Book: Raspberry Jam

C >> Carolyn Wells >> Raspberry Jam




The detective was grateful for this assistance.

"I came," he stated, without hesitation, "to ask you about the
circumstances of the party which Mrs, Embury attended here night
before last, the night her husband--died."

"Oh, yes; let me see--there isn't much to tell. Eunice Embury
spent the evening here--we had a game of cards--and, before
supper was served, Mr. Embury called for her and took her home
--in their car. That's all I know about it."

"What was the card game?"

"Bridge."

"For high stakes?"

"Oh, mercy, no! We never really gamble!" The fluttering little
hands deprecated the very idea. "We have just a tiny stake--to
--why, only to make us play a better game. It does, you know."

"Yes'm. And what do you call a tiny stake? Opinions differ, you
know."

"And so do stakes!" The blue eyes flashed a warning. "Of
course, we don't always play for the same. Indeed, the sum may
differ at the various tables. Are you prying into my private
affairs?"

"Only so far as I'm obliged to, ma'am. Never mind the bridge for
the moment. Was Mr. Embury annoyed with his wife--for any
reason--when he called to take her home?"

"Now, how should I know that?" a pretty look of perplexity came
into the blue eyes. "I'm not a mind reader!"

"You're a woman! Was Mr. Embury put out?"

Fifi laughed a ringing peal. "Was he?" she cried, as if suddenly
deciding to tell the truth. "I should say he was! Why, he was
so mad I was positively afraid of him!"

"What did he say?"

"That's just it! He didn't say anything! Oh, he spoke to me
pleasantly--he was polite, and all that, but I could see that he
was simply boiling underneath!"

"You are a mind reader, then!"

"I didn't have to be, to see that!" The little figure rocked
back and forth on the sofa, as, with arms clasped round one knee,
Fifi gave way to a dramatic reconstruction of the scene.

"'Come, Eunice,' he said, just like that! And you bet Eunice
went!"

"Was she angry, too?"

"Rather! Oh, you know her temper is something fierce! When
she's roused, she's like a roaring lion and a raging bear--as it
says in the Bible--or Shakespeare, or somewhere."'

"Speaking of Shakespeare, you and Mrs, Embury went to see
'Hamlet' recently, I believe."

"Oh, yes; when the Avon Players put it on. Everybody went.
Didn't you? You missed it, if you didn't! Most marvelous
performance. 'Macbeth,' too. That was perfectly darling! I
went to that with--"

"Excuse me. As to 'Hamlet,' now. Did you notice particularly
the speech about the poisoning of--"

"Of Hamlet's father! I should say I did! Why, that speech by
Mr. Postlewaite--he was 'The Ghost,' you know--was stunning, as
much applauded as the 'Soliloquy' itself! He fairly made you see
that poisoning scene!"

"Was Mrs, Embury interested?"

"Oh, we both were! We were at school together, and we both loved
Shakespeare--we took it 'Special.' And we were terribly
interested in the Avon Players' 'Hamlet'--it was unlike any
representation we had ever seen."

"Ah--yes; and did you--you and Mrs, Embury--discuss the poison
used by the wicked uncle?"

"Not lately. But in class we discussed that--years ago--oh,
that's one of the regulation Shakespearean puzzles. You can't
trip us up on our Shakespeare--either of us! I doubt if you can
find two frivolous society women who know it better than we do!"

"Did you know that Mr. Embury was killed in a manner identical
with the Hamlet murder?"

"No! What do you mean? I've really not heard the details. As
soon as I heard of his death, I called up Eunice, but, as I said,
she wasn't cordial at all. Then I was busy with my own guests
after that--last night and this morning--well, I'm really hardly
awake yet!"


Fifi rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand--a childish
gesture, and daintily smothered a slight yawn.

"But I'm awfully interested," she went on, "only--only I can't
bear to hear about--a--murder! The details, I mean. I should
think Eunice would go crazy! I should think she'd be glad to
come here--I was going to ask her, when she called me down! But,
what do you mean--killed like Hamlet's father?"

"Yes; there was poison introduced into his ear as Mr. Embury
slept--"

"Really! How tragic; How terrible! Who did it?"

"That's what we're trying to discover. Could--do you think Mrs,
Embury could have had sufficient motive--"

"Eunice!" Fifi screamed. "What an idea! Eunice Embury to kill
her own husband! Oh, no!"

"But only she and that aunt of hers had opportunity. You know
how their bedrooms are?"

"Oh, yes, I know. Miss Ames is using Eunice's dressing-room--and
a nuisance it is, too."

"Then you know that at night those three bedrooms are shut off
from the rest of the house by strong bolts on the inside of the
doors."

"Yes, I know."

"Then, don't you see, as Mr. Embury was killed--the doctors say
about daybreak, or earlier--nobody could have done it except
somebody who was behind those locked doors."

"The windows?"

"Tenth story, and no balconies. And, too, they all have
flower-boxes, except one, and the flowers were undisturbed. The
one that hasn't a flower-box is on the side street, in Miss Ames'
room. And that--I looked out myself--has no balcony, nor even
abroad ledge. It couldn't be reached from the next apartment--if
that's what you're thinking of."

"I'm not thinking of anything," returned Fifi. "I'm too dazed to
think! Eunice Embury! Do you mean she is really suspected?"

"I mean that, very decidedly, ma'am. And I am here to ask you if
you can give any additional evidence, any--"

"Any evidence! Evidence against my dear friend! Why, man, if I
knew anything, I wouldn't tell it, if it would go against
Eunice!"

"Oh, yes, you would; the law would force you to. But do you know
anything definite?"

"No, of course, I don't! I know that Mr. and Mrs. Embury were
not always cooing like turtle-doves! She had the devil's own
temper--and he wasn't much better! I know he drove her frantic
because he wouldn't give her some privileges she wanted--wouldn't
allow her certain latitudes, and was generally pretty dictatorial.
I know Eunice resented this, and I know that lots of times she
was pretty nearly at the end of her rope, and she said all sorts
of things--that, of course, she didn't mean--but she wouldn't kill
him! Oh, I don't think she would do that!"

"H'm! So they lived like cats and dogs, did they?"

"What an awful way to put it! But, well, Sanford didn't make
Eunice's life a bed of roses--nor did she go out of her way to
please him!"

"Mr. Embury was often a guest here?"

"He was not! Eunice came here, against his will--against his
expressed commands."

"Oho! She did! And her visit here night before last--that was
an act of insubordination?"

"It was! I wouldn't tell this--but it's sure to come out. Yes,
he had especially and positively forbidden her to come to that
party here, and after he went to his club--Eunice ran away from
home and came. Naughty girl! She told us she had played hookey,
when she first came in! But, good gracious, Mr. Shane, that was
no crime! In this day and generation a wife may disobey her
husband--and get away with it!"

The arch little face smiled saucily, and Fifi cuddled into her
corner, and again fell a-thinking.

"I can't believe you really mean you think Eunice did it!" she
broke out. "Why, what are you going to do? Arrest her?"

"Not quite. Although she is under strict surveillance at
present."

"What! Can't she go out, if she likes?"

"No."

"How perfectly absurd! Oh, I've a notion to telephone and ask
her to go for a drive. What fun!"

Shane looked at the mischievous face in astonishment. He was
experienced in human nature, but this shallow, frivolous attitude
toward a tragedy was new to him.

"I thought you and Mrs, Embury were friends," he said,
reprovingly.

"Oh, we are--Or rather, we were. I'm not sure I can know her
--after this! But, you see, I can't take it seriously. I can't
really believe you mean that you think Eunice--guilty! Why, I'd
a thousand times rather suspect the old aunt person!"

"You would!" Shane spoke eagerly. "Could that be possible?"

"It could be possible this way," Fifi was serious now. "You
see, Miss Ames adores Eunice. She found it hard to forgive
Sanford for his tyrannical ways--and they were tyrannical. And
Miss Ames might have, by way of ridding Eunice from a cruel
husband--might have--oh, I can't say it--it sounds too absurd!
But, after all, it's no more absurd than to suspect Eunice. Why
don't you look for somebody else?"

"How could anybody get in?"

"I know," impatiently; "but I've read detective stories, and
'most always, the murder is committed in what they call 'a
hermetically sealed room,' and yet somebody did get in!"

"There's no such thing as a hermetically sealed room! Don't you
know what hermetically sealed means?"

"Yes, of course I do, literally. But that phrase is used--in
detective stories, to mean an inaccessible room. Or a seemingly
inaccessible one. But always it comes out that it could be
entered."

"That's all very well in fiction, ma'am; but it won't work in
this case. Why, I looked over those door locks myself. Nobody
could get in."

"Well, leaving aside the way they got in, let's see whom we can
suspect. There's two men that I know of who are dead in love
with Mrs, Embury--and I daresay there are a lot more, who can see
a silver lining in this cloud!"

"What--what do you mean?"

Shane was fascinated by the lovely personality of Mrs, Desternay,
and he began to think that she might be of some real help to him.
Though a skilled detective, he was of the plodding sort, and
never had brilliant or even original ideas. He had had a notion
it would have been better to send Driscoll on this errand he was
himself attempting, but a touch of jealousy of the younger and
more quick-witted man made him determine to attend to Mrs,
Desternay himself.

"Well, Mr. Stupid, if you were in the presence of Mrs, Embury and
Mr. Elliott and Mr. Hendricks,--as you said you were--and didn't
size up how matters stand with those two men, you are a queer
sort of detective!"

Her light laughter rippled pleasantly, and Shane forgave her
reproof by reason of her charm.

"Both of them?" he said, helplessly.

"Yes, sir, both of them!" She mimicked his tone. "You see, Mr.
Shane, it's an old romance, all 'round. When Eunice Ames was a
girl, three men fought for her hand, the two we've just
mentioned, and Mr. Embury, who was the successful suitor. And he
succeeded only by sheer force of will. He practically stole her
from the other two and married her out of hand."

"I suppose the lady agreed?"

"Of course, but it was a marriage in haste, and--I imagine that
it was followed by the proverbial consequences."

"What do you mean?" asked the dull-witted Shane.

"That they repented at leisure. At least, Eunice did--I don't
believe Sanford ever regretted."

"But those two men are Embury's friends."

"Sure they are! Oh, friend Shane, were you born yesterday? I
thought detectives were a little more up-to-date than that! Of
course, they're all friends, always have been, since they made
mud-pies together in their Boston backyards."

"Did you belong to that childish group?

"Me? Lord, no! I'm Simon Pure Middle West! And I glory in it!
I'd hate to be of New England descent--you have to live up to
traditions and things! I'm a law unto myself, when it comes to
life and living!"

"And you met Mrs, Embury?"

"At boarding-school. We spent four years together--chums, and
all that. Then after we were both married, we drifted together
again, here in New York--and somehow Eunice's husband didn't take
to poor little Fifi one bit! I wonder why!"

Her look of injured innocence was charming, and Shane had to make
an effort to keep to the subject in hand.

"So those two men admire Mrs, Embury?"

"Admire is a silly word! They adore her--they worship the ground
she walks on! They are, no doubt, decently decorous at the
passing of their old friend, but as soon as the funeral baked
meats are cold enough, look out for a marriage table on which to
serve them!"

"Did--did Mr. Embury realize that his friends so admired his
wife?"

"Probably. Yes, of course, he did. But he didn't care. She was
his--she gave them no encouragement--such things aren't done--"
Fifi's eyes rolled upward--"and, I only tell you, to show you
that there are, at least, other directions in which to look!"

"But--let me see--Mr. Hendricks was in Boston at the time of Mr.
Embury's death."

"Then that lets him out. And Mr. Elliott? Where was he?"

"I haven't made definite inquiry. Probably he--"

"Probably he has an alibi! Oh, yes, of course he has! And if he
killed Sanford Embury, he's more likely than ever to have a fine
alibi! Look here, Mr. Shane, I believe I could give you cards
and spades and beat you at your little detective games!"

"You mix me all up, with your ridiculous suggestions!" Shane
tried to speak sternly, but was forced to smile at the roguish,
laughing face that mocked him.

"All right, play your own game. I tried to help, by suggesting
more suspects--in a multitude of suspects there is safety--for
our dear Eunice! And she never did it! If you can't contrive a
way for either of those two men to get through those bolted
doors, then turn your eagle eyes toward Aunt Abby! She's a queer
Dick--if you ask me, and Eunice Embury--well, I admit I resent
her coolness last night, but I freely own up that I think her
incapable of such a crime."

"But you two discussed the poisoning business in the play--"
"We did. But we discussed lots of other points about that play
and compared it with other presentations we have seen, and, oh,
you're too absurd to hang a murder on that woman, just because
she saw a murder on the stage--or rather heard the description of
one!"

"But that's the coincidence! She did hear that murder described
fully. She did talk it over with you. She did show a special
interest in it. Then, a week or so later, her husband is killed
by identically the same method. She, and she alone--except for a
mild old lady--has opportunity to do the deed; the instrument of
death is found in her cupboard; and she flies into a rage at the
first hint of accusation, of the crime! By the way, if as you
hint, one of those men did it, would they leave the medicine
dropper that conveyed the poison, in Mrs, Embury's rooms. Would
they want to bring suspicion against the woman they love? Answer
me that?"

"There might be another solution," Fifi nodded her wise little
head thoughtfully. "Perhaps whoever did it, tried to throw
suspicion on Miss Ames."

"That makes him a still more despicable villain. To implicate
falsely a harmless old lady--no, I can't think that."

"Yet you think Mrs, Embury did!"

"I don't know. Perhaps the two women worked in collusion. Or
Miss Ames might have wakened and learned the truth, and agreed to
keep the secret. In fact, Miss Ames confessed that she did the
murder, but we know she was not telling the truth then. However,
she knows who did do it--I've no doubt of that. Well, Mrs,
Desternay, I can't subscribe to your original, if rather
impossible, suggestions, but I thank you for this interview, and
I may say you have helped me."

"I have? How? Not against Eunice?"

"Never mind, ma'am, I must get off by myself, and straighten out
my notes, and see where I stand. Are you going to telephone to
Mrs, Embury again?"

"No!" and the little head was tossed proudly. "If she wants me,
let her call me up. I did my part, now I'll subside. And, too
--if she is--is--oh, I can't say it! But I'll wait further
developments before I decide just where I stand in regard to
Eunice Embury!"




CHAPTER XII

IN HANLON'S OFFICE


In an office building, away downtown, a little old lady stood in
the lobby studying the great bulletin board of room numbers.

"Can I help you, ma'am? "asked the elevator starter, seeing her
perplexity.

"I want Sykes and Barton, Scenic Sign Painters," she said,
positively enough; "but there are so many S's, I can't seem to
find them!"

"All right, ma'am; here they are. Sixth floor, Room 614."

"Thank you," the old lady said, and entered the elevator he
indicated.

She seemed preoccupied, and made no move to leave the car, until
the elevator man spoke to her twice.

"This is the floor you want, lady," he said. "Room 614. That
way, just round that first corner."

Miss Ames started off in the way he pointed, and stood for a
moment in front of the door numbered 614.

Then, with a determined shake of her thin shoulders, she opened
the door and walked in.

"I want to see Mr. Hanlon," she said to the girl at the first
desk.

"By appointment?"

"No; but say it is Miss Ames--he'll see me."

"Why, Miss Ames, how do you do?" and the man who had so
interested the beholders of his feat in Newark came forward to
greet her. "Come right into my office," and he led her to an
inner room. "Now, what's it all about?"

The cheery reception set his visitor at ease, and she drew a long
breath of relief as she settled herself in the chair he offered.

"Oh, Mr. Hanlon, I'm so frightened--or, at least, I was. It's
all so noisy and confusing down here! Why, I haven't been
downtown in New York for twenty years!"

"That so? Then I must take you up on our roof and show you a few
of the skyscrapers--"

"No, no, I've not time for anything like that. Oh, Mr. Hanlon
--you--have you read in the papers of our--our trouble?"

"Yes," and the young man spoke gravely, "I have, Miss Ames. Just
a week ago to-day, wasn't it?"

"Yes; and they're no nearer a solution of the mystery than ever.
And, oh, Mr. Hanlon, they're still suspecting Eunice--Mrs,
Embury--and I must save her! She didn't do it--truly she didn't,
and--I think I did."

"What!"

"Yes, I truly think so. But I wasn't myself, you know--I was
--hypnotized--"

"Hypnotized! By whom?"

"I don't know--by some awful person who wanted Sanford dead, I
suppose."

"But that's ridiculous, Miss Ames--"

"No, it isn't. I'm a very easy subject--"

"Have you ever been hypnotized?"

"Not very successfully. But no real hypnotizer ever tried it.
I'm sure, though, I'd be a perfect subject--I'm so--so psychic,
you know--"

"Bosh and nonsense! You know, Miss Ames, what I think of that
sort of thing! You know how I played on people's gullibility
when I used to do that fake 'thought-transference'--"

"I know, Mr. Hanlon," and Miss Ames was very earnest, "but, and
this is why I'm here--you told me that in all the foolery and
hocus-pocus there was, you believed, two per cent of genuine
telepathy--two per cent of genuine communication with spirits of
the dead"

"But I said that merely in a general way, Miss Ames. I didn't
mean to say it was a proven proposition--"

"That isn't the point--you told me there were a few--a very few
real, sincere mediums--now I'm here to get the address of the
best one you know of. I want to go to him--or her--and have a
seance, and I want to get into communication with Sanford--with
Mr. Embury's spirit, and learn from him who killed him. It's the
only way we can ever find out."

Miss Ames' gray eyes took on a strange look; she seemed half
hypnotized at the moment, as she looked at Hanlon. He moved
uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Well," he said, at length, "I can give you the address of the
best--the only real medium I know. That I will do with pleasure,
but I cannot guarantee his bringing about a materialization of
--of Mr. Embury."

"Never mind about materialization, if he can get in touch and get
a message for me. You see--I haven't said much about this--but
Mr. Embury's spirit appeared to me as--as he died."

"What?"

"Yes; just at the moment his soul passed from earth, his astral
body passed by me and paused at my bedside for a farewell."

"You amaze me! You are indeed psychic. Tell me about it."

"No; I won't tell you the story--I'll tell the medium. But I
know I saw him--why, he was discernible to all my five senses--"

"To your senses! Then it was no spirit!"

"Oh, yes, it was. Sanford's body still lay on his own bed, but
his passing spirit materialized sufficiently for me to see it--to
hear it--to feel it"

"Miss Ames, you mustn't go to a medium! You are too imaginative
--too easily swayed--don't go, dear lady, it can do no good."

Young Hanlon looked, as he felt, very solicitous for the aged
spinster, and he cast an anxious glance at her disturbed face.

"I must," she insisted; "it is the only way. I had great trouble
to find you, Mr. Hanlon. I had to communicate with Mr. Mortimer,
in Newark--and at last we traced you here. Are you all through
with your fake tricks?"

"Yes," Hanlon laughed. "I wore them out. I've gone into a
legitimate business."

"Sign painting?"

"Yes, as you see."

"But such big signs!" and the old lady's eyes wandered to
photographs and sketches of enormous scenic signs, such as are
painted on high buildings or built on housetops.

"That's the specialty of this firm. I'm only learning, but it
strongly appeals to me. It's really more of an art than a trade.
Now, as to this man you want to see, Miss Ames, I'll give you
his address, but I beg of you to think it over before you visit
him. Consult with some one--not Mrs, Embury--some man, of good
judgment and clear mind. Who is advising you?"

"Mr. Hendricks and Mr. Elliott--you saw them both the day you
were at our house--they advise my niece and myself in all
matters. Shall I ask them?"

Miss Abby was pathetic in her simple inquiry, and Hanlon spoke
gently as he replied.

"Yes, if you are determined to try the experiment. But I do not
advise you to see Mr. Marigny, the medium I spoke of. Here is
the address, but you talk it over with those two men you
mentioned. I know they are both practical, logical business men,
and their advice on the subject will be all right. I thank you,
Miss Ames, for honoring me with a call. I hope if you do go to
see Marigny, it will prove a satisfactory seance, but I also hope
you will decide not to go. You are, as I said, too emotional,
too easily swayed by the supernatural to go very deeply into
those mysteries. Shall I take you to the elevator?"

"If you please, Mr. Hanlon," and still in that half oblivious
mood, Miss Ames allowed herself to be led through the halls.

Hanlon went down with her, for he feared to leave her to her own
devices. He was relieved to find she had a taxicab in waiting,
and as he put her into it, he cautioned the driver to take his
fare straight home.

"But I want to go to Marigny's now," objected Miss Ames, as she
heard what Hanlon said.

"Oh, you can't. You must make an appointment with him--by mail
or by telephone. And, too, you promised me you'd put it up to
Mr. Hendricks or Mr. Elliott first."

"So I did," and the old head nodded submissively, as the taxi
drove away.


When Ferdinand admitted Aunt Abby to the Embury home, she heard
voices in the living-room that were unmistakably raised in anger.

"You know perfectly well, Fifi," Eunice was saying, "that your
little bridge games are quite big enough to be called a violation
of the law--you know that such stakes as you people play for--"

"It isn't the size of the stake that makes gambling!" Fifi
Desternay cried, shrilly; "I've had the advice of a lawyer, and
he says that as long as it's my own home and the players are
invited guests, there's no possibility of being--"

"Raided!" said Eunice, scathingly. "Might as well call things by
their real name!"

"Hush up! Some of the servants might hear you! How unkind you
are to me, Eunice. You used to love your little Fifi!"

"Well, she doesn't now!" said Miss Ames, tartly, as she came in.
"You see, Mrs, Desternay, you have been instrumental in bringing
our dear Eunice under a dreadful, and absolutely unfounded
suspicion--"

"Dreadful, but far from unfounded!" declared Mrs, Desternay, her
little hands uplifted, and her pretty face showing a scornful
smile. "You and I, Aunt Abby, know what our dear Eunice's temper
is--"

"Don't you 'Aunt Abby' me, you good-for-nothing little piece! I
am surprised Eunice allows you in this house!"

"Now, now--if Eunice doesn't want me, I'll get out--and jolly
well glad to do so! How about it, Eunice? I came here to help,
but if I'm not wanted--out goes little Fifi!"

She rose, shaking her fur stole into place about her dainty
person, and, whipping out a tiny mirror from her vanity case, she
applied a rouge stick to her already scarlet lips.

"No--no--" and Eunice wailed despairingly. "Don't go, Fifi, I
--oh, I don't know how I feel toward you! You see--I will speak
plainly--you see, it was my acquaintance with you that caused the
trouble--mostly--between me and San."

"Thought it was money matters--his stinginess, you know."

"He wasn't stingy! He wouldn't give me an allowance, but he was
generous in every other way. And that's why--"

"Why you came to my 'gambling house' to try to pick up a little
ready cash! I know. But now looky here, Eunice, you've got to
decide--either you're with me or agin me! I won't have any blow
hot, blow cold! You're friends with Fifi Desternay--or--she's
your enemy!"

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