Inspector Queen’s Own Case

“Well, you know how it is,” the big guard said. “It ain’t such a bad job, especially after the summer.”

“And when policemen aren’t driving you crazy,” Jessie smiled. What can I say to him? she thought.

“That’s a fact.” The guard planted his elbow on the edge of her window. “How you been, Miss Sherwood?”

“Just fine. And you?” I’ll have to think of a plausible excuse. But what?

“No complaints. Say, I never expected to see you again.” Peterson looked at her in the oddest way, and Jessie thought, Here it comes. “What brings you to the Island?”

Jessie wet her lips. “Well...”

He pushed his big face close to hers, exhaling an aroma of bourbon. “It wouldn’t be me, now, would it?”

Jessie almost laughed aloud. Problem solved!

“Why, Mr. Peterson,” she said archly. “And you a family man and all.”

He guffawed. “Can’t blame a red-blooded guy for a little wishful thinking! You going up to the Humffrey house? Nobody’s there.”

How lucky can you get! Jessie thought exultantly.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “Nobody, Mr. Peterson? Where’s the caretaker?”

“Stallings had to drive up to Concord, Mass. tonight. Mr Humffrey phoned him to take some bulbs or something there for transplanting. That’s their winter place.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Jessie wailed. “Is Stallings going to be back tonight?”

“Tomorrow night, I guess.”

“I suppose I could come back tomorrow, but as long as I’m here...” She turned her eyes on him appealingly, hoping the bourbon hadn’t worn off. “Do you think anybody’d mind if I went up there for a few minutes? Like a fool I forgot some of my things when I packed, and I’ve just got to have them.”

“Well.” Peterson scratched his bulging jaw. You big oaf, Jessie thought, I’ll — I’ll vamp you if I have to. “Seeing it’s you, Miss Sherwood...” But then he said, with his hand on the barrier, “Wait a minute.”

Now what?

“How you going to get in?”

“Oh, I’ll manage,” Jessie said quickly. How, she had no idea.

“Hold it.” Peterson went into the gatehouse. In a moment he was back, flourishing a key. “Stallings always leaves the key with me in case Mr. Humffrey should show up while he’s off the Island. Need any help, Miss Sherwood?” he shouted after her gallantly.

“No, thanks,” Jessie shouted back, clutching the key.

She felt rather bourbonish herself as she drove up the Nair Island road.

Stallings had left the nightlight burning over the service entrance. Jessie parked in the driveway near it, turned off her ignition and lights, and jumped out.

Her feet crunched loudly on the gravel, and Jessie hesitated, her skin itching. What am I so nervous about? she thought. Nobody can hear me.

Still, she found herself putting her feet down as if she were in a bog.

She unlocked the service door and slipped thankfully into the Humffrey house.

But with her back against the door, thankfulness melted away.

She had never seen such dark darkness.

This is what comes of being an honest woman, she thought. Nobody here, nobody on the Island but Peterson, whose blessing I have, and yet... It seemed to her the house was full of furtive noises. As if the wood and plaster were breathing.

Remember Michael, she told herself rigidly. Remember that little dead body. She filled her lungs with air, deliberately, then let the air out.

Immediately the house became a house, the darkness friendly.

Jessie pushed away from the door and stepped confidently forward. Her hand touched the basement door. She opened it, felt for the switch, found it, and snapped it on.

The basement sprang at her.

She ran down the stairs. The steps were cushioned and carpeted and her descent was soundless.

At the bottom she paused to look around.

She knew where the outlet of the nursery chute was. She could see it from where she stood, with the big canvas laundry basket still in place under the vent. She had always done the baby’s diapers and undershirts herself, refusing to allow Mrs. Humffrey to employ a diaper service.

“I like to know what my babies’ diapers are washed in,” she had said to Mrs. Humffrey. “I’ve seen too many raw little bottoms.”

Funny the things you thought about when... Jessie forced herself to think about the problem at hand.

Sadie Smith had mentioned a “plumber’s snake.” Jessie had only the vaguest notion of what a plumber’s snake might be. She supposed it was some device for getting into clogged pipes and things that might choke up and be hard to clean. Where would such a thing be kept? Then she recalled that one of the basement walls was covered with shelving for the storage of tools, light bulbs, and odds and ends of housewares and hardware. The snake would probably be there. Wasn’t it at the far end of the basement, behind the oil burner?

Jessie walked past the set tubs where Mrs. Smith had done the hand washing, past the washing machine and dryer, around the burner...

There it was.