The Cases of Susan Dare

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Authors: Mignon G. Eberhart
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths
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It is simply that we have had an offer of a considerable sum of money for the purchase of this house. We happen to hold this house—all four of us—with equal interest. Thus it is necessary for us to agree before we can sell or otherwise dispose of the property. That’s really all there is to it. Caroline and David wanted to sell. I didn’t care.”
    “But Marie didn’t want to sell,” cried Caroline. “And Marie was stronger than any of us.”
    “Miss Caroline,” said Susan softly. “Why were you afraid?”
    For a dreadful second or two there was utter silence.
    Then, as dreadfully, Caroline collapsed into her chair again and put her hands over her mouth and moaned.
    But Jessica was ready to speak.
    “She had nothing to be afraid of. She’s merely nervous—very nervous. I know, Caroline, what you have been doing with every cent of money you could get your silly hands upon. But I intended to do nothing about it.”
    Caroline had given up her effort to avoid Jessica. She was staring at her like a terrified, panting bird.
    “You—know—” she gasped in a thin, high voice.
    “Of course, I know. You are completely transparent, Caroline. I know that you were gambling away your inheritance—or at least what you could touch—”
    “Gambling!” cried David. “What do you mean?”
    “Stocks,” said Jessica harshly. “Speculative stocks. It got her like a fever. Caroline has always been susceptible. So you have no money at all left, Caroline? Is that why you were so anxious to sell the house? You surely haven’t been fool enough to buy on margin.”
    Caroline’s distraught hands confessed what her trembling lips could not speak.
    David was suddenly standing beside her, his hand on her thin shoulder.
    “Don’t worry, Aunt Carrie,” he said. “It’ll be all right. You’ve got enough in trust to take care of you.”
    Over Caroline’s head he looked at Jessica. The look or the tenderness in his voice when he spoke to Caroline seemed to infuriate Jessica, and she arose amid a rustling of silk and stood there tall and rigid, facing him.
    “Why don’t you offer to take care of her yourself, David?” she said gratingly.
    David was white, and his eyes brilliant with pain, but he replied steadily: “You know why, Aunt Jessica. And you know why she gambled, too. We were both trying to make enough money to get away. To get away from this house. To get away from—” He stopped.
    “From what, David?” said Jessica.
    “From Marie,” said David desperately. “And from you.”
    Jessica did not move. Her face did not change. There was only a queer luminous flash in her eyes. After a horribly long moment she said:
    “I loved you far better than Marie loved you, David. You feared her. I intended to give you money when you came to me. You had to come to me. You would have begged me for help—me, Jessica! Why did you or Caroline kill Marie? Was it because she refused to sell the house? I know why she refused. She pretended that it was sentiment; that she, the adopted daughter, was more a Wray than any of us. But it wasn’t that, really. She hated us. And we wanted to sell. That is, you and Caroline wanted to sell for your own selfish interests. I—it made no difference to me.”
    Caroline sobbed and cried jerkily:
    “But you did care, Jessica. You wanted the money. You—you love money.” There was a strangely incredulous wail in her thin voice. “ Money—money ! Not the things it will buy. Not the freedom it might give you. But money—bonds, mortgages, gold. You love money first, Jessica, and you—”
    “ Caroline, ” said Jessica in a terrible voice. Caroline babbled and sobbed into silence. “Caroline, you are not responsible. You forget that there are strangers here. That Marie has been murdered. Try to collect yourself. At once. You are making a disgusting exhibition.”
    All three looked at Susan.
    And as suddenly as they had been diverted from each other they were, for a moment, united in

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