Sick Of Shadows

know perfectly well you didn’t. By the way, could you check up on Dr. Shepherd at the med school? He seems like a very nice person, but when he first arrived, Eileen took one look at him and ran. It might just have been her nerves, but it was unusual for her to be so dramatic. I can’t help wondering if there was something strange about their doctor-patient relationship. (Yes, I’m keeping my door locked.)

Thanks for returning my call this morning-although you would do it so early in the morning that I was incoherent. I’m trying to remember what I haven’t told you. I hope you’ve remembered to notify Mother and Dad. The main purpose of this letter is to remind you to do so, and to warn you not to lay on the horrors with them. I am perfectly fine. In fact, I wish I were more upset. Eileen was such a mousy little creature that I can’t even claim to miss her, which makes me feel terrible. I catch myself not being sad at all, thinking that I’d like to meet Milo (do not broadcast that!), and then being angry with myself for not missing her more. I’m not even terribly interested in knowing who did it, because it might turn out to be someone very nice like Dr. Shepherd, which would only compound the tragedy. I’m sure you’re dying to know who did it, though, so when the sheriff solves the case, I’ll notify you. Heaven knows when they’ll let me leave.

If you think of anything to cheer me up (such as Milo mentioning that he found me fascinating), write me at once, or better yet, call-collect!

The Prisoner of Chandler,

Elizabeth

CHAPTER TWELVE

DESPITE GEOFFREY’S GLOOMY supposition, he was not the last family member to be interviewed. That honor was reserved for Captain Grandfather, whom they found in Robert Chandler’s study in front of a black-and-white portable television.

“Silent Service reruns,” he said gruffly, turning down the volume. “Not very accurate, but good drama. Those were the days! You wanted a word with me, I suppose?”

Rountree perched on the side of the doctor’s paper-strewn desk. “Sorry to come barging in like this, but we’re talking with everybody in the family.”

“To find out if we know who did it? I wouldn’t, you know. My granddaughter… I knew her as a child, Sheriff. She liked ponies, and coffee ice cream, and a song called ‘Froggy Went A-Courtin’; but when children grow up, you lose track of their real selves. Eileen, now, I can tell you her bloodline down to the last cousin, but I have no idea who she was inside.”

“Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?” said Clay.

Rountree closed his eyes. “If we could just get back to this case…” He always dreaded the second phase of grief. When the shock had worn off a little, the deceased became preserved in memory as a wax figure without flaws or feelings. A few more days and Eileen Chandler would turn into a fairy-tale princess who had never made a mistake in her life.

The old man watched a submarine churn beneath the waters of the North Atlantic. “Was there anything in particular you wanted to ask me?”

“You’re an early-riser, aren’t you, sir?”

Captain Grandfather nodded. “Always have been. Stood me in good stead in the service.”

“I expect it did,” said Rountree. “Reason I asked is: you must have been the last person we know of to see Eileen on the day she died. Am I right?”

“As far as I know, Sheriff, nobody saw her that day. I came downstairs at a little past seven-I’d been up late reading the night before. Anyway, I came into the breakfast room, and there was a used cereal bowl on the table, which I took to be Eileen’s. But I didn’t see her, no.”

“Well, it was a thought,” sighed Rountree. “I had hopes of finding someone who’d seen her. Well, what can you tell me about her state of mind?”

“Next to nothing. Eileen was always nervous. Didn’t get enough exercise, if you ask me.”

Clay looked up from his notepad. “What does that have to do with-”

“Well, let’s get on to motive,” said Rountree hastily. “Tell me about this inheritance she was due to get.”

Captain Grandfather told him, in no uncertain terms and with considerable scorn expressed for his sister’s life- style, judgment, and malice aforethought in making such a will. “-And the little witch, knowing full well how I would feel about such a piece of foolishness, had the unmitigated, unsurpassed, sheer feline gall to name me as executor of the damned thing!”

Rountree coughed. “So they tell me, Captain.”

“Can you imagine? Expecting me to take an interest in the wedding plans of a bunch of children who would probably get on a good deal better in life without Augusta’s money! Do them good! They’d grow some backbone!”

“They might do better in character without it, but it might not stop some of ’em from wanting it,” the sheriff pointed out.

William Chandler laughed bitterly. “No argument there! That much money would solve every trifling problem the bunch has!”

“Problems?”

“It would buy Charles a reactor, or whatever thing it is he and his crowd seem to think is standing between them and a Nobel prize. It would set Margaret’s son Bill up in law practice in pretty good style, or buy Elizabeth some time to chart the course of her life-archeology, last I heard” -he snorted-“and Geoffrey-God knows what he’d do with it! Something arty, I expect, like try to start a Shakespeare festival in Chandler Grove!”

“What about Alban?”

“Perfect example! You see what Walter’s money has done for him! Took his castle in the air and built it for him! What ambition has he got?”

“Maybe he doesn’t need to be ambitious,” Clay suggested.

Captain Grandfather sighed. “I’ve nothing against being eccentric,” he said at last. “Or being well-off. If it buys you independence, that’s fine-but-since Eileen died, I keep thinking that it didn’t do her any good. The money was almost hers, you know, and it didn’t make her happy. It wasn’t going to, either. She wanted that young man, and there was no use trying to tell her any different, but… some things you ought not to try to buy.”

“Do you think he killed her?” asked Rountree.

“No. I’ve seen his type in the service many a time. He’s weak and selfish-don’t trust his loyalty in a pinch, and don’t put him in charge of the canteen on the lifeboat-but to call him a killer would be overestimating him.”

“There’s something else I’d like to talk to you about,” said Rountree cautiously. “It might be a touchy subject, but it’s got to be dealt with.” He explained the finding of the whiskey bottles in the lake and their theory that Amanda Chandler had accidentally killed her daughter while trying to steal the painting.

“That’s hogwash!” snapped the old man. “Amanda may have her problems, but she’s not a coward! A picture wouldn’t scare her like that. If she didn’t like it, she’d have bullied the girl until it was changed. And it would be changed, I promise you that. Amanda runs a tight ship.” He shook his head and sighed. “I doubt that the painting was like that, anyway.”

Rountree straightened up. “Did you see it?”

“No. Why? Is it important?”

“Yeah. Because we can’t find it. That bothers me. But if we knew for sure what she was painting, it would be a load off my mind. Did that lake mean anything special to her?”

Captain Grandfather rested his head in his hand. “Did it?” he muttered. “That sounds familiar… I think. Right at the time of her breakdown, there was something about the lake, or water, or something. Can’t recall what. My son-in-law might know.”

“If anybody knows anything around here, they’re not telling!” snapped Rountree. “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s some reason folks might not want this case solved. Are you afraid one of the young people killed Eileen to get a shot at the inheritance?”

“No, Sheriff. I’m afraid of not knowing them well enough to be sure; but then, the captain is always the last to know of a mutiny.” He watched the two officers leave the study, and with a placid smile, he turned again to his