In the Still of the Night

leaving here. Should I call for a taxi to the station, or will a ride be provided?“
    “We’ll see about that,“ Walker said ambiguously. “Henry, could I have a word with you?”
    He led Henry to Mr. Prinney’s office, closed the door firmly and said very quietly, “Why did you keep looking at Mr. West during lunch?“
    “I remembered something. I saw him in the woods while I was picking out which tree to try the coring machine on.“
    “Near you?“
    “Walking on a path, perhaps twenty feet away. In front of where I was facing.“
    “What was he doing?“
    “Looking around. As if he were searching for something. No, somebody. He wasn’t looking down at the ground as you would for a lost object. And a few minutes later, I remember hearing very light footsteps somewhere behind me. I assumed it was Lily Brewster, come to see how the coring gadget worked. I’d run into her shortly before and she’d expressed an interest.”
    Walker was sitting behind Mr. Prinney’s desk, his hands steepled and fingertips to his lips. “I see. Henry, don’t mention this to anyone else.”
    There was a brisk knock on the door and Dr. Polhemus, in his Sunday suit, came in the room. “There you are, young man. I heard about your accident in the woods. Sorry I wasn’t still around. I had a maternity case that turned out to be twins, and was right in the neighborhood. Somebody should have called me. I could have run right over and patched you up.”
    Henry just stared at him.
    “So, let’s take a look at what they did to you in Poughkeepsie. Shame you had to go so far. I could have fixed you up right here.“
    “Henry, stay here with the doctor,“ Howard Walker said. “I need to have a quick word with Mr. West.”
    He found that most of the party had moved to the yellow parlor after lunch. It was a lovely spring day and the windows and doors were wide open, letting in light and fresh breezes. Cecil was standing by the outside door, chatting with Lily and Phoebe about the paths that wound through the woods and expressing a wish to come back someday and walk them thoroughly.
    “Phoebe should be your guide,“ Lily said. “She knows her way the best of any of us.”
    Robert was pouring himself and Raymond a drink. Rachel and Addie were sitting together on a sofa having a conversation about hairstyles. Or rather, Rachel was. Addie was merely listening with bemusement that anyone could be that interested in the way her hair looked. Mimi and Bud Carpenter were tidying up the room, cleaning ashtrays and gathering empty glasses. Apparently the yellow parlor had been the gathering place most of the morning as well.
    Julian West had taken up his familiar pose by the fireplace, now cold and screened. He had a drink in his hand and glared as Walker entered the room.
    Walker said, “I’m afraid you won’t be leaving today, Mr. West. I have some more questions to ask of you.”
    West drew himself up and, making a dramatic gesture, flung his drink at the fireplace, unaware that it was screened. The glass, almost full, bounced back, splattering him, Rachel and Addie. Rachel jumped up with a yelp.
    But West shouted her down.
    “I’m sick to death of you people. All of you. I’m leaving here no matter what your bucolic cop says.“ His voice rose. “I came here, against my will I might add, as an honored guest and have been treated as a criminal.”
    Bud put down the ashtray he was about to leave the room with and said, “Now, now, Captain West—“
    “Shut up, Bud!“ West shouted.
    Rachel and Addie scooted away from him fearfully as Bud approached.
    West was entirely out of control. “I’m a respected person! I write good books that sell well no matter what anyone says. I will not be confined to this great mausoleum of a house any longer, being questioned and prodded by a small-town police chief who wants to make his mark on the world!”
    He suddenly turned toward the fireplace and put his hand out to support himself, knocking several ornaments to the floor where they shattered.
    Lily and Phoebe were clutching each other in horror at the scene of West going to pieces. Cecil tried to urge them out the door, but they were frozen in place.
    Walker, Robert and Bud were all moving slowly toward West.
    West turned back to the room. His face was as white as chalk, the scars more obvious than ever. His face was twisted in agony and he clutched at his left arm with his right, twisting and screaming with pain. As he started to