The D.A. Breaks an Egg

“The hot buttered rum,” Selby said. “It was a delightful experience.”

“It was a good drink, I’ll say that. He knows how to...”

“No, no, not the drink,” Selby said, “the idea back of it. You perhaps noticed, Rex, that the drink was boiling hot. It had to be cooled off before...”

“I’ll say it did. I darned near burned the inside of my mouth out.”

“Exactly,” Selby said. “And you notice that Carr made no attempt to question us until after he had us sitting around with a drink that we couldn’t very well leave without being terribly impolite, and which we couldn’t drink without scalding our insides.

“Then, having us pinned to the board, so to speak, he proceeded to query us about the facts surrounding the death.”

“Darned if he didn’t,” Brandon admitted.

“And with particular reference to the purse,” Selby said.

“You’d almost think he knew something about that purse,” Brandon said thoughtfully.

“He’s interested in it all right,” Selby said. “And did you notice the look of swift consternation on the face of his wife when he made some comment to the effect that he could guarantee she hadn’t been mixed up in the murder?”

“Good Lord, you don’t think she was, do you?” Brandon asked.

“Certainly not. But for one moment we saw fear penetrate her mind. Carr may not be able to divorce her for three years, but if she were found guilty of murder and executed, Carr would be safely out of his marital predicament.”

“Good Lord!” Brandon exclaimed, momentarily taking his eyes from the road, “you don’t think Carr has anything like that in mind, do you, Doug?”

“I don’t,” Selby said, “but apparently the thought occurred to his wife as an interesting possibility. And by this time she quite probably knows him better than we do.”

6

The county car came to a stop in front of the big, old-fashioned house on Chestnut.

The place was ablaze with light now and as Selby and Brandon walked up the steps to the porch they were held in the illumination of a porch light so brilliant that great swarms of night-flying insects were circling around the shielded globe.

“They certainly believe in lots of light,” Brandon said, as he pressed the bell button.

Mrs. Lennox opened the door. “Well,” she said, “Sheriff Brandon,” and then added after a significant moment, “at last.”

Brandon smiled. “The city police take care of you all right?”

“I don’t know what you mean by taking care of us. They came out here and snooped around and went out with flashlights and looked around the grounds, and then got in their car and drove away. I don’t know what they were looking for.”

“Didn’t you report a burglar?”

“Yes, hours ago.”

“Well, that’s probably what they were looking for.”

“Well, I hope they didn’t expect to find him still here in the yard, sitting down and waiting under the window. After all, a burglar isn’t paid by the taxpayers. He isn’t elected to office. He has to get out and rustle, and...”

Brandon smiled. “Well, if the burglar isn’t here, the place to look for him is somewhere else. Perhaps that’s why the police went away.”

“Well,” she said, “I didn’t mean it to sound that way, but my nerves are all upset... Who’s that with you? Is that the district attorney?”

“That’s right,” Selby said. “I’m Doug Selby.”

“Well, I’m Mrs. Lennox. Won’t you gentlemen come in? I’m sorry if I’ve been cross and irritable, but I’m naturally as nervous as a frightened cat. Do come right in and sit down. The folks are all in here, right in this room.”

She ushered them into the big room, and said, “This is Steve, my son; Moana, my daughter; Dorothy Clifton, my son’s fiancée... No, no, not Steve’s, my other son, Horace. He’s back East.

“Now, the housekeeper was here, but I sent her out. I see no reason for the cook and the housekeeper to be in on this discussion at all. It has a tendency to make for informality and that’s bad for discipline. They were asleep and didn’t know a thing until they heard Moana screaming. They sleep over the garage.”

“Can you tell us just what happened?” Brandon asked Moana.

She said, in a dull voice, as though she had grown tired of repeating the story, “I went to bed. It was a warm night. I left the window open. I wakened, and thought someone was in the room. I had that most peculiar feeling, and then I heard noises.”

“What sort of noises?” Brandon asked.

“Noises as though things were being moved around on the top of the dresser, and then I distinctly heard a drawer being pulled open.”

“So what did you do?”

“I’m not entirely clear as to just what happened. I seem to have been a little dazed by the fright and the shock.”

“Poor child. Of course she was,” Mrs. Lennox said. “It’s a horrible experience. Good heavens, we might have all been murdered right in our beds.”

“Well, as nearly as you can,” Brandon said, “tell us what you think you did.”

“Well, I think I said something. I think I said, ‘Who’s there?’ or ‘Mother, is that you?’ or something, and no one said anything but the noise stopped, and everything was tense and ominously silent.”

“Then what?”