Free A Pint of Murder by Charlotte MacLeod Page A

the front part of the house, because if it hadn’t we wouldn’t be standing here now.”
    “You didn’t leave a cigarette burning in the parlor?”
    “I couldn’t afford to smoke even if I wanted to, which I don’t. Anyhow, I was always careful about fire. The place was such a cracker box.”
    Her voice shook. “I don’t think anybody set foot in the front room all evening. Bobby went to bed right after supper, and as I told you, I was over to Ben’s with Mama.”
    “How come your mother never showed up at the fire? I never seen her, an’ neither did anybody else I’ve asked.”
    “No, that was my one lucky break. She told me over the phone this morning that she’d taken three aspirins as soon as she got home, and slept like a log till I woke her up saying Bobby and I were here with Marion. If she’d known about the fire, she’d have dragged me off to the family tomb while I was still too numb to fight back. Now all she can say is, ‘Well, dear, maybe it’s worked out for the best.’”
    “Maybe it has,” said Janet.
    That aspect of the matter didn’t interest Olson.
    “Does the boy smoke?” he barked.
    “Not in front of me, he doesn’t. I expect he’s tried it once or twice, like any boy his age.”
    “Bobby, was you smokin’ or playin’ with matches in the house last night after your mother left?”
    The boy shook his head.
    “I told you he was asleep the whole time,” Gilly protested.
    The marshal grunted. “You didn’t have none o’ your chums in?”
    “No. I was asleep,” the boy repeated doggedly.
    “Gilly, you said folks started droppin’ in. Anybody come to the house before you left?”
    “Only Mama, to make sure I was ready.”
    “How long did she stay?”
    “Only a couple of minutes.”
    “What did she do?”
    “Stood and jawed at me to go wipe off the makeup, and hurry.”
    “You didn’t see nobody hangin’ around outside?”
    “Not that I can recall. I suppose there must have been somebody or other, there always is. But most of the usuals were over at the Owls’ meeting, weren’t they?”
    “Had close to a 100 per cent turnout,” Olson answered with pride in his voice. “How come you never joined the Owls, Elmer?”
    “Nobody ever asked me to.”
    The marshal reddened a little. “Didn’t realize you was waitin’ for a hand-engraved copperplate invitation. Where was you last evenin’, since we’re on the subject?”
    “Bowlin’.”
    “Whereabouts?”
    “Over to the Fort.”
    “Who with?”
    “Nobody.”
    “See anyone you knew?”
    “Nope. Bunch o’ Yanks.”
    “What time did you get there?”
    “Half-past eight, thereabouts.”
    “How long did you stay?”
    “Long enough to bowl four strings an’ drink a can o’ that bellywash they call beer over there. About eleven, I guess.”
    “Where was you before that?”
    “Home paintin’ the house.”
    “Can you prove it?”
    “Go look at the house.”
    Janet had begun to feel sorry for Fred. What was a country marshal who knew nothing about sophisticated police work supposed to do in a situation like this? Fred knew Gilly’s house hadn’t burned by accident. Either she’d set it herself, which would have been flirting with suicide and child murder, or else somebody else had, quite likely with the intention of killing both her and Bobby. It was only by the grace of God and the barking of two little dachshunds that they hadn’t gone to join Dr. Druffitt.
    “Fred,” she blurted out, “you’ve absolutely got to—”
    “Thanks,” he interrupted loudly, “but I can’t stay. Molly’s got my dinner all ready an’ waitin’ on the table, like as not.”
    The fat old fool! A cold-blooded murderer and arsonist running loose, and all he could think of was his own paunch. Now why was he making faces at her behind everybody else’s back? Casually, like any proper hostess, Janet followed him out to the doorstep.
    “Janet,” he hissed, “can you get down to the shop this afternoon? We got to