The Case of the Turning Tide

Chapter 21

Joan Harpler looked across the desk at Frank Duryea with frank, steady eyes, eyes in which there was the hint of a smile.

“I feel like a notorious woman,” she said.

“I’m sorry you’ve been inconvenienced, but I had no idea there’d been any notoriety. I thought I’d handled that angle very carefully.”

“Oh, but you have. I didn’t say I was notorious. I said I felt like a notorious woman.”

There was something about this young woman that bothered the district attorney. She had a calm assurance, a poise which almost made him feel ill at ease. Trying to analyze it, he thought that perhaps it came from a complete lack of nervousness. Most of the witnesses who sat across that desk from him had something to conceal, something that was preying on their minds. And, knowing that their consciences had a tender spot, they were in fear that the district attorney’s questions might suddenly jab at the sore place — and so they schooled themselves, behind a casual mask, to conceal any little wince which might have come from this sudden prodding. But this young woman apparently regarded her visit as merely an entertaining interlude.

“You look far from being a notorious woman,” Duryea said. “You look young and rather unsophisticated.”

She laughed at him. “I’ll have to remedy that. Young women rather resent being referred to as unsophisticated these days.”

“Well,” Duryea went on, “what I meant was that you’re hardly the type one would expect to find sailing alone in a private yacht. Don’t you usually have parties with you when you cruise?”

“Oh, sometimes — when they’re congenial. But I get bored with these average yachting parties, men on the make, girls trying to have a fling, too much liquor — and then your yacht’s a mess afterwards. I have a yacht because I like the sea. I like big game fishing. I have a few friends who have similar tastes.”

“Isn’t that rather a large yacht for a person who likes to cruise with a small party?”

“She’s larger than I would have selected if I’d been building it. I picked it up last year. Naturally, I got it at a bargain. And she’s a dream. Now, I’m warning you. I know you didn’t get me up here simply to ask me about my yacht and my tastes for yachting. You’re sort of feeling me out before you start swapping punches. But if you get me started talking about the Albatross, you won’t hear anything else. So you’d better come right to the point.”

Duryea smiled. “Even conceding that you have the most marvelous yacht on the coast, don’t you find it rather inconvenient cruising alone?”

“Yes. I don’t very often do it.”

“And I gather this trip to Santa Delbarra was an exception?”

“In a way, yes.”

“Would it be fair to ask what made it an exception?”

She laughed. “You certainly maneuver very adroitly, Mr. Duryea. For a moment I thought that talk of the yacht was merely a preliminary sparring. You launched your attack so smoothly I didn’t see it coming.”

He matched her smile, but beneath the courtesy of that smile was a steady insistence.

“A young man in whom I find myself taking more and more of an interest is getting a little — well, a little too independent. No. I don’t really mean that, Mr. Duryea. It isn’t that he’s in-dependent, but that he wants to rob me of my independence. Our friendship has progressed to that stage where he thinks that he has the right to tell me what I shall do and what I shall not do. And so I found it very convenient to take a trip without telling him where I was going or with whom. Afterwards, when the questioning and protests would come, I could wait until the smoke had blown away, proved to him I had been taking a cruise all by myself, and placed him in the position of being very much in the wrong. I thought it would be good discipline — and if he made too much of an issue, I would realize in time how very unfortunate it would be to have him in the role of a jealous husband.”

“Isn’t that going to a lot of trouble just to train a young man?”

“Training a young man is a lot of trouble, anyway,” she laughed. “However, I suddenly found that I was far more fond of this person than I had realized. I happen to value my in-dependence very highly. So there you are, Mr. Duryea. Rather a bad combination, one which requires thought — more than thought, meditation. And so you have the spectacle of a young woman traveling all by herself on a yacht.”

“I see. And your trip Sunday afternoon?”

She made a little grimace. “That trip! I certainly wish I’d kept out of the whole business. I find myself in the position of the innocent bystander who is collecting most of the bruises.”

“Hardly that bad, is it?”

“Almost. It’s decidedly inconvenient.”

“Perhaps you could tell me about that trip with the same frankness with which you’ve discussed the other?”

“More so because it’s so much less personal and because it is so evidently connected with the case.”

He smiled. “I’ll have to acknowledge that that was rather neatly delivered — even if it was below the belt.”

“I’m sorry. It was such a temptation. I should have concealed the barb a little more. Well, Miss Moline came aboard to change her clothes. I offered her the hospitality of my yacht. I thought that was the least one could do for a fellow yachts-man under the circumstances.”

“And then?”

“This young man — Shale — went ashore. I certainly felt sorry for him, watching him trudging along with his sopping wet clothes clinging to him. He was trying to carry it off with something of an air of nonchalance. I certainly sympathized with him, and yet I had to laugh.”

“You enjoy your laughs as you go through life?”

“Frankly, I do — and a good many of them are on myself.”

“Miss Moline was changing her clothes while you were watching young Shale?”

“Yes, and then she made me a proposition. She said that it was exceedingly important to her to find out who went aboard the Gypsy Queen. Aside from the officers, of course.”

“Did she say why she wanted to know?”

“Not in so many words. But she seemed trying to give the impression that some person had been expected to join the yachting party and hadn’t. She was anxious to find out whether that person had been delayed or decided not to join up. How-ever, that’s merely conjecture on my part. Shall we strike it from the record?”

“Exactly what was her proposition?”

“She wanted to know if I was open to a financial proposition. I told her I wasn’t, and then she explained what it meant to her and said that she’d get someone to keep watch, but that there was no place from which they could watch to advantage except from my yacht.”

“And I take it you granted her request?”

“Yes, very reluctantly.”

“For a financial consideration.”

“No. Of course not. I told her I’d be glad to co-operate.”

“This, I take it, is explaining that trip.”

“It is.”

“All right, go ahead.”

“Well, it seems she made an arrangement with Ted Shale by which he was to do most of the watching. She wanted to stay aboard and help. Well, that was all right. Then she suggested that Ted Shale go below to get some sleep, which he did. Then Miss Moline decided that there wouldn’t be any use trying to do anything while the officers were aboard the Gypsy Queen. She wanted to do some telephoning and asked me if I’d wake up Mr. Shale if I noticed the officers leaving the Gypsy Queen. I told her I wouldn’t promise to watch. Do you know, Mr. Duryea, I suddenly had an idea her whole plea had been be-cause she wanted to have someone aboard my yacht — to look through it, perhaps. I felt very resentful. I told her I wouldn’t keep watch to see when or if the officers left, and that I wouldn’t even promise to keep the yacht there. I let her see that I left I’d been imposed on a bit.”

“Well, she went ashore, and I kept feeling more and more resentful. But curiosity impelled me to look over at the other yacht occasionally. Then I began to think Miss Moline had perhaps merely wanted to have this Mr. Shale where she could keep him out of circulation for a while until she could shape his recollection of what had happened. Well, I got good and mad at the way she’d dumped her problems in my lap. So I decided to show her a thing or two. I just dropped the mooring and went for a little pleasure cruise.”

“Now, I believe you kept young Shale locked in his state-room?”

She smiled. “I went down to his cabin and called through the door that I was sailing and he’d have to go ashore. A violent snore was my only answer. I thought perhaps the young gentleman might be putting on an act. Or he might merely have been eager to accompany me on an unchaperoned yachting trip. I can assure you that ambitious young men under those circumstances can become very much of a nuisance. So I took steps to see that he would at least be awake when he left his room. I didn’t want him using the old alibi of walking in his sleep.”

“How far did you go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just went out and sailed around and watched the sun on the mountains.”

“And young Shale?”

“He woke up around sundown. He made an unearthly racket, and I went down to see how things were progressing. He seemed to be very unaccustomed to being locked in a room.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I was sorry I’d locked the door, but I’d decided to take a little sail, and I felt that an ounce of precaution would be better than a pound of struggle. He laughed and said he’d go back to sleep if I could reassure him he wasn’t being kidnapped. And how about his job? Well, he was so nice about it and sounded so thoroughly reasonable that I opened the door and let him out. I didn’t even exact any promises. I didn’t have to. He’s a nice chap, and he knows something about yachting. He helped me bring the yacht in.”

“Miss Moline met you?”

“Yes.”

“What was her attitude?”

She said, “I’m afraid Miss Moline has been a trifle spoiled. I had to explain to her that I wasn’t in her employ, and that I objected to being used as a cat’s-paw. Then she begged my pardon, and...”

“Did Mr. Shale remain on board to watch — after that?”

“Yes. Miss Moline apologized very prettily. She said she’d had to do some telephoning and it had taken much too long. She asked if I wouldn’t please let Mr. Shale watch until morning. She said she’d make other arrangements then, and would I be a good sport and not be too worried about the conventions.”

“What did you tell her?”

“By that time, I felt pretty well acquainted with Shale. I felt certain that, while he hadn’t taken any vows, a young woman who didn’t throw the first stone wouldn’t get hit with any rocks. So I told her I’d let it ride until morning.”

“What did she do after that?”

“She left to go to Los Angeles. It seemed Mr. Stearne’s lawyer had sent for her. Mr. Shale kept watch all night. He was a good soldier about it too. And a perfect gentleman.”

“You don’t know whether he saw anyone go aboard the yacht?” Duryea asked, more as a matter of routine than any-thing else.

“Yes. Someone went aboard before I had turned in. It was shortly after Miss Moline had left-oh, I’d say somewhere around one o’clock.”

Duryea sat bolt upright in his chair, his back rigid, his eyes hard and cautious. “You mean someone went aboard the Gypsy Queen?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“We don’t know.”

“Miss Moline wasn’t with you then?”

“No. She had gone.”

“Was this a man or a woman?”

Joan Harpler hesitated until the very hesitation became significant, then she said, “It was either a man — or a woman dressed in man’s clothes.”

“How long was this person aboard?”

“Not over five minutes.”

“Do you know what he was after?”

“Something that was on the yacht.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“You didn’t ask me to keep watch. I supposed that if you’d wanted the yacht watched, you’d have arranged to have had it watched. You certainly had plenty of men and plenty of opportunity.”

“Yes,” Duryea conceded. “I must admit you’re right there. Could you give a very clear description of this man?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t. He was rather an indistinct figure to me. He was very clever in handling a skiff. I noticed that. Shale was the one who watched him through the night glasses, and Shale would know more about him than I would. The man was carrying something, both when he went aboard and when he went ashore, a rather small, heavy bag of some sort.”

“How did you know it was heavy?”

“By the way he handled it, and then by the noise he made when he put it down in the bottom of the skiff.”

“A traveling bag?” Duryea asked.

“It was more like a small, square suitcase.”

He studied her face for a flicker of expression which would indicate that she knew the significance of what she was saying, but he could see nothing. “Was it a portable typewriter?”

She frowned as though trying to reconstruct the scene, and said, “It could very well have been a portable typewriter.”