heard her breathing in the darkness, but that was all.
When I had about exhausted myself, she said, “Will you kiss me just once more if I promise to let you alone?”
I breathed a little easier. “Sure, honey. Just one more kiss.”
Then I stretched out my arms to hold her to kiss, and I got the shock of my life. The little devil had taken off all her clothes in the darkness.
That kiss was like molten lava. I couldn’t push her away, nor did I want to now. She clung to me like a shadow, squirming and pulling at me. The sound of the crowd cheering the game a hundred yards away dimmed to nothingness and all I could hear was the roaring in my ears.
The game was almost over when we got back. I scrubbed the lipstick away from my mouth and dusted off my clothes. Mary saw her sister and was gracious enough to let me alone for a while, so while I still had the chance I skirted the crowd and tried to find Charlotte. She was where I had left her, only she had gotten tired of sitting down. She and a tall youngster were splitting a coke together. That made me mad.
Hell, I was a fine one to be pulling a jealousy stunt after what I just did. I called to her and she came back to me. “Where have you been?”
“Fighting,” I lied, “fighting for my honor.”
“You look it. How did you make out? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
“I did it all right. It took time though. You been here all the time?”
“Yep. Just like a good little wife, I sit home while my husband is out with other women,” she laughed.
The shout that ended the tennis game came simultaneously with the scream from the house. That scream stifled any cheer that might have been given. It rang out in the night again and again, then dwindled off to a low moan.
I dropped Charlotte’s hand and ran for the house. The colored bartender was standing in the doorway as white as a sheet. He could hardly talk. He pointed up the stairs and I took them two at a time.
The first floor opened on the cloakroom, an affair as big as a small ballroom. The maid was huddled on the floor, out like a light. Beyond her was Myrna, a bullet hole clean through her chest. She still had her hands clutched futilely against her breasts as though to protect herself.
I felt her pulse. She was dead.
Downstairs the crowd was pounding across the lawn. I shouted to the colored boy to shut the doors, then grabbed the phone and got the gatekeeper. I told him to close the gates and not let anyone out, hung up, and dashed downstairs. I picked out three men in overalls whom I had taken for gardeners and asked them who they were.
“Gardener,” one said. The other was a handyman on the estate and the third was his helper.
“Got any guns around here?” They nodded. “Six shot guns and a 30-30 in the library,” the handyman said.
“Then get ’em,” I ordered. “There’s been a murder upstairs and the killer is someplace on the grounds. Patrol the estate and shoot anybody you see trying to get away. Understand?”
The gardener started to argue, but when I pulled my badge on him, he and the others took off for the library, got the guns, returned a minute later and shot out the door.
The crowd was gathered in front. I stepped outside and held up my hand for silence. When I told them what had happened there were a few screams, a lot of nervous talk, and everyone in general had the jitters.
I held up my hand again. “For your own benefit you had better not try to leave. There are men posted with orders to shoot if anyone tries to run for it. If you are wise, you’ll find someone who was standing near by you during the game and have an alibi ready. Only don’t try to dummy one because it won’t work. Stay here on the porch where you can be reached at a moment’s notice.”
Charlotte came in the door, her face white, and asked, “Who was it, Mike?”
“Myrna. The kid has nothing to worry about any more. She’s dead. And I have the killer right under my nose someplace.”
“Can I do something, Mike?”
“Yeah. Get the Bellemy sisters and bring them to me.”
When she went for them I called for the colored boy. Shaking like a leaf he came over to me. “Who came in here?”
“I don’ see nobody, boss. I see one girl come in. I never see her come out ’cause she’s daid upstairs.”
“Were you here all the time?”
“Yassuh. All de time. I watch for the folks to come in heah for a drink. Then I goes to the bar.”
“What about the back door?”
“It’s locked, boss. Only way is in through heah. Don’ nobody come in ’cept de girl. She’s daid.”
“Quit saying that over and over,” I stormed. “Just answer my questions. Did you leave here for a second?”
“Nosuh, boss, not hardly a second.”
“What’s not hardly?”
The darky looked scared. He was afraid to commit himself one way or another. “Come on, speak up.”
“I got me a drink once, boss. Just beer, that’s all. Don’t tell Miss Bellemy.”
“Damn,” I said. That minute was time enough to let a murderer in here.
“How quickly did you come back? Wait a minute. Go in there and get a beer. Let me see how long it took you.” The darky shuffled off while I timed him. Fifteen seconds later he was back with a bottle in his hand.
“Did you do it that fast before? Think now. Did you drink it here or in there?”
“Here, boss,” he said simply, pointing to an empty bottle on the floor. I yelled to him not to move, then ran for the back of the house. The place was built in two sections, this part an addition to the other. The only way in was through the French windows to the bar and the back door, or the one connecting door to the other section. The windows were bolted. So was the back door. The twin doors between the two sections of the building were firmly in place and locked. I looked for other possible entries, but there were none. If that were so I could still have the killer trapped somewhere inside.
Quickly, I raced up the stairs. The maid was recovering and I helped her to her feet. She was pasty-faced and breathing hard, so I sat her down on the top step as Charlotte came in with the twins.
The maid was in no condition to answer questions. I shouted down to Charlotte to call Pat Chambers as fast as she could and get him up here. He could call the local cops later. Mary and Esther came up and took the maid out of my hands and half carried her downstairs to a chair.
I went into the murder room and closed the door after me. I didn’t worry about fingerprints. My killer never left any.
Myrna had on her blue coat, though I couldn’t see why. The night was far too warm for it. She lay in front of a full-length mirror, doubled up. I looked closely at the wound. Another .45. The killer’s gun. I was bent down on my knees looking for the bullet when I noticed the stuff on the rug. A white powder. Around it the nap of the carpet had been ruffled as though someone had tried to scoop it up. I took an envelope from my pocket and got some of the grains inside. I felt the body. It was still warm. But then, at this temperature,
Myrna’s hands were clenched together so tightly I had difficulty working my fingers under hers. She had clawed at her coat trying to hold the wound, and fibers of wool were caught under her fingernails. She had died hard, but fast. Death was merciful.
I felt under the coat, and there in the folds of the cloth was the bullet, a .45. I had my killer here. All I had to do was find him. Why he should kill Myrna was beyond me. She was as far out of the case as I was. The motive. The motive. What the hell kind of a motive was it that ate into so many people? The people the killer reached out and touched had nothing to give. They were all so different.
Jack, yes. I could see where he’d got mixed up in murder, but Myrna, no. Look at Bobo. Nothing could make me believe he was part of the picture. Where was motive there? Dope, he had been delivering it. But the connection. He never lived long enough to tell where he got the package or to whom it was going.
I shut the door softly behind me out of respect for the dead. Esther Bellemy had the maid in a chair at the foot of the stairs trying to comfort her. Mary was pouring herself a stiff whisky, her hands trembling. This hit her hard, whereas Esther was well composed. Charlotte came in with a cold compress and held it against the maid’s
