Arson Plus | Page 7

at the Chelsea Apartments, I think.
"Last summer, or late spring, I decided to return to Seattle. The truth of it is -- I suppose
all my personal affairs will be aired anyhow -- that I thought perhaps Edward and I might

patch up our differences; so I went back and took an apartment on Woodmansee Terrace.
As I was known in Seattle as Mrs. Edward Comerford, and as I thought my using his
name might influence him a little, I used it while I was there.
"Also I telephoned the Coonses to make tentative arrangements in case Edward and I
should open our house again; but Coons told me that they were going to California, and
so I gladly gave them an excellent recommendation when, some days later, I received a
letter of inquiry from an employment bureau in Sacramento. After I had been in Seattle
for about two weeks, I changed my mind about the reconciliation -- Edward's interest, I
learned, was all centered elsewhere; so I returned to San Francisco-"
"Very nice! But-"
"If you will permit me to finish," she interrupted. "When I went to see my uncle in
response to his telegram, I was surprised to find the Coonses in his house. Knowing my
uncle's peculiarities, and finding them now increased, and remembering his extreme
secretiveness about his mysterious invention, I cautioned the Coonses not to tell him that
they had been in my employ.
"He certainly would have discharged them, and just as certainly would have quarreled
with me -- he would have thought that I was having him spied on. Then, when Coons
telephoned me after the fire, I knew that to admit that the Coonses had been formerly in
my employ, would, in view of the fact that I was my uncle's only heir, cast suspicion on
all three of us. So we foolishly agreed to say nothing and carry on the deception."
That didn't sound all wrong -- but it didn't sound all right. I wished Tarr had taken it
easier and let us get a better line on these people, before having them thrown in the coop.
"The coincidence of the Coonses stumbling into my uncle's house is, I fancy, too much
for your detecting instincts," she went on. "Am I to consider myself under arrest?"
I'm beginning to like this girl; she's a nice, cool piece of work.
"Not yet," I told her. "But I'm afraid it's going to happen pretty soon."
She smiled a little mocking smile at that, and another when the doorbell rang.
It was O'Hara from police headquarters. We turned the apartment upside down and inside
out, but didn't find anything of importance except the will she had told me about, dated
July eighth, and her uncle's life-insurance policies. They were all dated between May
fifteenth and June tenth, and added up to a little more than $200,000.
I spent an hour grilling the maid after O'Hara had taken Evelyn Trowbridge away, but she
didn't know any more than I did. However, between her, the janitor, the manager of the
apartments, and the names Mrs. Trowbridge had given me, I learned that she had really
been entertaining friends on the night of the fire -- until after eleven o'clock, anyway --
and that was late enough.

Half an hour later I was riding the Short Line back to Sacramento. I was getting to be one
of the line's best customers, and my anatomy was on bouncing terms with every bump in
the road.
Between bumps I tried to fit the pieces of this Thornburgh puzzle together. The niece and
the Coonses fit in somewhere, but not just where we had them. We had been working on
the job sort of lopsided, but it was the best we could do with it. In the beginning we had
turned to the Coonses and Evelyn Trowbridge because there was no other direction to go;
and now we had something on them -- but a good lawyer could make hash out of it.
The Coonses were in the county jail when I got to Sacramento. After some questioning
they had admitted their connection with the niece, and had come through with stories that
matched hers.
Tarr, McClump and I sat around the sheriff's desk and argued.
"Those yarns are pipe dreams," the sheriff said. "We got all three of 'em cold, and they're
as good as convicted."
McClump grinned derisively at his superior, and then turned to me.
"Go on, you tell him about the holes in his little case. He ain't your boss, and can't take it
out on you later for being smarter than he is!"
Tarr glared from one of us to the other.
"Spill it, you wise guys!" he ordered.
"Our dope is," I told him, figuring