couldn’t handle the old mess and her new marriage together, so she left you.”
“I still don’t get it,” he said. “How could Dolly have a father like that?”
“I’m not a geneticist. But I do know most non-professional killers aren’t criminal types. I intend to find out more about Begley-McGee and his murder. I suppose it’s no use asking if Dolly ever talked about it to you?”
“She never said a word about either of her parents, except that they were dead. Now I can understand why. I don’t blameher for lying—” He cut the sentence short, and amended it: “I mean, for not telling me certain things.”
“She made up for it tonight.”
“Yeah. It’s been quite a night.” He nodded several times, as though he was still absorbing its repercussions. “Tell me the honest truth, Mr. Archer. Do you believe the things she said about being responsible for this woman’s death? And her mother?”
“I can’t even remember half of them.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Maybe we’ll get some better answers tomorrow. It’s a complex world. The human mind is the most complex thing in it.”
“You don’t give me much comfort.”
“It’s not my job to.”
Making a bitter face over this and the last of his whisky, he rose slowly. “Well, you need your sleep, and I have a phone call to make. Thanks for the drink.” He turned with his hand on the doorknob. “And thanks for the conversation.”
“Any time. Are you going to call your father?”
“No. I’ve decided not to.”
I felt vaguely gratified. I was old enough to be his father, with no son of my own, and that may have had something to do with my feeling.
“Who are you going to call, or is that a private matter?”
“Dolly asked me to try and get in touch with her Aunt Alice. I guess I’ve been putting it off. I don’t know what to say to her aunt. I didn’t even know she had an Aunt Alice until tonight.”
“I remember she mentioned her. When did Dolly ask you to make the call?”
“In the nursing home, the last thing. She wants her aunt to come and see her. I didn’t know if that was a good idea or not.”
“It would depend on the aunt. Does she live here in town?”
“She lives in the Valley, in Indian Springs. Dolly said she’s in the county directory. Miss Alice Jenks.”
“Let’s try her.”
I found her name and number in the phone book, placed the toll call, and handed the receiver to Alex. He sat on the bed, looking at the instrument as if he had never seen one before.
“What am I going to say to her?”
“You’ll know what to say. I want to talk to her when you’re finished.”
A voice rasped from the receiver: “Yes? Who is this?”
“I’m Alex Kincaid. Is that Miss Jenks? … We don’t know each other, Miss Jenks, but I married your niece a few weeks ago … Your niece, Dolly McGee. We were married a few weeks ago, and she’s come down with a rather serious illness … No, it’s more emotional. She’s emotionally disturbed, and she wants to see you. She’s in the Whitmore Nursing Home here in Pacific Point. Dr. Godwin is looking after her.”
He paused again. There was sweat on his forehead. The voice at the other end went on for some time.
“She says she can’t come tomorrow,” he said to me; and into the receiver: “Perhaps Sunday would be possible? … Yes, fine. You can contact me at the Mariner’s Rest Motel, or … Alex Kincaid. I’ll look forward to meeting you.”
“Let me talk to her,” I said.
“Just a minute, Miss Jenks. The gentleman here with me, Mr. Archer, has something to say to you.” He handed over the receiver.
“Hello, Miss Jenks.”
“Hello, Mr. Archer. And who are you, may I ask, at one o’clock in the morning?” It wasn’t a light question. The woman sounded anxious and irritated, but she had both feelings under reasonable control.
“I’m a private detective. I’m sorry to disrupt your sleep withthis, but there’s more to the situation than
“I still don’t get it,” he said. “How could Dolly have a father like that?”
“I’m not a geneticist. But I do know most non-professional killers aren’t criminal types. I intend to find out more about Begley-McGee and his murder. I suppose it’s no use asking if Dolly ever talked about it to you?”
“She never said a word about either of her parents, except that they were dead. Now I can understand why. I don’t blameher for lying—” He cut the sentence short, and amended it: “I mean, for not telling me certain things.”
“She made up for it tonight.”
“Yeah. It’s been quite a night.” He nodded several times, as though he was still absorbing its repercussions. “Tell me the honest truth, Mr. Archer. Do you believe the things she said about being responsible for this woman’s death? And her mother?”
“I can’t even remember half of them.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Maybe we’ll get some better answers tomorrow. It’s a complex world. The human mind is the most complex thing in it.”
“You don’t give me much comfort.”
“It’s not my job to.”
Making a bitter face over this and the last of his whisky, he rose slowly. “Well, you need your sleep, and I have a phone call to make. Thanks for the drink.” He turned with his hand on the doorknob. “And thanks for the conversation.”
“Any time. Are you going to call your father?”
“No. I’ve decided not to.”
I felt vaguely gratified. I was old enough to be his father, with no son of my own, and that may have had something to do with my feeling.
“Who are you going to call, or is that a private matter?”
“Dolly asked me to try and get in touch with her Aunt Alice. I guess I’ve been putting it off. I don’t know what to say to her aunt. I didn’t even know she had an Aunt Alice until tonight.”
“I remember she mentioned her. When did Dolly ask you to make the call?”
“In the nursing home, the last thing. She wants her aunt to come and see her. I didn’t know if that was a good idea or not.”
“It would depend on the aunt. Does she live here in town?”
“She lives in the Valley, in Indian Springs. Dolly said she’s in the county directory. Miss Alice Jenks.”
“Let’s try her.”
I found her name and number in the phone book, placed the toll call, and handed the receiver to Alex. He sat on the bed, looking at the instrument as if he had never seen one before.
“What am I going to say to her?”
“You’ll know what to say. I want to talk to her when you’re finished.”
A voice rasped from the receiver: “Yes? Who is this?”
“I’m Alex Kincaid. Is that Miss Jenks? … We don’t know each other, Miss Jenks, but I married your niece a few weeks ago … Your niece, Dolly McGee. We were married a few weeks ago, and she’s come down with a rather serious illness … No, it’s more emotional. She’s emotionally disturbed, and she wants to see you. She’s in the Whitmore Nursing Home here in Pacific Point. Dr. Godwin is looking after her.”
He paused again. There was sweat on his forehead. The voice at the other end went on for some time.
“She says she can’t come tomorrow,” he said to me; and into the receiver: “Perhaps Sunday would be possible? … Yes, fine. You can contact me at the Mariner’s Rest Motel, or … Alex Kincaid. I’ll look forward to meeting you.”
“Let me talk to her,” I said.
“Just a minute, Miss Jenks. The gentleman here with me, Mr. Archer, has something to say to you.” He handed over the receiver.
“Hello, Miss Jenks.”
“Hello, Mr. Archer. And who are you, may I ask, at one o’clock in the morning?” It wasn’t a light question. The woman sounded anxious and irritated, but she had both feelings under reasonable control.
“I’m a private detective. I’m sorry to disrupt your sleep withthis, but there’s more to the situation than
Similar Books
