Call After Midnight Read Online Free Page B

sat down. The chair was too deep; she was swallowed up in it. It, too, was new, luxurious and uncomfortable, covered in orange velvet. Peter stood just behind her. She couldn’t see his face but she was intensely aware of his presence.
    Cal said, “Was nobody else in the house?”
    Blanche replied gently, “Nobody. Only Peter and me. The servants sleep in the cottage. I told you. The house was locked up.”
    “It’s always locked up at night,” Fiora said. “This great house! Away out here in the country!”
    Peter broke his silence. “Fiora has always been a little nervous about living in the country. We lock the doors at night. Most of the first-floor windows are bolted. I looked around, just to satisfy Fiora. Everything was all right. I even rang up Victor and Rosa, the couple who work for us. I asked if they’d seen anybody on the grounds or heard a car. Victor said they hadn’t. Of course, the gardener’s cottage is quite a distance from the house. But I really don’t see how anybody could have got into the house.”
    “If anybody really wants to get into a house he usually can,” Cal said. “I’m going to have a drink. Never mind,” he added as Blanche made an efficient motion to rise, “I know the way to the pantry, too.”
    Nobody spoke while Cal’s footsteps went briskly along the parquet floor of the long hall and turned into the dining room, where they were muffled by rugs, but still everybody listened. The pantry door squeaked as, Jenny remembered with sudden clarity, it had always squeaked. The house did seem too big and too still and too empty; Jenny had never felt that emptiness when she had lived there. It was so still that they heard the bang of the refrigerator door.
    Then the pantry door squeaked again and Cal came marching back, through the dining room, along the hall, back into the library; he had a highball in his hand. He sat down. “Doors all locked, all right. Kitchen windows all bolted. No sign of any entry. Have you searched the house?”
    Blanche laughed lightly. “Search this house!”
    Peter came forward into Jenny’s vision. He was wearing an old suede jacket which she remembered. There was no expression at all in his face. “No, we didn’t, Cal. The main thing was Fiora. But we couldn’t have helped knowing it if someone got in. Still, perhaps we’d better search the house.”
    “Oh no,” Cal said easily, “the police will do that for us. What’s the name of that local doctor of yours, Peter?”
    Blanche’s slender figure stiffened. She glanced at Peter and addressed Cal. “I told you, Cal. It really isn’t necessary. I feel sure Peter doesn’t want to call a doctor.”
    “Peter doesn’t need to. I will. What’s his name, Peter?”
    “Fiora’s going to be all right.” Peter said briefly. He paused for a moment; then he said with deliberation, “I lost my head, there at first.”
    Peter rarely lost his head; anger or any kind of trouble was more likely to turn him icy cold and very slow about words or actions.
    Cal’s eyebrows went up.
    “You said you’d be accused of murder,” Cal said. “Or attempted murder, I should say.”
    Fiora sat up. “Peter! You thought only of me! You were afraid I was hurt and—”
    Peter didn’t look at her. “Certainly I thought of you. I just said that I lost my head. But then it proved to be a very slight accident. I’d really rather not get the police into this.”
    “Why not?” Cal said.
    “Because I’d rather not. It’s unnecessary.”
    Cal turned to Fiora. “Don’t you want a doctor, Fiora? Blanche may be a good first-aider but you don’t want to die of this.”
    “Die?” Fiora’s eyes opened wide. “His name is Goodwin. Call him!”
    “All right,” Peter said calmly. “If you want a doctor I’ll call him.”
    Cal said, “Don’t bother. I’ll get him—” rose and started for the hall.
    Blanche said, “Of course it’s really none of my business. But I do think, Peter, that this will be