West. And there was nothing on the table that Tom would have found hard to explain: just a Toshiba table-model transistor-radio - the one with the snap-out portable; the little hi-hat electric clock; the English Leather aftershave that Mary had liked more than Tom; the Rubeck's leather cigarette box and table lighter; and the Catholic pamphlets. To Tom's keen eyes the pamphlets sounded an incongruous note. Did Catholics go to strip clubs?
I mean, was she seeing anyone? Another man?'
Not to my knowledge.'
Do you think it might have been possible?'
Anything's possible when people work late at the office.'
Is that an informed guess, or your own personal experience?'
Tom stood up and went out the bedroom and into the bathroom. He tossed the cigarette end into the toilet bowl and splashed some cold water on to his face, which was still dirty from the long drive. When he looked up from the basin he found Czernin in his mirror, examining the vibrator massage belt machine that stood in the corner.
What is this thing?' he asked. He bent towards the machine and read the name on the side of the white metal housing, answering his own question: The Battle Creek Health Builder. Your wife. She was a beautiful woman, Mister Jefferson. And she looked after her figure, right?'
Her ass was never out of that thing,' said Tom.
How old was she?'
Twenty-nine.'
Can you think of any reason why such a lovely young woman might want to kill herself?'
Didn't you ask me that question already?'
No. You volunteered the opinion that she wasn't the type.' Czernin was in front of the bathroom cabinet now. But you strike me as an intelligent man. So I'm sure you'll agree that people who aren't the type kill themselves all the time.' He picked out a bottle of Dandricide. Nothing is ever quite what it seems. Or does quite what it's supposed to do. Take this stuff, for instance. My wife buys it for me because it's supposed to keep your hair free from dandruff.' He inspected the shoulder of his suit-coat and brushed it fastidiously with the tips of his fingers. But it doesn't do what it says on the bottle. You see what I mean?'
Tom didn't think much of the cop's analogy, but he nodded anyway.
I can't think of a reason,' he said firmly. We never had fights, to speak of. Nothing major, anyway. Like any other married couple, you know? Money wasn't a problem. As you can see we have a nice home. And her work was going well.' Tom shrugged. Kennedy won, didn't he?'
That's what they tell me. I voted for Nixon.'
So you're the one.'
What was she going to do, now that the campaign is over?'
I don't know.'
Is it possible that might have been a concern to her?'
Tom swallowed. I suppose it's possible.'
Wouldn't you agree, a sense of anti-climax sometimes follows a successful conclusion of that which we've been trying our hardest to achieve?'
Yes.' Tom thought Czernin was beginning to sound like Perry Mason.
Do you think it's possible here? That this might have made your wife depressed?'
I suppose so, yes.'
That this factor, combined with alcohol and barbiturates, might have made her do something silly?' Czernin nodded at the pharmaceutical evidence in the bathroom cabinet in front of him. That with a whole drugstore at her disposal, she might have wanted just to forget about what was going to happen to her tomorrow, and the week after that?'
Tom shrugged, and nodded vaguely, too choked to answer. He took a deep unsteady breath and sat down on the side of the tub. I want to see her,' he said.
Of course. Naturally you'll have to identify the body. We can go downtown right now, if you want,' offered Czernin. I'll even drive you myself. Might be a good idea at that. It'll be a couple of hours before the boys are finished in here. Might be safer if I drove you, too. What with those two large ones you've had since you got back here. And on top of your evening in Key West. The last thing you want today is to have your licence revoked on a drink-driving charge.'
I don't much care what happens to me,' said Tom.
Maybe not today. But you will. Just see what next week's life is like without a car in this town. I know. I've walked that chalk-line.'
What do you know?' said Tom. An honest cop.'
In a waiting room at the County Morgue Tom and the detective waited for the crypt attendant to come off the telephone. Somewhere he could hear the disquieting noise of what sounded like a dentist's drill being operated, and the trickle of running water. But it was the stench of chemicals that troubled Tom most, awakening depressing memories of high school laboratories and military hospitals. Another attendant came past wheeling a gurney on which lay what appeared to be a child's body wrapped in sheeting.
Czernin was talking to Tom, almost unaware of how much the place weighed on the other man's spirits.
Unfortunately, Seconal is one of the faster-acting barbiturates, which means the fatal dose is smaller. As little as a gram to a gram and a half. In cases involving barbiturate poisoning we usually find that there is something else involved. For instance, a tranquilliser. I noticed your wife used Valium. That, or any alcoholic drink, would add to the hypnotic effect of the barbiturate, reducing the minimum lethal dosage very substantially. But my money is still on the Scotch.'
He smiled sadly at Tom, who nodded back.
You seem to know a lot about it.'
It's the times we live in, Mister Jefferson. And maybe you can take some comfort in the knowledge that she certainly would not have suffered any pain. There are lots of worse ways to overdose than hypnotic poisoning.'
Thanks. I'll bear that in mind.'
When the attendant came off the phone, Czernin spoke to him for a moment and then waved at Tom to follow. They went into a stark-looking crypt where the attendant - burly, red-cheeked, and generally a picture of rude health - opened a stainless-steel door and pulled out the sliding shelf carrying Mary's body, with no more grace or sensitivity than if he had been checking a roast in an oven.
Tom was surprised to discover that Mary's naked body was not covered with a sheet. Perhaps, he reflected, that only happened in the movies. But he wished he could have covered her. Because even in death she was beautiful and she might easily have graced the pages of Playboy magazine. If anything she was more beautiful than the average Playmate. Some of those girls were just a tad overweight for Tom's taste. He recalled thinking that Miss October, Titian-haired Kathy Douglas, supposedly under contract to a major studio, was Titian-sized, too, with an ass that looked like they were serving them in double-measures. It was no wonder that so many men had gone for Mary. A walking honey-trap, Alex Goldman had called her. And it was true, Mary had been made for love.
Embarrassed by the sight of such naked beauty, Czernin started to withdraw from the crypt. I'll leave you alone,' he said quietly. The attendant had already left and could be heard moving along the white-tiled corridor whistling a song from Li'l Abner.
Tom waited until the detective was gone before he took hold of Mary's hand. He had been intending to kiss it; instead, when he tried to lift it to his lips, her hand stayed where it was and he was momentarily horror-struck to discover that rigor mortis was already fully established. Expecting to find her arm limp, as if she had been merely asleep, he had for a moment mistaken the stiffness for strength and the thought that she might still be alive had flashed through his crapulous mind, making him start back like one who had received an electric shock. He swallowed the lump in his throat and once again approached the cold shelf where she lay.
It seemed so very unfair that her life should have to end this way. And after all she had done. Tom shook his head slowly. Their life together was over. All of that was now gone. She had deserved better than this. It seemed such a waste. To work so hard for something she believed in, only to die just as it was almost achieved. Which left him on his own, and feeling lonelier than he had ever felt before. What made it worse was that this was goodbye, too. There would be no touching graveside scene now. With Mary's death everything had changed.
Tom placed his hand upon her cold forehead and bent his own head with remorse. For a while he could think
