Red Gardenias by Jonathan Latimer

Author:Jonathan Latimer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781558820944
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 1938-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XII

While Williams waited for Mr Jameson, the Brookfield real-estate man, in front of the house, Ann got ice and glasses from the pantry. Crane stretched out on the blue couch in the living room. “This feels nice,” he said.

Ann said, “Bill, why do we fight all the time?”

“I guess it's my drinking.”

“It's partly.”

“Maybe you just don't like me.”

” But I do. I like you very much.”

“Would you like me more if I gave up drinking?”

“Yes.”

“Then I'll give it up.”

“Just don't drink so terribly much.”

“No, I won't drink at all. But you have to promise to like me.”

She came to the couch and touched Crane's neck with her fingers. “You're nice,” she said. “I'll like you.”

Her fingers were cool and soft. He tried to take hold of her hand, but she moved away from the couch. She went to a chair across the room. “What about this case, Bill?” she asked.

They tried to agree on a major suspect, but they couldn't. They decided Talmadge March had the best motives: hatred and a desire for money, but Ann said she was sure Donovan had something to do with the deaths.

“I still think he and Talmadge might be working together,” she said.

“And I still think the murderer would work alone,” said Crane. “He wouldn't dare have an accomplice. Too much chance for blackmail.”

Ann thought, in that case, she would just suspect Talmadge. He would naturally hate John for informing Simeon March he was in the night-club business.

So would Dr Woodrin, Crane said. Probably even more, because he had lost all his money in the venture. But Crane couldn't see why the doctor would kill Richard, unless he wanted Carmel.

“He likes her,” Ann admitted.

“But Carmel likes Peter.”

Ann's face became guarded. “He should kill Peter next, then.”

“That doesn't make much sense, killing a lot of people to make a girl you hope to marry rich.”

“How about Simeon March?” Ann asked.

“Why not?” Crane wished his head would stop aching. “Don't they always pin it on the person who calls in the detectives?”

“And Alice March?”

“I always suspect people I don't like.”

“You ought to suspect Peter, then.”

“Don't you know I'm crazy about Peter?”

“You mean Carmel, don't you?”

A cool voice from the door asked, “What about me?”

It was Carmel March. Her black velvet dress was pulled tight about her waist by a gold belt, but below her flat hips it flared out in a soft curve. She had on long black gloves, and there was a gold bracelet below the puffed sleeve of her dress.

“You'll excuse my not standing,” Crane said. “I don't think I can.”

“We were just talking over the party last night,” Ann said. “Bill has had a relapse.”

Carmel came slowly into the room”I knew you were going to feel bad when I saw you drinking champagne with that woman.”

Ann said, “He went on to laudanum.”

Carmel said, “Goodness! Champagne and Laudanum?”

“Nothing like that,” Crane said. “I wouldn't spoil good laudanum with champagne.”

“How in the world did you get home?” Carmel asked.

“By American Express, I think.”

Carmel had a nice husky laugh.

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