“Sugar,” she said, “are you all right?”
“All right,” I said, and I had this assured feeling that she was truly onto something of significance, and that all right everything would shortly be, if it wasn’t quite already. “I’m only wondering who it could have been. Who, conceivably, could it have been?”
“There is nothing difficult about that,” Sid said. “It was whoever killed her, of course.”
“And who, conceivably, is whoever lolled her?”
“As to that, I’m not sure yet, but there are things that can be safely deduced, and the first deduction is that the killer is surely a woman. As I told you, it would have been easy for a woman to imitate Beth’s voice, even if she were no more than a little clever, but it would hardly have been possible for a man, unless he were especially talented and trained, which isn’t likely.”
“That sounds reasonable enough. Now go on deducing. Deduce, for example, why this woman, whoever she may be, killed Beth and then tricked me into going to Dreamer’s Park and incriminating myself.”
“Why, sugar, that is so elementary that it doesn’t really deserve to be called deducing. Allowing for the possibility of her being a little crazy, which could have been a factor, she undoubtedly killed Beth because she hated her, and incriminated you because she hated you also, although not quite so much, perhaps, as Beth. The incrimination part was land of sloppy and uncertain at best. There was no assurance that it would work, and it nearly didn’t, for you simply kept quiet about finding the body, which you might not have found at all in such a dark place, and it looked as though you were going to come out of it with no more than a certain amount of inconvenience and a somewhat guilty conscience. That is why, after a while, it was necessary to send the note to the police.”
“You contend, then, that the telephoner and the writer are one and the same person?”
“Oh, yes. Naturally. It’s practically certain.”
“By God, it’s almost traumatic to feel that one’s been the cause of such machinations. I can understand someone’s wanting to kill Beth, for I’ve felt the desire myself on occasion, but I can’t quite see myself as the kind of fellow who incites such strong emotion.”
“Sugar, I’m prepared to testify that you are perfectly capable of inciting strong emotion, but that is beside the present point, and we’d better not get into it. What we must get into is who this woman is by name, and I’m just beginning to get some interesting ideas that may amount to something. As I recall, regarding your telephone conversation, you said you were drinking gimlets, and whoever was imitating Beth said something about drinking gimlets still. Is that true?”
“Yes. True. I remember distinctly. And I said not still, but again, because of the bottle of wine.”
She was swinging her legs now like a small, intense girl watching a foot race or something else exciting, and her face was set in the fiercest imaginable scowl of concentration.
“It’s apparent, then, that the person on the telephone, who was surely a woman, was also someone who knew that you had been drinking gimlets. Since it has been established that it was not Beth, it must have been someone else who was right there in the Kiowa Room watching you at the time, and there is only one person that I can remember your mentioning by name when you came home late and covered her with gin kisses on the terrace.” She stopped swinging her legs and sat very still on the table, and the fierce scowl faded slowly through subtle changes into an expression of childish wonder.
“Sugar,” she said, “why would Sara Pike want to kill Beth Thatcher and go to all sorts of extremes to put the blame on you?”
“Sara Pike! Are you serious, Sid? You can’t be.”
“I can and I am. Now that I’ve thought it through and come to a solution, I have an absolute conviction. Please answer my question. What did you and Beth Thatcher ever do to Sara Pike?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“There you go. Answering again before thinking. Half of your troubles, I’m sure, come from talking or acting without thinking first. Of course you did something to her, however unintentional it may have been. It’s a simple matter of being reasonable. She certainly didn’t kill Beth and incriminate you for nothing at all.”
“Well, I can’t think of anything. Not a damn thing.”
“Isn’t it true that Beth and Sara’s brother Sherman once went together seriously?”
“Yes. That’s true enough.”
“And isn’t it also true that she broke off with him and took up with you after you got back from being away?”
“True, true, but of damn little consequence.”
“Perhaps. We’ll continue to think about it and see. At any rate, you said you had done nothing, and already we have come up with something.”
“I said nothing was done to Sara. What was done to Sherm was something else, and it really amounted to damn little. Sherm was a brilliant sort of guy, and a nice one. No hard feelings. Besides, he died right away, and none of it made any difference to him then, one way or another.”
“Well, there it is, sugar. You have said it yourself.”
“Said what?”
“That he died right away. Dying is surely something.”
“Oh, come off, Sid. He’d had rheumatic fever as a kid. He died of heart failure.”
“Are you sure? Who said so?”
“The doctor said so, that’s who.”
“Who was the doctor? Do you remember?”
“Yes, I do. Old Doctor Weinsap is who. He was the Pike’s family doctor, and he was ours too. I think he was damn near everyone’s family doctor.”
“I don’t know any Doctor Weinsap. Is he still practicing?”
“Not here, at least. He’s dead.”
“That’s too bad, for I would like to talk with him.
