Going Out in Style (21 page)

“And I slipped a rope around her neck and pulled it tight enough so she couldn’t talk. Then I told her to stay quiet and come with me,” said George in his soft voice. His eyes were closed now as he relived the memory. “I took her out to the car and I talked to her all the way to Springfield. I gave her one last chance. I told her she was being unreasonable. I told her Susan and I loved each other, and I begged her not to cut us out of the will.”

“What did she say?”

George shrugged indifferently. “She laughed at me. She wasn’t frightened at all. She just laughed.”

“And then …” Gretchen’s voice trailed away.

“And then I parked the car in an indoor garage underneath the concert hall, and when she went to get out, I killed her.”

“With the rope?” asked Gretchen in a whisper.

“Yes. She never knew what was happening. I knew Susan wouldn’t want her to suffer.”

Gretchen felt perversely fascinated. It was just as Bernard had said.… “And then you hid her body in the car—”

“—and went upstairs and played the concert,” said George Drexler. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “No one knew! That’s what got me, the entire time. Nobody
even knew! And then, when the concert was over, I got in the car and drove her home. It was awkward, getting her out of the car and everything, but she wasn’t stiff yet. It had only been a few hours. I was safe enough, I knew Albert wouldn’t be home until after midnight. Right, Gretchen? You’re like clockwork, the two of you. Going out every Friday night for years and years.”

“How did you get into the house, George? Where did you get the key?” Gretchen asked in a whisper. She was frightened now. She could feel her whole body trembling. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. Here, she felt, was the authentic presence of evil: this sleepy-faced man who was so eagerly telling her how he had murdered his fiancée’s mother.…

George smiled at her. It was his usual sweet, pleasant smile. “I had copies made of Susie’s keys, of course. It was easy. The whole thing was so easy. I arranged her on the floor with the rope next to her. The whole point was that nobody would ever know that she had been out of the house. I didn’t notice that one of her earrings was missing, though,” he said thoughtfully. He chewed his lip. “That was stupid of me. I was in quite a state, though. I had never murdered anyone before.”

“Really, George?”

“Really.”

There was a long silence. They stared at each other. From behind the closed kitchen door, they could hear Snooky saying, “And then this
other
recurrent dream I’ve been having …”

Finally George said earnestly, “I never wanted to kill anyone, Gretchen. Honestly. You have to believe me. It’s just that I didn’t feel I had any choice. Bella was being impossible about our marriage, and I didn’t want to deprive Susan of all that money.”

“Susan? Or yourself?”

He shrugged. “Me, too, I guess. I’m tired of being poor. I’ve always been poor, just scraping by, trying to make a living and play my viola as much as I can. If I were rich, I could play all the time … I could even form my own group.”

“Philo George?” Gretchen said, and stifled a half-hysterical impulse to giggle.

“More or less.” He smiled at her. “I’m not that egotistical, Gretchen. But I could play when I wanted and where I wanted. It would be on my own terms, and I wouldn’t have to worry about the money anymore. I thought I could have one clean murder, no strings attached. But it wasn’t like that. It didn’t turn out that way at all.” He looked past her, chewing his lip. “It got so
messy
,” said George Drexler, rather pathetically, like a child. “All these people seeing something, or me being afraid all the time that somebody
had
seen something … damn Mrs. MacGregor! Who would have guessed that she’d remember about the coat? And then when that earring rolled out from under the car seat, and Susan was right there, I nearly died. Honestly, I nearly died. Thank God all of you had been in the car right before that. I don’t know
how
I would have explained it otherwise.”

Gretchen suddenly felt that she was addressing a wayward student. There was something about the way George was sitting there, talking to her so reasonably … her fear fell away. She gathered up her handbag and said severely, “You’ve been a very bad boy, George. You know that.”

“Yes, Gretchen. I know.”

“You’ve killed three people.”

“I know. I know.” George bent his head.

“I came here tonight to see if Jessie was right,” said Gretchen thoughtfully. “She hinted to me that it might
have been you … once she realized that Bella hadn’t been at home that evening, then your own alibi got you into trouble, George. Everybody else was here in Ridgewood that evening, except for you. Except for
you
.”

“I know.”

Gretchen’s mouth thinned into a stern uncompromising line. “I don’t have any proof, of course. Nothing that would stand up in court. Nothing that would convince the police. But there’s one thing I’m going to do, for Albert’s sake, and that is to make sure that Susan knows the whole story. Jessie would have wanted that. It’s not right that you should marry into the family. You understand that, don’t you?”

George’s head came up. “Yes,” he said woodenly.

“Good-bye, George,” said Gretchen. She got to her feet.

George stood up also. “Good-bye,” he said.

As she turned to go, George’s hand rose swiftly, and a thin metal string arched through the air. It fell around Gretchen’s throat, and then George was next to her, holding it and twisting, twisting it tighter and tighter …

Gretchen tried to scream and couldn’t. She clawed at her neck, at the metal thread that was biting into her skin … everything was going blue … she reached out blindly, groping through the air, and scratched George’s face as viciously as she could.

George reeled back with a scream. The front door flew open, and a firm hand clamped down on his arm. All of a sudden the room seemed filled with people. He felt the barrel of a revolver being placed firmly against his temple.

“Now, now, Mr. Drexler,” said Detective Janovy’s voice pleasantly. “Don’t move, please, or I might be tempted to put a bullet through your head in the line of duty. Are you sure you’re all right, Dr. Schneider?”

“What tipped you off, Bernard? How did you know that Bella wasn’t murdered at home? What gave you the clue?”

“You did, Snooky.”

“Me? I did?”

“Yes.”

Snooky felt absurdly pleased. “What did I say?”

“You mumbled something, in one of your ceaseless monologues, about how, if she had gone out that night, she would have been the most stylish woman in the restaurant. Don’t you remember?”

“Yes. No. I guess so.”

“The phrase came back to me later,” said Bernard slowly. “
If she had gone out that night
. It would make sense out of a lot of things. Like the earring, which made no sense at all otherwise. Why would the killer take it? But if Bella had been out that night, then it might have fallen off her ear—
in George’s car
—and shown up later, by accident. That, and his alibi, pointed straight at George.”

Snooky was thoughtful. “I see. Clever of you, Bernard.
How did you figure out what in the world Mrs. MacGregor was hinting about?”

“Occam’s razor,” said Bernard shortly.

“I see,” said Snooky. “Simplicity is all, eh, Bernard?”

“Yes. When choosing among competing theories, choose the simplest one. It was obvious that something about the black mink coat had triggered Mrs. MacGregor’s memory. She said so herself, to Aunt Etta. The simplest explanation would be that it was the
coat itself
that had been missing. And that tied in so neatly with Bella Whitaker leaving the house that night, that I knew that must be it.”

Snooky looked at him in frank admiration. “That’s so—so
cogent
of you, Bernard.”

Bernard merely scowled.

Maya, from across the table, passed her brother a slice of pie. “So in a way, Snookers, you could say that you helped Bernard figure it out.”

“I don’t know, Maya. It’s not like what I did was
conscious
or anything.”

“Anyone who talks as much as Snooky does is bound to say something intelligent sooner or later,” said Bernard. “Please pass the pie, Maya.”

There was a happy silence as they ate the blueberry pie.

“Bernard’s beating us, Maya,” said Snooky, eyeing his brother-in-law’s plate. “He always does beat us. I can never understand how he eats so fast.”

“I have a compound stomach,” remarked Bernard sourly, “not unlike a cow.”

“How is Gretchen?” asked Maya.

“She’s okay,” replied Snooky. “Albert was there and he took care of her. She was all shaken up, of course, but she’s going to be fine.”

“And Susan?”

“Well, when she heard all the commotion she opened the door and went dashing out of the kitchen. Just in time, too. I was running out of dreams. The last one I came up with, Deirdre was a gigantic whale and I was a big purple balloon floating among the stars.”

“Did she diagnose you as psychotic?”

“No, but I think she was beginning to look very worried.”

“How’s she handling everything?” asked Maya.

“Not too well, actually. She says she’ll never get married again.”

Maya nodded. “Well, she thinks that right now. She won’t always feel that way.”

Snooky regarded his sister curiously. “Really? That’s interesting. When did you become a seer?”

“I just happen to know about marriage, that’s all. Nearly everyone settles down sooner or later. Not everyone is like you, you know, Snooks. Most people
want
a relationship.”

Snooky was offended. “I want a relationship.”

“You only want bad ones.”

“I don’t want bad ones, Maya, they’re just the only ones that seem to happen to me.”

His sister shrugged. “You could have a decent relationship with a woman if you really wanted to.”

“You think so? Really?”

“Absolutely. You’re afraid of settling down. It’s very simple, Snooks. You have a deep-seated fear of attachment.”

“I enjoy being psychoanalyzed over dessert,” Snooky said cheerfully. He turned to his brother-in-law. “What do you think, Bernard?”

“I think I’m not getting enough pie,” said Bernard, squinting worriedly down the table.

“What I’m asking is, do you think I could have a decent relationship with a woman if I wanted to?”

“No. Is there any coffee left?”

“You see, Maya,” said Snooky. “Bernard understands my predicament. Besides, I think you’re overrating the element of choice in our lives. What about fate?”

“What about fate?”

“Well, maybe things just happen and we can’t always control them.”

“You can choose who you get involved with. Somebody who runs off with someone else while she’s living with you, and then writes a letter about her negative karma, is not a good choice, Snooky.”

Snooky sipped his coffee, his face troubled. “That’s the problem, Maya. She seemed so
right
at the time.”

“You drive me crazy, Snooks. Sometimes I think you’re never going to grow up.”

“Oh, that reminds me. All this stuff about relationships
and settling down. Albert told me today that he and Gretchen have set a definite date. June twenty-fourth.”

“That’s nice.”

Bernard came back abruptly from a brief, happy reverie. “June? This June?”

“That’s right.”

“I hope you’re not planning to stay here until then?”

Snooky looked faintly insulted. “It’s only five months from now, Bernard. Less than that, even. You can put up with me for that long, can’t you?”

Bernard did not reply.

“I’m hurt, Bernard. I really am. But I’m not going to let it get to me, because I know that underneath that moody exterior, you’re always delighted to have me around.”

Bernard let out a sound like a strangled roar. He got up and left the room. After a moment, they could hear the study door slam shut.

“You’re so cruel to him, Snooky,” Maya said reprovingly. “You didn’t mean it, did you?”

“Of course not. I already have my tickets. I’m out of here in two days. I’m going to visit some old friends in the Midwest.”

“So why do you have to torture him?”

“I can’t help it, My. I love watching him react. Is there any more blueberry pie, or did Bernard finish it all off before he left?”

Gretchen and Albert’s wedding was held on the hottest day of the summer, in the garden of the Whitaker estate, near where the roses bloomed and the violets sent out their delicate fragrance. Gretchen wore an antique cream-colored lace dress that flattered her narrow figure, and carried a bouquet of tiny pink roses. She had tied a strip of
lace around her head, in the style of the twenties, and fastened it with a filigree brooch. She looked nervous but very happy. Albert wore a dark tuxedo and seemed to be acutely uncomfortable in it. He kept taking the jacket off in the heat, and then putting it back on. The expression of mute suffering on his face, however, gradually softened as he listened to the quiet words of the ceremony. To everyone’s surprise, he managed to produce the wedding ring at the correct moment (Susan, standing next to them as the maid of honor, gave an audible sigh of relief), and, at the end, he managed to give his bride a very satisfactory kiss. Afterwards, there was a lavish garden party under yellow-and-white striped tents spread out over the lawn.