Authors: Mignon G. Eberhart
Postmark Murder (35 page)
Laura said, “Thank you. We’ll come.”
“All right.” Doris turned to Matt, put one hand on his shoulder and with a curious air of finality, said, “Good-bye, Matt.”
Matt looked down at her for a moment, then he leaned over and kissed her cheek lightly. “I’ll see you later,” he said. He held Doris’ coat for her.
“Yes,” she said, “yes,” and went away.
Matt said briskly, “It’s surmise—some of it, but it’s logical, too. Peabody says Charlie followed you this afternoon, only to make sure where you were going and what you were doing, because Blick had defied him this morning and threatened to see you. When Charlie followed you up to the Fashion Shop, the guy there convinced him that you were really shopping and would be there for some time. So he hurried back here to do something about Blick. He used your key, and found this message, saying that Stanislowski, that is, Blick, would be here. So he waited— and that was it.”
“But he was dressed both times—not like Charlie, I never thought it was Charlie.”
“It was an excellent disguise in its way, not odd enough to attract anybody’s attention; and it looked as you said vaguely foreign, so it suggested somebody else, an outsider. You can get clothes like that in a hundred little places—second-hand shops. And of course he took care not to come near enough for you to see his face.”
And Charlie had told her almost in so many words why he had tried to murder her. He had even warned her: murder is dangerous, be careful. In other words, think well, be careful. Don’t tell the police you suspect anybody.
Matt said, “There is another small thing—funny, but it set me thinking about Charlie. I didn’t really suspect him, yet in a way it pointed to him, and that was that telephone call the morning after the murder, when you had gone out to Koska Street. You see, I telephoned you that morning, I told my secretary to get you and you were gone.”
“Oh!” Laura was struck by a small memory. “When I called you she said, ‘Oh, you’ve got back.’ ”
“There was the telephone call from Maria Brown, only one that morning. There was my telephone call. I got thinking about it and yesterday I was curious enough to stop and ask the switchboard girl downstairs if she had a record of any other telephone calls that morning. By that time she was paying close attention to any calls that came to your apartment. She said that as far as she could remember there had been only two telephone calls. One rang and rang. As she was about to plug in and take the message, it stopped; that must have been Maria. Then there was another one that rang and rang. Just as she started to take it, it rang off. So you see, the first telephone call must have suggested a little scheme to Charlie; he told us all that he had answered it and that a man’s voice, speaking in Polish, talked of Jonny. It was a little red herring—and it did in a queer way begin to point to Charlie.”
Maria Brown, Laura thought. Jonny’s mother. “Is Maria still in your apartment, Matt?”
“Yes. Actually she has no friends here. She simply inquired, looked in Classified Ads and went to another rooming house. Where apparently they never connected her with the Maria Brown the police were looking for.”
“Jonny’s mother,” Laura said and heard a note of horror in her voice. Matt understood it.
“Yes. I wonder what Charlie planned to do about her. Clearly he thought he had silenced her when he killed Catherine Miller, but then it wasn’t Maria, and how could he find her? In any event, he had to silence you first. He couldn’t stop. He had entered a long road which had only one end. Sometime, somewhere, he must try to find Maria Brown, but that had to wait.”
Both of them looked at Jonny and Jonny looked at them gravely and went to take the kitten from Matt. Laura said, “We must take Jonny to her mother now. She is waiting.”
“Right; we’ll take her to Doris’ place, too. Look here, Laura, there’s something I want to get straight. I couldn’t until Doris saw it, too. I was in love with her; you know that. After Conrad’s death she needed me. She was alone. I’m very fond of her. I was the only person she could turn to. And she was bewildered about money; she’s been spending wildly; I had to help her to get things straight. I owed her loyalty. But I’m not in love with her. And—she knows it.”
“She’s—in love with you.”
“No, she isn’t. Not really. She only needed me. She doesn’t really want to marry me. And—” Unexpectedly, Matt laughed. His eyes danced. “I’ve got other ideas about the girl I am going to marry.”
Jonny gave Laura a suddenly mischievous and feminine twinkle, cuddled the kitten on her shoulder and walked across the apartment to stand at the window, her back turned sedately upon them. A small song drifted across the room. “I am a little Cracovian.”
Matt laughed again. “You are a little American, Jonny. I’ll teach you ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’ But not right now. I’ve got something to say to Laura.” His eyes now were very blue and intent, his face sober. There was a moment of stillness between them. Then he came to Laura.
After a long time, Laura saw Jonny beyond the close, hard curve of Matt’s arm. She was holding the kitten curled snugly under her chin, watching them, her blue eyes dancing in the lights from the Christmas tree.
“Dobre,”
Jonny said, and added unexpectedly and rather impatiently, “Say—it—Matt.”
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1955, 1956 by Mignon G. Eberhart
cover design by Heidi North
978-1-4532-5736-4
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