The Weak-Eyed Bat

Jakes, puzzled by the conversation, waved them to silence and turned to face Frost.

“You know that your daughter has been murdered, Professor Frost. I’m in charge of the case until the Provincial Police take over, and while I don’t know much about murders, I suppose the best thing is to ask you who’d be most likely to murder her.”

“My daughter was provocative, Constable Jakes. She made many enemies, but if I’m going to name them I consider it only fair that my own name be at the top of the list.”

There was an awkward pause. Jakes said lamely: “I didn’t know you—”

“You will, Jakes, you will. My maid is an incorrigible gossip and my daughter Susan an incorrigible fool and between the two of them you will glean enough evidence to hang me. So I have decided to supply details myself, hoping that my candor will predispose you in my favor. Am I being lucid?”

Jakes coughed. “Not very.”

“It isn’t the heat, it’s the lucidity,” Prye murmured.

“Really, Prye,” Frost said. “You’re doing a great deal of talking for a disinterested onlooker, aren’t you?”

“Just holding my end up,” Prye said.

Jakes frowned and said loudly: “See here, you two. You shouldn’t be carrying on a private conversation. I’m supposed to be asking questions and getting answers.”

“Go ahead,” Frost said.

“What is this motive you had for doing away with your daughter?”

“A motive of convenience — and that’s what the majority of motives for murder resolve into, whether they are based on love or money. I find myself breathing more easily now that I am sure Joan’s absence is permanent. There are, of course, others who will be relieved.”

“Miss Bonner?”

Frost nodded.

“What about the Littles?” Jakes pursued. “Did you know Mrs. Little is seriously ill?”

“She always is. She’s a hypochondriac.”

“Not this time,” Prye said. “It’s a heart attack and a bad one. What interests me is, what caused it? Does she know or suspect that her husband murdered Joan? Did she hear or see something?”

Frost’s voice was without expression. “The fact that Tom Little was my daughter’s lover suggests a number of motives. I don’t know whether it’s customary for an honorable man to kill daughter or lover or both, but it’s barely possible that I am an honorable man and killed Joan to prevent any more sizable blots on the family escutcheon. Or Tom Little might have tired of Joan. Or Mrs. Little might not approve of adultery. Or Ralph Bonner— No, I cannot seriously suspect Ralph. He is a dull young man.”

“You don’t need an I.Q. of one hundred forty to commit a murder,” Prye said.

“By dull I meant lacking in initiative,” Frost said. “After all, you must admit it required some initiative to think of using the bag of stones both to kill her and to weight her body.” Jakes drew in his breath sharply.

“I see,” Professor Frost said steadily, “that I am as good as hanged. I presume you regard that as a slip of the tongue, Constable Jakes, an inadvertent admission of guilt? It was not. I don’t make slips. When Miss Shane described, at my request, the discovery of Joan’s body, and told me that no weapon of any kind had been found near the scene of the murder, I assumed that the weapon and the weight were one. It was a logical assumption though based on slight evidence.”

“Too logical,” Jakes said grimly.

“We have missed the important point,” Prye said tactfully. “If the motive was to get rid of Joan, why didn’t the murderer let her leave of her own accord? The taxicab came at ten o’clock to take her away, yet sometime before nine she was murdered. Why was one hour so important?”

“Joan’s departures have never been final,” Frost said. “There was no reason for anyone to believe that this one would be.”

“Maybe,” Jakes said, “the murderer didn’t know she was going away. Why was she leaving yesterday?”

Prye shifted his legs and looked blank.

“Seems a funny coincidence,” Jakes went on, “that she picked on the time of Dr. Prye’s arrival. Was she avoiding you, Prye? Was she scared of you?”

“Not exactly,” Prye said.

“Don’t you think you’d better explain that?”

“I do. I will.”

Frost smiled sardonically. “Prye would prefer to explain in my absence. He is a man of exquisitely delicate feelings and the mere thought of incriminating someone else is abhorrent to him.”

“The very word,” Prye said.

“I’m not getting anywhere at all,” Jakes said irritably. “Dr. Prye, will you please go home? No one could possibly conduct an interview with you in the room.”

Prye grinned. “I was just leaving. Good-bye.”

He went out the front door singing, and a minute later he was tapping quietly at the back door. Hattie was washing the dishes and Susan was drying them and they both let out a cry of surprise when he walked in.

“Why, Dr. Prye!” Susan said.

“Hello, Susan.”

“Whatever have you done to your head?”

“I bound it so it won’t get any bigger. It’s sort of a Chinese custom.”

“I never heard of it before,” Susan said earnestly.

Prye blushed. “I just came over to tell you how sorry I am about Joan.”

Susan gulped, laid down her dish towel, and prepared for a good long cry.