If Death Ever Slept

The silence was broken by Wyman. He didn’t blurt, he merely said, “That won’t get you anywhere, Dad, not unless you’ve got proof. Have you got any?” He turned, feeling Susan’s hand on his arm, and told her, “Take it easy, Sue.” He was adding something, but Wolfe’s voice drowned it.

“That point should be settled, Mr. Jarrell. Do you have proof?”

“No. Proof for you, no. I don’t need any.”

“Then you’d better confine your charge to the family circle. Broadcast, it would be actionable.” His head turned to the others. “We’ll ignore Mr. Jarrell’s specification of the culprit, since he has no proof. Ignoring that, this is the situation: When Mr. Jarrell learned this afternoon that Mr. Eber had been killed with a gun of the same caliber as his, which had been taken from a drawer of his desk, he was concerned, and no wonder, since Eber had been in his employ five years, had lived in his house, had recently been discharged, had visited his house on Wednesday, the day the gun was taken, and had been killed the next day. He decided to consult me. I told him that his position was precarious and possibly perilous; that his safest course was to report the disappearance of his gun, with all the circumstances, to the police; that, with a murder investigation under way, it was sure to transpire eventually, unless the murderer was soon discovered elsewhere; and that, now that I knew about it, I would myself have to report it, for my own protection, if the possibility that his gun had been used became a probability. Obviously, the best way out would be to establish that it was not his gun that killed Eber, and that can easily be done.”

“How?” Brigham demanded.

“With an if, Mr. Brigham, or two of them. It can be established if it is true, and if the gun is available. Barring the servants, one of you took Mr. Jarrell’s gun. Surrender it. Tell me where to find it. I’ll fire a bullet from it, and I’ll arrange for that bullet to be compared with the one that killed Eber. That will settle it. If the markings on the bullets don’t match, the gun is innocent and I have no information for the police. Per contra, if they do match, I must inform the police immediately, and give them the gun, and all of you are in a pickle.” He upturned both palms. “It’s that simple.”

Jarrell snapped at his daughter-in-law, “Where is it, Susan?”