The Almost Perfect Murder by Hulbert Footner (reading the story of the TXT) 📕

Miss Fay wouldn’t go. Said she didn’t feel good.”

“I thought she was never sick,” I ventured.

“Oh, not sick,” said Katy. “Just wanted to stay quiet and read. I

left her in bed reading. I remember that’s the night I saw A. J.

Burchell, in ‘Well-Dressed Wives.’ Don’t you love him?”

So much for that.

While I was in the suite, things were still arriving from the shops. I

remember I was looking at a marvellous n�glig�e when the telephone

rang. From Katy’s responses I understood that it was Fay calling from

the theatre. Fay was evidently issuing somewhat complicated

instructions, to which Katy returned breathless affirmatives.

Katy finally hung up, and turned around with wide eyes. “What do you

think!” she cried. “They’ve changed all their plans. They’re going

away this evening instead of tomorrow morning!”

I thought that was the end of everything. Mme. Storey had gone up to

Riverdale, and I didn’t know when she’d get back. Luckily Katy was too

much excited herself to notice the effect that her announcement had on

me.

“For the Lord’s sake,” she cried. “You never know what they’re going

to do next! … I’m to pack the dressing-case and the small wardrobe

trunk, and leave everything else to Maud. I’m to take the things to

the –- Terminal—my own things too, and meet them in the Grand

Concourse at six-thirty!”

There was only one thing for me to do, and that was to get out as quick

as I could. Which I did. What was I to do? I felt desperate. If I

tried to go after Mme. Storey, likely I would only pass her somewhere

coming back. I didn’t dare call up the police station at Riverdale,

because I didn’t know if she would give her right name there, and if I

mentioned it, I might upset all her plans. There was nothing for it

but to return to the office and wait for her. At the worst, I was

prepared to go myself to the Terminal, and denounce Whittall in public,

though I died for it.

To my great relief that was not required of me. At the end of an hour,

Mme. Storey came into the office bringing a very pretty young lady whom

I had not seen before. She introduced her as Miss Larrimore. I was

too excited at the moment to remember that this was the name of Fay’s

understudy.

“Miss Larrimore wanted to see our offices,” Mme. Storey explained

amiably.

Perceiving from my face that something had happened, Mme. Storey

allowed the girl to pass on into the long room, while she lingered in

my office. I hurriedly made my communication. Mme. Storey was not in

the least disturbed. Indeed, she laughed merrily.

“I fancied that some such move might be made,” she said. “So I

kidnapped Fay’s understudy. I expect they’re looking for her now.”

“But … but where did you find her?” I asked, amazed.

“Oh, I knew that after reporting at the theatre for every performance,

she was free to go home if Fay had turned up in good health. So I went

to her boarding-house, and asked her to go for a drive. We’ll take her

back directly. It will be fun!”

From her handbag Mme. Storey took an automatic pistol, and put a mark

on it in my presence, before dropping it in the drawer of my desk.

This weapon was identical with the one which had been recovered from

the well at Oakhurst that morning.

My mistress did not hurry herself at all. After showing Miss Larrimore

her artistic treasures she announced that she would drive her up-town.

“I’m going to drop in on Fay at the theatre,” said Mme. Storey. “You

come along too.”

It was not the first time that Mme. Storey and I had applied at the

stage door of the Yorktown theatre, and we were admitted without

question. The star of the company was allotted two rooms on the level

of the stage; the outer was used to receive her friends in, while the

inner was devoted to the mysteries of make-up and dress. When the

outer door was opened we heard the voices of several people within.

Mme. Storey slyly bade Miss Larrimore to enter first, while she hung

back with a smile. Cries of relief greeted the understudy.

“Oh, here you are!”

Then Mme. Storey entered with me at her heels. They were all there;

Whittall, Kreuger, Mrs. Brunton and Fay. My mistress’s appearance

created a startling effect. Whittall was arrested in full flight, so

to speak. The man froze where he stood. His face turned livid.

Kreuger was frankly terrified; while Mrs. Brunton was herself, for

once. She snarled. She could not have known what had taken place that

day, but she saw clearly enough that her darling scheme was endangered.

Fay swam towards us, perfectly candid in her gladness. Whittall made

an involuntary move to stop her—then he saw it was useless.

“Rosika and Bella!” cried Fay. “What a lucky chance! I was just about

to write you. Darius said it would sound too casual to telephone. I

am afraid our little party for tonight must be off, my dears. But

Darius says we shall have a big one as soon as we get back. Our plans

are all changed. It turns out that the private car is required in New

York on Tuesday, and we have to use it tonight or not at all. I

suppose I am silly, but my heart was set on that private car. So we’re

off at seven o’clock. Miss Larrimore will play my part tonight. We’ll

be married in Pinehurst tomorrow.”

Mme. Storey looked at Whittall with a cold smile. He visibly writhed

under it. He had given her his word of honour, you remember. The

tension of that moment was almost unbearable. Everybody in the room

was aware of it except the two girls who were laughingly whispering

about the night’s performance. There was something inexpressibly

touching in the sight of their happy ignorance.

Finally Mme. Storey spoke. “I’m afraid I’ve got the thankless job of

throwing a monkey-wrench into the works,” she said.

“What do you mean?” asked Fay, laughing.

“I can’t let Mr. Whittall go away tonight.”

One can imagine what a hell of rage and frustration Whittall was

undergoing during those moments. I don’t suppose that the arrogant

millionaire’s will had ever been crossed before.

“What!” said Fay, opening her eyes wide.

“Some time ago,” said Mme. Storey coolly, “Mr. Whittall promised to

back me in a scheme I was getting up to open a studio building for poor

artists. My plans are ripe now, and I have called a meeting for

tomorrow. I am counting on him.”

“Oh, but surely,” said Fay, more and more surprised, “under the

circumstances, can’t somebody appear for him? can’t it be put off for a

few days?”

“No,” said Mme. Storey with cold firmness.

From astonishment Fay graduated to indignation. Suspecting enmity in

my mistress, she turned from her. “Darius!” she said.

What a bitter moment for him! He hesitated. His eyes glittered in the

direction of my mistress with an expression of reckless rage. But upon

meeting her cold glance they fell again. He knew that the word

“murder” had only to be whispered to destroy his chances for ever. “I

gave her my word,” he mumbled, grinding his teeth. “I’ve got to stick

to it.”

Fay’s gentle eyes flashed. She could see now that there was much more

in this than appeared on the surface. But pride would not allow her to

ask any more questions. She was much angrier at her renegade lover

than she was at Mme. Storey.

“Oh, well, of course it doesn’t make any difference,” she said, tossing

her head. She slipped her hand under Miss Larrimore’s arm. “I’m only

sorry on your account, my dear.” She drew the other girl into the

inner room.

The events which succeeded this scene were simply baffling to me. Katy

was ordered back from the station to the hotel, and told to unpack all

her mistress’s things and put them away. The private car was

cancelled. At this, Mrs. Brunton could no longer contain her feelings.

She burst out at Mme. Storey wildly.

“How dare you come here interfering in our private affairs! What does

your silly meeting mean to us when Darius and Fay are going to be

married! I never heard of such a thing….”

The outburst was quite natural. Mrs. Brunton had had a hard life, and

Whittall’s twenty millions blinded her to all other considerations.

There is no doubt but she loved Fay as if she had been her own child.

Now Whittall, when he heard this, executed a rapid volte-face. A

moment before he had seemed absolutely suffocated with rage against

Mme. Storey; now he turned against Mrs. Brunton, and roughly silenced

her. “Mme. Storey is our friend,” he said. “You have no reason to

speak to her in that manner. This is important. She knows what she is

doing.”

Mrs. Brunton didn’t know what to make of it, and no more did I. To my

further astonishment, Mme. Storey allowed a reconciliation to be

patched up, and when I left she and Whittall were chatting together as

amicably as you please. Since Fay was to go on as usual, her supper

had been ordered in. I can’t tell you what happened after that,

because I had been sent to the office with private instructions to

receive the reports of the various operatives who had been detailed on

the case, and forward them to Mme. Storey at the theatre. I supposed

that she and Whittall remained at the theatre throughout the

performance, exchanging compliments—and watching each other.

During the evening Mme. Storey called me up to say that the little

party would take place in Fay’s rooms after the performance as at first

arranged, and that I was to be there. She instructed me to get in

touch with Inspector Rumsey, and to ask him to be waiting in the lobby

of the Madagascar at quarter to twelve. I possessed no key to Mme.

Storey’s plans, and this latter message caused a feeling of dread to

weigh on my breast.

In due course I went home to change my dress, and then proceeded to the

hotel. I saw the Inspector waiting in the lobby, and nodded to him as

I passed. When I was shown up to Fay’s suite I found that I was the

first to arrive. Katy pounced on me to learn the inner reasons for her

mistress’s second extraordinary change of plans, but I had no heart to

gossip with the maid.

There was a table ready set for six persons. It looked lovely with its

snowy cloth set off with glass and silver and flowers. All around the

white panelled walls relieved with an old messotint or two there were

pink-shaded lights bracketed in threes, and casting down a pleasant

glow on the comfortable furniture covered with crisp cretonnes. Only

the most expensive places dare to be as simple as that. There were

flowers everywhere in the room. To me there was a horrible irony in

the sight of all this dainty preparation for such a scene.

Fay, Mrs. Brunton, Darius Whittall and Kreuger came in together. Their

faces gave nothing away.

“Where is Mme. Storey?” I asked involuntarily.

“She’ll be up directly,” said Fay. “She met a friend in the lobby.”

I supposed this was Rumsey.