The Cases of Hildegarde Withers (16 page)

Miss
Withers
was
about
to
move
on
when
she
stopped,
frozen
into
immobility.
She
saw
the
elevator
descend,
saw
the
doors
open
…
and
o
ut
stepped
the
plump,
red-haired
Miss
Kelly.

She
was
laughing
up
into
the
face
of
Arthur
Reese.
Reese
was
talking,
softly
yet
clearly,
oblivious
of
everything
except
the
warm
and
desirable
girl
who
smiled
at
him
.
…

Miss
Withers
pressed
closer,
and
caught
one
sentence
—
one
only.
“You’ll
be
crazy
about
the
American
Riviera
.
…
”
he
was
promising.

Then
they
were
gone.

Miss
Withers
had
three
nickels.
She
made
three
phone
calls.
The
first
was
to
Penn
Station,
the
second
to
Mrs.
Blenkinsop,
and
the
third
to
Spring
7-3100.
She
asked
for
Inspector
Piper.

“Quick!”
she
cried.
“Oscar,
I’ve
got
it!
The
Thorens
suicide
wasn’t
—
I
mean
it
was
murder!”

“Who?”
asked
Piper
sensibly.

“Reese,
of
course,”
she
snapped.
“I
want
you
to
arrest
him
quick
…
”

“But
the
locked
door?”

Miss
Withers
said
she
could
duplicate
that
trick,
given
a
knife
and
the
peculiar
type
of
lock
that
Reese
had
installed
on
his
music-reception
room.

“But
the
suicide
note?”

Miss
Withers
gave
as
her
opinion
that
it
was
dictated,
judging
by
the
spaces
between
words
and
the
corrections
made
by
the
writer.

“But
—
but,
Hildegarde,
you
can’t
force
a
person
to
take
poison!”

Miss
Withers
said
you
could
give
them
poison
under
the
guise
of
something
more
innocent.

“You’re
still
crazy,”
insisted
the
Inspector.
“Why
—
”

Miss
Withers
knew
what
he
was
thinking.
“The
alibi?
Well,
Oscar,
the
murder
was
committed
at
a
time
when
Reese
was
still
in
his
office,
which
explains
the
daylight.
He
smashed
the
girl’s
watch,
and
then
set
the
hands
ahead.
But
you
didn’t
have
sense
enough
to
know
that
with
the
minute
hand
at
five
of
six,
the
hour
hand
cannot
naturally
be
exactly
opposite!
Particles
of
glass
interfered,
and
the
hands
of
her
watch
were
at
an
impossible
angle!”

Piper
had
one
last
shot
in
his
locker.
“But
the
motive?”

“I
can’t
explain,
and
the
train
leaves
in
twenty
minutes!”
Miss
Withers
was
a
bit
hysterical.
“She’s
a
nice
girl,
Oscar,
even
if
she
has
platinum
finger-nails.
She
mustn’t
go
with
him,
I
tell
you.
If
they
get
out
of
the
state,
it
means
extradition
and
God
knows
what
—
it’ll
be
too
late
.
…
”

“Take
an
aspirin
and
go
to
bed,”
said
the
Inspector
kindly.
“You’re
too
wrought
up
over
this.
My
dear
woman
…
”
He
got
the
receiver
crashed
in
his
ear.

Mr.
Arthur
Reese
was
out
to
enjoy
a
pleasant
week-end.
The
first
balmy
spring
weather
of
the
year
had
come,
aptly
enough,
on
the
heels
of
his
first
happy
week
in
many
a
month.
To
have
May
Day
showing
such
excellent
signs
of
becoming
a
hit
upon
publication
day
was
almost
too
much.

He
made
no
mistakes.
He
did
not
try
to
kiss
Kelly
in
the
taxi,
not
even
after
they
had
picked
up
her
suitcase
and
were
approaching
Penn
Station.

There
would
be
time
enough
for
that
later.

“This
trip
is
partly
pleasure
as
well
as
business,”
he
said
to
Miss
Kelly.
“We
both
need
a
rest
after
everything
that’s
happened
this
week
—
and
I
want
you
to
play
with
me
a
little.
Call
me
Art
.
…
”

“Sure,”
said
Kelly.
“You
can
call
me
Gladys,
too.
But
I
like
Kelly
better.”
She
snuggled
a
little
closer
to
her
employer.
“Gee,
this
is
thrilling,”
she
said.
“I’ve
never
been
to
Atlantic
City
even
—
let
alone
with
a
man
and
adjoining
rooms
and
everything
…
what
my
mother
would
say!”

“Very
few
people
would
understand
about
things
like
this,”
said
Reese
comfortably.
“About
how
a
man
and
a
girl
can
have
a
little
adventure
together
like
this
—
really
modern
.
…
”

“If
you
say
so,”
said
Kelly,
“it’s
true.
You
know
I’ve
had
a
crush
on
you
ever
since
I
came
to
work
for
you,
Mr.
Reese
—
Art
.
…
”