AS THE SPARKS FLY UPWARD (17 page)

“The detective in charge of this case is a close personal acquaintance.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

She chewed her lip. “They know about me, huh?”

“Yes, they do.”

She sighed and flicked her ash into the ashtray. “I guess I always knew they’d find out about me. You can’t hide forever. Some poet said that.”

“So true.”

“I read poetry myself. I love T. S. Eliot. Don’t you? Have you ever read him? I love that bit about ‘a pair of ragged claws / Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.’ Isn’t that beautiful? I guess that describes how I feel right now. A pair of ragged claws, all alone, scuttling across the floors of silent seas.”

The effect of hearing T. S. Eliot—and one of his own favorite passages—quoted from the red, overpainted mouth of this grotesque-looking woman was startling. Snooky stared at her.

“You read T. S. Eliot?”

“Yeah.”

The meal arrived. Diane dissected her cheeseburger neatly with her knife and fork, eating it in rapid, tiny bites. “Bobby and I used to read poetry together. He had never read T. S. Eliot. I used to read
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
to him at night.” She fell silent, depressed by this memory.

“How did you meet him?”

She regarded him warily. “Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because I’m trying to help you. And because, if Detective Bentley gets hold of you, you’re going to need a friend. I speak from personal experience.”

The story that emerged, in bits and snatches, helped along by Snooky’s questions, was straightforward. Diane—her last name was Caldwell—worked as a hairdresser and manicurist in a shop in Wolfingham. One day, half a year ago, Bobby had walked in for a haircut.

“We started talking—of course I always talk to the customers—and at the end he asked me out. We went out to dinner and talked and talked and talked. Bobby was so … so
sensitive.
” A large tear glimmered in one mascara-smeared eye. “He was the nicest man I ever met. The kindest. He was always thinking of me, not of himself. We saw each other practically every day for three months. And then he met that—that
woman.
”

“And what happened?”

She picked up her smoldering cigarette and inhaled on it vigorously. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“He said that that old hag had fallen for him—of course, who wouldn’t? She chased after him for a while. He used to come and tell me about it, and we’d laugh together. But then … I don’t know. Suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore. Bobby started coming to my place less and less, and he always seemed so—so secretive about it. Like he didn’t want anyone to know. And we went out less and less, in case anybody might see us. Still, I couldn’t believe he’d leave me for that old hag. That
bitch.
”

“But he did.”

She looked at him forlornly. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. Did he tell you they had gotten engaged?”

“Yeah. He said it was her idea, not his, but I knew he was lying. He said he still loved me, but I guess he loved her money more. That’s what it was—her money. He couldn’t
resist it. I’m poor, and he was poor, and he always wanted to be rich. I thought it was enough that we were … that we loved each other.” She began to sob.

“Now, now,” said Snooky awkwardly, patting her shoulder. “Here. Have a Kleenex.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry … I’m sorry. I know I look awful.”

“You look much better without all that stuff on your face. Honestly, you do.”

“Oh, no, no, no. I hate the way I look. I try not to look in the mirror in the morning when I put my makeup on.”

Snooky felt that that explained a great deal about her appearance, but he did not say anything. “When’s the last time—I’m sorry, but when’s the last time you saw Bobby?”

“The night he got engaged. He drove to my place and told me about it. I couldn’t believe it. We had an awful fight.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I screamed at him—crazy stuff—I don’t know what I said. And he told me he still loved me. But I knew he was lying. He wanted to marry her, for her money. Her
money!
And then a few days later he was dead.” She regarded Snooky defiantly. “I found out on the morning news.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. It’s okay. He got what he deserved.”

“Do you have any idea who killed him?”

“Yeah.” She blinked at him. “He told me who did it.”

“
What?
”

“Oh, well … what I mean is, he told me all along that if anything happened to him, one of Irma’s relatives would be to blame. He used to joke about it, but it made him nervous, I know. He told me they all hated him for coming in and taking away her money. They were afraid she’d leave him everything when she died. So he used to joke about somebody killing him before that could happen. And then—well, then somebody did.”

Snooky was silent.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were all in on it, sort of a family pact.” Diane blew out a gust of smoke. “It’s a lot of money, isn’t it?”

“Yes … yes. It’s a lot of money. It’s an awful lot of money.”

“That’s what Bobby told me.”

“Did he mention anyone—any of Irma’s relatives in particular? Anyone who he thought hated him more than the rest?”

She thought this over for a minute. “Well, that guy, what’s his name, Irma’s brother …”

“Roger?”

“Yeah. Bobby thought he was crazy, with his guns and hunting and so on. I think he made him a little nervous. He always hated hunters. Bobby, I mean. He was on the side of the deer.” She sighed. “And he never liked that fat woman, either.”

“Gertie? Irma’s sister-in-law?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She gave him the creeps. He used to say there was something a little funny there.”

“A little funny? What did he mean?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I didn’t care. All I was interested in hearing about was
her.
”

“Irma?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause. “So what did you do when Bobby died?”

She lit another cigarette. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know whether to go to the police, or what. I figured they’d come after me pretty soon, anyway. I knew I was in trouble—jilted girlfriend and all that. They’d pin it on me. So I stayed home from work for a while, and waited it out. But nothing happened—
nothing!
And finally I realized that nobody—nobody at all—knew about me. I had talked to the girls at work about Bobby, but I never told them his last name. And then he made sure that nobody ever saw us together. So I went back to work, and everything was just as before. Except for me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And I was sure the police were going to find me some day.”

“And you started thinking about Irma.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I wanted
to know what it was that Bobby saw in her. The more I thought about it, the crazier it made me, until today I took the train over here and found out where her house was. I don’t know what I would have done, really. Probably just looked at the house for a while and gone away. Except that I was mad—
really
mad. She had no right to do what she did, taking him away from me.”

“But she didn’t know about you, did she?”

“Oh, no. Bobby never told her. He said it wasn’t her fault, that it was all his fault.”

“So she didn’t know she was taking him away from anybody.”

“I didn’t care,” said Diane Caldwell defiantly. “I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to get a look at her. I couldn’t … somehow I couldn’t keep myself away.”

“I understand that.”

“Do you?” She looked at him gratefully.

“Of course.”

They sat quietly together for a moment. Tiny Sam, sensing a lull in the conversation, trundled toward them, pad in hand. “Anything else I can get for you folks?” he boomed.

“Two cups of coffee, Sam. And two slices of cherry pie.”

She gave him a faint smile.

When their dessert came, Snooky leaned forward. “Listen to me, Diane. You have to tell the police what you’ve just told me. Yes, you do,” he said when she shook her head. “You don’t have any choice. They’ll get it out of you sooner or later. I know the detective in charge of this case, so I’m going to go along with you.”

“To the police station?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

She picked miserably at her pie. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“It’s either now, or when the police come and find you.”

She turned her pie over, spilling its red gelatinous contents onto the plate, and slowly peeled the bottom crust off.
“Yeah. That’s true. But they’ll think
I
did it. You know how it is.”

“Listen, Diane. Detective Bentley thinks everybody did it. He thinks my brother-in-law, who only met Bobby once or twice, did it. He thinks I did it, for Christ’s sake. He’s not positive he himself didn’t do it. He doesn’t have any evidence against you, and it will look good for you if you come forward to tell him what you know.”

“Yeah.” She sighed deeply. “Yeah. I guess so. Damn. I knew it would be like this, sooner or later.”

“One more word of advice,” said Snooky. “Don’t try to quote poetry to Detective Bentley. He wouldn’t understand. The man does not possess a poetic soul. Now finish up your cherry pie, and we’ll be on our way.”

Bernard felt pleased. He had taken off his shoes, revealing threadbare socks, and was wiggling his toes in front of the fire. There was a Swiss cheese sandwich on a tray on his lap, along with a glass of milk and a cut-up tomato sprinkled with basil. Snooky had called from somewhere in town, sounding very mysterious and saying he wouldn’t be home for dinner. Bernard was, frankly, delighted. This allowed him and Maya to have a quiet meal and an evening together, something he had missed a great deal.

His wife was curled up next to him on the sofa. Misty was slumbering at their feet. Maya was eating her cheese-and-lettuce sandwich with an absorbed, abstracted expression on her face. Bernard knew what it was that was occupying her.

“Got an idea for your next article?”

“Huh? Oh, I think so. Something to do with kiwis.”

“Kiwis?”

“You know. Those birds from New Zealand. They’re adorable looking. A long bill and all this grayish brown hair. I think my readers might be interested.”

“I’m sure they would be,” Bernard said kindly. He returned to his sandwich.

“I can’t find out much about them while we’re here. That library in town doesn’t look like it would have much information on kiwis to me.”

“That library in town doesn’t look like it would have a dictionary.”

“I’ll have to wait till we get home. I can go into New York City and research it at the public library. They’ll have a thousand and one references.”

“I don’t see why we’re not home now,” Bernard said fretfully. He moved his feet, and Misty grumbled in her sleep. “I don’t see why we’re not home. I would like to be home. I don’t see why we have to spend our lives babysitting your younger brother. It seems grossly unfair.”

Maya stared into the roaring flames. “He needs us now.”

“You’re wrong, Maya. You’re misguided. He doesn’t need us. He’d be perfectly happy here by himself. He won’t be by himself for long, anyway,” Bernard added darkly. “Do you get the feeling we’re interfering with his petty little social life?”

“No.”

“Well, I do.”

“Snooky’s always going out with somebody. It’s in his nature. He doesn’t like to be alone.”

Bernard did not care about Snooky’s nature. “I don’t understand why we’re still here. Everything’s perfectly safe. Nothing has happened since Bobby died. Even Snooky could probably manage here alone.”

Maya simply shook her head.

“I’m sure our house has been robbed,” Bernard said in gloomy tones. He took a large bite of his sandwich.

“Mr. Sanders said he would look after it.” Mr. Sanders lived next door in a large glass-and-wood geodesic dome. Bernard, who loathed the modern style, had almost refused to move into the neighborhood because of Mr. Sanders’s house.

“Mr. Sanders was born in the twilight years of the last century. He can’t even look after his own place.”

“He promised me he would drop by occasionally and make sure everything was okay. He has our number here in case anything goes wrong.”

“Mr. Sanders has never ‘dropped by’ anywhere. He can barely hobble downstairs. I think we should go home and make sure everything is all right. I think it’s our civic duty.”

Maya and Bernard lived in an old white Victorian with eggshell-blue trim which they had renovated themselves, at great expense. This house was Bernard’s retreat from the world, his fiefdom, his private universe. Some of his happiest moments had been spent safely closeted away in his study within the heart of the house, far from the ring of the telephone and the intrusive visits of neighbors.

Maya leaned back luxuriously and closed her eyes. The heat was making her drowsy. She spread her hair out over the back of the sofa, where the firelight gleamed on it, turning it into a deep dark chestnut. “I wouldn’t worry, Bernard. I’m sure the house is okay.”

“Robbed, I imagine. Robbed. Pillaged and plundered. Burned to the ground. All the plants in the sun room torn down, all our nice furniture carted away. A gang of marauding hoodlums could empty the house in front of Mr. Sanders’s nose and he wouldn’t see or hear anything.”

“That’s not true.”

Bernard finished his sandwich in a state of deep gloom. “You know what’s happened to us, Maya? We’re trapped here. Snooky has trapped us here, in the wilderness. We can’t leave now. We’ll never be able to leave. He’s cast some kind of weird spell over us.”

Maya put an arm around him. “We’ll go home soon, Bernard, I promise. I know you can’t stand to be away from home for too long. You’re like a bear, just the way Snooky says—you like to hibernate during the winter.”

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Mmmm, yes. That would be great.”

Bernard heaved himself to his feet and moved off toward the kitchen. He came back ten minutes later with two steaming mugs and a pitcher of cream. He served both of them, then put his arm around Maya. “This is nice.”