listen to the brain. There was tapping somewhere in this room—a rat-a-tat. What? Where? Inside this door?
Johnny yanked open the closet door and there was Dorothy hanging in the closet, her pink dress flowing downward, her toes chattering on the wall, her body turned and swayed and turned around, from where it was hanging by the neck.
Nan screamed again on a pitch of terror.
Johnny stepped into the closet and grabbed the swaying body in both his arms. He Hfted. He held it with one arm. His other hand fumbled and tugged to try to loosen the terrible tightness of the cloth around the neck.
Marshall's hands came, helping to tear the sash, away from the high hook.
Johnny staggered and went down on one knee with Dorothy's body across the other.
Nan was screaming, 'Dotty! Dotty.' She had turned her face into Dick Bartee's shoulder and he said loudly, 'What's going on herel Dorothy!'
Then Bart Bartee was saying to Johnny, 'Doctor Jenson is downstairs. Give her to me.'
CHAPTER 21
Johnny looked up from the wreck of beauty, the havoc of Dorothy's face. He looked up at Bart and their eyes held.
'Too late,' said Johnny.
'I'll take her. Try . . .' So Bart took her up in his arms and Copeland helped. They carried the limp pink thing out of the bedroom and Bart was shouting, 'Doctor Jenson'—and then the door closed. Johnny turned to face Dick Bartee.
Dick had scrambled to his feet by now and Nan was on her feet, too, held up in his arm.
'Dorothy!' said Dick with bulging eyes. 'How the devil did she get in there?'
'What is it?' wailed Nan. 'Oh, what is it? What happened?'
Johnny was taking a deep, deep breath and resolution was pouring through him. 'Sit down on the bed, Nan,' he said in a voice of command, 'and if I hear one more girlish shiiek from you, I will throw you out of this room.'
'Oh, no, you won't,' said Dick angrily. 'My wife—'' But he had let her go and Nan was staggering toward the bed. She sank upon it.
Johnny said, 'Going to get this plain. Here and now. First, you killed Christy. We broke your alibi.'
'That's right,' said Marshall heavily.
'Don't be silly,' said Dick Bartee. 'For God's sake, what happened to Dorothy?'
'You killed Emily Padgett,' said Johnny. 'In the hospital. Your car was seen there. You were seen in the room. Seen in the corridor. A woman can identify—'
'Ridiculous,' said Dick. 'Nan, pay no attention. This man is obsessed . . .'
'Dick was with me,' said Nan. 'Johnny, you're crazy.'
'Shut up, yoji Httle fool,' said Johnny coldly. 'His specialty is fooling young girls. You're not the first one.'
The door opened and Copeland came in. He shook his head. 'The sheriff's deputy is on the way. Should be here. With the warrant.' He looked nervous.
'Warrant? For what?' snapped Dick.
'For you. Murder of Emily Padgett.'
Nan didn't scream. Nan leaned on both arms; her dark eyes were bewildered. 'Mr. Copeland?' she said feebly.
Copeland said, 'Did Dick Bartee know Emily was in that hospital? Did you tell him?'
Nan said, 'But he wouldn't—'
The door opened once more. Outside, somewhere in the house, a woman was weeping, loud, shuddering sobs. Blanche? Bart closed the door behind himself, shutting oflE the sound. He looked at Johnny and said tensely, 'The doctor can't get a reaction. Sorry—'
'Now, you've killed Dorothy,' Johnny shouted. 'You lousy murderer!'
'I! Killed Dorothy! Look herel'
Nan said, 'Johnny, why do you say Dick's a murderer?'
'Because that's what he is,' said Johnny.
'Dorothy? How?' Dick said. 'But she must have got in, locked the door. I was in the bathroom. You think I hung up Dorothy in the closet and then calmly went to wash my face I You're crazy 1 She did it to herself. Must havel'
'Suicide?' said Bart sharply. 'Why would she do that?'
Dick mopped his face. 'How do I know? Oh, Lord, poor Dorothy. The disgrace, maybe. Her father? Her mother . . . ?'
Nan said slowly, 'But Dotty didn't . . . feel disgraced.' Her dark eyes were open very wide. She stared at Dick.'
Johnny said, 'Are you waking up? It was the money.'
