Midsummer Night’s Scream by Edward D. Hoch

The victim was shot once in the back of the head by someone he knew — someone at the party.

I flipped the top on a bottle of beer and tried to concentrate on pouring it into the glass. “I suppose it’s my own fault in a way,” I told my host and hostess. “I kept urging Marsha to be more of a liberated woman, and pretty soon she got to be so liberated she walked off and left me.”

Helen Riggs laid a hand on my tanned forearm. “You’re always so cool about everything, Mark. Maybe that was part of the trouble. Maybe Marsha needed someone a little more serious at times.”

Helen’s husband Charles snorted. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Mark, the only thing Marsha needed was a change of bed partners. And she got that!”

I sipped my beer and decided to change the subject. Helen and Charles were two of my oldest friends in Elmbrook, and while I didn’t feel like discussing my ex-wife with them, I didn’t feel I could tell them to mind their own business either. “How many are you expecting tonight?” I asked, gazing out the wide kitchen window at the lighted swimming pool and the fire pit beyond it. The Riggs’ teenage sons were already piling up the wood for the hot dog roast, and I could hear the sound of summer music on the hi-fi.

“Just ten,” Helen answered, suddenly active in her food preparation. “Us and you and the Barrens and the Walkers and Fritz and Gert. Fritz just got laid off at work. He’s feeling pretty low.”

“That’s nine.”

She looked at me innocently. “What?”

“That’s only nine people. You said ten.”

“Did I? Oh, I guess one of the girls from Charles’ office might drop by. Isn’t that right, Charles?”

He avoided my eyes and said, “Yeah. Sally Tern. Cute kid.”

“Tern like in bird?”

“That’s right. She’s one of our secretaries. Got a good head on her shoulders.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Now Mark...” Helen began, her hands full of lettuce leaves.

“You two are intent on marrying me off again, aren’t you?” I swallowed more beer. “My God, isn’t once enough?”

Charles put his hand on my shoulder. “We don’t give a damn if you marry the girl or sleep with her or ignore her, buddy. Helen and I just don’t like to see you lonely, by yourself. Right now, so soon after the divorce, you should be making new friends.”

“Thanks.” I welcomed a chance to change the subject again. “Here come the Walkers.”

Nelse Walker was in real estate, which was a profitable field in a fast-growing suburban community like Elmbrook. His wife, whose first name I could never remember, was a bit too plump and dowdy for the rest of the crowd. People tended to talk around her, or through her, and to forget her first name.

“Good to see you again, Nelse,” I said, opening the patio door and extending my hand. “How’s the real estate business?”

“Can’t complain.” He lowered his voice a little. “We were sorry to hear about you and Marsha, old chum.”

“It happens all the time these days,” I said with a shrug. Then, acting like the host, I offered him a beer.

The last traces of daylight had disappeared and Charles was back with the boys lighting the bonfire when Helen came up to me by the pool and introduced a slim blonde woman with tiny breasts. “Mark, this is Sally Tern. She works with Charles at the office.”

“Hello, Sally.”

“Hi.”

“Can I get you a beer?” I asked, silently cursing Helen for her quick retreat that left us alone.

“Thanks.”

I brought it to her and then managed to introduce her to the Walkers. “Didn’t anyone bring their swimsuits?” Mrs. Walker asked. “I don’t want to go in alone!”

“It seemed a bit cool,” Sally Tern answered, gazing longingly at the bonfire. I saw Gert and Fritz arriving and slipped away to greet them.

“Hi, Mark,” Gert said, kissing me on the cheek. “You heard about Fritz’s job?”

“Yeah, too bad. He got any prospects?”

“Just the unemployment office. And we’ve got a daughter starting college in another month!”

Fritz Obern was a good and close friend, like Gert. I’d known them since their marriage nearly twenty years ago, and I’d been like an uncle to their kids. Fritz had the appearance of a high school football coach, wearing his hair in a modified brushcut long after the look had gone out of style but in truth he was an accountant and a damned good one. I couldn’t understand Elmbrook Dairy letting him go.

“The whole place is a mess since the merger,” he confided. “I should have seen the writing on the wall, but I didn’t. So I’m forty years old and out of work.”

“Help yourself, lover.”

“You shouldn’t call me that. People will get ideas.” I dug through the lipsticks and chewing gum, past the day’s bank deposit slip from the Liquorium and a key ring with a rabbit’s foot attached. On top of the cigarettes I found a clipping neatly cut from the local newspaper. “What’s this?”

She turned, startled, then smiled when she saw what I held. “Didn’t you see it? I brought it along to show you.”

It was a brief announcement of the fact that Marsha, formerly of Elmbrook, had married her professor in Ann Arbor. “When was this in?”

“Just tonight. You should read the evening paper more closely.”

“Well, I wish her luck.”

“She didn’t waste any time, did she?”

“Not much. The decree was final just last week.”

“So her liberation didn’t last very long.”

I didn’t feel like making small talk about it. “Want a beer before the roast?”

“Can’t. I promised that Walker woman I’d go in the pool with her.”

I glanced around for Fritz but he seemed to be missing. There were some figures silhouetted against the flames out in back but I couldn’t identify them from this distance. Nelse Walker strolled over to watch his wife dive into the pool. In a one-piece bathing suit she was even more dowdy than in slacks, but he didn’t seem to mind. When Barbara appeared, wearing a navy blue tank suit, he asked, “Isn’t that Andy Barron’s wife? The liquor store guy?”

“Something will turn up,” I tried to assure him. “Sooner than you expect.”

“Here’s Barbara Barron,” Helen announced. “But where’s Andy?”

Barbara — tight-jeaned, smiling and sure of herself — shot me a special look reserved for divorced men. “Counting his money. He’ll be along.” Andy owned the town’s only liquor store and it didn’t close till nine. Once or twice when we were going out with them, Marsha and I had waited while he totaled the day’s receipts. On a summer’s weekend like this it could be a sizable amount.

Charles glanced out at the fire. “As soon as the flames die down we can start roasting the hot dogs.”

“How are you, lover?” Barbara asked me. “Enjoying your freedom?”

“Not especially.”

“I’ll bet Marsha’s enjoying hers.”

Mrs. Walker wandered up. “Am I the only one that brought a bathing suit?” she asked again. “I don’t want to go in the pool alone.”

Barbara winked at me. “I’ll go in with you. Helen, have you still got that old suit that fits me?”

Helen nodded. “It’s hanging up in the changing room.”

“Come talk to me while I change,” Barbara said to me.

“No thanks.” I patted her oversized white purse. “Got any cigarettes in there?”

“Sure. I thought you’d been introduced.”

“I didn’t catch the name, but I remember seeing her around the store. Where’s he?”

He glanced around to make sure he couldn’t be overheard and said. “I happened in there one day and Andy was fooling around with someone in the back room.”

“Oh?”

He glanced around again. “I think it was Helen.”

“Helen Riggs?” I looked around for our hostess, but I didn’t see her anywhere. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“It was probably all innocent,” he admitted, backtracking a bit.

Barbara picked that minute to dive into the pool, splattering us both. She surfaced smiling and said, “Hope I didn’t get you boys wet.”

“Not at all.” I wiped myself off with a handy napkin and drifted out toward the fire, leaving Nelse Walker to contemplate the ample flesh of his wife.

Gert and Sally Tern were helping with the fire, but there was still no sign of Fritz. I steered clear of another encounter with Sally and joined Charles instead. He’d assembled ten long sticks for the hot dogs and was beginning to pass them out. Fritz Obern appeared from somewhere then and I decided he’d been off by himself brooding about the lost job. “What’s this party for, anyway?” he asked Charles.

Our host shrugged. “Midsummer night, maybe. It’s July 31st. Isn’t that midsummer night, when people dance around fires?”

Because I knew a little about such things I answered, “Not exactly. Midsummer day is traditionally June 24th, which is just after the beginning of summer. At least that’s what it is in England. But people do dance around the fires tonight, or at least witches do — July 31 is the eve of Lammas, one of the four witches’ Sabbaths, like Halloween.”

Fritz snorted. “I know you don’t believe that garbage, Mark.”

“What garbage?” Barbara asked, coming up to us with a towel around her wet body. I saw the fire reflecting off the droplets on her bare thighs, and I looked away.

Charles laughed. “Oh, Mark is just bewitching us with his knowledge, as usual. These teachers!”

Helen came up and took some of the sticks from him. “Come on, everyone! Time to roast your hot dogs! We’ve got marshmallows too, for later.”

For the next half-hour we were busy at the fire, and I made an effort to be civil toward Sally Tern, if only for Charles and Helen’s benefit. She wasn’t a bad girl, really, and in other days I might have found her a pleasant companion.

“Charles probably told you I’m divorced,” I said at one point.

“He said your wife gave you a bum deal. I hope you’re not bitter.”

“No, just a bit sad, I suppose.”

Helen was trying to get a little singing organized, but without much success. The fire was dying down and I tossed another log on it. That was when I became aware of a newcomer to our tight little circle.

“Is it Andy?” Barbara asked, straining to see.

“Afraid not, Mrs. Barron,” a voice answered. “It’s Chief of Police Lambert.” He stepped closer to the firelight and we could see his gaunt, tired face. “Afraid I’ve got some bad news. There was a robbery at the Liquorium.”

“Andy...?”

“He’s dead, Mrs. Barron. Somebody shot him.”

That was when she screamed.

The women took Barbara upstairs to rest while Chief Lambert gathered the four men around the pool. The fire, forgotten now, sent up a few high-flying sparks and Charles Riggs called to one of his, sons to extinguish it with the hose.

“Were you the first to arrive?” Chief Lambert asked me.

“That’s right.”

He turned to Nelse Walker and Fritz. “And were you both here before Mrs. Barron arrived?”

They agreed they were. “She said Andy was still counting the money,” Nelse said. “I remember hearing that.”

“What’s all the questioning for?” Charles wanted to know.

Chief Lambert shifted uneasily. “Well, you know I always swing by the Liquorium the nights I’m on duty an’ give Andy a lift to the bank so he can use the night depository. ’Specially on Saturday nights he has quite a wad — maybe as much as five thousand dollars.”

Nelse Walker looked surprised at the amount. “That much!”

“Anyway, tonight when I got there the lights were on an’ the door was locked. I figured he was inside, ’cause when he goes off to the bank by himself he turns off the lights. Then I saw his feet sticking out from behind the counter. I smashed the glass in the door and unlocked it. He was dead, shot once in the back of the head.”

“So why are you questioning us?” Charles repeated. “You certainly don’t think we know anything about it!”

Chief Lambert shifted again, gazing down at the smooth water of the swimming pool. Overhead, a few moths darted in and out of the light beams. “Well, you see he musta opened the door for his killer. Now he wouldn’t have done that for a stranger — not with all the money around. He opened the door, turned his back, and got shot. There’s no getting around it, fellas — Andy knew the person that shot him and stole the money. Knew him well, and trusted him.”

“I can’t believe that,” Nelse said.

“Hell, you all know. Andy. He wouldn’t have offered any resistance. He was killed because he knew the robber.” Chief Lambert, hurried on, enlarging his theory. “Now I’m not sayin’ any of you are involved, but when Mrs. Barron arrived alone you all musta known he was back at the store countin’ up. Nelse here says she mentioned it, in fact.”

“That’s right,” I agreed. “She did mention it.”

“So one of you might have slipped away, through the back yards and down to Main Street, long enough to kill Andy and take the money.”

“That’s crazy,” Fritz protested. But I was remembering how he’d been missing, off on a walk, for a while. I tried to remember if anyone else had been missing.

Chief Lambert’s mind was running the same way. “Can you all account for your time during the last couple of hours?”

Nelse was the first to speak. “I was mostly here by the pool, watching my wife and Barbara — Mrs. Barron — in swimming.”

“All of the time?”

“Well, no. I went in to use the toilet once. I guess most of us did, with all this beer.”

Chief Lambert nodded, then turned to Charles. “I think I should get a statement from everybody here. Sorry to mess up your party like this, but a murder is pretty serious business.”

Helen Riggs came out from the house then and joined Charles. “How’s Barbara?” I asked.

“Resting. I gave her one of my tranquilizers.”

“Sleeping?” Chief Lambert asked. “I’ll need to talk with her.”

“No, not sleeping. She said she’d be down soon.”

Fritz Obern stepped forward then. “You’d better take a statement from me next, Chief. I was away for about twenty minutes. I went for a walk back in the woods.”

Lambert seemed startled by this admission. “Alone?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

Gert was at his side. “He’s been depressed about losing his job. Is there any crime against that?”

“No,” Chief Lambert admitted, taking a few notes. “There’s just crimes against things like murder an’ robbery.”

The Chief took Fritz aside to question him further and I found a chance to be alone with Helen. She was starting to pick up glasses and plates, as if sensing the spirit had gone out of the party. “It turned into one hell of a night, didn’t it?” I said.

“I feel sorry for Barbara.”

I watched the last glowing embers of the bonfire out back. “Did you know Andy well?”

She glanced up at me. “As well as any of us, I suppose.”

“I heard something. Gossip. I thought you should know.”

“About Andy and—”

“You were in the back room with him. Something like that.”

She glanced over at Nelse Walker. “I know who you heard that from! With a wife like he’s got, I suppose he’s entitled to invent fantasies about other women.”

“I didn’t think it was true.”

She turned her gaze toward me. “I won’t say there wasn’t a little truth to it. Andy was a handsome guy, and I can have fantasies too.”

“I thought I was the only one with marriage problems.”

“Everybody has them these days. We just react to them differently.”

I left her by the pool and strolled out to the dying fire. The kids hadn’t put it out as their father had ordered, but then I guess kids never like to put out fires. They were standing there watching it, and I took the hose from one of them, turning the nozzle and squirting the smoking embers. “It’s over,” I said to them. “The party’s over.”

Sally Tern appeared from somewhere to join me, and I wondered if she’d been in the house with the other women. “Was he a close friend of yours?” she asked, with the vague sympathy one felt toward the death of a stranger.

“Sure,” I said. “He was one of the crowd. We all knew him.”

“It’s a terrible thing.”

There was a crumpled piece of paper lying at the edge of the charred logs and I stooped to pick it up. Then I shoved it into my pocket before she could see what it was. Charles was starting to turn out the yard lights so we headed back to the house together.

“Do you like working with Charles?” I asked, making conversation.

“Sure. It’s always something different.”

She seemed very young to me just then. As some of the others seemed very old.

Barbara had reappeared, cluthing a handkerchief in one hand and now changed from the bathing suit she’d been wearing when Chief Lambert arrived. He was talking to her by the pool, still making notes in a dog-eared little book.

“I’m trying to establish the time of death, Mrs. Barron. The best the autopsy will show will be within a couple of hours. What time did you leave the store?”

“Just at nine o’clock,” she replied, “He locked the door after me and went back to counting up the money.”

“And I came by at ten to ten. So that leaves a period of fifty minutes when it happened.”

“Nobody saw or heard anything?”

He shook his head. “Appears not.” He looked for someone else to question and lit on Nelse Walker. I glanced around for Mrs. Walker and decided she was still inside.

“How you feeling?” I asked Barbara as she walked away.

“Lousy. I have to go down now to claim the body and make the funeral arrangements. Will you come with me, Mark?”

“If you really want me to. I thought we might talk some first, though.”

“What about?”

I edged her away from the group at the pool, heading out the back again. “I want to find out why you killed Andy,” I said quietly.

“I didn’t—”

“I’m not the police chief, Barbara. You don’t have to lie to me.”

“But that’s crazy! I was here! I was in the pool with—”

“You shot him before you came here, Barbara. I can prove it.”

That stopped her. “Prove it? How?”

“When I went into your purse for cigarettes earlier I found the day’s bank deposit slip for the Liquorium. The slip couldn’t have been made out till after Andy counted his money. It meant he was through counting when you left him and you lied about it.”

“I—”

“He cashed up early so he could come to the party. He was probably going to swing by the night depository on the way here. But you shot him in the back of the head and took the money to make it look like a robbery. You must have remembered the deposit slip at the last minute and stuffed that in your purse, so it would look like he’d still been cashing up when he killed. Now that I think of it, you were pretty startled when I asked what that was in your purse, before you saw me holding the clipping.”

“You’re crazy, Mark. There was no deposit slip.”

I took it out of my pocket. “I’ve got it, Barbara. You tried to toss it in the fire but you missed.”

She made a grab for it, but I was too fast for her. “Damn you, Mark!”

“In Andy’s handwriting, with today’s date. It could convict you of murder, Barbara — or at the very least start Chief Lambert asking some embarrasing questions.”

“All right — I just couldn’t stand living with him any more. Is that answer enough for you?”

“Then why didn’t you simply divorce him?” I couldn’t see her face in the dimness, but I could tell Helen’s tranquilizer was keeping her reasonably calm. “People do it everyday.”

“And be left without any money?”

“You’d have gotten alimony.”

“Not if I remarried.”

“And who were you planning to—” Then I stopped, because I knew the answer. I’d forgotten the clipping I also found in her purse.

“I did it for you, Mark — don’t you see that? Now we’re both free and I’ve got his money. And the store!”

I knew then that I had to tell Chief Lambert about it. Keeping quiet would only have involved me deeper in her crazy scheme. “It’s time to go back,” I said.

She stood for a moment in the dim light, staring down at the place where the fire had been. Then she hugged herself and shivered. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

“All over.”