been gambling at that roadhouse on Route 16¯1 suppose every man goes through a phase like that¯”

“Nora, what can you tell me about Rosemary Haight?”

“Not a thing. I know she’s dead, and it sounds an awful thing to say, but . . . I didn’t like her. At all.”

“Amen,” said Patty grimly.

“Can’t say I was smitten myself,” murmured Ellery. ”But I mean¯do you know anything about her that might tie her in with . . . well, the letters, Jim’s conduct, the whole puzzle?”

Nora said tightly: “Jim wouldn’t talk about her. But I know what I felt. She was no good, Ellery. I don’t see how she ever came to be Jim’s sister.”

“Well, she was,” said Ellery briskly, “and you’re tired, Nora. Thanks. You’d have been wholly justified in telling me to mind my own business about all this.”

Nora squeezed his hand, and he left as Pat went into the bathroom to wet a towel for her sister’s head.

Nothing. Utter nothing. And tomorrow the inquest!