all arranged that she would come back to us after their honeymoon until we could get someone to replace her. She retired earlier than usual last night. Said she wanted to get a good night’s sleep so she could meet her fiance at the station.”
“One thing more, “ Shayne said. “When was the theft of the necklace actually discovered? Before or after Katrin’s body was found?”
“At about the same time, I believe. My wife and I were having coffee in our upstairs sitting-room when Mrs. Brown, the housekeeper, came in to say that she was worried about Katrin. It was past time for her to get up, and Mrs. Brown could get no response by knocking on her locked door.”
“Wait a minute,” Shayne said hastily, “did Miss Moe always lock her door at night?”
“Always, I believe.” Mr. Lomax smiled. “I’ve heard Rose-that’s the other maid-teasing her about it.”
Shayne nodded. “Go on. Mrs. Brown was worried-”
“I asked her to call Neal, and I came up to Katrin’s room.”
“Were you worried?” Shayne asked sharply.
“No-I don’t believe so. At first I thought she had risen early and slipped out to meet her lieutenant. But her locked door argued against that. According to Mrs. Brown, Katrin never locked her door except when she was inside.”
“And you knocked?”
“I knocked and I called to her. Then I realized that there was a smell of gas close to her door. Neal came hurrying up just then and I asked him to see if he could break the door down. It took him only a moment to break through the panel. I’ve told you the rest.”
“And the necklace?” Shayne prompted him.
“There was a lot of excitement,” Lomax said. “When I came out of the room I heard my wife screaming that her necklace was gone. I thought she meant from the safe, of course, never dreaming she’d left it out so carelessly. I believe,” he added grimly, “that she had forgotten it until that moment when I hurried up to Katrin’s room to see if the girl was there. It was almost as though my wife was immediately struck with the absurd idea that Katrin had stolen her necklace and disappeared, and she went to look for her jewel case when I came upstairs.”
“Did Mrs. Lomax distrust Katrin?”
“Not at all,” Nathan Lomax said hastily, then qualified his statement immediately. “Not that I know of. There was a reason for my wife connecting the two incidents, however. Several times she has given the necklace to Katrin to bring to me-to be locked in the safe.”
Shayne listened attentively, punishing his ear lobe between thumb and forefinger. He said, “I see,” and sauntered over to the trash basket beside the dresser. “I suppose the cops looked through this for discarded death notes-some she might have torn up after writings”
“I’m positive they did,” said Lomax.
Shayne got down on his knees, turned the basket over and dumped the contents on the floor. There wasn’t much; the crumpled wrapper of a candy bar and a wadded piece of brown wrapping paper. He pawed over them, picked out a short strip of grayish paper and studied it. The slip was about four inches long and less than an inch wide, about the width of the outer margin of a newspaper and of the same quality.
He said, “I wonder if Katrin had yesterday’s paper up here?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Mr. Lomax said stiffly and with a hint of impatience. “I would hardly check on the personal habits of the servants.”
Someone was coming up the stairs.
Mr. Lomax walked over to the door and looked out. He said, “You might ask Mrs. Brown. She’s coming up now.”
“I will.” Shayne slipped the short strip of paper in his pocket with one hand and continued to stir the contents of the basket with the other.
Tucked into the crumpled piece of wrapping paper he found a small white square from a memo pad with the figures $29.43 and $2.94 written for adding, and underneath the line the total, $32.37. He slipped the square into his pocket and stood up as Mrs. Brown’s footsteps neared the door.
He saw a broad, red-faced woman of middle age wearing a crisp white apron over a blue uniform. Iron-gray hair was coiled in two neat braids about her head, and her Irish blue eyes were sad. She placed her arms akimbo and looked around the room.
Mr. Lomax introduced Shayne to her and said, “The detective would like to talk to you, Mrs. Brown. He’s investigating the stolen necklace.”
Mrs. Brown’s massive bosom rose and fell as she panted to catch her breath after climbing the stairs, Her eyes were narrowed and hostile upon Shayne. “If he thinks he’ll be finding the jools in this poor girl’s room it’s mistaken he is. Katrin was a pure and good girl.”
Shayne said gently, “You can help to clear her by answering a few questions, Mrs. Brown.” He glanced at his host. “May I take a few minutes?”
“Certainly.” Nathan Lomax looked very tired. “I’ll wait for you in the second-floor living-room with my wife.”
He sighed audibly and went out into the hall and down the stairs.
Shayne suggested, “May we go into your room where you can be more comfortable?”
She nodded and went across the hall to open the door. Her room was an exact duplicate of Katrin’s in design, but the touch of a home-maker was in evidence everywhere. Cretonne and chintz, once bright, were mellowed with age and laundering. Two comfortable chairs stood before the gas grate, and a space beside the dormer window was filled with pictures of uniformed boys and young girls and smiling children. Above the grate hung a gray enlargement of the photograph of a stiffly posed young man with a sweeping mustache.
Mrs. Brown seated herself in one of the chairs and invited Shayne to take the other. She placed a work- roughened hand on each knee, held her stout body stiffly erect, and said, “A furriner she may have been, but a sweeter girl I’ve never known, and that’s the Lord’s truth,” in a tone of undisguised hostility. She crossed herself and settled back in the chair.
Shayne said, “I’m trying to get at the bottom of this-find out the truth. Why did Katrin Moe kill herself?”
“I’m not believin’ she did. Didn’t I sit with her while she finished packin’, and wasn’t she the happiest girl in the world waitin’ for this day to come? Sure, and she said nothin’ to me when I went out and she locked her door for the night.”
“You’re sure the gas wasn’t on while you were with her?”
She gave him a look of withering scorn. “And would I be sittin’ there breathin’ the poison stuff and not know it?”
“But you did hear her lock her door-and it was still locked this morning when she was found.”
Mrs. Brown shook her head obstinately. “I’m not sayin’ that’s not a fact, but you mark my words, mister, that girl was a pure darlin’, and when the truth comes out it’ll not be her to blame.”
“Did she always lock her door at night?” Shayne asked.
“And why wouldn’t she?” She drew her full mouth into a tight, straight line.
“You tell me,” Shayne coaxed.
“With that Eddie traipsin’ in drunk and creepin’ up the stairs at all hours. Though I get my walkin’ papers for the tellin’ of it, I’ll not hold back the truth. A wild one he is, pawin’ at Katrin and Rose even when he’s far gone in drink.” She was sitting up straight again, her hands on her knees, one foot shoved forward like a sprinter getting on his mark for the race.
Shayne hunched forward and asked, “What about the chauffeur?”
“Now there’s a different kind. A gentleman if ever I saw one with his polite manners and always more than willin’ to give a hand. And he keeps to his place like a proper gentleman should. Into the kitchen for his meals and back to his room over the garage or down to his workshop in the cellar. And it’s not that he mightn’t do different, mind you,” she added darkly, and smacked her lips.
“How different?” Shayne asked bluntly.
She stiffened her jaw and shook her head. “It’s not for me to be spreadin’ gossip around.”
Shayne lowered his head and looked at the floor, said, “The only way I can find out things is for people to tell me,” then looked up quickly to see an odd eagerness in her eyes. “You ought to tell me what you can. We’ve got to clear Katrin’s name in this mess.”
