Pity Him Afterwards

“Would an expression of confidence from this end do anything for you?”

“It would if I didn’t know you were a prejudiced witness.”

“Now, that’s what I call egotistical. Phone me when you get him, Eric.”

“Will do.”

Next, Bob Haldemann. Sondgard took him to one side and said, “I want to talk to you privately a minute, Bob.”

“In my room. Come on.”

Haldemann’s room was on the first floor, across from the rehearsal room. Sondgard sat in the room’s lone chair, and Haldemann sat on the edge of the bed. The shades were drawn and the bed unmade, giving the faint impression that this was somehow a sickroom.

Sondgard said, “I have news for you, Bob, and I also have favors to ask of you.”

“Anything, Eric, anything at all.”

“Fine. The news first. Number one, our madman didn’t just write that message in the kitchen last night. He did other things as well. I’m pretty sure the message doesn’t refer to the killing of Cissie Walker at all, but to the second killing.”

“Second killing?”

“You know the Lowndes place. Somebody climbed over the gate there last night and beat one of the guards to death.”

“Eric!”

“Wait a second, there’s more. Then he went down to the lake, right next to the Lowndes house, and scrawled the name Robert in the dirt three times. Then he turned around and came home. He didn’t enter the house, he didn’t do anything else. All he did was climb over the gate, kill a man, write his name three times, and go home.”

“Robert,” said Haldemann thoughtfully. “And in the message here, he wrote Bobby. Is he trying to pin it on me, Eric?”

“I don’t think so. It wouldn’t stick, and he’d have to know that. We’re up against a lunatic, Bob, and that’s what makes it so tough. There’s no figuring out what he means, or why he does anything. I keep having the feeling that if I could only understand why he climbed over that gate in the first place I’d be a lot closer to him than I am now.”

“But you are close, aren’t you? At three o’clock—”

“That’s the rest of my news. There isn’t any fingerprint.”

Haldemann blinked in confusion. “There what?”

“There was a fingerprint, or there may have been, we’re not sure. But we never got a picture of it. Mike bobbled it. It wasn’t his fault, just one of those things that could happen to anybody. I’m bluffing, Bob. I’m trying to scare our killer into making a break for it.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Haldemann had paled considerably; obviously the bluff had worked with him, and he was now feeling lost without the comforting reassurance of that fingerprint. If only the killer was believing it as thoroughly.

“I’ll worry about that at three o’clock,” Sondgard told him. He leaned back in the chair. “Both these pieces of news,” he said, “are confidential for the moment. The fingerprint, obviously. And the second killing, because you and Mike and I are the only ones in this house who know anything about it, except the killer himself. I may be able to use that, though I admit I don’t know how.”

Haldemann nodded. His fingers were rubbing together with a dry sound. He said, “And then there was a favor.”

“Yes. I’m having the house covered on the outside, but I want to avoid any more trouble on the inside. I want you, and two or three of the others, to help me keep an eye on our suspects.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve got it limited to four. Now, I don’t want our killer to believe it’s impossible to get out of this house, so I wouldn’t want somebody following each suspect everywhere he goes. But just to keep an eye on the doors, and the staircases, and the stairs to the basement. If you see somebody in the process of sneaking out, don’t try to stop him, just come tell me. I want as early a warning as possible, and Mike and Dave won’t know he’s on his way till he’s already out of the house.”

“All right, Eric.”

“Arnie could help us. And Perry Kent.”

“Ralph?”

“I’d like Ralph to put on a game of business as usual. Start a rehearsal.”

“All right. What about Tom Burns?”

“He’s one of my suspects.”

“Tom? For heaven’s sake, Eric!”

“I’m going strictly by my timetable, Bob, and by everybody’s statements. The timetable eliminates you, and the Daniels boy, and Arnie and Perry, and Ralph and Dick and Alden. And the four women are eliminated, of course. That leaves four, and to tell you the truth none of them looks very likely. But Tom Burns is one of the four. He’s a heavy drinker, and he has been for years, which means you can’t say definitely when he will or will not snap. He had a lech for the Walker girl. The name written on the kitchen table was Bobby, and if Tom is suffering from some sort of Jekyll and Hyde insanity like—”

“That was just a story, Eric!”

“The Three Faces of Eve wasn’t just a story. If Tom had a split personality caused by all the heavy drinking, then the second personality might very well decide to call itself Bobby Burns.”

“That’s fantastic. I’m sorry, Eric, but it really is.”