“If he’d started coming around, she could have returned the pill bottle to the bathroom and told him he’d had a fainting spell or whatever. She could even say she’d tried to get a doctor, but none could or would come. He wouldn’t be suspicious. As things turned out, though, he died and she left. The only thing she overlooked was the evidence of the food and cigarets.”
Moffat tugged his chin. “The autopsy will show how much he did or did not drink,” he said. “Did that occur to her?”
“Probably. But it’s no solid proof. He didn’t have to be on a tear when he decided to end his life. The missing booze could’ve been spilled accidentally. But it would help plant the idea of suicide in people’s minds. She’s clever. Ruthless. And one hell of a fine actress.”
“Motive?”
“Money. If Bayard testified against her in the divorce proceedings, she’d get nothing but the usual settlement. But as a widow, she’d inherit a mighty prosperous business. She married him
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in the first place for what she could get out of him, of course.”
Moffat clicked his tongue. “I’d hoped for better than this from you, Trig,” he said with a note of worry. “You’re really reaching.”
“I know. This is more hunch than anything else. There won’t even be legal grounds for an indictment, if she’s disposed of the proof.”
“Do you suppose she was mistaken about his being dead, and after she left he roused himself long enough to call you? That sounds unlikeliest of all.”
“No argument,” said Yamamura grimly. “That call’s the one thing I can’t explain.”
They fell silent, amidst the rain and wind and relentless clock-tick, until the homicide squad arrived. The first officer who came in the door looked pleased, in a bleak fashion. “We got the word on our way here,” he said. “She wasn’t home, so the patrolman waited. She arrived a few minutes afterward.”
“Must have left this house” Yamamura looked at his watch. 2:27. Had the whole thing taken so short a while? “About an hour ago, seeing I was phoned then. Even in this weather, that’s slow driving.”
“Why, no. She said twenty minutes or thereabouts.”
“What? You’re sure? How do you know?”
“Oh, she broke down and confessed all over the place, as soon as Hansen asked where she’d been and looked in her purse.”
Yamamura let out his breath in a long, shaken
sigh—
118
The Unicorn Trade
“What was there?” Moffat asked.
“The original note, which asked for this meeting and furnished an envelope to authenticate the fake one,” Yamamura said. “I was hoping she’d taken it back with her, to destroy more thoroughly than she might have felt safe in doing here.” More sadness than victory was in his tone: “I admit I’m surprised she spilled her guts so fast. But it must have affected her more than she’d anticipated, to sit and watch her husband die, with nothing but that clock speaking to her.”
The discrepancy hit him anew. He turned to the homicide officer and protested: “She can’t have left here only twenty minutes ago. That’s barely before my arrival. Cardynge woke me almost half an hour before that!”
“While she was still here?” Moffat contemplated Yamamura for a time that grew long. “Well, he said at length, “maybe she’d gone to the can.” He took the phone. “We just might be able to check that call, if we hurry.”
“The line’s dead,” Yamamura reminded him.
“No, I get a dial tone now,” Moffat said. “They must’ve repaired it a few minutes ago. Hello, operator”
Yamamura became occupied with explaining his presence and showing the squad around. When they came back to the living room, Moffat had cradled the phone. He stood so unmoving that their own feet halted.
“What’s the matter, Charlie?” the inspector asked. “You look like the devil. Couldn’t you find out anything?”
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“No.” Moffat shook his head, slowly, as if it weighed too much. “There wasn’t any call.”
“What?” Yamamura exclaimed.
“You heard me,” Moffat said. “This line went down about midnight. Wasn’t fixed ‘til now.” He took a step forward. “Okay, Trig. What really brought you here?”