Brewster. Yes. He’s the family lawyer, works in Worcester but has an apartment here for his weekends. Rumour has it—or had it—that she wanted him for husband number two and that, though attracted by her snake-like charm, he was still able to resist. He’s supposed to be a great one with the ladies and he’s been a bachelor long enough to know how to resist. Also he has money and she had none, which aggravated the situation…”
“Aren’t the Suttons rich, then?”
“They manage now. But the old man died somewhere around the time of the depression, leaving Mrs. Sutton with a life insurance policy that paid his debts and very little more. But Margaret Sutton had guts enough to turn to and develop this herb farm which is now famous all over the country. She sold herbs in little packets with recipe books and what-have-you. And then, after Philippine came, she branched out with this so-called laboratory.”
“I see. Philippine seems to be her mainstay.”
“She is. And old Mrs. Hartwell works for her as bookkeeper and Margie, as you no doubt know, is very energetic in the lab. While all this hard work went on, Catherine played about like a disappointed film star and her brother Roger hid his battle-scarred face from the light of day.”
“It must have been grim.”
“In a way, yes. People get used to things though. But—considering what has just happened—perhaps I’m wrong—perhaps they don’t.”
He stopped speaking and stood up at the sound of a car in the road. Then he said quietly, “It’s helped to talk. Thanks.” A moment later Thane Carey’s quick steps could be heard on the walk, the screen door banged, and he was there, hovering over them as if in accusation.
“What is it, Mohun?” he asked.
“Margie’s prophesy come true. Catherine Clay dead, and in Fredericka’s hammock. Come with me. You stay here,” he added brusquely, turning to Fredericka. But his words were wasted. She had no desire to do anything else.
The two men disappeared through the back door and Fredericka sat still on the kitchen stool listening to the very ordinary sound of the bubbling percolator. Before Peter and Thane returned another car roared up in the road outside and braked sharply. Fredericka tried to get up and go to the door but could not bring herself to move. Presently she could hear voices, and then Mrs. Sutton, Mrs. Hartwell and James Brewster walked in the front door without ceremony.
The events of that evening were to remain in Fredericka’s memory all the rest of her life, but in odd patches as though a whole series of scenes had been lit with bright lightning flashes and then blotted out with the blackness of deep night.
The two men came in from the garden, looking over-life-sized and awkward in the small house. Mrs. Sutton was helped to a chair in the living room. Fredericka gave them coffee. And through it all could be heard, like an orchestral accompaniment, the thundering imperative demands of James Brewster. He stood with his back to the empty grate holding his coffee cup. Fredericka noticed the heavy dark hairs that covered his large hand and crept like caterpillars down each separate finger. He was like a great disgruntled bear roaring at them all. What did he say? Always the same words, over and over. “We must keep it quiet until”—until when? “Family name must be protected.” In those moments Fredericka found herself hating this blustering animal man and wishing that something—anything—would silence him.
And then at last something did silence him—the voice of authority. Thane Carey said quietly: “I have sent for Doctor Scott and, until he comes and has a look at—at her—we can’t have much of any idea of the cause of death. And while we are waiting, I’d like to ask a few routine questions. Do you feel up to this, Mrs. Sutton?”
Margaret Sutton sat forward in the straight chair she had chosen. “It’s true then,” she said. “Oh, I’ve been so frightened of this—and then this afternoon when she didn’t come I was worried—and I asked James to search for her…”
“Really, Carey, this all seems a little unnecessary. We hardly need these police strong-arm methods. My poor Margaret—”
“I’m sorry, Brewster, but I must, as the man in authority, do what seems to me right. I’m afraid you will have to leave my job to me.”
“I don’t see why you have any job, or indeed why you are here at all. I should think Mohun would have called Dr. Scott at once,” James said heavily.
Thane Carey stared at Brewster until the older man turned away with a gesture of disgust.
“You’re a lawyer,” Carey said at last. “Surely you know that one must take precautions in the case of death so sudden and unexpected as this.”
“Precautions?” Brewster flung the word back at him.
“Very well, if you force me to say it. You know as well as I do that there will be an inquest. The police must have the necessary facts.”
“Oh dear!” Mrs. Sutton said quietly. It was hardly more than a sigh, but Carey turned to her at once: “I am sorry, terribly sorry about this and, as a matter of fact there’s no need for you to stay—I can come and see you tomorrow if necessary…”
“Oh no. It’s quite all right, Thane. I want to be here with her. She was—she was so ill you see. No one, not even I, could help her.”
Fredericka, watching Mrs. Sutton’s face anxiously, thought for a moment that the woman could not stand the strain. Then with a great effort her thin shoulders straightened, but when she turned to look up at Thane, Fredericka could see that her face was lined with age and ravaged with pain and shock.
The chief of police became businesslike and his questions followed rapidly, one after the other, until they were broken off by the arrival of Doctor Scott.
Fredericka told simply and quietly the exact story of her movements from the moment that she left the house at half past two with Peter until the finding of the body less than an hour ago.
Thane seemed most interested in the fact that she had locked all the doors when she left. “Why?” he asked.
“I don’t know exactly. I always do lock my door in New York and it’s habit I guess. Also—” She hesitated and then went on slowly. “Well, so many people seem to come and go here and I thought—well—the shop isn’t mine and it is my responsibility.”
This seemed to satisfy Thane who then turned to Peter. “You saw Fredericka lock up. Didn’t that seem odd to you?”
“I didn’t see her, as a matter of fact. I called from the gate because I saw that she was ready and waiting for me just by the door. She came straight along when I called. But I wouldn’t have thought it odd for a city person with the responsibility of someone else’s house, to lock it when she planned to be away for long.”
Suddenly Thane turned to James Brewster who, after his rebuke, had gone to stand at the window with his back to the room in an attitude of childish pique. “Margaret says that, this afternoon, she asked you to go and see if you could find Catherine. When was that, and did you?”
Brewster whirled around and a look almost of madness came into his handsome heavy features. “I refuse to answer your questions. I am a lawyer and aware of the law even if these fools are not.” He turned back to the window.
“Don’t mind him,” Mrs. Sutton said
