“For two days
Sergeant Ryan has been out flagging down black Mercedes sedans, interviewing
dealers, checking registrations—”
Ann said
hurriedly, “He wanted some of Pearl’s belongings, which he described as
heirlooms. He tried to get them from my father, but had no luck.” She described
Edgar Maudley’s visit in detail.
“Edgar Maudley
has a grievance,” mused Tarr. “If it hadn’t been for Pearl’s marriage to
Roland, he probably would have inherited. Still, that’s not your problem. . . .
By the way, what
is
your problem?”
“It’s something
Maudley mentioned. In addition to cash and securities, Pearl also seems to have
held a first mortgage on the Cyprianos’ house—presumably part of my father’s
estate. Where is the mortgage? It wasn’t among his papers. Did Roland have a
safe-deposit box? If so, why didn’t he keep his stock certificates there?”
Tarr shook his
head. “He rented no safe-deposit box in any local bank. I’ve checked. In
addition, I’ve accounted for all his keys, so it’s unlikely he had a box
elsewhere. But in the matter of the mortgage, why not ask the Cyprianos?”
“I could, I
suppose—but, oh, I don’t know—it would make me seem avaricious.”
Tarr pushed the
telephone toward her. “Call right now. Maybe they paid the mortgage off. Better
find out one way or another.”
Ann reluctantly
dialed the Cyprianos’ number. Jehane answered. Ann said brightly, “I’ve been
trying to find the mortgage my father held on your house, and it’s in none of
the obvious places. Inspector Tarr suggested I call you.”
Jehane was
silent for several seconds. Then she asked, “Where are you now?”
“In San Rafael.”
“Can you drop up
to the house? Alexander is in San Francisco today with the car; otherwise I’d
come into San Rafael.”
“I’ll be glad to
stop by.”
“I’ll see you
shortly, then.”
Ann hung up the
telephone. “She wants to talk to me.”
Tarr rose to his
feet. “I’ll come along for the ride.”
“I don’t think
she expects you,” said Ann dubiously.
“I’m
investigating a crime. It makes no difference whether she expects me or not.”
Ann shrugged. “By
the way, what crime are you referring to?”
“Blackmail,
naturally,” said Tarr. “Has there been another?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Don’t wish too
hard,” said Tarr. “You might wish yourself out of a hundred thousand dollars.”
Ann started to
ask his meaning, then, like a coward, decided not to.
They went out
into the street. “Let’s go in my car,” said Ann. “It looks so brutal, arriving
in that police car.”
Tarr laughed.
All the way out
to Inisfail, Ann pondered the implications of Tarr’s remark, and arrived at 32
Melbourne Drive in a rather unsettled state of mind. It
would
be terrible to lose a hundred thousand dollars now that she’d
become accustomed to the idea of inheriting leisure and independence.
She drove up the
steep driveway to the parking area. As before, Jehane came out on the terrace;
seeing Tarr, she swiftly became gracious.
Ann steeled
herself for what could only be a difficult interview. At Jehane’s invitation
she entered the house, with Tarr, apparently oblivious to atmospheres, coming
behind.
Jehane took them
up the stairs to the middle level and arranged chairs. She asked, rather
uncertainly, if they’d like a glass of sherry.
Feeling a pang
of sympathy, Ann said, “Yes, please.” Tarr echoed her. Jehane poured, then
seated herself on a sofa, legs tucked beneath her.
There was an
awkward pause. Ann could think of nothing to say.
“You asked about
the mortgage,” began Jehane with a shaky laugh. “I’ve tried to work out some
simple way of telling you, without going into all the complications. But it’s
impossible. So I’ll tell you everything. The exact truth.”
When Pearl
Maudley Orr sold her house to the Cyprianos, she took a down payment of eight
thousand dollars and a first mortgage on the balance—that was true enough. The
mortgage, however, was at Jehane’s insistence, she said. Pearl had been quite
willing to sell for the eight thousand. “We’re by no means wealthy people,” said
Jehane. “I have a small income, and Alexander a bit more, and he also does
fairly well on the stock market. That’s where he is today.”
After the
Cyprianos moved into their new house, Roland Nelson became a frequent visitor.
He played an occasional game of chess with Alexander, but more often they would
dispute the tactics of long-dead chess masters in the classic games. They would
argue with great dash and vehemence; out would come the board, the pieces would
be arranged, each would seek to demonstrate the accuracy of his judgment.
Alexander generally got the better of these arguments. He had the more
meticulous mind, and he played the careful positional game of the modern
Russian masters. Roland’s style being swash-buckling and adventurous, Alexander
predictably won most of the games they played. On other occasions Alexander
might be off on business, whereupon Jehane and Roland would discuss their own
affairs. Here a pinkness came into Jehane’s cheeks.
Pearl, returning
from a trip to Mexico, had met Roland at the Cypriano house. She was at first
repelled, then by successive stages curious, interested, fascinated,
infatuated. Jehane did nothing either to advance or discourage the situation.
Roland’s attitude was equivocal. No one could avoid liking Pearl: she was
generous, modest, and not unattractive; though, beside Jehane, she looked like
an English schoolgirl.
Jehane could not
be certain which of the two put forward the idea of marriage; she speculated
that it might well have been Pearl. In any event, the marriage took place.
Pearl was quite aware that her money was the main attraction, Roland making no
pretense, but she was naïvely sure that she could make it a successful
marriage. And the marriage was far from unsuccessful. The Nelsons rented an
apartment in Sausalito; Pearl did her best to avoid smothering Roland, who on
his part could hardly have failed to recognize her virtues.
Edgar Maudley,
Pearl’s cousin and confidant, wholeheartedly disapproved of the marriage. He
and Roland held contrary opinions about everything, and each detested the sight
of the other. Whenever Edgar found the opportunity, he would hint to Pearl that
Roland would do well to secure employment— “to make something of himself,” as
Edgar put it. Edgar himself was a quasi-professional bookdealer who bought and
sold when the price was right. His resentment of Roland was enhanced by the
fact that valuable books and art objects, originally the property of his
grandfather, and subsequently divided between his father and Pearl’s father,
were now more or less in Roland’s control. To put a final touch to the situation,
Pearl gave Roland as a wedding token the set of Persian miniatures.
Thinking only to
demonstrate her trust and affection, Pearl had handed them to Roland wrapped in
white tissue paper and tied with a pink ribbon. Edgar Maudley could scarcely
contain his fury.
For several
months after the marriage the Cyprianos saw nothing of Roland and Pearl. They
were having troubles of their own, chiefly connected with their new house. The
spring had brought heavy rains to Marin County, and the downhill corner of the
house, under which there was a certain amount of compacted fill, had begun to
sag. Alexander, investigating, found a crack in the foundation which caused him
great concern. He wanted to complain to Pearl, but Jehane would not hear of it.
Pearl, after all, had been more than generous about the mortgage, the interest
being a mere nominal 3 per cent. Alexander had groused and sulked and spent the
rest of that day in his study.
About this time,
Roland showed signs of restiveness. Pearl was working too hard at keeping him
happy. She had bought him a white Jaguar roadster as a surprise, conceiving it
to be exactly the sort of car Roland would enjoy owning, and she was astounded
and hurt when he showed no enthusiasm for it, referring to it, through some perverse
logic of his own, as the bird cage. Pearl was an excellent cook. She devoted a
great deal of effort to the concoction of imaginative meals, accompanied by the
right wines. Roland took polite note of her efforts, but again and again he
hurt her by wolfing down half a loaf of French bread with a can of sardines or
a chunk of cheese an hour or two before dinner.
But Pearl had
redoubled her efforts. It was evident, for example, that Roland enjoyed
informality. Pearl bought a gay red-checked tablecloth, a pair of saucy ceramic
candelabra in the form of roosters, and milkglass goblets; and she served him a
dinner the
pièce de résistance
of
which was duck stuffed with wild rice, raisins, and glacé fruit, the whole
garnished with oranges. Roland made no comment, but during dinner he appeared
more than usually thoughtful. The next day he announced that he was going off
by himself for a week or two.
Pearl was too
stunned to expostulate. She pretended understanding. Roland departed and never
came back.
About this time
Alexander Cypriano, making another survey of the foundation, discovered that
the crack in the foundation had widened. He probed with a hacksaw blade and
could find no reinforcing steel in the concrete. This was too much. He strode
into the house and, before Jehane knew what he was up to, telephoned Pearl and
told her of the sorry state of the building. Pearl agreed in a dreary voice
that of course she took complete responsibility for the soundness of the house,
and she had driven out to Inisfail, inspected the crack, and said she would see
that appropriate repairs were made. She stayed for dinner, and in her state of
depression drank a great deal more than was usual for her. Jehane wanted her to
spend the night, but Pearl insisted on leaving. On the way down the hill she
ran off the road and was killed.
She died
intestate, and Roland automatically inherited. After the death of her late
husband, Rex Orr, Pearl had entrusted her investments to the Property
Management Department of The California and Pacific Bank; and the Probate
Court, taking cognizance of this fact, as well as of the circumstances of Pearl’s
marriage, appointed the bank administrator of the estate. Hence six months
would have to elapse before Roland Nelson could assume complete control.
If Roland felt
guilt or grief, he gave no indication, though he attended the funeral decently
dressed in a dark suit. Alexander took occasion to mention the faulty
foundation and the fact that Pearl had undertaken to set matters right. Roland
pointed out that as yet he had no title to the estate, that he was without
financial resources of any kind—in fact, he was penniless. He ascertained the
name of the contractor—Martin Jones—and said he would see if an adjustment
would be made.
Roland kept his
promise. He spoke to Martin Jones, but the sole result was that Roland went to
work for Jones as a laborer.
To this point
Jehane had been speaking in a soft unaccented voice, with an air of detachment.
Now she became uncomfortable, twining her fingers, frowning out the window. “These
are things I do not like to talk about. I’m sure you’ve suspected that Roland
and I . . . well, frankly, we had been lovers. I use the word in a general
sense, because I have no idea what emotion, if any, Roland felt. He never told
me, and I never asked. I’m not even sure what kind of emotion I felt.” Jehane
pondered a moment. “The relationship was confused, and yet perfectly simple. I’m
sure I was no more than a superficial incident in his life.” She shrugged, and
made an attempt to return to her previous detachment.
“The thing
started when I first met Roland five years ago. You’re wondering, what of
Alexander? How is it that I obviously feel no guilt—that I can talk about it
this way to perfect strangers? The fact is, Alexander and I have no physical
relationship. We never have had. Before we were married he explained his . . .
well, views, and I made no objection.
I think I was
even relieved. I had been married once before, to a . . . well, I’ll merely say
that I agreed to Alexander’s proposal. And our marriage hasn’t worked out too
badly. I’m a sister to him, an aunt, a mother. Psychologically, perhaps
physically, he is not virile. I hasten to say that he has no peculiar
inclinations; it’s just that sex means nothing to him. I suppose the situation
seems remarkable. Anyway, Alexander was fully aware of my relationship with
Roland, and made no complaints.”
Jehane’s voice
took on a tone of sad amusement. “Eventually, for some mysterious reason,
Alexander became annoyed. It may be because Roland and I were too casual about
our affair. In any event, Alexander insisted that the relationship come to an
end. I obeyed him, at least until I decided whether or not to stay married to
him. Roland just shrugged.
“A month or so
later he married Pearl, and I saw very little of him—although he telephoned,
asking me to meet him. Naturally I refused. When Roland left Pearl, he called
me again and asked me to go to Ireland with him, of all places. Why Ireland?
Who knows? Anyway, I said ‘no.’ and Roland became angry. He’d already written
off his marriage to Pearl, and he thought of Alexander as a petulant child.
There was no arguing with him. I simply refused.”
“Pearl was
killed,” Jehane went on, “and Roland became moody. He rented an old house from
Martin Jones and cut himself off from everyone. His whole life seemed to be in
flux; he was determined to make some sort of change, but hadn’t decided exactly
how to go about it.” Jehane laughed wryly. “Perhaps I’m projecting my own
feelings into Roland, because this was exactly the frame of mind I was in. Why
didn’t I leave Alexander and go to live with Roland? First, there was
Alexander; second, I was afraid. I’m sure Roland would have become bored with
me, just as he became with Pearl. And this takes us back to the cracked
foundation and the mortgage. . . .”
Alexander had
become preoccupied with a book he was writing—a critique of ancient Hindu
chess— and seemed to forget the cracked foundation.
In March, Roland
came into control of Pearl’s estate, including the mortgage on the Cyprianos’
house. The event prompted Alexander to make another inspection of the
foundation; the crack had widened still further. Alexander at once composed a
formal letter to Roland. He stated that the house had been bought with a
warranty of sound construction, that Pearl had undertaken to honor this
warranty, and Alexander now called upon Roland to perform in like manner.
Jehane expected that Roland would throw the letter away.
But Roland
appeared at the house on the evening of the day he received the letter.
Alexander showed him the foundation, Roland took a cursory look, and they
returned inside. Roland took the mortgage from his pocket, slapped it down on
the table. “I’ll play you a game of chess,” he told Alexander. “I put up the
mortgage—if you win, you can have it and make your own repairs.”
“And what do I
put up? If I lose?”
“Jehane.”
Alexander’s
eyebrows rose.
“Jehane?”
“Exactly. She’s
nothing to you but a housekeeper. If you lose, you can get yourself another.”
Alexander had
snorted; then, contemplating the mortgage, he massaged his chin and gave an
excited laugh. “Very well. I agree to your terms.”
Jehane, standing
to the side, had turned slowly and gone out on the deck to stand in the
gathering dusk. Through the window she could look down into the living room.
Alexander brought forth the Morphy Presentation set—a sign that he regarded the
game as highly important. The two men seated themselves, the beautiful old
pieces were set up. Alexander held out his closed fists, Roland touched one of
them. He drew White.
Alexander
Cypriano waited placidly while Roland Nelson considered his opening. If Roland
played his usual game, it would be the Ruy Lopez, a King’s Gambit, the ancient
Evans’s Gambit, perhaps the Colle System, or some nameless dramatic
irregularity which Roland might attempt on the spur of the moment. Alexander
had few fears for the outcome. Whenever he concentrated on his close, careful
game he defeated Roland; he expected no other outcome now.
Roland studied
the board for two minutes. Alexander sat quietly. The chess pieces facing each
other had come to life, each with its distinctive personality.
Roland played
knight to KB3; Alexander smiled faintly and played pawn to Q4. Roland played
pawn to QKt3. Alexander shrugged, played pawn to QB4. Roland played pawn to K3;
Alexander, knight to QB3; and Roland fianchettoed his bishop.
Alexander
finally made a comment. “I see you have advanced in your thinking by perhaps
sixty years.”
“When I play
chess for fun, I play my game,” said Roland. “When I play to win, I play your
game.”
“We shall see.”
The game
proceeded, infinitely cautious. Alexander exchanged pawns, and presently
knights, but the game stayed even. Alexander maintained an imposing pawn mass
in the center, while Roland’s pieces had greater mobility. Jehane watched from
the deck for perhaps half an hour; tension seemed to ride the hunched backs of
the two men in the room below. She turned suddenly and looked out toward the
Pacific, where a peaches-and-cream sunset had faded to afterglow. Up the dark
slopes of Mount Tamalpais there were occasional twinkles of light; out across
the valley twinkled others—snug homes, and farmsteads, and a wan cluster where
Inisfail lay.