Free Grab Bag by Charlotte MacLeod Page A

nowadays.”
    “Did Jem say how he happened to use them today?”
    “He said there was a power outage just as he received the phone call from the shop. The lights were out and the radio went off. That meant the elevator wouldn’t be working either, of course. A very unfortunate coincidence. My mother always claimed bad luck came in threes. First the Codfish, and now this. What next, is what I’m wondering. Do you think we can count Mr. Jem’s having to miss the party as the third piece of bad luck, Mr. Max?”
    “I’m not sure we should count any of it as just luck. What happened to the clothes he was wearing when he fell?”
    “I brought them home from the hospital and dropped them off before going on to your place.”
    “Good. Let’s have a look.”
    The tiny elevator was sitting in the lobby, its folding brass gates meticulously fastened. Word of Jem’s accident must have got around. Max and Egbert squeezed in together and rode to the second floor. Egbert fetched the clothes and Max pulled out a magnifying glass.
    “Aha! See that, Egbert?”
    “A grease spot on his pantleg? Mr. Max, you don’t think I’d have let Mr. Jem go around looking like that? He must have done it when he fell.”
    “My thought exactly. There’s grease on his shoe sole, too. Got a good flashlight?”
    “Oh yes, I always keep one handy.”
    “Come on then, let’s see which stair got buttered.”
    It was Egbert who first noticed the brownish glob under the fifth tread from the landing. “Would this be what you’re looking for, Mr. Max?”
    Bittersohn rubbed a little on his finger and sniffed. “It sure as hell would. Bowling alley wax, I’d say. It’s been cleaned off the step with some kind of solvent, but whoever did it forgot to wipe underneath, probably because he was in a hurry to get away. I’ll bet he was hiding in the cellar while they were lugging Jem off. Let’s go call on the neighbors.”
    The first-floor people were away. On the third floor lived an elderly lady, her cook and her maid. The lady was out playing bridge with her maid in attendance because Herself didn’t like going out alone at night, the cook explained. “Can I give you a cup of tea in the kitchen, now?”
    Then two men were happy to accept. “I see your electric clock’s right on the dot,” Max remarked as they sat down.
    “Has to be,” said the cook. “Herself likes her meals prompt to the second.”
    “You haven’t had to reset it lately?”
    “No, I haven’t touched it in ages, except to dust it now and then when the spirit moves me.”
    Cook was plainly glad of company and ready to talk, but she didn’t have much to tell. The first-floor people were in Palm Beach, and had been for the past two months. Her own household hadn’t known about Jeremy Kelling’s fall until they heard him being taken away in the ambulance. Herself considered him to have been struck down by a Mighty Hand in retribution for his ungodly and riotous ways. Cook personally thought Mr. Kelling was a lovely man, always so kind-spoken when they happened to meet, which wasn’t often because Herself was of the old school and believed in servants using the back stairway. This very night, Mary the maid had been required to go down the back way, around the alley, and walk back up to the front door while Herself used the elevator in lone elegance. Mary might get to ride up after Herself when they got back, it being so late and good maids hard to come by.
    “That’s nice,” said Max. “Thanks for the pleasure of your company. The cake was delicious.”
    “Would you be wanting a piece to take to Mr. Kelling, now?”
    Egbert expressed the opinion that Mr. Jem would prefer a cake that had a bottle of Old Grandad baked into it, and they parted on a merry note.
    Going back to Jem’s flat, Max asked, “Egbert, would you have a recent picture of that Codfish crowd?”
    “Scads of them, Mr. Max. Mr. Jem keeps an album of all the doings since he joined the