Free Any Shape or Form by Elizabeth Daly Page B

cult, and in fact she badgered me about it. Aunt would talk, you know, about being absorbed in the System. Whatever that meant. But Gouch worried. Well, it might have ended in suicide—”
    â€œSuicide?” Griggs was alert.
    â€œBut I never thought so. All nonsense. I told Gouch last spring not to fuss about it; told her to let Aunt go her own way and pay no attention. So far as I could see, Aunt adored life. What do you think, Gamadge?”
    â€œSavored it, yes.”
    â€œBut Gouch didn’t like the responsibility, especially as she was down for something in Aunt’s will, and was afraid of being blamed if anything happened. Was, I say. Not any more! Aunt was very touchy about her spiritual life. Wouldn’t stand interference in that department. Gouch was a fool; she interfered, and Aunt turned her off and cut her out of her will and made the new one.”
    â€œOh dear,” said Mosson.
    â€œI was horrified, and if I only knew where the woman was I’d send her an honorarium myself. Aunt worked her like a horse, she was doing all the housekeeping since the servant shortage. And, if you please, Aunt made her stay on and close the Pasadena house and see her off on the train! They parted at the Los Angeles station, and nobody knows where she went to, and now I never shall know.”
    Griggs spoke slowly, after a pause: “Your aunt didn’t leave any memorandum of her home address? This Miss Gouch’s home address? There’s no way we could find out—”
    â€œI don’t think so. Aunt said Gouch had insulted her most sacred feelings, and that so far as Aunt was concerned Gouch didn’t exist any more.”
    Mosson looked at Griggs, eyebrows lifting. “The loophole?”
    Griggs shuffled his papers. “Well…these elderly women—you don’t know what they’ll do if they’ve brooded long enough over a thing. How much was she down for in your aunt’s will, Mr. Redfield?”
    â€œQuite a lot; little annuity of I think five hundred per annum.”
    â€œThat was a disappointment. She knew about it, you say?”
    â€œI certainly meant to imply that she did.”
    Griggs himself brooded now: “Gouch knew Mrs. Malcolm was coming here, probably worked out the trip for her. Followed along, perhaps got into the grounds more than once this summer.”
    â€œPleasant thought.” Redfield closed his eyes to shut it out.
    â€œCame along today by bus,” continued Griggs. “Sunday—big crowds, buses jammed. She’d plan for that. Walked in and went down to the garden this afternoon, hung around in the woods behind the rose garden, heard the talk about the rifle. Saw Miss Malcolm go up to the tool house, saw pretty much where the rest of the party was. Dodged into the enclosure, watched Gamadge and Mrs. Malcolm go up to the rockery. Nothing to it. Afterwards she ran up through the woods again and out.”
    Redfield said: “It sounds most improbable to me, but if it’s even the barest possibility, let’s hang on to it for dear life.”
    â€œWhat was she like, Mr. Redfield?” Griggs took up his pen.
    â€œOh Lord, how do I know? I hardly saw the woman while I was with Aunt; she didn’t even sit at meals with us. Aunt wouldn’t have considered that at all fair to me. Let’s see: she was going gray, I know that. Medium height, thin features, looked intelligent and even good-natured. If she’s a murderer,” said Redfield, “she didn’t look like one when I last had the pleasure of seeing her.”
    â€œColor of eyes?” Griggs, was writing busily.
    â€œVaguely blue or gray. Competent but fussy; I thought she fussed a little too much over Aunt Josephine; elderly ladies hate to be treated as if they were decrepit. But Lord, angels couldn’t please ‘em.”
    Mosson asked: “Was that thing down in the garden really part of her religion, or was it