Blunt Darts

to pull the strong chair over myself. Otherwise, the scene was unchanged.
    “You have word of Stephen?” she asked.
    “Yes and no. I’ve received some words that encourage me and other words that I should have heard first from my client. That’s you.”
    “Mr. Cuddy, I am not used to being addressed—”
    “And I am not used to playing Blind Bozo bumbling in the dark. At least not in unnecessary darkness. Why didn’t you tell me what Miss Pitts saw?”
    Her eyes dropped to examine her teacup.
    “It is not the type of thing one discusses.”
    “Maybe not at the D.A.R., Mrs. Kinnington, but to the detective who’s looking—”
    “That’s quite enough!” she snapped, the teacup rattling against its saucer. “You damn, self-righteous bastard! You’re my employee, not my employer. You may be a professional, but you’re my professional. You’ll do what you’re told and be satisfied with what you’re told or you can resign.”
    I stood up. “My resignation will be on your desk in the morning, ma’am,” I said. I dropped her original print of Stephen’s photo on the table and turned to leave.
    “Mr. Cuddy,” she said, her voice wavering, “are you close to him?”
    “Mrs. Kinnington,” I said over my shoulder, “I’m closer than I was the last time we had this argument.” Her voice steadied. “Please sit down again.”
    The air seemed a bit freer. I sat. “Why didn’t you tell me about Stephen and Blakey?”
    She reseated her teacup in the saucer. “It’s so troubling to think that there could be any relationship between them that... Stephen has always been so indifferent to the judge. I just assumed that the… edge between Stephen and Blakey was a function of Blakey’s being my son’s... oh, henchman.”
    “Henchman?”
    “Well, that’s just how Blakey has always struck me. As a doer of evil things. I even forbade the judge to allow Blakey to come into the same room with me. Consequently, when Miss Pitts called me, I realized I was in no position to be able to say what there was between Stephen and Blakey.”
    “Mrs. Kinnington, I have to assume that Stephen left voluntarily.” I remembered my promise to Kim Sturdevant. “But I still need to know what reason he might have had for leaving.”
    She clasped her hands in her lap and tried to relax. “Mr. Cuddy, I do not know why Stephen would have gone. He did not get along with his father, but I know of no recent incident that could have triggered Stephen’s disappearance.”
    “Speaking of triggered,” I asked, bending my promise to Kim a bit, “did Stephen have a gun?”
    Her throat worked once before the sound came out. “A gun?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why do you want to know about guns?”
    “Please, Mrs. Kinnington.”
    She considered. “My son, that is, Stephen’s Uncle Telford, left him a pistol in his, ah, will. Some sort of fancy target pistol. To start him properly. Stephen, almost before he could write, would shoot at targets on the grounds with Beeman, who was the houseman then. But I haven’t seen the gun, or Stephen with a weapon of any kind, in years.”
    “Well, he has one now,” I said as I rose.
    “How do you know that?”
    I ignored her question, substituting one of my own. “By the way, was a gun all that Stephen and Telford shared?”
    She looked at me suspiciously. “Now what do you mean by that?”
    “I have reason to believe that Telford was institutionalized, or nearly so, while he was in the service, Stephen was institutionalized after his mother’s death. Could it be that mental illness runs in your family, Mrs. Kinnington?”
    “That’s preposterous, and I’ll not have you spreading a story like that.”
    “I’m not,” I said with my hand on the doorknob, “but Stephen and his gun might be.”
    “Mr. Cuddy, do you know where Stephen is or not?”
    “No, I don’t. But in view of Blakey’s involvement and temperament, I’d be afraid to tell you if I did.”
     
    As I pulled out of the Kinnington driveway, my mind was working on the most direct route to the Mass Pike. As I skirted Meade Center, I went past a large public building on my right. There was a sign just beneath the flagpole. I hit my brakes and eased to the curb. From what Val and Mrs. Kinnington had told me of Stephen’s reading habits, he must have out-distanced the contents of his school’s library years ago. It was a longshot, but I was pretty much down to longshots right then.
    The public library was itself a