Bedelia by Vera Caspary

the powder from one of the blue packets into the tepid water. “Drink it fast, you won’t notice the taste,” she said. As he drank the foaming stuff, she watched him anxiously. “Feel better now, honey?”
    At that moment he did feel better. He watched Bedelia loosen the laces of her corset. “If you weren’t my wife, I’d say that corset looked fast.”
    She was hurt. “If that’s the way you feel about it, I’ll never wear it again.”
    â€œDon’t be so sensitive, Biddy. I meant it as a compliment. A woman who has had two husbands should know that a touch of suggestiveness is appealing to the masculine eye. As Herrick put it, ‘A sweet disorder in the dress kindles in . . .’”
    That was as far as he ever got with Herrick. Bedelia, who had gone to the closet for her nightgown, heard him gasp the last word. She turned quickly and saw that he had begun to vomit. He was bent over, steadying himself against the footboard of the bed. She saw him stagger backwards, let go of the footboard, and fall.
    For a moment she did not stir. She stood at the closet door, her hand tight on the china knob. Charlie lay on the rose-colored carpet, as white as death and as silent. Painfully his wife opened her fingers, released the doorknob, and crossed the room. Her knees were shaking so that she walked like a drunken woman, and when she knelt beside him and lifted his wrist, she could not take his pulse because her own hand was so unsteady.
    MARY ROSE EARLY the next morning. She could hardly wait until it was late enough to call Hannah without disturbing the Horsts or Mr. Chaney.
    â€œGuess what?” she said when finally she had gathered enough courage to use the telephone.
    â€œHen Blackman’s popped the question,” Hannah guessed. Hen Blackman was Mary’s steady fellow.
    Mary was so eager to spill out her news that she did not bother to tease Hannah. “Mr. Horst’s awful sick. Almost kickedthe bucket last night. The doctor was here when I got in from the dance.”
    â€œMr. Horst! Why, he was here for supper. Must have been awful sudden. What’s wrong with him?”
    â€œPoisoned.”
    â€œYou don’t say. Poisoned? By what?”
    â€œSomething he ate,” said Mary.
    Hannah served Ben Chaney the news with his breakfast. “Couldn’t be nothing he ate in this house. No one else got sick, did they? Mary acted like it was my cooking done it, but I’m telling you . . .”
    Before she had a chance to tell him anything, Ben Chaney was at the telephone. He slammed the studio door in a way that showed Hannah he did not want her to hear what he was saying. He tried to get hold of Doctor Meyers, who was out on a call and could not be reached. Then Ben asked the long-distance operator to put in two calls, one to New York and one to St. Paul. Afterward he changed from his painting smock to his tweed jacket, pulled on his overcoat, grabbed his hat, and was out of the house before Hannah could ask whether he’d be back for lunch.
    He did not ring the Horst doorbell, but went around the back way and tapped at Mary’s kitchen window. She hurried to open the door, smoothing her hair and wiping her hands on her apron.
    â€œI didn’t want to ring in case Mr. Horst was sleeping. How is he?”
    â€œHe’s still asleep.”
    â€œAnd Mrs. Horst?”
    â€œI brought her her coffee up to bed. The doctor says she should stay in bed this morning. She was all wore out, he says.”
    Ben took off his overcoat and seated himself in one of the kitchen chairs. “Mind if I smoke?”
    Mary gave her permission with a flourish. “Like something to eat, Mr. Chaney? Or a cup of coffee? I just made a big pot in case somebody’d want it in a hurry. In an emergency it’s always good to have hot coffee.”
    â€œIf it’s not too much bother, Mary.”
    She fetched a Limoges cup from the pantry.