Friends till the End Page 18
“Yes.”
“I believed it, too,” said Bernard. “For a long time my suspicions were focused on Heather Crandall. Why did she give that party, for instance? She had that family connection to the Sloanes. There might have been a financial motive there. But one day Snooky and I were talking and he said to me, ‘It just doesn’t add up,’ and I thought, that’s right, it doesn’t—it’s not a series—there’s an anomaly right in the middle of it.” Bernard glanced down at his notes, which read:
2 + 1 ≠ 3
“Two murders and one murder attempt. I realized they didn’t belong together—they didn’t add up. After all, what actually happened? Laura Sloane and Freda Simms died. Freda Simms’s death wasn’t planned in advance, that much was clear—she had been killed because she knew something. So the only murder that was planned in advance was Laura Shane’s, and who had the primary motive for wanting her dead? Her husband, of course.”
He sat silently for a while, then said, “Laura Sloane must have been a fascinating person. Wealthy, lively, attractive. But she needed to control everyone around her. Look at Freda Simms—she never forgot her, never forgave her for marrying, never really let go.”
“And Sloane hated being controlled.”
“Oh, yes. But he couldn’t divorce her—she wasn’t the forgiving type. She’d leave him without a penny. She had a habit—one I’m sure he detested—of taking drinks out of his hand and finishing them herself. That’s how he must have gotten the idea. All he had to do was slip some poison into his glass, pretend to be drunker than he really was, and wait. If it hadn’t worked, he could have dumped it somewhere and no one would have suspected.”
“That might not have been the first time he tried it. There were other parties.”
“Yes. True.”
“We’ve found the man who was with Freda Simms the night she died,” said Voelker. “We’ve got a record of the call she placed from the phone booth outside the bar to Sloane’s house. The two kids must have been asleep by then—it was after midnight—and Sloane picked up the phone. She was stupid enough, or drunk enough, to threaten him. Her companion says he brought her home about an hour later, barely able to walk, much less defend herself. Sloane must have been waiting outside.”
Bernard said slowly:
“A ruthless man.”
“Yes. By the way, it was a clever trap, Mr. Woodruff. Was it your idea to get Mrs. Abrams to try to blackmail him?”
“Oh, no. I asked Snooky about it. It was clear she had the best motive, but I wondered whether she could handle it. Snooky thought she could.”
“So now all the money goes to the boy and girl. Wonder what they’ll do with it? Hundreds of millions, from what I hear.”
“It’s not much of a way to inherit,” said Bernard.
The next day, in Isabel’s house, Snooky asked very much the same question.
“All that money. What’re you going to do with it?”
“I don’t want to discuss the money. I don’t want to even think about it.”
“But, Isabel—”
“I mean it. Not a word!”
He subsided.
Isabel was wandering around the living room, angrily picking up pillows and throwing them back down on the sofa.
“The money! The money!” she said bitterly. “I never wanted to get it this way …!”
“I understand.”
“You do not.”
“I do. Come sit down and calm yourself, my girl.”
She flopped down next to him. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about anything. I just want to be alone.”
“Fine. Shall I leave?”
“No … no. Sit here for a while.”
Snooky sat there. Isabel leaned her head against his shoulder. He could feel the tension slowly ebbing out of her body. Finally she said in a quieter voice, “I’m going to sell this house. Richard and I can’t live here anymore, of course. I’ll sell it. Then, well, Richard will be going to college next year. I’ll buy a house near him, so I’ll have someplace to come home to.”
“And then?”
“Then I think I’ll travel. I’ve always wanted to, you know. Freda and Laura used to talk about traveling—how much they loved it …” Her voice trailed off.
“That’s nice. Go to Malaysia. I hear it’s beautiful this time of year.”
“I’ve always wanted to see New Zealand.”
“Supposed to be very nice.”
“Or Australia.”
“Supposed to be great. Can you hear my heart breaking?”
She twisted to look up at him. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Snooky. We’ll still see each other.”
“Where? Somewhere in the Far East?”
“Oh, you know. Here and there.”
“Here and there,” he said heavily. “Yes.”
Isabel looked troubled.
“You’re such a good person,” she said remorsefully. “I never—I never wanted to hurt you.”
“The words of death,” he duly reported to Maya later. “Words of death. ‘I never wanted to hurt you,’ emphasis on the ‘hurt.’ Pffftt!! End of a perfectly decent relationship.”
“I’ve never been so happy to hear anything in my entire life.”
“She’s going to travel, she says. Travel! When she could be with me. Do you understand that?”
“You could travel with her.”
“She didn’t ask me to.”
“Well, then that’s that, I would say. It’s over, Snookers. Get used to it.”
“She says she’ll see me here and there. Here and there! Do you know what that means, My?”
“Yes,” said Maya. “It means ‘good-bye.’ ”
As Snooky left the Sloanes’ house, Isabel said bitterly, “Best wishes to your sister and Bernard, okay? Especially Bernard. Without him I wouldn’t be a rich woman today, would I?”
At the door Snooky paused and looked back. Isabel was alone in the big room, moving back and forth restlessly, running her hands over everything. She seemed unable to stop moving. Looking at her, he was suddenly reminded of Freda—of her nervous gestures, her luxurious house, her desire to travel. To get away from it all. To run away …
He closed the door and left.
“I was wrong,” Heather was saying on the phone to Ruth. “Completely wrong. I was sure it was either Isabel or Richard. That was why I wanted to go over there. I asked her all kinds of questions, but she seemed perfectly innocent. And all the time Linus was in the study with—with—”
“Oh, it’s too horrible to think about.”
“You may have saved his life by going in there when you did, Ruth. Really. You’ll never know how grateful we are.”
“Oh, please, Heather. Please—please don’t. Don’t be silly. Anyway, Walter would never have—have done anything to hurt Linus. You know that. Why, he loved Linus.”
“You know, I think he did.”
“Of course he did.”
“Still, you were brave, Ruth. Very brave.”
“Oh!” said Ruth, pleased. “Oh! Well … somebody had to do it. That’s what Mr. Woodruff said, when he came by with the detective and Snooky. He said that somebody had to do it, and I was the best one, because I had the best motive. Can you imagine? The best motive for blackmail!” She giggled. “So I agreed, naturally—not that I’ve ever done anything like that before—just my high school play, George Washington Slept Here, but I had a very small part, not a speaking role at all. And Sam didn’t want me to do it, we had quite a little disagreement, but in the end he saw it made sense. You see, I wanted to do it, for him—for Sam, you know. After all, why should he have to work for a murderer?”
“Yes,” said Heather, thinking what a very Ruthlike thing that was to say.
“How is Linus now?”
Heather glanced into the living room. “He’s fine, just fine. Nothing seems to disturb that child. I don’t understand it. It must be all the foods high in B vitamins I give him. He’s stable
as a rock. Which is something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Ruth—”
“How’s Harry?” Ruth asked, for once in her life adroitly cutting her off.
“Harry? He says there’s no one to argue with now that Walter is gone.”
Ruth tried to feel some sympathy toward this point of view and failed.
“And Sam?” asked Heather. “How’s he taking everything?”
Ruth felt embarrassed. Sam was in charge of the business now and he was loving every minute of it. Their lifestyle would not change drastically, but at least she no longer had that empty feeling—that terrible envy—inside of her. She could go to the supermarket and not count pennies.
“It’s awful, Heather, but he loves it,” she said, dropping her voice. “And—I can’t help it, either—I feel happy.”
“Horrors!” said Heather, smiling.
Maya, Bernard and Snooky sat in a comfortable circle in the living room. There were steaming cups of coffee at their side and each had a different section of the newspaper. Bernard had the crossword puzzle, Maya had the News of the Week in Review, and Snooky had the television page, which he was reading the way other people read Dostoyevsky.
“Twelve down,” announced Bernard. “Smooth-surfaced yarn, seven letters, blank O blank blank T blank blank.”
“Worsted,” said Snooky.
Bernard looked irritated. “Now how would you know something like that?”
“I just know.”
After a pause Bernard said, “Chagall’s hometown. Seven letters. Starts with a V.”
“Vitebsk.”
“Fourteen across. Five letters, blank M O blank blank. Silvery salmon.”
“Smolt.”
Bernard looked over at his wife in chagrin. “When’s he leaving?”
Maya folded the newspaper. “Bernard,” she said patiently, “if you’re going to ask for help with the crossword, then you can’t complain about getting the answers. I’ve told you: Snooky is good at things like that. It’s about the only thing he is good at.”
“In answer to your question, Bernard,” said Snooky, “I’m leaving tomorrow. My bags are packed and ready at the door. I leave, by the way, with a heart dimmed with sadness.”
“Just as long as you leave.”
“His heart is broken,” said Maya cheerfully. “Broken! Based on past experience I give him three days to recover.”
Her brother glanced at her. “You think I’m an emotionally shallow person, don’t you?”
“Three days,” said Maya. “Four, tops.”
Snooky shrugged. “There’s a good program on this Thursday. Do you think William will let me use his TV, or will it be off-limits?”
Bernard made a faint choking sound. “You’re not going to William’s?”
“Oh, yes I am. Didn’t I tell you? Another letter has arrived, protesting my lifestyle, and I’ve decided to go directly to ground zero and discuss it with William in person. Right now I imagine Emily is in a tizzy, trying to figure out what delicacy to cook for me.”
“Emily doesn’t cook,” Maya informed him. “Neither does William. Neither do their kids. They eat out every night.”
“So much the better.”
Misty bumped against Bernard’s leg, asking for a walk.
“Just a minute,” Bernard said absently. “Snooky, one more answer, if you please. My brain isn’t working tonight. Six letters, blank blank I blank blank blank. The clue is, ‘Oak or sumac, in common.’ ”
Maya looked at him disapprovingly over her reading glasses.
“Bernard, you should know that,” she said. “The answer is ‘poison’!”
Gloria Dank is married and lives in New York City.
TO LEIF