Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 39, No. 13, Mid-December 1994
- Автор: Гуларт Рон, Hitchcock Geoffrey
- Год: 1994
- Язык: английский
- Год: Bantam Doubleday Dell Magazines
- ISBN: 0002-5224
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 39, No. 13, Mid-December 1994». Краткое содержание книги:
“Jane, how lovely to see you.” He took my hand in both of his and smiled widely. He did not look well. I suppose, at our age, some would think of us as old. Bruce actually looked it. “Come in, come in.”
I sat in one of the two soft chocolate-colored leather chairs in front of his desk and waited for him to settle into his large swivel chair. We chatted about old times, old acquaintances, various members of the Cavanaugh clan. I asked about Gracie.
“She’s fine, fine. Got herself some notion that she’s aging, can’t imagine where she’d get an idea like that.” He chuckled. “But she’s fighting it with everything she’s got or can purchase.” He chuckled again.
I seemed to be collecting a lot of chortles and chuckles today. We sat in companionable silence for a moment. Then he led me into the very area I had come to discuss.
“Well, I know you haven’t come to me for assistance with your investments; your brother Arthur has done well by you there all these years.”
“He has, and I’m grateful. I know you’ve been very thoughtful in helping a number of my friends.”
He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Poor ladies. Their husbands die and they’re left with all these money problems and not the slightest idea how to go about handling them. I didn’t go looking for the job, you know. Just seemed to happen. I helped one, then another came along. Before I knew it, over the years I had a whole passel of ’em.”
“Yes. And I imagine, at first, you really did do right by them.”
He glanced up, startled.
“But then, when was it exactly? When you and Gracie bought the old Kirby mansion? Or when you took your trip to Europe? You probably looked on it as borrowing that first time, didn’t you?”
His face dropped.
“Why didn’t you just put the money back in and go on? The woman, whoever she was, had no idea it was missing. I suppose it was too easy, though. What do you do, just take a little bit from each? Is that how it works?”
He rubbed one hand across his mouth.
“It’s bound to come out sooner or later, Bruce.”
There was no response. Finally I rose from my chair and left.
My bad leg ached as I got behind the wheel of my car. I thought about going to see Harry and decided to wait.
At home I changed out of my town clothes and went downstairs for a glass of tea. The afternoon seemed unseasonably warm and made me listless on the one hand, restless on the other. I took my beverage and went out to sit in the front swing for the first time this spring.
The tea was nearly gone when my brother’s car pulled into the driveway. Harry walked up the path and sat down on the front step. We watched the bees work their way from bloom to bloom on the honeysuckle vine.
“What’s that in your glass?”
“Iced tea. Want some?”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
I went to the kitchen and poured him a glass, refilled mine, added sprigs of fresh mint, and returned to the porch.
“Why are you asking around about Rudy Gateley?”
“Scrapper asked me to.”
Harry made a face. “Rudy Gateley was no good. He’d been a troublemaker all his life. Bound for a bad end. The only surprise was that someone waited this long.”
I took a drink. The tea was cold, the mint refreshing.
“You’ve upset a lot of people in this town, Jane.”
“Yes. I know. And I’ve upset you.”
“Well, yes, you have. I worry about you. You mustn’t go around shaking a lot of old bones, Jane. It’s not... it’s not good to do that.”
“I suppose it was at the Rancher’s Club?”
“What was?”
“Where Rudolph Gateley got whatever it was he was blackmailing you with.”
Harry sighed. Beside him the droning of the bees continued.
“It only happened once. That’s all. I never was much of a gambler, you know that. But all the men were going there, it was the thing to do for awhile. And sometimes Gerald brought women in, you know, to entertain...”
Such a silly thing. I leaned back in the swing, remembering the times we used to play out here in the summer. My sister, before she died in the playhouse fire that scarred my legs. My brothers. Cousins, so many cousins. Was it really all that long ago?
Before Harry left we cut some of the iris from Mother’s garden for him to take to Flora.
I had washed up the dinner dishes and was heading for the living room when the doorbell rang.
“Jane, I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Gracie, what a pleasant surprise. Come in.”
Flora was right; Gracie Winston had lost weight. I can’t say I thought she looked any younger, but then I knew how old she was. “Would you care for some coffee? Or a cup of tea?”
“No, nothing really. I won’t take a minute.” She sat across from me, in my grandmother’s rocker, and came right to the point. “I’m sure you didn’t realize how you upset Bruce this afternoon, Jane. He’s not well at all, and your vicious attack certainly didn’t help. He’s going to pay those women back, every one of them. But it will take a little time.” She clutched her purse tightly. “It’s not as though they missed the money really, they wouldn’t even have had it without his help. He deserved it.”
“It was wrong, Gracie. They turned to him for help, and he stole from them.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, what would you know? You could have anything you wanted, and you’re nothing but a dried up old maid.” She reached inside the purse and drew out a revolver. “I knew you wouldn’t let it rest. Couldn’t give him the chance to put it all back, could you, Miss High and Mighty?” The hand holding the gun was very steady.
“You really should’ve gotten rid of the weapon after you killed Rudy Gateley,” I said.
“I thought it might come in handy again. And it has. Your death, during the robbery of your house, naturally, will make it look like some ‘garbage’ off the street killed both of you.”
She was getting quite worked up, so much so that she didn’t hear Scrapper enter the room behind her until he spoke.
“I’d put the gun down if I was you, ma’am,” he said.
The police came and took Gracie away. I had to call Chief Wilkerson at home and assure him we would go down to the station in the morning to give our statements before all the officers would leave.
I poured two snifters of my homemade blackberry brandy and carried them to the kitchen table.
“Pretty risky lettin’ all those folks know you knew their secrets,” Scrapper said.
“Only one person shot Rudolph Gateley, no matter how many he finagled money from.”
He ignored the tone of my remark, aware of my mood and willing to allow me my unpleasantness. When we finished our brandies, I poured two more.
“I’m glad it was Gracie,” I said, “and not Bruce.”
“She’ll tell the police he was in on it.”
“And we’ll tell them differently. He’ll have enough sorrow on his plate as it is.”
Scrapper turned his snifter slowly, staring at the rich purple liquid.
“Throughout this whole thing,” I said, “I never heard a single person besides yourself say one decent thing about this man. Bruce, while he is guilty of extortion, has done any number of good and beneficial deeds. Tom Scaletti is involved with several organizations that provide funding for charities.
“Your friend Rudy cosied up to people and then fed off them and their shabby little secrets. No matter that it wasn’t for large sums, it was still a nasty, and ultimately a dangerous, game. I don’t know of one single redeeming quality he possessed. He truly was a worthless old man, and I can’t for the life of me understand what you saw in him.”