Postmark Murder (17 page)

“Doris? No, I’m at Laura’s. Well, I really want to talk to Charlie, is he there? Something rather odd has happened.” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and spoke to Laura. “He’s there. Shall I tell them to come here? Right.” He said to Doris, “Come over here, Doris, you and Charlie. I’d rather not tell you over the telephone. All right.”

He hung up as the little French clock struck seven. Laura started to the kitchen. “I didn’t realize how late it is. I’ll get out something for them to drink.”

Matt went with her and Jonny followed, Suki in her arms, and instantly the bright little kitchen took on a warm and domestic air. Matt got out whiskey and soda, glasses and ice; he found cheese and crackers and put them on a tray and then poured himself a drink and sipped it leaning against the table, while Laura prepared Jonny’s supper. He made conversation with Jonny; when the back door bell rang he went to open it, instantly alert and guarded; it was the Christmas tree Laura had ordered.

Matt superintended its journey through the kitchen, and made sure that the kitchen door was bolted before he followed the spreading mass of rustling green, shedding pine needles as it went, into the living room. Matt chose the space for it before the window; Matt coped with the intricacies of the three-legged holder which Laura unearthed from the shelf in the coat closet. Matt tipped the men who brought it, and saw them out the kitchen door again and the door bolted again. And then he got out the boxes of Christmas ornaments. Jonny with difficulty was persuaded to leave the heaps of tinsel, red and green and blue and silver, sparkling and gay, in order to eat her supper. Once convinced however, she settled down in a polite but businesslike way while Matt talked of Christmas, and then when she’d finished all three of them went to trim the tree. Matt paused at the wood-box and built and lighted a fire in the small fireplace, and stood for a moment watching the flames catch; the golden light touched his tall figure to sharp relief. “Looked nice yesterday,” he said to Laura. “Now then—what goes on top of the tree? I’ll get the kitchen stepladder.”

He was on the ladder, perched precariously to reach the topmost branch with a star whose silver glitter had been rather worn down during the years since it had first been fastened to the top of Laura’s Christmas tree by Peter March, nearly twenty years before, when Charlie and Doris arrived.

“Cocktails came in just after you phoned, Matt,” Doris said. “We thought we’d have a drink before we came—” She stopped and stared at him, balanced on one long leg and stretching for the top of the tree. “What on earth are you doing!”

Jonny, her hands clasped around a Santa Claus of red and gold, was holding her breath, her whole sturdy little figure tense, watching Matt. Charlie said, “It’s a nice tree, Laura. Just the right size. Shall I take your coat, Doris?”

She slid out of the beige-toned coat; a scent of carnations drifted across to Laura. Doris wore no hat and her hair fit her head as neatly and elegantly as a little golden cap. She had changed to a dinner dress, black and filmy, with a lace top and a short skirt; her little feet were clad in sandals which were barely thin straps over the thinnest of stockings. She wore pearls at her throat and diamond and emerald bracelets. She shivered a little and went to the fire and adjusted the lock on one bracelet. Charlie said, “It’s getting colder. Looks like it may be a white Christmas.” He laid the beige mink coat carefully across a chair as if he had a minute sense of its value.

Doris said impatiently, “It’s two weeks till Christmas! Why trim a Christmas tree now! Besides—anything can happen before then. If Peabody decides to make an arrest—”

“There it is!” Matt said loudly and cheerfully as he secured the star, and Jonny clapped her hands and dropped the Santa Claus. Doris tapped her small foot and did not finish her sentence. Jonny fell down on her knees with a little wail but the Santa Claus hadn’t broken. “Here,” Matt said, “give him to me. I’ll put him right below the star.”

Charlie strolled over to watch the process. “A little more to the right. It’s hidden by a branch. What happened, Matt? Why did you call us?”

“I’ll tell you—” Matt secured the Santa Claus and came down from the ladder “Maria Brown was here.”

Laura listened. Jonny busied herself with the silver tinsel balls and ovals and gaily colored bulbs, dispersing them earnestly, her little face rigid with concentration, among the lower branches. Suki, his eyes shining red with excitement, crouched at the base of the tree and made sudden forays upon the boxes of Christmas ornaments. Matt poured drinks for all then, coolly, as he talked. Jonny was utterly absorbed in her task; even if she had understood their words, Laura thought, she wouldn’t have heard anything they said. It was only when Matt went on to tell them of Suki that her head jerked around, and her blue eyes, startled, fastened upon Matt inquiringly. He observed it; he nodded at her reassuringly. He didn’t mention Suki by name again.

Both Doris and Charlie were skeptical about Matt’s explanation for Suki’s sickness.

“Cats are always picking up something!” Doris said, eyeing the kitten distastefully. And Charlie said doubtfully, “It couldn’t have been anything very serious.” He, too, eyed the kitten, who at that instant lashed his tail, sprang open a tinsel bauble and sent it whirling across the room, Jonny and the kitten after it in hot pursuit. “But this Brown woman—that’s very serious. I don’t like it. I think I’ll have another drink.” He leaned over the tray on the long table before the sofa, his discreet face grave.

Doris swung one small foot. “But she didn’t threaten Laura! She only asked her about Jonny! She didn’t take out a gun or anything like that! I’ll take another drink, Charlie.” She held out her glass to Charlie; the glass decanter reflected a rosy gleam from the fire; Doris’ bracelets shot dazzling little lights. “Of course if this woman, Maria Brown,
was
a witness— I wonder what she knows!”

Charlie handed Doris her glass. “Probably nothing. Except that it was murder. My own opinion is that she had some reason of her own for avoiding the police. She knew they would question her and she’s afraid of them.”

“She asked about Jonny,” Matt reminded him.

Charlie lifted his eyebrows. “She’d read the papers. She had a glimpse of Jonny. My guess is that she scents blackmail. She doesn’t know exactly what or how but she hopes there may be some chance of getting some money for herself.”

“Maybe,” Matt said. “On the other hand, it struck me that she might be Jonny’s mother.”

Charlie stared at him, his glass at his lips. Doris cried, “Her mother! But she’s dead! She’s—” Doris caught her breath, lowered her silky eyelashes, and under their cover very swiftly explored the theory, for she said with scarcely a second’s pause,

“Besides if she was his wife that affects— Exactly how would that affect the Stanislowski fund?”

Laura replied, “If she’s his wife, Matt says that presumably she would have a third of the fund. That is, if she comes forward and proves her identity—”

Matt interrupted. “And if she did not murder Conrad,” he said dryly, looking down into his glass.

Doris’ pretty pink lips set themselves firmly. She turned to Charlie. “Charlie, I think this is too far-fetched. Don’t you agree?”

“Well,” Charlie said deliberately, “I suppose it is a possibility. But I rather think my own explanation is the more likely one. If she were the mother she’d have come to us, tried to claim the child and the money before now. No, I think she’ll prove to be an accidental witness, with a police record probably. I think she’ll see to it that the police don’t find her. And as to this business about the kitten, really, Laura, I wouldn’t take that too seriously. Isn’t there some other way the kitten could have got this— sedative, or whatever it was?”

“No,” Laura said flatly. “I have nothing of the kind in the house.”

“But it seems so—well, purposeless. And certainly it would have been a very dangerous thing for anybody to enter your apartment like that. Suppose you had seen him. I can’t help thinking that was an accident.”

Doris’ cheek had flushed to a delicate pink. She looked at Laura steadily. “The point is, why should anybody try to murder you?”

Matt, leaning on the mantel, looked thoughtfully down into the fire and said nothing. Charlie coughed in a rather apologetic way. “Doris is right,” he said. “You say, Laura, that you’ve told the police everything you know. Why should there be an attempt to murder you? It’s true that you are standing in the position of guardian to Jonny, but if Jonny
is
the motive for this murder and you were—removed, it wouldn’t make it easier for anybody to— well, to get hold of Jonny, for instance. We would only tighten our guard about Jonny. It would only result in even more care for Jonny’s safety. No,” he said deliberately, “I don’t think that’s the answer.”

Jonny had turned at the repeated mention of her name. Matt saw it and strolled across the room to select a gay ornament and suggest its position on the tree, and Doris got up with a swish of silk skirts. “Well, for my part I think Laura’s imagination is running away with her. The kitten picked up something, cats are always picking things up in odd corners. Nobody is trying to murder Laura. And as to this Maria Brown—I don’t say I don’t believe you, Laura, but are you sure that all happened just as you told it? I mean—” Doris was suddenly very gentle and friendly. “I mean, you’ve had a shock, finding that man murdered and all that. Isn’t it possible that you exaggerated things? Unintentionally, of course! All of us would understand that.”

It flicked a swift, small anger again in Laura. It had always been that way between them. “I assure you, Doris, that I told the truth!”

“You don’t like me,” Doris said. “You’re angry. You—as a matter of fact you’ve never liked me, Laura! Come now, you may as well admit the truth. You have hated me ever since Conrad married me.”

“That’s not true!”

Charlie murmured something uneasily, picked up his empty glass and put it down. Matt, having successfully diverted Jonny, strolled back to lean against a tall green chair, a curious, slightly amused but extremely alert look in his eyes.

Doris turned at once to him. “I’m sorry I spoke like that, Matt,” she said, all at once gentle again and rather wistful. “I’ve always liked Laura and tried to be friends with her. Conrad had told me about her. He told me that he had brought up a child, a daughter of a friend of his, a little girl who had no money. I thought it was generous and kind of Conrad, but I—I may as well admit that I was very much surprised when I discovered that the little girl Conrad had taken in and befriended was in fact a young woman nearly as old as I was, and—well a woman senses some things.” She went to Matt and put her hand on his arm. She lifted soft brown eyes to him. “I tried to be kind to Laura. But she never liked me. I couldn’t help thinking that she had— How can I express it? It sounds cruel to put it in words, but I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps Laura herself intended to marry Conrad.”

Laura took a stunned, gasping breath. “I never thought of such a thing! Neither did Conrad! He was like a father to me!”

“A very generous father,” Doris said. “A very rich father. You
must
have expected to inherit some of Conrad’s estate. Perhaps all of it. He had no relatives except for this Conrad Stanislowski in Poland and you didn’t know his intention to leave part of his money to him. It
must
have occurred to you that you were closer to Conrad than anyone else. But then he met me and fell in love with me and—I don’t blame you, Laura. I understand it. I’m only sorry we can’t be friends.” She looked at Charlie and smiled, a small and wistful smile. “I think I’d better go now. Dinner will be waiting.” She looked up at Matt again. “You are coming, too?”

I
T WAS ALMOST A
command. Matt smiled down at Doris, patted her hand and said, “I am having dinner here with Laura.”

“Oh,” Doris said blankly. “Oh, well—”  Her glance picked up Charlie, who followed her into the hall.

Matt said, “Is that all right, Laura? I saw some steaks in the refrigerator. I broil a fine steak.”

She nodded; she was so shaken with anger she did not trust herself to speak. He gave her a kind of twinkle. “She doesn’t mean all that,” he said and lounged into the hall. There was a little murmur of talk, Charlie’s voice and Matt’s, and a soft and musical word or two from Doris.

Matt turned from the doorway. “Doris says good night,” he said to Laura, suppressing a grin. Charlie, his hat and gloves in his hand, and his coat on, appeared beside him, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Good night, Laura. Don’t take this too hard. I really think there is some sensible explanation about the kitten. And if this Brown woman comes again, call the police. Call me. Call Matt. Don’t let her come in the house. But I doubt very much if she’ll come back. Too much risk of the police—”

Doris’ voice interrupted him. “Are you coming, Charlie? Good night, Matt darling.” She came into view as she spoke, a lovely little figure, furs swirling luxuriously around her. She lifted up her face to Matt, and put her gloved hand on his shoulder. He kissed her briskly. She said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She didn’t look at Laura. There was the small bustle of their leaving, then the door closed and Matt came back. He still had an odd, rather twinkling and amused smile in his eyes. He came to the table and poured himself another drink. “Don’t pay any attention to Doris.”

Jonny, her brown head bent over a heap of glittering ornaments, gravely selected a golden bell, inserted the hook and crawled under a branch to hang the bell. Suki made a dash at the piece of tissue paper in which the bell had been wrapped. Laura said, her voice stiff and constrained. “Matt, not a word of that is true. I never thought of Conrad as anything but—but Conrad! He was everything—friend and father, and everything to me. I never thought of any claim on him! He had already done so much for me!”

He gave her a suddenly serious look. Then he put down his glass, and crossed to her. “Don’t defend yourself. There’s no need to. Doris gets worked up and flies off on a tangent like that, but it doesn’t mean anything. The fact is, Doris is frightened. And as to that, we are all a little frightened. It’s not a nice thing. Now then, forget Doris. Forget all of it. I’ve invited myself to dinner and I really can broil a steak. Come on, Jonny. We’ll finish the tree after dinner.” He went through to inspect it while Jonny watched him eagerly. Inasmuch as she could reach only the lower branches, the tree was taking on a rather odd effect of plenty below and scarcity above, but he nodded approvingly and lifted Jonny to her feet. “We’re going to cook dinner,” he told her. “Come and see what a good cook I am.”