What I wanted to say to Wolfe would not have been fitting with a guest present, so I didn’t say it.
I still hadn’t said it thirty minutes later, when Mrs. Pine arrived.
CHAPTER Thirty-Four
She sat in the red leather chair. That day her coat was mink and her dress was tightly woven brown wool with an elegant black check. She had never met Miss Livsey, she had said, and had offered a hand which Hester had not taken. That had not disconcerted her. Nothing, as far as could be told from her appearance, had disconcerted her, though her mind was sufficiently occupied to keep her from making any personal remarks to me. She sat in the red leather chair and told Wolfe: “This would not have happened if you had done what I asked you to. My brother would not have been killed. He would have stopped his foolishness. Everything would have been all right.” “No,” Wolfe said, “it wouldn’t. It seems clear that your brother would never have abandoned his determination to become president of the firm. Nor would the death of Mr. Moore have been cleared up, but that didn’t interest you. I wish you would start with that Friday evening. Why did you tell me your husband was home in bed when he wasn’t?” “Because I saw no—what are you doing there, Archie?” “Shorthand,” I told her. “I’m good at it.” “Then stop it. I won’t have any record of this.” “I will,” Wolfe said curtly. He wiggled a finger at her. “I intend, madam, to be in a position to satisfy your Board of Directors that I have done the job they hired me for. As far as I’m concerned that’s all the record will be used for, but I’m going to have it. And I don’t need to make any pretenses to you. At this moment I know barely what I need to know and that’s all. For example, I had nothing but a surmise, a mere assumption, that your husband was not in bed asleep when you said he was, until you reacted as you did to my request to speak with your servants. That of course made the surmise a certainty. Why did you lie about it?” “I didn’t.” “Pah. You didn’t?” “I didn’t intend to.” Cecily kept glancing in my direction, but at the notebook, not at me. “When you phoned I was in my sitting-room. My husband’s room is some distance away, and I thought he had gone to bed. When I went to see, he wasn’t there. I didn’t know he had gone out. I merely didn’t care to tell you that, not that it mattered, not at the time, so I said he was asleep. He came in a little while after you phoned—” “How long after?” “I don’t know—twenty minutes or half an hour. Then, later, when the news came that my brother had been killed, I knew that my husband had killed him.” “How did you know? Did he tell you?” “Not that night. But I knew, and the next day I talked with him and he told me.” Her hand fluttered. “My husband told me everything sooner or later, after he learned that that was the best way.” “When did he tell you that he killed Mr. Moore?” She shook her head. “I’m not going to talk about that. I have decided that I don’t have to.” She had stopped glancing at my notebook and was sticking to Wolfe. “I know what this is for and I’m willing to say enough to satisfy you. I realize there are some things I have to tell you or you will turn it over to the police, but I don’t have to go beyond that. It is true that my husband killed Waldo, but that had nothing to do with me. He killed him because Miss Livsey had fallen in love with him and was going to marry him.” I wasn’t as good as Wolfe was. I jerked my head up at her. Wolfe merely murmured at her, “Jealousy.” She nodded. “My husband had completely lost his head about her—but I suppose she has told you all about that?” “Not all. I need your version. Go ahead.” “He met her at the company’s annual dinner and dance for employees over a year ago now, and he was a very passionate man. He told me about it, and he wanted to get a divorce. As time went on it got worse with him. She wouldn’t let him see her much, and not at all openly. She was extremely clever about it, she wouldn’t let him give her a better position at the office, and when I insisted that the only thing to do was to make her his mistress, he said she wouldn’t.” Cecily twisted around in her chair to look at Hester. “That was very clever of you, Miss Livsey,” she said without resentment, “but it made it very difficult for me.” Hester stayed motionless and had nothing to say.
“He wanted a divorce,” Wolfe prompted.
“Yes, and I wouldn’t give him one. It would have upset all my life’s arrangements—among other things, I had made him president of the firm. He was even willing to forfeit his career for her. So I persuaded Waldo Moore to take a job there.” She nodded, to herself. “You didn’t know Waldo. He was the most charming person I have ever known, until he got tiresome, which of course everyone does in time.
I doubt if there was a woman on earth who could have resisted him. So I got him to take a job in the stock department, where Miss Livsey worked, and to—well, to divert her. It worked splendidly, as I was sure it would. He had her completely in hand within—I forget, but it couldn’t have been—” “You’re lying!” Hester had spoken.
Cecily twisted to her. “Oh, you have nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Livsey! No, indeed! You’re the only woman he ever asked to marry him.” She went back to Wolfe. “So there was no longer any reason for my husband to want a divorce, or so I thought, but I might have known, with the drive he had to get anything he wanted enough, that he wouldn’t accept defeat as easily as that. What happened was that Waldo Moore was killed. I’m not going to talk about that. It wouldn’t do you any good, and I don’t have to. Anyway, the blame was not mine, it didn’t happen because of any mistake of mine.” “Merely bad luck,” Wolfe murmured.
She nodded. “But I had made a mistake, a very bad one. I had confided in my brother. He was older than me, and I had formed the habit in childhood, and I kept it even after we had grown up and I had become aware that he was a peculiar man and not to be taken seriously. That was a mistake too, to think he was not to be taken seriously. I didn’t realize how much, clear to the bottom of his soul, he wanted to be the head of the business our father had founded. I was shocked when I learned he was using things, things I had told him in confidence from a sister to a brother, to put pressure on my husband to let him become president. I had taken possession of some letters my husband had received from Miss Livsey, and my brother stole them from me.” “Did you tell him your husband had killed Mr. Moore?” Cecily looked annoyed. “I said I wouldn’t talk about that,” she declared to settle it. “But my brother—he thought that, yes. He threatened my husband with it, and me too. That was another mistake, or part of the same one—thinking my brother was not to be taken seriously. I told him he didn’t have the ability to direct the affairs of the business and he should abandon the idea forever. Then he—you know about the report he sent in, stating that Waldo had been murdered.” Wolfe nodded.
Cecily fluttered a hand. “It couldn’t be simply ignored, because my brother had let it become known and gossiped about by the employees. My husband didn’t dare to keep it from the executives, and when most of them were in favor of hiring an investigator he didn’t dare oppose it. I think that was extremely clever of my brother; I had never thought he was as intelligent as that. Wasn’t that really clever?” “Very,” Wolfe agreed. “It got him killed.” “But he didn’t know that,” she protested. “It was clever to think of that way to bring pressure on my husband. I was determined, of course, to stop it, and I still think I would have succeeded if you had done what I asked—if you had stopped the investigation. It only stimulated my brother to go on. If you had quit I still think I could have persuaded my brother to give it up. But then he told Archie that he knew who had killed Waldo, and he saw he had gone too far, because what he wanted wasn’t to have my husband arrested for murder but to get his job. If Archie hadn’t been there he certainly wouldn’t have told him that, and he wouldn’t have told anybody that. I saw him that day and made him understand what he was doing, and he denied he had said it. But it may have been too late. My husband thought it was. He knew then that my brother had the letters he had received from Miss Livsey, and he thought it had gone so far that my brother couldn’t draw back even if he wanted to, and anyway he didn’t trust my brother and didn’t think he wanted to. So—that night—” She turned her palms up and lifted her shoulders.