The Cases of Hildegarde Withers (6 page)

“I
know
what
I’m
doing,”
she
told
him.
And
fervently
hoped
that
she
did.
They
came
into
the
little
lobby,
and
the
Inspector
started
to
reach
for
one
of
the
bell-buttons.
“Anyone
but
that,”
said
Hildegarde
Withers
hastily.
She
went
him
one
better
by
pushing
half
a
dozen
buttons.
Somebody
upstairs
clicked
the
door,
and
they
opened
it
and
started
up.

The
stairs
were
dark
and
narrow,
smelling
faintly
of
ancient
cabbage,
of
varnish,
and
of
insecticides.
“Here
we
are,”
the
schoolteacher
said.
“3A.”

She
paused,
about
to
knock.
Then
she
sniffed
,
wrinkling
her
long
tilted
nose
and
blinking.
“Heavens
above,
I’m
right!
”
she
whispered
softly.
Another
scent,
new
and
harsh,
came
through.

“What
is
this?”
exploded
the
Inspector,
and
knocked
heavily
up
on
the
door.

After
an
appreciable
pause
it
was
opened
from
within
by
Dr.
Parkhill.
His
froglike
face
was
a
human
question
mark
as
he
saw
who
it
was,
but
he
stepped
back
and
bowed.
“Come
in,
come
in!”
said
the
Doctor.

They
came
into
a
small
living
room
in
which
an
open
fire
blazed
merrily.
“Sit
down,
please,”
Parkhill
invit
ed
them
genially.
“I
had
an
idea
you
might
want
some
further
information.”

“
Yes,”
Miss
Withers
told
him
quickly.
“Especially
since
what
happened.
Or
haven’t
you
heard?
Dr.
Severance
has
proved
a
perfect
alibi.
He
simply
couldn’t
have
murdered
the
Pender
girl.

“He
was
appearing
before
a
Navy
Board
from
5
to
7.
The
Pender
girl
was
shot
around
6.

“Would
you
care
to
make
any
changes
or
additions
to
your
statement?”
the
schoolteacher
prodded.
Parkhill
didn’t
answer,
but
stared
at
the
fire.
Finally
he
shook
his
head.

But
the
schoolteacher
stood
up.
“You’d
better
change
your
story,
”
s
he
advised
the
doctor.
“I
see
you’ve
burned
the
gloves
that
Elsie
Pender
wore
when
she
shot
herself.
How
about
the
real
suicide
note?”

He
was
on
his
feet
suddenly.
“Yes,
I
burned
that
too!
So
what
are
going
to
do
about
it!”

Miss
Withers
heaved
a
deep
sigh.
But
the
man
went
on.
“Sure,
I
was
in
the
dark
room,
and
I
heard
a
shot
outside.
I
came
out,
and
there
she
was,
with
a
scribbled
note
blaming
it
all
on
Paul.
I
knew
the
girl
was
a
manic
depressive
—
she
threw
acid
on
herself
last
year
because
some
movie
star
she’d
never
met
wouldn’t
accept
her
proposal
of
marriage.
She
had
a
terrific
crush
on
Paul
—
but
I
saw
a
chance
to
get
back
at
him
for
keeping
me
in
the
background
all
these
years.
I
just
Substituted
a
phony
note
for
the
real
one,
and
clean
new
gloves
for
the
ones
she’d
worn
—
”

“Next
time,”
said
Miss
Withers
gently,
“remember
that
a
girl
with
good
taste
in
clothes
would
never
wear
black
gloves
with
a
dark
brown
suit.
That
was
the
big
mistake
you
made
—
”

Parkhill
didn’t
seem
worried.
“I
know
where
I
stand,”
he
said.
“You
can’t
pin
much
on
me.
Two
or
three
years,
for
concealing
evidence
…
”

“That’s
right,”
the
Inspector
agreed.
They
were
all
standing
up
now,
and
Miss
Withers
edged
toward
the
door.
“You
have
it
all
figured
out,
Parkhill,
”
Piper
was
continuing.
“Only
you
forgot
one
thing.
The
Pender
girl
was
shot
twice
—
the
first
one
missed
the
heart,
but
the
second
one
hit
dead
center.
Her
own
attempt
wouldn’t
have
been
fatal,
but
you
picked
up
the
gun
and
—
”

It
was
a
forceful,
dramatic
delivery,
but
ill-timed.
Because
suddenly,
from
underneath
the
sofa
cushion
beside
him,
Parkhill
produced
a
nasty
little
snubnosed
automatic.

The
Inspector
froze
and
Miss
Hildegarde
Withers
fainted.
Or
seemed
to
faint.
Anyway,
she
slumped
back
against
the
wall
with
a
heart-rending
shriek,
and
perhaps
it
was
only
by
blind
luck
that
she
hit
the
light
switch
and
threw
the
room
into
comparative
darkness.

The
gun
spat
twice,
and
then
went
sailing
against
the
farther
wall
as
Oscar
Piper
kicked
it
out
of
the
doctor’s
hand.
Miss
Withers
put
the
lights
on
and
all
lights
went
out
for
Dr.
Parkhill,
over
whose
head
the
Inspector
crashed
the
butt
of
his
own
gun.