Hunt with the Hounds Page 10

  “He’s dead,” said Ruby in a stunned way.

  “I’m so sorry, Ruby. It’s a shock …”

  “What happened?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “It’s like Ernestine,” Ruby said in a kind of whisper.

  “Come out, Ruby. You can’t help him now. Don’t touch anything.…”

  “He can’t be dead. He can’t—he sent for me, he told me to come, I don’t understand.…”

  “He sent for me, too, he—then he was like that. Ruby, we’ve got to let Wat know.…”

  “What have you done?”

  “There wasn’t anything to do. He was dead. We phoned for the police.…”

  There was a sharp silence; then Ruby said, “Police?”

  “Well, it does look like Ernestine. I mean—it’s in the back.…”

  Ruby came back to the doorway; she looked stonily at Sue, her dark eyes very large in her white face.

  “His gun is there.” Jed came back into the room. “It’s on the desk. I didn’t touch it.” He looked at Sue and at Ruby. “See here, Ruby, I’ll talk fast but—it’s like this. They’re about to arrest Sue for Ernestine’s murder.…”

  “Sue!”

  “At least that’s what Camilla said. Is it true, Sue?”

  She nodded; Jed went on hurriedly. “The point is, Ruby, if the police find her here—I mean—there’s not time to plan—the only thing is for her to get out quick. I’m going to make her leave and, Ruby, will you swear that she was not here?”

  “No, Jed, we can’t.…” Sue began.

  Jed said hurriedly, “Ruby, I’ll explain later. I’ll tell you exactly why it is so important. But just this minute, before the police come, we’ve got to get Sue out of the way.”

  “Why, of course,” Ruby said. “If you think it’s right. But I don’t understand.…”

  “I can’t go,” Sue said.

  Jed stared at her. “Why, but Sue …”

  She said inadequately, “It’s Dr. Luddington …”

  “It’s too late anyway,” Ruby said, listening. “There’s somebody now.”

  Jed said, “It’s the police. It’s the state police—I can see their lights.…”

  Ruby, thick and stolid, in her perfectly tailored black coat, did a queer thing; she looked all around the room and said in a slow, calm voice, “That fern needs water,” and went over to touch the fern in a dazed, sleepwalking way.

  So Ruby, Sue thought fleetingly, felt more than she showed. Then heavy, authoritative feet thumped up the steps and men, uniforms, shining leather belts seemed to crowd the little hall. She and Ruby and Jed stood, as if at bay, to meet them.

  They were state troopers. Jed had reckoned without the radio in their patrol car. Sheriff Benjamin had sent them immediately; there were, in fact, only two of them and they quickly questioned Jed, who went into the consulting room with them. Ruby said vaguely, “I’ve got to phone to Wat,” and then did not move to do so.

  Later Sue realized that what seemed at the time confusion was actually an extremely orderly procedure; the men were excited but knew what they were to do and did it promptly; she heard them telephoning; she heard them questioning Jed. They did not question her or Ruby; they were still in the consulting room when another car and still another came roaring up the little street which suddenly was full of shifting lights and uniforms and people as the neighbors along the street, seeing the lights, hearing what had happened, began to gather in excited groups outside the house.

  Captain Henley and Sheriff Benjamin came in the second car. Sheriff Benjamin gave her a quick nod; Captain Henley’s excited eyes were like two bright daggers pinioning her with guilt. He went through hurriedly into the consulting room. Sue thought, “I can’t stay, I can’t listen, I can’t sit here and look at his diploma—at that picture of me and Ernestine and Camilla and Ruby.” And there was nothing else to do; she had to stay.

  Somehow she must tell Caroline; she stopped a trooper. He would not let her phone Caroline; he promised, though, hurriedly, to see that Miss Poore was told. And immediately Sue regretted it; it would have been better to wait. She said, “Let Chrisy—that’s the maid, let her tell my aunt.…” The trooper was young, excited, but seemed to accept it; he nodded and hurried on, into the consulting room.

  And then they took the three of them away, out the back door on account of all the people in the street. “We don’t want any trouble,” Captain Henley said to Sheriff Benjamin. “There’s the making of a mob out there. Everybody loved him.”

  A mob, thought Sue; and it could not be and was. Ruby rose, seeming perfectly collected. She linked her arm in Sue’s; they went out through the consulting room, through a tiny hall and into a kitchen and then quickly, into a police car. It took a route around the stables and then to a highway. Sue felt as if she were in a nightmare, speeding frantically through unfamiliar and frightening space which had no end. Yet Ruby beside her was familiar, her white face clear in the dusk; Jed, on the other side of Sue, took her hand tightly. They arrived at Bedford; they went to the same side entrance where, during the last moments of Jed’s trial, before the acquittal, she and Fitz had hurried to Fitz’s car, to escape.

  They went into the courthouse—it was dimly lighted and musty and smelled of cleaning compounds—they were in Sheriff Benjamin’s office.

  They remained there until nearly morning.

  They did not begin to question them (beyond Jed’s first statement) either singly or separately, at once; they put them under guard. About eight Jed induced one of the troopers sitting with them to send out for sandwiches and coffee. Hot, thick hamburgers came and coffee in paper containers. Ruby ate hers firmly, all the way through and a faint color came into her lovely face. They looked strange and out of place, the two women in black coats and beige breeches; Jed in slacks and a sweater and sport coat, sitting there in the bare, brightly lighted room. There was an inner office, too; men came and went; there must have been a telephone there, for it rang often; once when the door was opened, Sue caught a glimpse of a great, black safe with a picture painted on its door, standing in a corner and laden with magazines and hats and a dangling fly swatter.

  Eventually, after the telephone had rung again, a trooper came to the door. “Miss Poore?”

  All Sue’s body seemed to jerk to attention; were they going to question her now, were they going to take her away somewhere, put into effect that warrant which had been sworn out for her arrest in that very office? The trooper had seen her involuntary move; she did not need to reply. He said, “That was a lady, says she’s your aunt. No, sit still. I told her you were not hurt. She was afraid you’d been run away with. Seems a horse you were riding came home without you, had a big cut on his leg.”

  Jeremy. She had forgotten those galloping hooves. She started out of her chair; she must tell them immediately. Jed was watching her; Ruby was watching her. The trooper said, “And they want you in here, Miss Poore. The Captain’s got back.”

  Jed wanted to go with her; he got out of his chair; Ruby made some confused move, too; the trooper would have none of it. “You come in here, Miss Poore, and you”—he looked at Jed and at Ruby, firmly—“you stay here.”

  Captain Henley must have come in by a back entrance. She had not seen him pass through the outer office, but there he was, alert, suspicious, spruce and very excited, in an armchair beside Sheriff Benjamin’s roll-top desk. Sheriff Benjamin was there, too, looking old and pale, his white hair disheveled, the wrinkles in his face standing out sharply.

  “Sit here,” he said, and the trooper pushed a chair up closer. Sue sat down.

  The overhead light there was even brighter than where she had waited. It beat down into her face; it dazzled her eyes.

  Captain Henley said: “Why did you kill him?”

  11

  IT SEEMED then to Sue that every question they asked came back to that one, “Why did you kill him?”

  Not did you kill him, how did you kill him, when did you kill
him, but why?

  Sometimes it varied. What did Dr. Luddington know of the Baily woman’s murder? Why did you have to keep him quiet?

  Most of the questions came from Captain Henley. pounding away, breaking the case, attacking with the foretaste of triumph. Sheriff Benjamin, his old face troubled and worn, for the most part listened. She told her story not once but, it began to seem to Sue, a hundred times—as if she had never done anything, never lived any other life than that one, under the bright, dazzling light, replying, repeating, replying. Once she turned to Sheriff Benjamin half-sobbing: “Sheriff Benny, you know I couldn’t have killed him. Dr. Luddington …”

  “What did he know?” pounced Captain Henley. “What did he know?”

  There were other questions; hundreds of reshapings of the same questions.

  “Why did you go to his office?”

  “I wanted to see him. I was going to be arrested.”

  Sheriff Benjamin had already claimed his responsibility there. “I told her she was about to be arrested,” he had said flatly to Captain Henley. “I thought it my duty.”

  It had angered Captain Henley; she could see that; a flush rose in his fat, shiny face; he had said nothing, however; the sheriff was the sheriff; he had continued remorselessly, “Why did you want to see him?”

  “I thought he might help me.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know. I had to see somebody.…”

  “What did you want to ask him? What did he know? What were you afraid of?”

  “I wasn’t, I tell you. I wanted his advice. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “But he didn’t come to your house; you went there.”

  “Yes, yes, I told you, somebody phoned, a patient …”

  “Who was this patient?”

  “I don’t know. Aunt Caroline talked to him!” They had gone into that; they had sent somebody to telephone Caroline; Sue was thankful they had not yet brought Caroline, too, to the Sheriff’s office.

  “We can round up the patient,” said Sheriff Benjamin.

  Captain Henley ignored it; there was no such patient, his manner said brusquely. “So you rode over from your house; why?”

  “I’ve told you …”

  “Why?”

  “So I wouldn’t be stopped; so the police you had at our gate wouldn’t see me and stop me.…”

  “It wasn’t so nobody else would see you, was it?”

  “No—no, I tell you …”

  “You went by back ways, didn’t you? You never went out on the highway. Why did you sneak through the woods like that? Nobody was following you. Why didn’t you come out in the open?”

  “I’ve told you, I’ve told you.…”

  “Did anybody see you?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Unless the man who was in the woods …”

  “Oh, yes, our convenient rider.” Captain Henley went to the door, his chest puffed up smartly, his black boots shining; Sheriff Benjamin would not look at her. Captain Henley opened the door, said crisply to somebody outside: “Have you checked on the Beaufort hunt yet? I don’t care how many people you wake up. Find out who—if anybody—took a spill in the Luddington woods this afternoon, late.”

  He slammed the door; he came back. “How long do you claim you were in the waiting room?”

  “I don’t know, …”

  “Ten minutes or an hour?”

  “Nearer—I don’t know. Half an hour.”

  “You said twenty minutes before.”

  “I tell you I don’t know.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “I told you. Nothing—looking at pictures.…”

  “You were looking at pictures! Looking at pictures!” He leaned forward. “Why did you kill him?”

  “I didn’t—I didn’t …” She put her hands over her eyes, shutting out Henley’s accusing, red face, shutting out the glare of the lights. Heavy footsteps crossed the outer office; Sheriff Benjamin stared down at the floor. A car raced along the street below, at top speed. The whole village, the county seat, was alive and shocked, the streets were lined with cars; clusters of men stood, waiting for news, around the courthouse steps and on street corners. Murder in the dusky twilight; murder in the night.

  Captain Henley said, “You knew he kept his gun in his car. You came up on your horse; the doctor’s car was parked there in the driveway; you took the gun out of the glove compartment.”

  They had already established that. It was Dr. Luddington’s custom. A loaded revolver always went with him on night calls, or any calls, loaded and kept in the glove compartment of his car. It wasn’t that he feared attack, Sheriff Benjamin had said, coldly; doctors often did that, particularly in lonely country districts when they had night calls.

  “He was afraid for his life,” snapped Captain Henley, “that proves it. A loaded gun in his car at all times.”

  The sheriff shook his head and looked at the floor.

  Eventually they questioned Ruby; they brought her into the room where she sat, her thick figure composed, not a hair out of place, her lovely face quiet. She answered all their questions quietly. She knew nothing that, as far as Sue could see, could be called a clue except that her father-in-law had telephoned her and said he wished to see her.

  He had not talked to her—she had been out—he had left the message with a maid. By telephoning, then and there, to the maid, Henley established the approximate time when Dr. Luddington had telephoned Ruby; it was shortly after, perhaps twenty minutes after, Caroline herself had talked to Dr. Luddington. He established also the exact words of the message, but they were not revealing; Dr. Luddington had asked for Ruby and on being told that she was out had told the maid to tell Ruby he wanted to see her.

  “I didn’t telephone when I came in,” Ruby said. “I’d been riding, the horse was still saddled; I simply rode over.” She paused and said, “I hope someone has seen to my horse.”

  The sheriff said, “Wat saw to him, Mrs. Luddington.”

  “He knows, then?” asked Ruby.

  “I told him,” said the sheriff.

  Ruby waited a moment, her soft, dark eyes thoughtful. “It must have been a great shock,” she said then. “I realize you have to question us, but I—I’d like to go home as soon as possible.”

  Captain Henley said, “The maid is sure it was Dr. Luddington.” He looked at the sheriff. “Baily says that whoever phoned him said he was a patient. Didn’t give his name. Just said he was a patient and that Dr. Luddington couldn’t talk himself because he had an emergency case, but that he wanted Baily to come to the office as soon as he could.”

  “That,” Sue said, her voice unsteady, “is exactly what the patient said to Aunt Caroline, the very words. If you could find him …”

  The sheriff sat up, rubbed his hands together and leaned forward again, his elbows on his knees. So far, of course, there had been no proof that such a patient existed. Yet Caroline would have known Tom Luddington’s voice anywhere.

  The sheriff said, “Why should he have wanted to talk to you, Mrs. Luddington, to Miss Poore and to Jed Baily, all at the same time?”

  Henley flashed him an impatient look. “The only thing we know to be fact is that he phoned Mrs. Luddington; her testimony is corroborated by the maid.”

  The sheriff looked at him, his faded eyes angry. “We have Miss Caroline Poore’s word for it that someone calling himself a patient phoned.…”

  “Her unprejudiced word?” interrupted Henley.

  “You forget that she had no opportunity to talk to her niece; no opportunity for them to invent such a story.”

  It was true, of course. But Captain Henley was not satisfied. “Where’s the patient?” he said. “Where’s the patient?”

  The sheriff said to Ruby, “Do you have any idea at all as to what he wanted to see you about?”

  Ruby shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.”

  “Had you ever, you and Dr. Luddington, talked of the Baily murder?”<
br />
  “Oh, yes. I suppose we talked of it many times.”

  “Please think carefully, Mrs. Luddington. Did he ever, at any time, give you an impression that he knew something of the murder that he was withholding?… Please take your time; perhaps it was only a word or a look.”

  Ruby never thought quickly or easily; Sue knew the look of unhurried, plodding concentration in her face; her conclusions were, however, literal and accurate. She shook her head. “No. We knew that he had been with Ernestine at the last. Once or twice Wat questioned him. But there was never anything.”

  Henley said suddenly, his eyes bright and agate hard in his hot, red face, “Mrs. Luddington, what exactly were your relations with the murdered woman?”

  Ruby looked at him slowly. “Ernestine? Why, she was one of my oldest friends. She and Sue, and Camilla Duval and I—we were always friends. We went to school together.…”

  “I know that!” Henley’s voice sounded irritable. “I’ve been told it a thousand times. But did you get along? Had you ever any quarrels?”

  Ruby looked blank. After the instant or two which Ruby always seemed to require for complete comprehension, her shining black eyebrows lifted a little. “I didn’t quarrel with Ernestine,” she said flatly.

  Sue could have told him that Ruby was not likely to stir sufficiently from her monumental calm to quarrel with anybody. The sheriff said, “Do you know whether or not any of his patients fancied he had a grudge at the doctor? That has happened, you know.”

  Henley said quickly and scornfully, “It’s exactly like the Baily murder. Same thing exactly: door open, dusk, revolver near him, his own revolver, shot in the back.”

  “That doesn’t mean the same person did it,” said the sheriff mildly.

  Henley gave a kind of derisive snort. “It’s got to be linked with the Baily murder, no matter how you look at it. He was the important witness; he gave testimony that helped free Jed Baily; he was with Ernestine Baily alone for an hour or so before she died.”