The Weak-Eyed Bat

“On Tuesday morning I saw Constable Jakes taking Joan out of the water. I have a pair of field glasses. Since I have more than once observed Prye staring suspiciously at my contours you may know about the glasses. They keep me amused. I saw the bag tied around Joan’s waist and knew she had been murdered, so I kept quiet about the money. Prye, however, is a congenital snoop. How did you guess about the five thousand dollars, Prye?”

Prye grinned. “Your contours again, Emily. You have improbable bulges which lend themselves to odd interpretations. Besides, Joan wouldn’t have departed without money and you seemed the most likely source.”

“You are quite impossible, Prye,” Emily said.

The inspector intervened. “What did you do on Tuesday night after dinner?”

“Nothing in particular. I read for a while, watched the storm when it came up, and the rest of the time I just sat. I realize that people who just sit are highly suspicious characters but that’s what I did. At ten o’clock Alfonse burst into the room with a case of hysterics. I treated her as I saw fit and packed her off to bed. Have you found her, by the way?”

“Yes. This morning.”

“Well?”

“She was drowned,” White said slowly. “Apparently it was an accidental death.”

“Apparently? Don’t you know?”

“It was an accident in that she drowned accidentally. But the circumstances of her going for a swim at that time of night—”

“For a swim?” Emily echoed. “That’s absurd. She was afraid of the water at night. She had always lived in the city. She certainly wouldn’t go swimming at night for pleasure.”

“Perhaps not for pleasure,” White replied. “But how about for five thousand dollars?”

Emily stared thoughtfully out of the window.

“My five thousand dollars, I suppose?”

“Yours,” Inspector White said grimly.

“In that case, I don’t think I’ll say anything more at present.”

“Miss Bonner, I am placing you under guard as a material witness for the time being.”

Emily was very meek. “Quite. May I talk to my nephew first?”

“You may not. Any conversations you have in future will be in the presence of the matron who is arriving shortly. Your nephew will be under similar restrictions.”

“You lout,” Emily said distinctly.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a time broken by Prye’s voice: “Emily, if you were prepared to pay over five thousand dollars to Joan why did you call me in on Monday afternoon to elaborate plans for putting her in jail?”

“The money. It didn’t seem a great deal until I saw it.” She shrugged her fat shoulders expressively. “I thought there might be some other way to get rid of her.”

“Murder,” the inspector said, “is the only permanent way.”

“I daresay you’re right, Inspector,” she replied. “But you’re very tiresome.” She put her head back and apparently went to sleep.

Ralph was equally apathetic about his technical arrest. He answered White’s questions in a monotone, and his story was substantially the same as the one he had told Prye. There was one difference: he made no mention of Miss Alfonse accompanying him on his walk.

“What did you do Tuesday night?” the inspector inquired. He spoke more mildly than he had to Emily, for Ralph was looking rather dazed.

“Nothing much,” Ralph said listlessly. “Just sat around.”

“Your aunt just sat around, too.”

“Oh. Well, she always does. Can’t walk, you know.”

“Did you know your aunt had a large amount of cash in her room?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you often go into her room?”

“Only when she sends for me.”

“I understand that you and your aunt had a quarrel on Tuesday morning in the presence of Miss Alfonse.”

“I guess we did if someone told you.”

“What was the quarrel about?”

Ralph looked hopelessly puzzled. “Couldn’t say, really. Couldn’t follow her. I mean, she gets ideas into her head.”

“What ideas?”

“Thinks women are after me, you know. Very embarrassing.”

“What women?” the inspector said impatiently.

“Oh. Well, that nurse. Thought the nurse was after my money — her money, that is — and raised a row. A very odd woman, my aunt. Can’t understand her.” He made a helpless gesture with his hands.

On the way downstairs Inspector White was looking almost as bewildered as Ralph himself.

“A peculiar boy,” he said to Prye. “He seems almost half-witted. Do you think he is?”

“Half-witted is not a psychological term,” Prye said severely. “Do you mean idiot, imbecile, moron, dull, or borderline? He isn’t any of those. He may lack a few points of the hundred but he’s not congenitally subnormal. I’m going to see the cook. Come along?”

“No, thanks,” White said. “Miss Bonner pays her servants too well.”

Miss Dorothy Jakes was pleased that she was finally going to get some attention.

“Miss Alfonse?” she repeated in reply to Prye’s question. “Yes, she did come down to the kitchen last night while I was getting Miss Bonner’s dinner. I thought it was funny at the time.”

“Why?”

“Well, because I knew her. A lot she cared what Miss Bonner had for dinner, her and her vitamins! She wouldn’t even take the tray up.”

“Who poured Miss Bonner’s coffee?”