also by his all-too-apparent fear of inadvertently exposing our conspiracy, a fear that communicated itself to me and made me even more nervous than I was already. All in all, I was just as pleased when dinner was finished and I could get out of there.
I had spent the evening in various public rooms, watching ping-pong or reading magazines or whatever, getting into brief conversations with other residents whenever I could do so without seeming to push too hard. I was trying for nothing more than to get to know my suspects a little better, and had ended the evening with no further enlightenment.
About ten o’clock the two doctors and Bob Gale and I had met in Doctor Cameron’s office. Doctor Cameron told me Kay Prendergast’s chair showed the marks of having been tampered with, and Bob Gale said it had to have been done recently as there was still sawdust on the carpet under where the chair had stood. Doctor Fredericks moved that we call in the local police at once, as no one present seemed capable of doing anything constructive about what was an extremely dangerous situation, but he wasn’t serious about it, merely turning the knife, and when we ignored him he didn’t pursue the question.
We had discussed Dewey, and the fact that he had to be considered a prime suspect, and that the first order of the day was to get hold of him and question him, either to remove him if he turned out to be the menace in our midst, or remove him from the top of the suspect list if he should turn out to be innocent. I had suggested that the best time to go in search of him would be very early in the morning, before anyone else was up, when I had seen him the last time, and Bob Gale volunteered to get himself up and the rest of us awake by four o’clock. We would then meet in Doctor Cameron’s office and start our search from there, traveling in pairs.
So now it was four o’clock, and after five hours of uncomfortable and restless sleep I didn’t at all want to go downstairs to Doctor Cameron’s trusting patience or Doctor Fredericks’ needling or Bob Gale’s boyish eagerness. Once again I was thinking of home, and more particularly of my wall, and I regretted the fact that there hadn’t been a train back to New York right away when I’d arrived in Kendrick. I would have no broken arm now, and no complicated relationships with other people, and no troubled mind to concern myself with but my own. The house would be empty for a month, I could have it all to myself, and wouldn’t that right away lighten the burden? However sincere was Kate’s forgiveness, however much she truly cared for me and truly wanted to help me, there was no way she could avoid being a reminder of what I’d done and what had happened to me as a result.
Maybe I’d been too hasty in my estimation of Walter Stoddard’s wife. But then again, all estimations of human beings are too hasty, no final judgment can ever be made, there’s always more to learn, more colors to alter the portrait.
What would the portrait of Dewey be, once I found him again? Wondering that, I left the room and went down the hall and at the first turn there was Dewey, standing there with a small patient smile on his face, obviously waiting for me. “Hello, Mr. Tobin,” he said.
“Hello,” I said, trying to show nothing. We had intended to search in pairs exactly to avoid this sort of situation. I was not, one-armed, going to be able to capture Dewey. Nor did I want to frighten him into hiding. “Off to get another midnight snack,” I said.
“May I walk with you?”
“Delighted,” I said.
He fell in beside me and we walked toward the rear stairs. He was subtly different from what I remembered, like a second signature from the same person, almost identical but not quite. He seemed somehow less harmless, more mysterious and unknown, his smile less honest, his body less weak. Of course, on that first meeting I didn’t know he was a stowaway, and this time I did. Knowing
I had spent the evening in various public rooms, watching ping-pong or reading magazines or whatever, getting into brief conversations with other residents whenever I could do so without seeming to push too hard. I was trying for nothing more than to get to know my suspects a little better, and had ended the evening with no further enlightenment.
About ten o’clock the two doctors and Bob Gale and I had met in Doctor Cameron’s office. Doctor Cameron told me Kay Prendergast’s chair showed the marks of having been tampered with, and Bob Gale said it had to have been done recently as there was still sawdust on the carpet under where the chair had stood. Doctor Fredericks moved that we call in the local police at once, as no one present seemed capable of doing anything constructive about what was an extremely dangerous situation, but he wasn’t serious about it, merely turning the knife, and when we ignored him he didn’t pursue the question.
We had discussed Dewey, and the fact that he had to be considered a prime suspect, and that the first order of the day was to get hold of him and question him, either to remove him if he turned out to be the menace in our midst, or remove him from the top of the suspect list if he should turn out to be innocent. I had suggested that the best time to go in search of him would be very early in the morning, before anyone else was up, when I had seen him the last time, and Bob Gale volunteered to get himself up and the rest of us awake by four o’clock. We would then meet in Doctor Cameron’s office and start our search from there, traveling in pairs.
So now it was four o’clock, and after five hours of uncomfortable and restless sleep I didn’t at all want to go downstairs to Doctor Cameron’s trusting patience or Doctor Fredericks’ needling or Bob Gale’s boyish eagerness. Once again I was thinking of home, and more particularly of my wall, and I regretted the fact that there hadn’t been a train back to New York right away when I’d arrived in Kendrick. I would have no broken arm now, and no complicated relationships with other people, and no troubled mind to concern myself with but my own. The house would be empty for a month, I could have it all to myself, and wouldn’t that right away lighten the burden? However sincere was Kate’s forgiveness, however much she truly cared for me and truly wanted to help me, there was no way she could avoid being a reminder of what I’d done and what had happened to me as a result.
Maybe I’d been too hasty in my estimation of Walter Stoddard’s wife. But then again, all estimations of human beings are too hasty, no final judgment can ever be made, there’s always more to learn, more colors to alter the portrait.
What would the portrait of Dewey be, once I found him again? Wondering that, I left the room and went down the hall and at the first turn there was Dewey, standing there with a small patient smile on his face, obviously waiting for me. “Hello, Mr. Tobin,” he said.
“Hello,” I said, trying to show nothing. We had intended to search in pairs exactly to avoid this sort of situation. I was not, one-armed, going to be able to capture Dewey. Nor did I want to frighten him into hiding. “Off to get another midnight snack,” I said.
“May I walk with you?”
“Delighted,” I said.
He fell in beside me and we walked toward the rear stairs. He was subtly different from what I remembered, like a second signature from the same person, almost identical but not quite. He seemed somehow less harmless, more mysterious and unknown, his smile less honest, his body less weak. Of course, on that first meeting I didn’t know he was a stowaway, and this time I did. Knowing
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