'Never mind all that. Just the essentials.' The doctor glanced impatiently at his watch. 'I can't spend all morning on-on-You heard Winroy coming down the stairs, making plenty of noise about it. Go on.'
'I got up. We both got up, I believe. We supposed that- uh-he was just-'
'Drunk. Go on.'
'We went out into the hall and he staggered past us, mumbling that he'd been doped-that the wine had been doped, or something of the kind. His speech was very unclear. He came into the dining room and collapsed, and we-Mrs. Winroy-called-'
'He was carrying the wine bottle with him, eh? Very carefully corked?' The loctor's face was flushed; the red seemed to go clear up into his eyes. 'Let me see it again.'
Kendall took the bottle from the table and handed itto him. He sniffed it, tasted it, took a man-size swallow of it. He brushed his mouth sourly, glancing at Fay.
'He take sleeping pills? How many-how often?'
'I-I don't k-know, doctor.'
'Know how many he has? Whether any great number is missing?'
'No, I-' Fay shook her head '-I brought him some back from the city, but I don't know how many he had-'
'Did, eh? Have a prescription? No? Know that's illegal? Never mind. No bearing here.'
'He's n-not-?'
The doctor grunted. He dug the toe of his shoe into Jake's ribs. 'Cut it out. Stop it. Get up from there,' he snapped.
Jake's eyes wavered open. 'S-something… in the-'
'There's something in it, all right. Alcohol. Twenty percent by volume.'
He reached for his medicine kit, nodding grimly at Fay. 'Nothing wrong with him. Not a thing in the world. Throw a pail of water on him if he doesn't get up.'
'But, I-' Her face was red, too, now. Even redder than his. 'Why… I just don't understand-'
'Exhibitionism. Wants attention, sympathy. They hit that stuff long enough they don't make much sense… No, he's not drunk. Hasn't had enough.'
Fay grimaced, trying to smile. 'I'm terribly sorry, doctor. I'll… if you'll send a bill-'
'I will. And don't call me again, understand? I have sick people to take care of.'
He slapped his hat on his head, shook hands with Kendall and slammed out of the house.
Jake sat up. He pushed himself up to his feet, stood weaving, his head sagged, staring at the floor.
'Ruth'-Fay kept her eyes on him-'haven't you some work to do?'
'I-Yes, ma'am.' Ruth pivoted on the crutch and scuttled back to the kitchen.
'Jake.' Pay moved toward him slowly. 'Jake. Look at me!'
'Somethin'… something wrong,' he mumbled.
'Oh.' She said hoarsely. 'Something was wrong, huh? Something wrong. You-you frightened us all half to death- make a big scene here on Sunday-and a-and let me in for a bawling out from that damned snotty Dodson, and-and something's wrong! Is that all you've got to say? Look at me, Jake Winroy!'
He kept his eyes on her feet, mumbling that something was wrong. Moving backward as she came toward him.
He reached the door, and there, as he had that first night, he whirled and made a break for it. I heard him trip and stumble on the steps, but he didn't fall as he had the other time. He got through the gate, and glancing out the window I saw him heading for town at his sagging, loping walk.
Fay turned back toward us. Her lips were trembling, her hands clenching and unclenching. She shrugged-or tried to. She tried to smile. She said, 'Well, I g-guess that's t-tha-' Then she sank down into a chair at the table, and buried her head in her arms.
Kendall touched me on the elbow and we went out in the hall together. 'Not the most pleasant way to spend the Sabbath, eh? You look like you might be able to use a small libation, Mr. Bigelow.'
'I could,' I said. 'It wouldn't even have to be small.'
'So? You will do me the honor, then.'
We crossed the street to the bar. There were quite a few people in the place, but the bartender came around from behind the counter fast and showed us to a booth.
He'd never done that for me. I'd never seen him do it for anyone else. Kendall seemed to take it as a matter of course. I wondered about it-this and the way the doctor had kind of kowtowed to him-and I guess I showed it.
'I've lived here the better part of my life, Mr. Bigelow. Or should I say the larger part of it? I grew up with many of these people. I taught school to many.'
The bartender brought our drinks, double Scotches. Kendall rocked the ice in his glass, looked up at me slowly. His eyes were twinkling.
'Odd about Winroy, isn't it? Now, he above all people should know that if you had been sent here to kill him-if you had, Mr. Bigelow-'
'That's not a very pleasant if,' I said.
'Sorry. Thoughtless of me. Make it a hypothetical person, then. What good would it do for Winroy to dispose of him? He'd only be postponing the inevitable.'
'Yeah?' I said. 'I guess I don't know much about those things.'
'But it's so elementary! They-his former associates, that is-would be even more determined, if anything. Suppose the officers charged with executing our laws allowed a malefactor to go unpunished, merely because punishment was difficult or dangerous to render him. We'd have chaos, Mr. Bigelow. It simply couldn't be allowed.'
I raised my glass and took a drink. 'I guess you're right,' I said. 'It would be that way, wouldn't it? But a mal-a criminal usually does try to get away. He may know it won't do him any good, but he's got to try; he can't just sit.'
'Yes. Yes, I suppose so,' he nodded. 'While there's life there's hope, et cetera. But Winroy-'
'I-I don't know what all this has to do with me,' I said. 'What you said a moment ago; it sounded like you thought he'd tried to get me in trouble.'
'And? Surely you were aware of that,'
'Why, no.' I shook my head. 'I thought it was like the doctor-'
'Tell me, Mr. Bigelow. What do you think the doctor's reaction would have been if there had been a quantity of amytal in the wine? What do you think would have been the end result of the ensuing course of events?'
I stared at him. What did I think? Jesus Christ, I didn't have to think!
He nodded slowly.
'Yes. He tried to-uh-frame you… that's the expression, isn't it? You are here by the grace of God, and, I might say, due to my innate distrust of and dislike for the man. Here, instead of in custody on a charge of attempted murder-or worse.'
'But-for God's sake!' I said. 'How-?'
'Winroy is not notably an early riser. Neither is he inclined to show consideration to others in the matter of quiet. So, when I heard him moving about early this morning-moving with attempted but not too successful stealth-I was disturbed. I got up and listened at my door. I heard him creep out of his room and enter yours. When he came out and went downstairs, I investigated. I-I hope you don't think it was presumptuous of me to enter your room, but my thought was that he might have harmed-'
'I don't. That's all right,' I said. 'Just-'
'He was too obvious about it. If he'd used any subtlety at all, but… It was a box of amytal, Mr.
