Escape the Night (22 page)

“Yes.”

“When?”

“The—night I came home.”

Amanda interposed swiftly. “I wore it at dinner that night. At the Lodge. I had a dinner party. Somebody spoke of it and they—oh, teased me a little about it, as I remember it. They knew, of course, that it was merely junk. I don’t have the money for a bracelet like that, of real stones, if that’s what you’re implying, Mr. Lossey. You may not be aware of it but we are really frightfully hard up.
I
don’t buy emeralds and diamonds.”

“When did the bracelet disappear?” asked Lossey.

Amanda’s eyes were wide and appealing. “Why, Í don’t know. Sometime after that, of course. I think it was—oh, perhaps the next night when I missed it.”

Again with the most fantastic faith she counted on Serena’s support. Again it was exactly like Amanda to demand that support—and get it. And again and strangely Serena felt a sudden wave of pity. Amanda, somehow, some way, needed protection.

It angered her too, to realize that she felt that, and that she was going to give it to Amanda.

She did not see that, actually just then, she was almost as blind to reality as Amanda. She did not really comprehend the fact that Anderson and Lossey and the unobtrusive man with the notebook were fully resolved upon arresting her and charging her with murder until quite suddenly Lossey jerked his shining, bald head toward the telephone.

She didn’t know—perhaps no one there, then knew—why he said what he said. It was enough that he said it. “It wouldn’t do any harm, Lieutenant,” he said, “just to tell Quayle the latest developments. It wouldn’t do any harm …”

He turned around without another word and walked out of the room. The hall door closed as Anderson started to the telephone. He gave a number and waited and all at once Serena did comprehend reality. In another moment—in a few short seconds—she might be taken away, under arrest, charged with two murders; a trial—newspapers—horror unthinkable.

Jem came to her. She could feel the warmth and strength of his arm around her; yet of course Jem couldn’t do any more than he had already done to stop it. Dave put out a barely touched cigarette with a hand that shook. She saw that—above the small silver ashtray. She was aware of a soft silken rustle near her. Amanda sitting gracefully in a lounge chair, crossing one lovely knee over the other, met her eyes with a long enigmatic look.

They all heard what Anderson said. He did not commit himself; he merely said that, if it was all right with the chief, he’d like to see him before arresting Miss March. Apparently Captain Quayle thought highly of Anderson’s judgment. He seemed to ask a question or two, Anderson replied with a yes and two no’s, and hung up.

They went away without warning any of them to remain on the ranch or even in the vicinity. They went away without telling her, Serena, not to try to escape. They went away without leaving Slader to guard them or even mentioning a guard. They’d said they had to make an arrest because it wasn’t safe not to. But they hadn’t made it.

Serena didn’t really believe they’d gone. She was still tense, holding herself terribly quiet, staring at the empty doorway through which they’d gone. Jem and Sutton had gone out with them; Dave too. There were sounds from the patio and a car started up. Serena took a long breath. She thought of a chair and felt as if, still, she didn’t dare move; but she did move and sat down—slowly—putting her hands along the chair arms. Almost caressing them. Real things, matter-of-fact, ordinary. Reassuring because they were not in a cell!

But that was impossible! They couldn’t arrest her—ever!

She looked up, and Amanda was looking at her quietly across the hearthrug. Quietly and enigmatically and with great composure.

It was the composure that was disconcerting.

Then Amanda gave a little low laugh.

That was disconcerting too—it was so low and yet so full of genuine amusement. She leaned forward and linked her white hands around her knee. “You are really a fool, Sissy. You’re soft. Anybody can make a fool of you. So you decided not to tell them that Luisa and I had quarreled and why we quarreled. So you decided not to tell them that Leda knew why. But perhaps Jem
did
murder both of them! Men have done such things—for women. Women they were mad about. Women like me. And, after all, Leda had to get to the house somehow. Jem could have picked her up as easily as you. Sissy, when you like anybody you are disarmed; that’s very stupid of you, you know. I am never like that.” Her dark eyes were sparkling. She lifted both strong white hands and thrust her dark loose hair back away from her head with a free and beautiful gesture. “Thank Heaven
I
can be ruthless. Listen: if you know what’s good for Jem you’ll do as I say. You’re in love with him. But he’s in love with me and has been for years. And if the police know that and the motive he had for murder—well, do you see, Sissy? So you’re going to be a good little girl and tell them what you did with all that money I’ve been sending you.”

“YOU GAVE ME NO
money!”

“Oh, yes, I did.”

“That’s nonsense! And you know as well as I do that Jem wouldn’t have murdered anybody. You
can’t
tell the police anything that would make him a suspect.”

“Can’t I?” said Amanda, and smiled again.

There was a long silence, while she continued to smile. Then Serena got up and closed the door. “We’re going to have this out, Amanda. You’ve got to tell me the truth. I don’t think you murdered Luisa or Leda. I haven’t any question about that, so I don’t think that you are telling them all this about having given me money, in order to protect yourself in that way; to make the police suspect me instead of you, I mean. To cover yourself …”

“I quite see what you mean,” said Amanda. “What I told you stands, Sissy. I won’t tell them about Jem, if you’ll admit to taking the money.”

“You didn’t give me any money!
Amanda, don’t you see that even if I would consent to that—as I won’t; it’s preposterous—but don’t you see that I couldn’t substantiate it? There are records to—well, to bank deposits. To buying anything I could conceivably have bought with it …”

“Nonsense. Cash for furs. Cash for jewelry …”

“Where are the furs? Where is the jewelry?”.

“Well—then the stock market …”

“There are records there, too.”

“Well, you could transact your business with cash. Still …” Amanda bit her lip and said: “Gambling,” but rather tentatively, as if she didn’t really expect Serena to agree to that. Serena said nothing and Amanda added: “Well, then. I have it. You put it all in a safe deposit box.”

“Amanda, listen! Get this straight in your mind.
I will not tell them
that I took money from you.
I simply will not do it.”

Amanda waited an instant or two and then said obliquely: “They would never do anything to you, you know, Serena. You’re too pretty. I doubt if they really were going to arrest you. And I know perfectly well that they’d never let you stand trial.”

“Amanda
…” But there wasn’t any way to appeal to Amanda. Anger didn’t help either. Serena forced herself to speak slowly and reasonably as one would to a child. “Listen, Amanda:
Why?
There’s some reason for your saying what you’ve said about money. The bracelet Leda bought in New York was the bracelet that you hid in my room. Did you find it?”

Amanda’s eyes shifted. A bare ripple of discomposure seemed to cross her lovely face. “Well—no.”

“It was the Cartier bracelet. Wasn’t it?”

“I’m not going to tell you. Remember, Serena, it’s only your word against mine. All of this.”

“Why did Leda give you the bracelet?”

“What makes you think she did?”

“Oh, Amanda, don’t be childish. She either gave it to you, or bought it for you.
Why?”

Amanda’s smile had vanished but her face was still unmoved.

“What did you do for her that was worth that?”

“Nothing. I didn’t …” Amanda seemed to catch back her words.

“All right. She didn’t give it to you. Then who did?”

Amanda answered again; this time, however, she smiled rather uneasily and her eyes were guarded. “Nobody, darling. I don’t take twelve-thousand-dollar bracelets from people. I tell you Leda’s bracelet and mine were not the same.”

“I saw the bracelet, Amanda. It was real. Johnny said he didn’t give her the money to buy it. And the police didn’t find it among Leda’s things. Why did she give it to you?”

“I tell you she didn’t! My bracelet was junk and it was stolen.”

“Oh, Amanda, people don’t steal junk bracelets!”

“Don’t they?” said Amanda, and smiled.

“Amanda,” said Serena slowly, “you’ve got to believe that this is serious. Every statement you make will have to be capable of proof. The bracelet—your claim to have given me money—everything. You and I know that you gave me nothing. There’s no use pretending to me.
Why
did you tell them that you’ve been sending money to me?”

Amanda’s eyes flickered; then she smiled calmly. “Well, I have to admit that that was a mistake. I wished I hadn’t said it. But it was the first thing I could think of. So then”—she shrugged—“well, then I had to stick to it.”

“But good Heavens, Amanda …”

“That’s my story, and I stick to it, darling. And you are going to stick to it, too!”

“That’s exactly what I’m not going to do.”

“Then they’re going to know all about Jem and how he’s been in love with me and how Luisa interfered and—oh, by the way, Serena.” She stopped smiling and leaned forward. “I thought I told you hands off about Jem. I meant it.”

“Are you in love with him, Amanda?”

Amanda’s eyes flickered. “I—certainly. And he’s terribly in love with me. He’s always been.”

Serena ignored that. “Are you going to leave Sutton and marry Jem?”

Amanda hesitated. “When I’m ready to. Yes.”

“Does Jem want to marry you?”

An ugly look came into Amanda’s face. “Listen to me, Serena March! If you think you’re going to have Jem now, you’re not! Do you think I’m willing to be stuck in this place all my life! Look at me! I’m beautiful—I’m attractive—people like me.
I’m
not going to stay here all my life—seeing the same people, doing the same things! I’m going to …” she broke off and gave Serena a queer, rather crafty look. “Did Jem tell you why he’s here? Well, I’ll tell you! He’s waiting an appointment. It’s a government thing, so big that when he tried to get in the army they asked him not to. He’s important, Serena; only none of us knew how important. He’s … It’s like diplomacy. They’re sending him—I don’t know where exactly, India and Australia and—but that’s not the point—they’re sending him because he gets along with people. Because he can get what he goes after, because … Oh, you wouldn’t understand, Serena, but Jem’s important. He’s going places. And I,” said Amanda softly, “am going with him. When I’m ready.”

Serena wanted to say, childishly, “Does Jem know this?” She wanted to say, almost as childishly, “Jem says he loves me.” She wouldn’t let herself say either. “Not if he’s arrested for murder,” she said crisply instead.

But Amanda was still sure of herself. “That,” she said smiling, “is up to you. Is there anything else you’d like to know, darling?”

“Yes,” said Serena quietly. “Leda said that you’d had the upper hand a long time and now she had it. What did she mean?”

“I’m not going to tell you. Any more questions?”

“Who was in the room when I phoned to you from San Francisco?”

This time Amanda’s eyes sharpened. “What do you mean?”

“You spoke to someone. I heard you. You said, ‘It’s only Sissy. You can listen if you want to …’ And then you said, ‘Put that down.’ Who was it? Sutton—or Luisa—or someone else?”

The ripple of surprise that had crossed Amanda’s face was gone. It remained perfectly blank, but now, wary. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Amanda, stop lying!”
Anger caught Serena like a furious gust of wind, shaking her.
“You’ve got to tell me the truth!”

“How are you going to make me say anything I don’t wish to say?” asked Amanda—in exactly the blankly stubborn voice she might have used, ten or even twenty years before that.

Serena thought rather despairingly of that. Again, with anger still throbbing in her voice, she tried to reason with the lovely woman opposite her.

“Amanda, won’t you listen and think …” she began. And Amanda said: “I imagine that you are thinking of telling them what you heard Leda say to me; but if you do, remember it will make them suspect Jem of murder—and he was there, you know. He was at Casa Madrone. Don’t forget that. He could have killed her—and Jem has a temper, as perhaps you don’t know.” Amanda did not seem to be aware of her extreme inconsistency.

“You imply that you’re in love with Jem,” said Serena. “Yet you say you’ll give evidence against him.…”

Amanda laughed lightly. “Don’t be stupid, darling. That’s what I meant when I said you were soft with people you love. But I’m not. Remember that. You’ll give in, and do as I say. And even if you do forget yourself so much as to make them think Jem murdered her, don’t forget that, again, they’ll have only your word for what you heard. They’ll just say that you are trying to make me a scapegoat again. I’ll deny it,” said Amanda quite pleasantly. “I’ll deny everything.”

As she spoke, Sutton opened the door and came into the room. He did it so quickly and quietly that Serena wondered if he had heard any of their conversation. He was alone, standing there in his tweeds and yellow scarf with his amiable face now rather drawn as if it had withered somehow, overnight. He didn’t look at Serena but said, apparently to her: “Jem and Dave went with the police. They wanted to talk to Quayle. Will you come with me, Amanda?”

“Come with you …” began Amanda in a rather startled way. “Why? Where?”

“I want to talk to you. Come outside”

“I’ll go,” began Serena, but Sutton went to Amanda and put his hand on her arm. “Now,” he said.

After an instant’s stare into Sutton’s face, Amanda got up. She shook off his hand rather disdainfully. But without another word she went out of the room and Sutton followed.