Odor of Violets, Baynard Kendrick [best short novels .txt] 📗

WAS an air of somnolence about Duncan Maclain as Bunny Carter’s Lincoln crunched down the driveway to Tredwill Village and turned its glistening radiator toward town. Watching him intently, Bunny thought that he could detect lines and indentations on the Captain’s face which had not been there the night before. He started a line of inconsequential chatter in a friendly effort to smooth away the Captain’s apparent worry.

“The Crags looks like some sort of medieval castle shining under the morning sun. Sometimes I wonder why I built my own home on the next hill. It’s big enough, I guess, but The Crags sort of dwarfs it. Whenever I see the two of them together I feel as though I’m coming home to a caretaker’s shack.”

“There is something medieval about The Crags,” said Maclain. “You have very vivid powers of description; something most people lack entirely.” He closed his eyes as though he had felt the bright flash of sunlight which struck suddenly into the Lincoln from the windshield of an approaching car.

Bunny said, “Thanks. There’s nothing much to describe right where we’re passing now. Just bare trees, a few hills and snow.”

The Captain’s right hand moved exploringly along the side of the car. He located a cigarette case in the fittings, and took one out without opening his eyes. Bunny started to light it for him, but found himself fascinated at the Captain’s adroitness and sank back into his corner again. Obviously, in spite of his commendation of Bunny’s descriptive powers, Maclain was intent on something deeper than the scenic beauties of the Connecticut hills. He lighted his cigarette with the ease of long practice, restored the lighter to his pocket, and for the space of half a mile let his strong hands rest tranquilly on his knees.

After a while, Bunny said, “We’re coming into West Hartford now.”

“I knew we were passing houses.” Maclain smiled fleetingly, and explained, “Houses beside the road change the exhaust sounds of a car.”

“That’s interesting,” said Bunny, “but I’m afraid that’s a fact that won’t ever be of much use to me.”

“A Spaniard might say, ‘Quién sabe?’ ” The Captain snubbed his cigarette in an ash tray beside him, opened his eyes, and leaned slightly forward as though his attention were riveted on some particular noise he wanted to hear.

Bunny chuckled. “Why should I ever become interested, Captain Maclain, in the noise of the exhaust while passing houses in my car?”

“It might prove a diversion when you’re driving in and out of town. You could close your eyes and try to locate exactly where you are.”

“I usually have plenty to occupy my mind.”

“Most people do,” Maclain agreed. “But one man I happen to know of was able to direct the F. B. I. to the hideout of his kidnapers because he had listened intently to the sound of overhead planes.”

“I’ve heard that you’re a rather brilliant man,” said Bunny in a quickly serious tone.

“Thank you.” Maclain reached down and touched Schnucke’s head. “You’re lying on my feet,” he told her. She looked up at him out of one dark eye and moved farther away.

“Yes,” Bunny continued, “I got the information from Colonel Gray. I’m wondering if there’s a warning back of what you just said—a warning that I might be kidnaped some day.”

Maclain slowly turned his head toward the president of International Aircraft. The blankness of his eyes gave Bunny a false impression that he was being stared at with an expression akin to naive incredulity.

“Thaddeus Tredwill’s daughter was kidnaped, Mr. Carter. She’s not nearly as important as you.”

Bunny’s stocky frame tensed for a moment into immobility. “Great heavens, man! Why would anyone want to kidnap me?”

“Because you’re in the same boat I am.” Maclain turned away. “You’re carrying around a great deal of dangerous information in your head, Mr. Carter. Information that certain people would like very much to know.”

“What people?”

“That’s a question I greatly deplore.” The Captain interlocked his fingers and flexed them gently by bending his hands palms outward. “I rather hoped that you might have the answer for me.”

“Too many answers,” said Bunny. “The right one’s buried someplace at the bottom of a sea of suspicion. The sooner you can dig it up, the happier I’ll be.”

“All right,” said Maclain. “It’s my turn to ask a question. I doubt if you’re suspicious of two or three thousand people in International, as a group. Let’s concentrate on a few. Who knows the final details of young Tredwill’s bombing sight?”

Bunny considered the matter long enough to roll down a window and let in a blast of cold air. When the window was closed again, he said, “That’s easy. Two people. Gilbert Tredwill and me.”

“The answer’s easy, too,” Maclain told him unhesitatingly. “Information’s been leaking out. If only one other person besides yourself knows that information, that’s the man you’re suspicious of—young Tredwill himself.”

“I didn’t tell you,” said Bunny—“you wormed it out of me!”

“What do you think he’s doing, selling out?”

Again Bunny pondered on a reply. Finally he said, “Damned if I know! He might be tipping off things inadvertently.”

He swung halfway around in the seat and studied Maclain. The Captain’s face was uncommunicative. “Men talk too much to their wives,” Bunny stated emphatically.

“They talk too much to everybody.” Maclain shrugged. “Go on.”

“Well,” said Bunny, “night before last I went to New York to attend a banquet at the Biltmore. Gil was there. He borrowed two thousand dollars from me.” He stopped.

The Captain said nothing. Instead he touched the cold windowpane beside him and hastily drew his fingers away.

“I hadn’t intended to go into town,” Bunny went on. “That’s what I meant by the sea of suspicion. It’s getting me. Gil and his wife were in New York. Gil said he was going there to do some Christmas shopping and to attend the banquet. I thought I’d go in too and see.”

“See whether he was attending the banquet or not?” queried Maclain.

“Well, more or less,” Bunny admitted hesitantly. “I had a talk with Colonel Gray. He