Pity Him Afterwards

“So the first thing,” said Harry Downs, “he come on down to the house and got me. We went through the house first, but nobody was around and nothing was taken and no windows or doors had been forced, so then we come back and checked Eddie out, and then Harry took off in the Merc and found your boy there and clued him in.”

“That was five-forty,” said Larry, “just exactly.” He seemed pleased that he too could give an exact time, and slightly embarrassed that the rest of them might think he was putting on. “I followed the Mercury back here,” he said, “and saw the body, and then asked to use a phone. I went down to the house and called Miss Ravenfield, and then I came back here and waited. She called on the car radio a little while ago, and said you’d be coming right out.”

“Dr. Walsh should be along, too.” Sondgard turned back to the two guards. To Frank, the silent one, he said, “You didn’t see anybody at all during the night? Not out on the road there, or anywhere?”

Frank shook his head. “Nobody,” he said. “And I was awake. I don’t sleep in a car in the woods. One thing, I thought I heard somebody singing one time. I was stopped, you know, and out of the car, looking around. Heard it way off. Might of been on the road, maybe a car radio.”

“When was this?”

“Somewhere around three o’clock, I guess. I didn’t pay much attention. It didn’t sound like anything right on the property.”

“Singing.” Sondgard looked over toward the body, then quickly looked away again. He asked, “Was the gate open or closed when you came back and found him?”

“Closed. Whoever done it climbed over.”

The other guard, Harry, said, “I checked around outside. No tire tracks. Nobody pulled off the road along here last night, or it would have showed.”

“He probably walked, then. And he didn’t go down to the house?”

“I don’t know if he did or not. He didn’t get in, that’s all I know. Didn’t even try.”

“Windows and doors are kept locked.”

“One hundred per cent,” said Harry. “I check that out every night before I hit the sack.”

Sondgard looked at the gate, glanced over at the body, then down the private road toward the house and the lake. “He came over the fence. He killed. Then he turned around and went back over the fence again.”

“He was either teed off or crazy,” said Harry. “You seen what he done to Eddie.”

“Crazy,” said Sondgard, not liking the word but using it because it was handiest.

A telephone rang. Sondgard blinked, and looked around at the woods, for the moment completely baffled.

Harry said, “Excuse me,” and walked casually over to the Mercury. He opened the door on the driver’s side, reached in, and took out from under the dashboard a telephone receiver. “Downs here,” he said. He listened. “Check. We’ll be right there.” He put the phone away again and looked over at Sondgard. “You want to come along? That was old man Lowndes himself. He’s found something.”

“Of course. Larry, wait here for Dr. Walsh. I’ll be right back.”

Larry nodded, reluctantly. It was clear he didn’t like the idea of their force being divided in half. He was only twenty, a junior, one of Sondgard’s “specials,” those few students every year who give the impression they know they don’t know everything, want to learn everything, and are willing to believe their teachers know some of the things they want to learn. He had come here expecting to be a traffic cop for the summer, and Sondgard had expected the same thing. Sondgard had given him the night duty because it was normally quieter and simpler than day duty, and also because he thought Larry would take a romantic delight in the job. Neither of them had expected the job to include standing guard over a brutally murdered human being. Larry was holding up far better than Sondgard could have expected. Partially, he supposed, because Harry and Frank were here. Obvious professionals they were, and the boy would surely give anything to keep from seeming young and useless to them.

Sondgard and Harry got into the Mercury, Harry driving, and as they moved on down the road Sondgard pointed at the telephone. “Some gadget.”

“Direct connection with the house. It’s a walkie-talkie, fancied up. So they can call us if we’re out on patrol and something goes wrong. Somebody tries to break in or something.”

“What was it Mr. Lowndes found?”

“Some sort of writing, down by the lake.”

“Writing?”

But Harry didn’t know any more, and they drove the rest of the way in silence. Harry stopped the car at the end of the road, in front of the garage, and the two men walked around the garage and down toward the lake.

Everett Lowndes was standing down there at the water’s edge. A tall spare old man, he was wearing corduroy trousers and a bulky gray knit sweater. His full mane of white hair shone in the sun from across the lake. He started up the slope when he saw them coming.

“Eric Sondgard! Good to see you again.”

“How do you do, Mr. Lowndes.”

They shook hands, and Lowndes said, “The wrong circumstances for a reunion, though. Come along.”