Read Online Yellow Room by Mary Roberts Rinehart - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Roberts Rinehart
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woman. Somebody knocked her on the head and killed her, then tried to burn her body. Probably the night you fell down the stairs.”
Put to her thus tactfully, Lucy went into a fit of convulsive weeping. The chief waited impatiently, but when he left he still knew nothing more. But he was satisfied at least that there had been no fire while she was lying at the foot of the stairs.
“I’d have smelled anything burning,” she said, sniffling. “I didn’t break my nose when I fell.”
“Maybe you passed out.”
“I guess I did for a while. But I’d have smelled it when I came to, wouldn’t I?”
She was certain, too, that all the doors were locked that night. She accounted for the front door by the fact that whoever knocked her down must have left it open. But she was still semi-hysterical when he left her. After that she lay still for a long time, her eyes closed and her hands still clenched. When a nurse came in she roused herself. The story of the murder had reached the hospital, and Floyd’s order as he left that Lucy was to see no one and communicate with no one had left it in a state of quivering excitement.
“I want to see Miss Spencer, Miss Carol Spencer,” Lucy said feebly. “She hasn’t any telephone. Maybe you’d send her a telegram.”
“The doctor thought you ought to be quiet today, Mrs. Norton. I’m sure she’ll be as soon as she can.”
So that was it, Lucy thought helplessly. They wouldn’t let her see Carol, she wouldn’t know anything, and the police—
She lay still in her bed, her face desperate. She couldn’t even warn Carol, and they probably would keep Joe out too. Not that Joe knew anything either, but she might have sent a message by him. Only—murder! She shivered and closed her eyes.
It was after that visit of Floyd’s to the hospital that he sent for Carol to view the body and attempt to identify it. It was in the local mortuary, and lacking a morgue, it had been packed in ice and covered with rubber sheets. She took only one look, gasped and rushed into the air.
“That was cruel and unnecessary,” she said when she got her breath. “You know I couldn’t recognize her. Nobody could.”
“Well,” he said, “at least you can say that at the inquest. Sorry, Miss Carol. It had to be done.”
He did not take her home at once. He drove around to his office and let her out there.
“One or two things we got might help,” he said. “Won’t hurt to look at them. They won’t bother you any,” when he saw her face. “Just some stuff she was wearing.”
He sat down behind the desk and opening a drawer took out a small box which he emptied onto the blotter. There was a pair of artificial pearl earrings of the stud type, somewhat scorched and rather large, and a ring. He picked up the ring and held it out.
“Might be a wedding ring, eh?” he said, watching her with sharp eyes.
“Possibly. I wouldn’t know.”
He let her go then, still suspicious, still hoping to break the mystery through her. Then he got busy on the telephone.
“I want the phones put back in the Spencer house this afternoon,” he said. “Get a jump on, you fellows. This is a hurry job.”
“It will have to go to the War Production Board, chief. Make out your application and we’ll send it in.”
“The hell you will,” Floyd shouted. “You get three or four instruments out of that shed behind the hotel where you’ve got them stored, or I’ll arrest the bunch of you for obstructing justice.”
The instruments went in that afternoon, and Floyd walked around to where Bessie Content sat before her switchboard.
“Listen, Bessie,” he said. “I want you to do something for me, and keep your pretty mouth shut. Make a record of all calls from the Spencer place, and—you don’t have to be deaf, do you?”
Bessie smiled with her pretty mouth.
“It gets awfully dull here sometimes,” she said, “and my hearing’s good, if I do say it.”
After telling her to notify the night
Put to her thus tactfully, Lucy went into a fit of convulsive weeping. The chief waited impatiently, but when he left he still knew nothing more. But he was satisfied at least that there had been no fire while she was lying at the foot of the stairs.
“I’d have smelled anything burning,” she said, sniffling. “I didn’t break my nose when I fell.”
“Maybe you passed out.”
“I guess I did for a while. But I’d have smelled it when I came to, wouldn’t I?”
She was certain, too, that all the doors were locked that night. She accounted for the front door by the fact that whoever knocked her down must have left it open. But she was still semi-hysterical when he left her. After that she lay still for a long time, her eyes closed and her hands still clenched. When a nurse came in she roused herself. The story of the murder had reached the hospital, and Floyd’s order as he left that Lucy was to see no one and communicate with no one had left it in a state of quivering excitement.
“I want to see Miss Spencer, Miss Carol Spencer,” Lucy said feebly. “She hasn’t any telephone. Maybe you’d send her a telegram.”
“The doctor thought you ought to be quiet today, Mrs. Norton. I’m sure she’ll be as soon as she can.”
So that was it, Lucy thought helplessly. They wouldn’t let her see Carol, she wouldn’t know anything, and the police—
She lay still in her bed, her face desperate. She couldn’t even warn Carol, and they probably would keep Joe out too. Not that Joe knew anything either, but she might have sent a message by him. Only—murder! She shivered and closed her eyes.
It was after that visit of Floyd’s to the hospital that he sent for Carol to view the body and attempt to identify it. It was in the local mortuary, and lacking a morgue, it had been packed in ice and covered with rubber sheets. She took only one look, gasped and rushed into the air.
“That was cruel and unnecessary,” she said when she got her breath. “You know I couldn’t recognize her. Nobody could.”
“Well,” he said, “at least you can say that at the inquest. Sorry, Miss Carol. It had to be done.”
He did not take her home at once. He drove around to his office and let her out there.
“One or two things we got might help,” he said. “Won’t hurt to look at them. They won’t bother you any,” when he saw her face. “Just some stuff she was wearing.”
He sat down behind the desk and opening a drawer took out a small box which he emptied onto the blotter. There was a pair of artificial pearl earrings of the stud type, somewhat scorched and rather large, and a ring. He picked up the ring and held it out.
“Might be a wedding ring, eh?” he said, watching her with sharp eyes.
“Possibly. I wouldn’t know.”
He let her go then, still suspicious, still hoping to break the mystery through her. Then he got busy on the telephone.
“I want the phones put back in the Spencer house this afternoon,” he said. “Get a jump on, you fellows. This is a hurry job.”
“It will have to go to the War Production Board, chief. Make out your application and we’ll send it in.”
“The hell you will,” Floyd shouted. “You get three or four instruments out of that shed behind the hotel where you’ve got them stored, or I’ll arrest the bunch of you for obstructing justice.”
The instruments went in that afternoon, and Floyd walked around to where Bessie Content sat before her switchboard.
“Listen, Bessie,” he said. “I want you to do something for me, and keep your pretty mouth shut. Make a record of all calls from the Spencer place, and—you don’t have to be deaf, do you?”
Bessie smiled with her pretty mouth.
“It gets awfully dull here sometimes,” she said, “and my hearing’s good, if I do say it.”
After telling her to notify the night
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