Red Gardenias

CHAPTER XII

While Williams waited for Mr Jameson, the Brookfield real-estate man, in front of the house, Ann got ice and glasses from the pantry. Crane stretched out on the blue couch in the living room. "This feels nice," he said.

Ann said, "Bill, why do we fight all the time?"

"I guess it s my drinking."

"It s partly."

"Maybe you just don t like me."

" But I do. I like you very much."

"Would you like me more if I gave up drinking?"

"Yes."

"Then I ll give it up."

"Just don t drink so terribly much."

"No, I won t drink at all. But you have to promise to like me."

She came to the couch and touched Crane s neck with her fingers. "You re nice," she said. "I ll like you."

Her fingers were cool and soft. He tried to take hold of her hand, but she moved away from the couch. She went to a chair across the room. "What about this case, Bill?" she asked.

They tried to agree on a major suspect, but they couldn t. They decided Talmadge March had the best motives: hatred and a desire for money, but Ann said she was sure Donovan had something to do with the deaths.

"I still think he and Talmadge might be working together," she said.

"And I still think the murderer would work alone," said Crane. "He wouldn t dare have an accomplice. Too much chance for blackmail."

Ann thought, in that case, she would just suspect Talmadge. He would naturally hate John for informing Simeon March he was in the night-club business.

So would Dr Woodrin, Crane said. Probably even more, because he had lost all his money in the venture. But Crane couldn t see why the doctor would kill Richard, unless he wanted Carmel.

"He likes her," Ann admitted.

"But Carmel likes Peter."

Ann s face became guarded. "He should kill Peter next, then."

"That doesn t make much sense, killing a lot of people to make a girl you hope to marry rich."

"How about Simeon March?" Ann asked.

"Why not?" Crane wished his head would stop aching. "Don t they always pin it on the person who calls in the detectives?"

"And Alice March?"

"I always suspect people I don t like."

"You ought to suspect Peter, then."

"Don t you know I m crazy about Peter?"

"You mean Carmel, don t you?"

A cool voice from the door asked, "What about me?"

It was Carmel March. Her black velvet dress was pulled tight about her waist by a gold belt, but below her flat hips it flared out in a soft curve. She had on long black gloves, and there was a gold bracelet below the puffed sleeve of her dress.

"You ll excuse my not standing," Crane said. "I don t think I can."

"We were just talking over the party last night," Ann said. "Bill has had a relapse."

Carmel came slowly into the room" I knew you were going to feel bad when I saw you drinking champagne with that woman."

Ann said, "He went on to laudanum."

Carmel said, "Goodness! Champagne and Laudanum?"

"Nothing like that," Crane said. "I wouldn t spoil good laudanum with champagne."

"How in the world did you get home?" Carmel asked.

"By American Express, I think."

Carmel had a nice husky laugh. "I m upset about Alice March," she said. She sat beside Crane s knees on the couch.

"Why?"

"I want to know what to do about her." She moved her body so her thigh was against his hip. "I need your advice."

Ann said coldly, "I ll leave you two alone."

"Please don t." Carmel looked up at Ann. "I want your help, too." Her dark eyes, shaped like niggertoe nuts, were luminous. "I m really scared. Alice has practically accused me of murder."

Ann said, "Oh, she couldn t have!"

Carmel said, "She hasn t come out with it… She just hints." She paused for nearly a minute, then added, "But I m afraid a lot of people think it s the truth."

"But why…?" Ann began.

Carmel repeated the story she had told Crane of Richard s murder and John s subsequent suicide. She concluded in a low voice, "I tried not to let it happen.

I liked Richard, but I didn t care for him. I really didn t."

Crane almost believed she was telling the truth, even though he knew John had been murdered. She might have been fooled by the murderer. The note might have been cleverly forged.

Ann said, "I suppose the odor of gardenias and the lipstick on Richard s face made Alice suspicious?"

"You shouldn t have kissed him," Crane said.

"But I didn t. He tried to kiss me and I struggled. That s how the lipstick got on him."

Crane asked, "What gave Richard the idea he could have an affair with you?"

"John didn t pay much attention to me. He was away a great deal, on business." Her big eyes were dark. "I think he looked on me as an amusing possession, an interesting pet."

"But why," Crane pursued, "did you want Richard s correspondence if you d evaded his advances?"

"I d written him a few notes. They might have been misinterpreted."

"Oh."

Ann said, "I think you were brave to conceal John s suicide."

Carmel said, "I m not brave now." Her eyes stared at ripe-tomato coals in the fireplace. "I wanted to find out if you… if you thought I should tell the truth…to stop Alice from talking."

"I d keep quiet for a while," Crane said. "Remember, the truth would probably kill Simeon March." She nodded.

Ann asked, "How does Alice drop these things?"

"She and Talmadge are always talking about gardenias."

"Why don t you slap her face?" Ann asked.

"Oh, I couldn t do that!" Carmel s eyes widened.

Crane looked at Ann with surprise. She should know a lady would never slap another lady. What was she thinking of?

The doorbell rang. Ann said, "That must be Peter." She left them.

Carmel said, "She doesn t like me, does she?"

"Sure she does," Crane said.

She was silent, and he thought what a really beautiful woman she was. She was alabaster and pomegranate, like the babe in the Bible. He wondered what had been the matter with John, going away on business all the time.

Peter came in with Ann. His face was clean shaven and freshly powdered. He still looked a little embarrassed, but not sullen. "Hello," he said.

Crane said, "How about a drink?"

"Sure."

Ann mixed brandy and soda, distributed the glasses. She gave Crane a glass of tomato juice, asked, "You can have some brandy, if you want it, darling."

"I love tomato juice."

His hand was not quite steady, and in bending toward the drink, his head came close to Carmel s shoulder. He smelled the scent of gardenias. He wished she would use some other perfume. It gave him a funny feeling. He finished the drink, saw the others looking at him.

"Just a mild case of jitters," he explained.

Ann said, "Beside you a man with the palsy would look like the Rock of Gibraltar."

Williams came into the room with the younger Mr Jameson. "Here s Mr Jameson, Mr Crane," he said formally. "His bill is twenty-five dollars."

Crane didn t know what Williams was doing; he didn t know what Jameson was charging for, but he handed out two tens and a five. Going to the door, the real-estate man spoke to Peter March.

"How are you, Mr March? Haven t seen you since that day in Brookfield."

"I m fine, thanks," Peter said.

Williams followed Jameson out the door. Crane thought, what the hell! He began to see what Williams meant. "Huh?" he said.

"You re going shooting with us Sunday? "Peter asked.

"Sure."

"Somebody ll call for you at six."

"Gosh! With the Country Club party tonight, I d better get to bed."

"Not until you eat with me," Ann said.

Peter said, "If Bill s tired you can eat with me."

"I m not tired," Crane said.

"Come over to my house, Peter," Carmel said. "Eat with me."

"No, thanks."

"What s the matter? Are you angry with me?" Carmel demanded.

Peter March finished his highball, stood up. "Thanks for the drink," he said to Ann.

"You think I m a murderer, too?" Carmel asked.

"Carmel!" Peter s lips turned blue. "Let s keep family quarrels in the family."

Carmel pushed against Crane, stood up, too. "To hell with the family!" She was really angry. "Why don t you say what you re thinking?"

"All right." Anger brought Peter s heavy brows down over his eyes. "I m thinking you didn t have to be so nasty to Alice."

"She practically called me a murderer!"

"That s no reason to start a brawl." He faced her. "The Marchs have always been gentlemen and… ladies."

Carmel came toward him with quick steps. "Do you call murder a gentlemanly accomplishment?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don t you know that John killed Richard?"

"Over you?" His eyes, his mouth were O s of astonishment. He stared at Carmel. "I don t believe you."

Crane admired the melodrama. A woman telling her husband s brother that her husband murdered his cousin. He wondered if Ann had caught the additional implication of Jameson s surprising identification of Peter March. It would be strange, he thought, if she were in love with Peter and Williams turned him up for murder. He looked at Ann, but her green eyes were on Peter March.

Carmel spoke in a whisper. "John did kill Richard, though. And then he killed himself."

Belief and a trace of horror came into Peter s eyes. "It wasn t an accident?"

"He left a note saying he d killed Richard. Paul Woodrin saw it."

Crane felt almost certain she was telling the truth. He was sure there had been a note. Dr Woodrin wouldn t lie about that. Of course, she could have written the note herself, showed it to the doctor, then destroyed it.

"But why didn t…?" Peter began.

"I was afraid it would kill your father."

Peter collapsed in the big damask chair opposite the couch. "Poor John…" He looked up at Carmel. "You should have told me." He looked at Crane… suddenly became conscious of him. "But these people… how do…?"

"I told them," Carmel said. "I knew they suspected something ever since the night you tried to get my letters for me." She was very pale, but emotion made her black eyes magnificent. "And I wanted disinterested advice… whether or not I should tell… Alice s hints…"

"What did you say?" Peter asked Crane.

"I told her to see if the gossip didn t blow over."

Peter nodded. He said, "Carmel, I want to talk with you."

She said, "All right."

They went to the door. "Good-by, and thank you," Carmel said.

"We haven t done anything," Ann said.

Back in the living room, Crane said, "Was something said about food?"

Ann said, "I think I believe Carmel."

Crane sat on the couch.

"Peter believed her," Ann said.

"You like Peter, don t you?"

"Yes, I do."

"How would you feel if I told you Doc Williams just slipped a noose over his neck?"

"Bill!" Her green eyes widened. "You re joking!"

Williams came in from the dining room. "Not much!" He had a scotch and soda in his hand. "Jameson certainly put Peter on the spot. It was Peter, not John, who asked about Richard s Brookfield house."

Ann objected, "But Jameson identified John s photograph."

Crane said, "Newspaper photographs are lousy."

"And John and Peter looked a lot alike," Williams said. "That s what gave me the idea of having Jameson see Peter in person." He was very proud of himself.

Ann s lips were scornful. "That doesn t make him a murderer."

Williams said, "The voices… They sounded alike, too."

Crane explained, " Peter, not John, suspected Richard was having an affair with Carmel. So Peter caught her parked with Richard in the car. Carmel thought it was John in the darkness because their voices sounded alike."

"And when Peter comes back to the party," Williams said, "Richard has had a whiff too much of gas."

Crane improvised, "And then John becomes suspicious of Peter… and gets killed, too."

"But the suicide note," Ann objected. "You can t get around the suicide note."

"Who d know John s writing? Who could best forge the note?"

After a long time, Ann said, "Peter, I guess."