chaise longues and over to the edge of the railing. Looking down he saw the eroded bluff, the rocks piled beneath it. A pair of stone jetties extended out into the water. Between them was a small sandy beach, and on it, directly below the bluff, was a yellow-striped canvas cabana. To his left was the steel-and-concrete stairway that led down to the dock. Tied to the pier, and rising and falling with the ground swell, was a mahogany-trimmed runabout with a canvas-covered outboard.
Paris turned and went inside again. Chief Kay was standing in the middle of the library, his face set and thoughtful.
“What else leads onto the terrace?” Paris asked him.
“The living room and the dining room,” Kay said,
“What about the glass door? Was it locked when you got here?”
“No. It was wide-open. I remember that.”
“Is there a wall safe here?”
“Yes.”
“Anything missing?”
“No. I heard Mrs. Endicott tell Coyne that. It wasn’t tampered with.”
Paris went over to the desk. “Were any of these drawers open?”
“No. But that’s where Mr. Charles kept the Magnum revolver.”
Paris turned around. He walked ten feet across the floor and bent down to the broad, dark stains in the middle of the Oriental rug. “And this is where the bodies were? Ten feet from the desk?”
“Yes,” Kay said. He pointed. “Mr. Charles was laying here. Hallmark’s body was kind of twisted, and facing toward the opposite wall.”
“Face down?”
“Yes.”
“Where was his right hand?”
Kay took off his cap and rubbed the back of his head. “Under his coat.”
“Near his gun?”
“Yes. I guess he did make a try for it.”
“Coyne said Mr. Endicott’s wallet was on the floor. Where was that?”
“Right near the body.”
“The wallet was open,” Paris said. “There was over five hundred dollars in there and it wasn’t touched. Something else was taken.”
“That’s what I figured,” Kay said. “The slip of paper with the car registration on it.”
“Yes,” Paris said. He straightened up. He went over to the walnut door and tried the Yale-type lock. “And this door was locked?”
“No,” Kay said. “It was open when Coats and I got here. Henry Davis was standing in front of it.”
“You mean the handyman? Elizabeth’s husband?”
“Yes.”
Paris looked at the top of the desk, at the gray smudges of fingerprint powder, the handset dial telephone. “No prints anywhere,” he said. “Everything was deliberately wiped clean. That would take time, at least a minute or two. The killer knew his way around. After all, there were people in this house.”
“Yes,” Kay said. “He wasn’t in no hurry.”
“All right,” Paris said. “Let’s go in and talk to the Davises.”
They were waiting for him when he came into the foyer, Mr. Davis, a head shorter than his wife, wearing an open-throated tan shirt, tan trousers and heavy army shoes. His face and hands were sunburnt and his thin gray hair was combed carefully across his head.
Paris acknowledged the introduction, shaking hands with Davis, feeling the strength of his grip. He said, “Now tell me what happened last night, Mr. Davis.”
Davis looked at his wife. His wife said, “Henry isn’t much for talking. It’s better I start it.”
“All right,” Paris said to her. “You tell it.”
“Mr. Charles sent us to bed early,” she said. “Eight-thirty, I think. Is that right, Henry?”
Mr. Davis bobbed his head.
“Eight-thirty,” Mrs. Davis said. “Mr. Charles said he was expecting visitors and he didn’t want anybody around.”
“Did he tell you who they were?”
“Yes. He said a state detective was coming. Also a young man with a statue.”
“You didn’t see any of them arrive?”
“Yes. About ten minutes to nine we heard a car turn into the driveway. I looked out the window of my room. It was an ordinary black sedan. A big husky man came out and went into the house.”
“That was Lieutenant Hallmark,” Paris said. “You didn’t see the young man come?”
“No, sir. I didn’t hear any more cars.”
“All right,” Paris said. “So you went to bed. Then what happened?”
“We didn’t go to bed,” Mrs. Davis said. “We were in our room. Then we heard some shots. Three of them.”
“What time was that?”
“Nine o’clock. I know because we have a chime clock on our mantel and it had just stopped sounding. We weren’t sure they were shots either. Sometimes when the boats go out from the basin, and they come by the Point, and they’re not warmed up properly, they backfire.”
“Why didn’t you think this was backfire?”
“Because the sound was kind of muffled. Like from the inside of the house. On the water they sound louder. That’s why I told Henry to go down and see.”
Paris turned to Mr. Davis. “What did you find?”
Davis, his hands tightly clenched, unclasped them. “The library door was locked, and there was a funny smell like gunpowder. I knocked on the door and I called out for Mr. Charles. But there was no answer. So I went upstairs and told Elizabeth.”
“Yes,” his wife said. “I told him to get the master key and I went back downstairs with him. He unlocked the door.”
“Yes, sir,” Davis said. “They were in there, dead. On the floor. They looked terrible, sir.”
“You didn’t touch anything?”
“No, sir,” Davis said. “We didn’t go into the room. Elizabeth told me to stand at the door and she went into the hallway to phone the Chief.”
“And you did that?” Paris asked her.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “I dialed the operator and told her to get Chief Kay. I said Mr. Charles
