The Blue Hammer by Ross MacDonald

do away with her.”
    She meant the remark to be light, but neither of us smiled.
    “Miss Siddon had to leave.”
    Mrs. Chantry’s eyes became even more unsmiling. “She didn’t tell me that she was going to leave. I hope she gives my party proper coverage—we’re raising money for the art museum.”
    “I’m sure she will.”
    “Did she tell you where she was going?”
    “To the hospital. There’s been a murder. Paul Grimes was killed.”
    Her face opened, almost as if I’d accused her, then closed against the notion. She was quiet but internally active, rearranging her face from the inside. She drew me into the dining room, reacted to the presence of Rico, and took me into a small sitting room.
    She closed the door and faced me in front of a dead and empty fireplace. “How do you know Paul Grimes was murdered?”
    “I found him dying.”
    “Where?”
    “Near the hospital. He may have been trying to get there for treatment, but he died before he made it. He was very badly smashed up around the head and face.”
    The woman took a deep breath. She was still very handsome, in a cold silvery way, but the life seemed to have gone out of her face. Her eyes had enlarged and darkened.
    “Could it have been an accident, Mr. Archer?”
    “No. I think he was murdered. So do the police.”
    “Who is in charge of the case, do you know?”
    “Captain Mackendrick.”
    “Good.” She gave an abrupt little nod. “He knew my husband.”
    “How does your husband come into this? I don’t understand.”
    “It’s inevitable that he should. Paul Grimes was close to Richard at one time. His death is bound to stir up all the old stories.”
    “What old stories?”
    “We don’t have time for them now. Perhaps another day.” Her hand came out and encircled my wrist, like a bracelet of ice. “I’m going to ask you to do something for me, Mr. Archer. Two things. Please don’t tell Captain Mackendrick or anyone else what I said to you about poor dear Paul today. He was a good friend to Richard, to me as well. I was angry when I said what I did. I shouldn’t have said it, and I’m terribly sorry.”
    She released my wrist and leaned on the back of a straight chair. Her voice was veering up and down the scale, but her eyes were steady and intense. I could almost feel them tangibly on my face. But I didn’t really believe in her sudden kindly feeling for Paul Grimes, and I wondered what had happened between them in the past.
    As if the past had slugged her from behind, she sat down rather suddenly on the chair.
    She made her second request in a wan voice, “Will you get me a drink, please?”
    “Water?”
    “Yes, water.”
    I brought her a glassful from the dining room. Her handswere shaking. Holding the glass in both hands, she sipped at the water and then drank it down and thanked me.
    “I don’t know why I’m thanking you. You’ve ruined my party.”
    “I’m sorry. But it really wasn’t me. Whoever killed Paul Grimes ruined your party. I’m just the flunky who brought the bad tidings and gets put to death.”
    She glanced up at my face. “You’re quite an intelligent man.”
    “Do you want to talk to me?”
    “I thought I had been.”
    “I mean really talk.”
    She shook her head. “I have guests in the house.”
    “They’ll do all right on their own, as long as the drinks hold out.”
    “I really can’t.” She rose to leave the room.
    I said, “Wasn’t Paul Grimes supposed to be one of your guests tonight?”
    “Certainly not.”
    “He was carrying an invitation to your party. Didn’t you send it to him?”
    She turned to face me, leaning on the door. “I may have. I sent out quite a few invitations. Some were sent out by other members of my committee.”
    “But you must know whether Paul Grimes was invited.”
    “I don’t think he was.”
    “But you’re not sure?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Has he ever been here to your house?”
    “Not to my knowledge. I don’t understand what