The D.A. Breaks an Egg

“What about your automobile?” Larkin asked.

Dorothy glanced swiftly at Mrs. Lennox, then pleadingly at the chief of police. “It’s... it’s in a garage.”

“I saw it in the garage. What about it?”

“It... I drove out from Illinois, you know, and I...”

“You gave the parking ticket to the sheriff?”

“To the district attorney.”

“Why did you do that?”

“They... I think they wanted to look the car over.”

“Dorothy!” Mrs. Lennox exclaimed.

Larkin said, “The marks on your tires match the tire marks that were found at the scene of the murder.”

“I... I was afraid...”

“What have you to say to that?”

“Nothing.”

“How did your car get there?”

“I’ve explained that to the district attorney.”

“Well, explain it to me,” Larkin said.

Mrs. Lennox said frigidly, “Really, Dorothy.”

Dorothy said, “I didn’t see any reason for making a scene about it. I don’t know who was driving the car. I simply cannot identify the driver.”

“What in the world are you talking about, Dorothy?”

“What driver?” Larkin asked.

“It was after I had gone upstairs,” Dorothy said. “I had undressed and was standing by the window. I’d left my car so that it blocked the driveway. I felt that it was something of an imposition, but I understood none of the cars would be taken out of the garage until morning, so I... well, I still don’t know who it was that drove the car.”

“Dorothy, what on earth are you talking about?”

“And,” Dorothy went on defiantly, “when I looked through the car, I found this purse.”

“What purse?”

“A purse that evidently belongs to Daphne Arcola. I took it to the district attorney this morning.”

“Why didn’t you say something last night? Why wait until this morning?”

“I... I didn’t realize it was important until this morning.”

Larkin said, with heavy sarcasm, “Your story is now that someone took your car. You thought enough of it to sit up and wait until you saw what time the car came back. Then you went down and looked it over. You found a purse. You didn’t say anything to anybody... When was this, before the house was broken into or afterwards?”

“Before, just before.”

“What do you mean, just before?”

“I believe I know what she means,” Mrs. Lennox said, as Dorothy hesitated. “When I heard the sounds of the screams, I ran to the head of the stairs. I was in time to see Dorothy on the stairs, carrying a purse under her arm. She had turned and was running down the stairs, but I know absolutely she couldn’t have left the corridor and gone downstairs. She must have been on her way up and then turned around...”

“That’s right,” Dorothy said, looking Mrs. Lennox squarely in the eyes. “I had gone down to look in my car. I had found the purse, and was coming back. I had started up the stairs. I was about a third of the way up when I heard the screams. I didn’t know what to do for a moment. Then I heard your steps in the corridor, and so I turned and started down the stairs in the direction of the screams.”

The silence that followed was heavy with suspicion as Mrs. Lennox glanced apprehensively at the chief of police, then hastily averted her eyes.

“So,” Larkin said, “you were downstairs, right near Moana’s bedroom where the burglary was committed at the very time the screams sounded?”

“I told you I was approximately a third of the way up the stairs.”

“You’d been prowling around the house at night, and...”

“I had gone down to look over my automobile. I wanted to see... well, I wondered who had taken it.”

“And you didn’t tell the police any of these things?”

“No, why should I?”

“You told the district attorney this morning.”

“Because then it appeared that the purse that was in my car belonged to the murdered woman.”

“Dorothy, what are you saying!” Mrs. Lennox exclaimed sharply.

Larkin said, “And it looks as though your car was the car that was used by the murderer.”

“I know nothing whatever about that.”

“Who knows you were in your bedroom all the time your car was out?”

“No one, naturally,” Dorothy said, with dignity. “A single, unmarried woman hardly keeps an alibi in her bedroom.”

“Dorothy,” Mrs. Lennox said acidly, “are you trying to convey the impression that some member of this family took your car without your permission?”

“Someone took it.”

“Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you...?”

“I thought at first my car was just being moved out of the driveway. Then when it was gone... well, I waited to see what time it came back. I naturally was curious.”

“It’s a shame that you didn’t share your curiosity,” Mrs. Lennox said.

“What was I supposed to do?” Dorothy asked.

“I don’t think there’s any need to discuss it at this time,” Mrs. Lennox said, with frigid formality.

Dorothy got up to leave the room. “Under the circumstances, I assume you’ll be happier if I go to the hotel.”

“Just a minute, just a minute,” Otto Larkin said heavily. “I’m not satisfied with your story — the one you have now.”

“It’s the same one I always had,” Dorothy said. “I tried to spare embarrassment to the family of the man I love. If you want to ask me any more questions you may call on me at the hotel.”