Calamity Town

St. Valentine’s Day: Love Conquers Nothing

Considering that Nora was bedridden as a result of arsenic poisoning, that John F. was finding his cronies shying away from him and transferring their business to Hallam Luck’s Public Trust Co., that Hermione was having the ladyfinger put on her, Pat was sticking close to Nora’s bedside, and even Lola had been jolted out of her isolation¯considering all this, it was wonderful how the Wrights kept bravely pretending, even among themselves, that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

No one referred to Nora’s condition except as an “illness,” as if she were suffering from laryngitis or some mysterious but legal “woman’s complaint.” John F. talked business at his desk in his old dry way¯if he attended far fewer board meetings, it was because he was “tied up” . . . obviously; and the fact that he quite disappeared from the weekly luncheons of the Chamber of Commerce at Ma Upham’s was gravely excused on grounds of dyspepsia.

As for Jim¯he was not mentioned at all.

But Hermy, after the first emotional storms, did some calking and sail patching. No one was going to run her out of town. And grimly she began to employ her telephone again. When impeachment proceedings began at her Women’s Club, Madam President astounded everyone by making a personal appearance, in her smartest winter suit, and acting as if nothing had happened whatsoever. She was impeached notwithstanding; but only after various abalone ears burned and the ladies grew scarlet under the lash of Hermy’s scorn. And at home she took charge as of old. Ludie, who might have been expected to snarl back, instead went about with a relieved expression.

And by the beginning of February things took on such an air of normality that Lola actually returned to her nun’s flat in Low Village, and Nora being better, Pat assumed the task of cooking Jim’s meals and straightening Nora’s house.

On Thursday, February thirteenth, Dr. Willoughby said that Nora could get out of bed.

There was much joy in the household. Ludie baked a gargantuan lemon-meringue pie, Nora’s favorite; John F. came home early from the bank with a double armful of American Beauty roses (and where he got them, in Wrightsville, in February, he refused to say!); Pat stretched as if she were cramped and then washed her hair and did her nails, murmuring things like: “My God! How I’ve let myself go!” Hermy turned the radio on for the first time in weeks to hear the war news . . . It was like coming out of a restless sleep to find yourself safely awake.

Nora wanted to see Jim instantly; but Hermione refused to let her out of the house¯”The first day, dear! Are you insane?”¯and so Nora phoned next door. After a while she hung up, helplessly; there was no answer.

“Maybe he’s gone out for a walk or something,” said Pat.

“I’m sure that’s what it is, Nora,” said Hermy, fussing over Nora’s hair. Hermy did not say that Jim was in the house that very moment¯she had just glimpsed his gray face pressed against the Venetian blinds of the master bedroom.

“I know!” said Nora, with a little excitement; and she telephoned Ben Danzig. ”Mr. Danzig, send me the biggest, most expensive Valentine you’ve got. Right away!”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Ben; and in a half hour it was all over town that Nora Haight was all right again. Sending Valentines! Is there another man, do you suppose?

It was a gorgeous thing, quilted in pink satin and bordered with real lace, framing numerous fat Cupids and sweet with St. Valentine sentiment¯Ben Danzig’s most exclusive number, 99A.

Nora addressed the envelope herself, and licked the stamp and affixed it, and sent Ellery out to mail it. She was almost gay. Mr. Queen, playing Hermes to Eros, dropped the Valentine in the box at the bottom of the Hill with the uncomfortable feeling of a man who watches a battered pugilist getting to his knees after the fourth knockdown.

In the mail Friday morning there was no Valentine for Nora.

“I’m going over there,” she said firmly. ”This is silly. Jim’s sulking. He thinks the whole world’s against him. I’m going¯”

Ludie came in, very stiff and scared, and said: “It’s that Chief Dakin and Mr. Bradford, Miss Hermy.”

“Dakin!” The color left Hermy’s girlish cheeks. ”For . . . me, Ludie?”

“Says he wants to be seeing Miss Nora.”

Nora said: “Me?” in a quivery voice.

John F. rose from the breakfast table. ”I’ll handle this!” They went into the living room.

Mr. Queen left his eggs and ran upstairs. Pat yawned “Whozit?” when he rapped on her door.

“Come downstairs!”

“Whaffor?” He heard her yawn again. ”Come in, come in.” Ellery merely opened the door. Pat was bunched under the bedclothes, looking rosy and mussed and young again.

“Dakin and Bradford. To see Nora. I think this is it.”

“Oh!” Panic. But only for a moment. ”Throw me my robe, like a darling. It’s arctic in here.” Ellery handed it to her, turned to walk out. ”Wait for me in the hall, Ellery. I mean¯I want to go downstairs with you.”

Pat joined him in three minutes. She held onto his arm all the way downstairs.

As they came in, Chief Dakin was saying: “Course, Mrs. Haight, you understand I’ve got to cover the whole ground. I’d told Doc Willoughby to let me know when you’d be up and about¯”

“So kind of you,” said Nora.

She was frightened almost out of her wits. You could see it. Her figure had a wooden stillness, and she looked from Dakin to Bradford and back again like a puppet being jerked by invisible hands.

“Hello,” said Pat grimly. ”Isn’t it early for a social call, Mr. Dakin?”

Dakin shrugged. Bradford regarded her with a furious misery. He seemed thinner, almost emaciated.

“Sit down and be quiet, baby,” said Hermione faintly.

“I don’t know what you can expect Nora to tell you,” said John F. frigidly. ”Patricia, sit down!”

“Patricia?” said Pat. She sat down. ”Patricia” was a bad sign. John F. hadn’t called her Patricia in such a formal voice since the last time he’d used his old-fashioned razor strop on her bottom, and that had been many many years ago. Pat contrived to grasp Nora’s hand.

She did not look at Bradford once; and after that first unhappy glance, Bradford did not look at her.

Dakin nodded pleasantly to Ellery. ”Glad to see you, Mr. Smith. Now if we’re all set¯Cart, did you want to say somethin’?”

“Yes!” exploded Cart. ”I wanted to say that I’m in an impossible position. I wanted to say¯” He made a helpless gesture and stared out the window at the snow-covered lawn.

“Now, Mrs. Haight,” said Dakin, blinking at Nora, “would you mind telling us just what happened New Year’s Eve as you saw it? I’ve got everybody else’s story¯”

“Mind? Why should I mind?” It came out froggy, and Nora cleared her throat. And began to talk shrilly and rapidly, making rapid little meaningless signs with her free hand. ”But I can’t really tell you anything. I mean, all that I saw¯”

“When your husband came around to you with the tray of cocktails, didn’t he sort of pick out one special glass for you? I mean, didn’t you want to take one glass and he fixed it so you took another?”

“How can I remember a thing like that?” asked Nora indignantly. ”And that’s a¯a nasty implication!”

“Mrs. Haight.” The Chief’s voice was suddenly chilly. ”Did your husband ever try to poison you before New Year’s Eve?”

Nora snatched her hand from Pat’s and jumped up. ”No!”

“Nora dear,” began Pat, “you mustn’t get excited¯”

“You’re sure, Mrs. Haight?” insisted Dakin.

“Of course I’m sure!”

“There’s nothing you can tell us about the fights you and Mr. Haight been having?”

“Fights!” Nora was livid now. ”I suppose it’s that horrible DuPre creature¯or¯”

The “or” was so odd even Carter Bradford turned from the window. Nora had uttered the word with a sudden sickish emphasis and glared directly at Ellery. Dakin and Bradford glanced quickly at him, and Pat looked terrified. Mr. and Mrs. Wright were hopelessly lost.

“Or what, Mrs. Haight?” asked Dakin.

“Nothing. Nothing! Why don’t you let Jim alone?” Nora was crying hysterically now. ”All of you!”

Dr. Willoughby came in with his big man’s light step; Ludie’s face, white and anxious, peered over his shoulder, then vanished.

“Nora,” he said with concern, “crying again? Dakin, I warned you¯”

“Can’t help it, Doc,” said the Chief with dignity. ”I got my job to do, and I’m doing it. Mrs. Haight, if there’s nothing you can tell us that helps your husband¯”

“He didn’t do it, I tell you!”

“Nora,” said Dr. Willoughby insistently.

“Then I’m afraid we got to do it, Mrs. Haight.”

“Do what, for heaven’s sake?”

“Arrest your husband.”

“Arrest¯Jim?” Nora began to laugh, her hands in her hair. Dr. Willoughby tried to take her hands in his, but she pushed him away. Behind the glasses her pupils were dilated. ”But you can’t arrest Jim! He didn’t do anything! You haven’t a thing on him¯!”

“We’ve got plenty on him,” said Chief Dakin.

“I’m sorry, Nora,” mumbled Carter Bradford. ”It’s true.”

“Plenty on him,” whispered Nora. Then she screamed at Pat: “I knew too many people knew about it! That’s what comes of taking strangers into the house!”

“Nora!” gasped Pat. ”Darling . . . ”

“Wait a moment, Nora,” began Ellery.

“Don’t you talk to me!” Nora shrieked. ”You’re against him because of those three letters! They wouldn’t arrest Jim if you hadn’t told them about the letters¯!”

Something in Ellery’s gaze seemed to penetrate her hysteria, and Nora broke off with a gasp, swaying against Dr. Willoughby, an enormous new fear leaping into her eyes. She looked quickly at Dakin, at Bradford, saw the astonishment, then the flash of exultation. And she backed up against the broad chest of the doctor and froze there, her hand to her mouth, sick with realization.

“What letters?” demanded Dakin.

“Nora, what letters?” cried Bradford.

“No! I didn’t mean¯”

Carter ran over to her and seized her hand. ”Nora! What letters?” he asked fiercely.

“No,” groaned Nora.

“You’ve got to tell me! If there are letters, you’re concealing evidence¯”

“Mr. Smith! What do you know about this?” demanded Chief Dakin.

“Letters?” Ellery looked astonished, and shook his head.

Pat rose and pushed Bradford. He staggered back. ”You let Nora alone,” said Pat in a passionate voice. ”You Judas!”

Her violence kindled an answering violence. ”You’re not going to presume upon my friendship! Dakin, search this house and the house next door!”

“Should have done it long ago, Cart,” said the Chief mildly. ”If you hadn’t been so blamed set¯” He disappeared.

“Carter,” said John F. in very low tones, “you’re never to come here again. Do you understand?”

Bradford looked as if he were going to cry.

And Nora collapsed in Dr. Willoughby’s arms with a moan like a sick cat.

* * *

With Bradford’s frigid permission Nora was taken upstairs to her bedroom by Dr. Willoughby. Hermy and Pat hurried along with them, helpless and harried.

“Smith.” Bradford did not turn.

“Save your breath,” advised Mr. Queen politely.

“I know it’s no use, but I’ve got to warn you¯if you’re contributing to the suppression of evidence . . . ”

“Evidence?” echoed Mr. Queen, as if he had never heard the word before.

“Those letters!”

“What are these letters you people are talking about?”

Cart spun around, his mouth working. ”You’ve been in my way ever since you came here,” he said hoarsely. ”You’ve wormed your way into this house, alienated Pat from me¯”

“Here, here,” said Ellery kindly. ”Mind your verbs.”

Cart stopped, his hands two fists. Ellery went to the window. Chief Dakin was deep in conversation with little Dick Gobbin, the patrolman, on the Haight porch . . . The two policemen went into the house.

Fifteen minutes later Messrs. Queen and Bradford were still standing in the same positions.

Pat came in with a noise.

Her face shocked them.

She went directly to Ellery. ”The most awful thing’s happened.” And she burst into tears.

“Pat! For heaven’s sake!”

“Nora¯Nora is¯” Pat’s voice blurred and shook.

Dr. Willoughby said from the doorway: “Bradford?”

“What’s happened?” asked Bradford tensely.

And then Chief Dakin came in, unknowing, and his face was like a mask. He was carrying Nora’s hatbox and the fat tan book with the neat gilt title, Edgcomb’s Toxicology.

Dakin stopped. ”Happened?” he asked quickly. ”What’s this?”

Dr. Willoughby said: “Nora Haight is going to have a baby. In about five months.”

And then there was no sound at all but Pat’s exhausted sobs against Ellery’s chest.

“No . . . ” said Bradford in a wincing voice. ”That’s . . . too much.” And with a queer begging gesture toward Chief of Police Dakin he stumbled out. They heard the front door slam.

“I won’t be responsible for Mrs. Haight’s life,” said Dr. Willoughby harshly, “if she’s put through any more scenes like the one just now. You can call in Wright County’s whole medical fraternity to confirm what I just said. She’s pregnant, in an extremely nervous condition; she has a naturally delicate constitution to begin with¯”

“Look, Doc,” said Dakin, “it ain’t my fault if¯”

“Oh, go to hell,” said Dr. Willoughby. They heard him climbing furiously back up the stairs.

Dakin stood still in the middle of the room, Nora’s hatbox in one hand and Jim’s book on poisons in the other.

Then he sighed and said: “But it ain’t my fault. And now these three letters in Mrs. Haight’s hatbox and this medical book with the arsenic part all marked up¯”

“All right, Dakin,” said Ellery. His arms tightened about Pat.

“These three letters,” said Dakin doggedly. ”They practically make our case. And finding ‘em in Mrs. Haight’s closet . . . Looks mighty odd to me. I don’t get this¯”

Pat cried: “Doesn’t that convince you? Would Nora have kept those letters if she thought Jim was trying to poison her? Are you all so stupid¯”

“So you did know about the letters,” said the Chief, blinking. ”I see. And you’re in on this, too, Mr. Smith. Not that I blame you. I got a family, too, and it’s good to be loyal to friends. I got nothing against Jim Haight, or you Wrights . . . But I got to find the facts. If Jim Haight’s innocent, he’ll be acquitted, never you worry . . . ”

“Go away, please,” said Ellery.

Dakin shrugged and left the house, taking his evidence with him. He looked angry and bitter.

At eleven o’clock that morning, February fourteenth, the day of St. Valentine, when all Wrightsville was giggling over comic cards and chewing candy out of heart-shaped boxes, Chief of Police Dakin returned to 460 Hill Drive with Patrolman Charles Brady, nodded to Patrolman Dick Gobbin, and Patrolman Dick Gobbin knocked on the front door.

When there was no answer, they went in.

They found Jim Haight snoring on the living-room sofa in a mess of cigarette butts, dirty glasses, and half-empty whisky bottles.

Dakin shook Jim, not ungently, and finally Jim snorted. His eyes were all red and glassy.

“Hunh?”

“James Haight,” said Dakin, holding out a blue-backed paper, “I hereby arrest you on the charge of the attempted murder of Nora Wright Haight and the murder of Rosemary Haight.”

Jim screwed up his eyes, as if he could not see well.

Then he reddened all over his face. He shouted: “No!”

“Better come without a fuss,” said Dakin; and he walked out with a quick, relieved step.

Charles Brady said later to the reporters at the Courthouse: “Seemed like Haight just caved in. Never saw anything like it. You could just see the fella sort of fold up, in pieces, like a contraption. I says to Dick Gobbin: ‘Better take that side of him, Dick, he’s gonna collapse,’ but Jim Haight, he just made a kind of shoving motion at Dick, and I’ll be doggone if he don’t start to laugh¯all folded up! An’ he says, so you could hardly hear him through the laughin’¯an’ let me tell you fellas, the stink of booze was enough to send you higher’n a kite¯he says: ‘Don’t tell my wife.’ And he comes along nice and quiet. Now wasn’t that a crazy thing for a fella to say who’s just been arrested for murder? ‘Don’t tell my wife.’ Facin’ a murder rap an’ thinkin’ of sparin’ his wife’s feelin’s! How could anybody keep it from her, anyway? Don’t tell my wife! I tell you the fella’s a nut.”

All Patrolman Gobbin said was: “G-o-b-b-i-n. That’s right, fellas. Hey, this’ll give my kids a real kick!”

PART FOUR