over her back, his head almost out her window, a hand holding a revolver thrust through it. He fired as they passed. Crane ducked at the flash, but he heard no report.
Ann, intent on making the U turn, asked, 'What s the matter?'
Crane reached down and turned off the ignition.
'What s the matter?' Ann asked again.
The car lost speed rapidly on the steep grade, came to a stop. They could see the taillight of the other car far up the hill. Presently it disappeared around a bend. There was a sound of crickets from the woods above them.
'We would have caught them,' Ann said. 'Why did you make me stop?'
Crane turned to the rear seat of the sedan, pointed a finger. In the left-door window, low and to the left, was a neat, thumb-sized hole. The glass around the hole had slivered; it looked like a pineapple ice. The bullet had apparently gone through the open window on the other side. Anyway, they were unable to locate a hole.
CHAPTER VI
They drove home soberly, both preoccupied, and parked the sedan in front of the house.
'How re we to explain the bullet hole?' Ann asked.
'We could say you shot at me and missed.'
She said, 'When I do I won t miss.'
They went in and found Doc Williams in the kitchen. He was an operative of their agency. He d driven their car from New York and he was posing as their chauffeur. He was a middle-sized, dapper man with a waxed mustache and a streak of dead-white hair over his left temple. He saluted Crane smartly.
'Have a nice trip?' Crane asked formally.
'Very good, sir.'
'Come up to my room. I want to talk with you.'
Crane turned to Beulah. 'This is Mr Williams. I want you to treat him right.'
They mixed a shakerful of martinis in the dining room, then went upstairs.
'How re you gettin along with tutz?' Williams asked Crane. He winked at Ann, who was carrying celery, olives, and caviar canapes on a tray.
'I wish she wouldn t keep trying to get into my room at night,' Crane said.
'Still got the appeal, hey?'
'It s my silk pajamas,' Crane said modestly.
'Next time a burglar comes I ll let him take the ground floor away,' Ann declared.
'A burglar?' Doc Williams was interested. 'You had a burglar?'
Crane poured the martinis. 'First a drink.'
The drinks were just right, with the vermouth cutting the flavor of the gin without destroying the dryness. Crane poured a second round, then told of the burglary, of Mr March s accusation of Carmel March, of Delia and of the recent chase.
Williams was pleased. 'It looks as though we re in for something.'
'You ll think so when you see Carmel.'
'A good number?'
Crane said, 'Just looking at her makes me wish I knew how to tango.'
The caviar was excellent. The black eggs were the size of buckshot, and about half the canapes had grated onion sprinkled over them. Some of the celery was stuffed with Roquefort.
Williams smiled at Ann. 'It looks to me like you was giving Uncle William some lessons in detection.'
'I am,' Ann said.
Crane finished his drink, poured another. 'I was afraid you were going to mention that.' He selected a heart- shaped canape.
'Yes, and where s my champagne?' Ann said.
'You ll get it… probably across the bow, too, the way they christen a ship.'
They sipped the martinis, munched celery and discussed the case. They agreed they would visit the Crimson Cat on the following night. Ann went to her room and presently reappeared in a semiformal dress of blue brocaded lame with silver shoulder straps. Her skin was smooth and tan.
Williams removed an olive pit from his mouth, flicked it under Crane s bed. 'Bill was saying John traveled for the company, Ann.'
'Yes?'
'That d give Richard a chance to chase Carmel.'
'And John knew it,' Crane added. 'Or else he wouldn t have inquired about Richard s dovecot from the Jamesons.'
Ann sat on the arm of Williams chair. 'But where did he hear about the cottage?'
Crane didn t know.
'He couldn t have heard much,' Williams asserted. 'He wouldn t have asked the Jamesons to describe the woman if he had.'
Crane admired Ann s eyes, quite green under artificial light. He said, 'We agreed John found out about Richard and Carmel and killed Richard to stop the affair.'
'But who killed John?' Williams objected. 'We thought of that,' Ann said. 'He killed himself in remorse.'
'What about Carmel?' Williams asked Crane, who was furtively tilting the shaker over his glass.
'I think she s beautiful,' he replied.
Ann asked, 'You re not going to get tight again, Bill?'
'Oh no.' The shaker was empty, anyway. 'Not me.'
'I mean,' Williams said, 'couldn t Carmel have killed her husband?'
'Why?'
'She loved Richard, she wanted to avenge him.'
Crane picked the olive out of his glass. It had absorbed enough alcohol to taste good. 'Old man March thinks she killed him. He thinks she killed them both.'
Williams asked, 'Does he think she s going to wipe out the whole family… one by one?'
'Gosh!' Crane said. 'I didn t ask him.'
After dinner, Beulah s brother, James, served Ann and Crane coffee and brandy in the library before a bright pine fire.
'I don t like being a detective,' Ann said.
Crane was astonished. 'What could be nicer than this?' He halted his demitasse halfway to his mouth. 'And besides, it isn t costing us a cent.'
'It s a dead man s house,' Ann said.
'Are you afraid of ghosts?'
'I don t know what it is.' She looked at him through very wide green eyes. 'I think it s the way everybody dies. Doesn t it give you a creepy feeling, Bill?'
'I haven t had a creep yet, darling.'
'I think it s the gas. It hasn t any odor or color; it just sneaks up and kills you. It s horrible. Thinking of it makes me feel it in my throat, choking off my breath.'
'Don t think about it, then,' Crane said.
'If I were a March I d be scared to death.' Light from the fire made her eyes glisten. 'It s like having a curse on a family. So much hatred and death…'
'You aren t a March,' Crane said. She was silent.
After a few minutes James brought Peter and Carmel into the library. Carmel took off her glossy mink coat, tossed it carelessly across the library couch. 'Hello.' Her voice had a throaty quality. She sat on the couch, crossed her legs. They were slender and long, but rounded.
'Hello,' Crane said.
She had on a black velvet evening gown, so simple and so perfectly fitted to her body, that Crane knew it
