Roszt and Kaynor were still trying to avoid being seen together, so when they next visited DuRosche Court, Roszt took his former place in the bushes while Kaynor walked aimlessly around the block, around two blocks, around four blocks. Then he returned to his starting point. They had no idea of how to discover a Johnson connection when they didn’t dare mention the name, and Egarn hadn’t been able to suggest anything. Even on the flickering len they seemed uneasy. Egarn reluctantly decided they should get out of Rochester for a time and give themselves a vacation. Then, when the uproar about the breaking and entering cases had quieted somewhat, they could resume their watch on the DuRosche mansion.
The afternoon faded; Roszt remained hidden in the bushes while Kaynor continued his uneasy circuits of the neighborhood. The nurse, Mrs. Halmer, who walked with the slow, measured stride of a heavy, middle-aged woman, left for the day. There was a path through the grounds that could be used as a shortcut, thus avoiding the long walk down the drive and out through DuRosche Court. She followed it. Egarn adjusted the len and watched her move sedately through the wooded grounds, looking very trim and neat in her white dress. She turned when she reached the sidewalk and walked toward the bus stop on East Avenue.
Kaynor, returning from one more circuit of the neighborhood, met her at the corner. He didn’t speak to her. He hadn’t spoken to anyone all afternoon. Egarn reflected sadly that the two men were no longer conducting an investigation. They were simply watching the mansion and its grounds and hoping for a break of some kind.
The haze of dusk was spreading through the grounds; lights had been turned on in the house. Kaynor, starting one more circuit, suddenly turned aside, forced his way through the tall hedge, and moved stealthily toward the house. There was no one outside; probably the residents were at dinner. Kaynor disappeared.
Egarn spoke to Inskel, who tried to adjust the len so they could see what was happening. By the time he succeeded, several minutes had passed. Kaynor had been window peeping; he had already checked the first story windows, and now he was kneeling and looking into a basement window. Finally he got to his feet, reached the cover of shrubbery with long strides, and began a stealthy retreat.
As Kaynor regained the sidewalk, Roszt emerged from his bushes, looked about cautiously, and then joined him. The two men talked for several minutes. Then they followed the sidewalk toward East Avenue, walking along the high hedge.
At the same moment, a young woman left the mansion. She turned to wave at someone standing in the doorway before she strolled briskly along the same path the nurse had taken. Because of the hedge, she couldn’t see Roszt and Kaynor, nor they her, and the three of them halted in surprise when they met abruptly where the path intersected the sidewalk.
Perhaps one of them spoke to her. She obviously spoke to them. Then, suddenly disturbed about something, she gesticulated wildly and seized Kaynor’s arm. A brief struggle followed, a sort of “tug of war,” until Roszt stepped forward and gave the woman a firm push. She staggered backward and fell heavily.
Roszt and Kaynor fled—not toward busy East Avenue, but in the opposite direction, along the quiet sidestreet. When they turned a corner, they had the good sense to slow their pace and walk normally.
Behind them, the young woman lay motionless, her head at a grotesque angle, her body partially concealed by the thick hedge.
18. THE STUDENTS; PROFESSOR MARCUS BROCK
Mount Hope Avenue, with its swarming north-south traffic, formed the eastern boundary of Mount Hope Cemetery. Across from the cemetery were venerable sidestreets of large, old-fashioned houses packed closely together—a tranquil neighborhood despite the volume of traffic flowing past. The streets were lined with tall shade trees; the houses, many with their original wood-railed porches, were carefully maintained. Flowers garnished the tidy yards with splashes of color. Here an old neighborhood grocery store had been converted into a residence; a short distance away the wheel had turned completely, and a residence had been converted into a business. Other houses were remodeled into two family dwellings or apartments. The few small, modern apartment building stood out starkly, bearing no resemblance to the houses that had formerly occupied those plots.
Enterprising developers had further crowded the neighborhood by inserting courts of row houses down the middle of the longer blocks, thus diminishing the backyards of the original buildings. One of these, Mount Hope Court, consisted of narrow, elongated rows of apartments. They were occupied entirely by students, some married, some sharing an apartment for the term.
A party was in progress in one of those apartments. Revelers crowded living room and bedrooms, drapping themselves over furniture or sprawling on the floor, talking, singing, or just listening while digging into a variety of chips and dips or inbibing drinks of varying potency. From the kitchen came tantilizing odors that promised more solid fare to follow.
The doorbell rang, and Alida Brylon hurried to answer it. She was tall, with long, unadorned, dark hair and very little makeup—the rare type who could be attractive with no concession to stylishness. Normally she was poised and completely at ease in any social situation, but on this evening her rush to the door reflected a growing nervousness.
She said, “Hi, Shirley. Hi, Charlie. Come in and join the zoo.”
“Sorry we’re late,” Charlie said. He was a small, dark-complexioned youth who had the air of one who went through life apologizing. “My car—”
Shirley, a hefty blond, cut him off with a vicious nudge. “She knows about your car. Everyone knows about your car.”
From the living room, a voice called, “Is it Janie?”
Alida called back, “It’s Shirley and Charlie.”
“Where’s Janie?” Charlie asked.
“She went to see her aunt, but she should have been here an hour ago. I’m worried about her.”
Shirley grabbed her hand and held it up to the light. A ring with a large diamond sparkled. “Hey—you got it!” she exclaimed. “How did Jeff manage that on an intern’s salary?”
“How does any man get engaged?” Charlie asked sourly. “By mortgaging his future.”
Shirley’s nudge almost knocked him down. “Is Jeff here?”
Alida nodded happily. “He found someone to cover for him.”
Shirley and Charlie inserted themselves into the packed living room—a contortionistic manipulation that required experience and skill. Alida returned to the kitchen.
A guitar twanged. “Let’s count the stars!” someone called.
“We can’t until Janie gets here.”
“Ruth can do it.”
“Ruth and Bob, then. Ready?”
The guitar twanged again. Ruth and Bob began the duet between an ardent suitor and a young lady who preferred counting stars to love. At intervals the other students commented in chorus, “No, she can’t love anyone … until her work is done … she is counting all the stars in the sky.”
The song concluded with laughter and applause, followed by a lull during which everyone reached for food. In the kitchen, the telephone rang. A moment later, Alida appeared in the living room doorway. Her face was white; she obviously was in shock.
Ruth’s voice came. “What is it? What’s happened?”
Alida said dully, “She’s dead.”
“Who’s dead?” one of the men called.
“Janie’s dead.”
Jeff Mardell, Alida’s fiance, hurried to her side and put an arm around her. She kept repeating, “Janie’s dead. Janie’s dead,” and trying to make herself believe it; and the stunned students, many of whom had got to their feet, were staring at her in equal disbelief.
They buried Janie in Mount Hope Cemetery, a place she had dearly loved. She had jogged there each
