If Death Ever Slept

“It isn’t necessary. You may tell it on the witness stand. As you know, what you did is actionable, but since you discovered a weapon that was used in two murders I doubt if you will suffer any penalty. Instead, you should be rewarded and probably will be. Do you know which of Clarinda Day’s customers the locker belonged to? The one you found the gun in.”

“Yes. Mrs. Wyman Jarrell. Her name was on it. It also had other articles in it, and among them were letters in envelopes addressed to her.”

No gasp from anyone. No anything, until Otis Jarrell muttered, barely loud enough to hear, “The snake, the snake.”

Wolfe’s eyes were at Susan. “Mrs. Jarrell. Do you wish to offer an explanation of how the gun got into your locker?”

Naturally, knowing what was coming, I had been watching her little oval face from a corner of my eye, and she was only four feet from me, and I swear there hadn’t been a flicker. As she met Wolfe’s eyes her lip muscles moved a little as if they were trying to manage a smile, but I had seen them do that before. And when she spoke it was the same voice, low, and shy or coy or wary or demure, depending on your attitude.

“I can’t explain it,” she said, “because I don’t know. But you can’t think I took it that day, that Wednesday, because I told you about that. I was upstairs in my room, and my husband was with me. Weren’t you, Wy?”

She would probably have skipped that if she had turned for a good look at his face before asking it. He was paralyzed, staring at Wolfe with his jaw hanging. He looked incapable of speech, but a kind of idiot mumble came out, “I was taking a shower, a long shower, I always take a long shower.”

You might think, when a man is hit so hard with the realization that his wife is a murderess that he lets something out which will help to sink her, he would at least give it some tone, some quality. That’s a hell of a speech in a crisis like that: “I was taking a shower, a long shower. I always take a long shower.”

As Wolfe would say, pfui.

Chapter 18