Imperfect Strangers

"Nearly always," Sandy said. "We have a storage room in the basement, and Joan's furs and her best jewelry are kept there-the jewelry in a safe. Usually, if we're going to something dressy, Joan will go down to retrieve what she needs for the evening, while I ask the doorman to get us a cab."

"But you didn't need a cab this evening, did you?"

"No, a car was calling for us. It's fu

"Why were you going to change your routine and go to the basement with your wife?" Duvivier asked.

"I don't know, exactly; I just had a feeling…"

"Of danger?"

"Not exactly; I just suddenly felt that I should go with her."

"But the telephone call made you change your mind?"

"Yes. So I asked Albert to accompany Joan. She protested, said she'd been down there hundreds of times, but I made Albert go. I suppose if I hadn't, I might be the one with the broken head. Still, I wonder if it might have been different if…" His voice trailed off.

"And who was on the telephone?"

"My brother-in-law, Joan's brother, Laddie. That is, John Bailley, Junior."

"And how long did you speak with him?"

"I don't know exactly, a few minutes, I suppose. He had called to say that his wife had become ill, and they wouldn't be able to go to the ball with us, as had been our plan. We were to have picked them up on the way. I was still talking to him when Barton, the doorman, came to get me. He took me downstairs. No, wait-he came to the car and asked if there was anything he could do for me. I looked at my watch and saw that Joan and Albert had been downstairs for some time. I still hadn't finished my conversation with Laddie-we briefly discussed some business-so I asked Barton to go and see what was keeping them. I was still on the phone when he came back and asked me to come downstairs with him."

Duvivier nodded. "Did anyone else witness any of this activity in the lobby or in the car? Any of the other occupants of the building?"

"Jimmy, the lobby man, was there. I suppose he might have."

"Why is the safe in your storage room, instead of in your apartment?"

"We forgot to provide for a wall safe when we were remodeling, years ago. Then quite a large old safe became surplus at my office, and I bought it and had it delivered to the storage room. It was too large for any convenient place up here."

"Mr. Kinsolving, had the building ever had intruders in the basement before tonight?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Late last year-November or December, I think-the custodian found two boys trying to break into one of the storerooms. It seems that the outside door to the street hadn't closed properly, and they had sneaked in. They ran as soon as they saw him."

"Did this ever happen again?"

"I don't think so; I would have heard about it, I think. You see, I'm the president of the co-op board. The incident was discussed at our monthly meeting, and we authorized the purchase of a door-closing mechanism to make sure the door would close properly. My impression was that it worked pretty well. The custodian would know better than I."

"Perhaps you could tell me a little about the building and its tenants," Duvivier said.

"Well, it was built in the twenties; there are nineteen floors, with a single apartment on each floor. There are no tenants; each occupant owns his apartment. The owners are all people of substantial means-one of the board's requirements is that anyone buying an apartment must pay cash-no mortgages."

"That keeps the riffraff out, I suppose," Duvivier said.

"Not really," Sandy replied. "Quite a lot of riffraff can buy an apartment for cash these days. The board has other requirements."

"What sort of requirements?"

"Well, an owner may not conduct a business from his apartment; his financial statement must show that he can raise the purchase cash without borrowing on other assets; he may not have a criminal record or a history of fractious litigation; he must produce a number of excellent references, including some from his previous abode and neighbors. That sort of thing. Anyone who can meet all the requirements is very likely to be a good neighbor."

"Are there any restrictions as to race or religion?" Duvivier asked.

"No. Of our nineteen families, seven are Jewish, three are black, and one Hispanic," Sandy replied.

"And how do you determine if an applicant has a criminal record?" Duvivier asked.

"The building has nine employees. Three of them-the three lobby men-are retired New York City policemen, who are armed at all times. One of them makes enquiries about criminal records; I'm not quite sure how they go about it."

Duvivier smiled. "I see. How long have you lived in the building?"

"Fourteen years."

"May I ask, did you purchase your apartment for cash?"

"Yes, from my wife's trust fund."

"Your wife was wealthy in her own right, then?"

"Moderately so. When we bought the apartment we paid probably a fifth or sixth of what it would bring now."

"Are you independently wealthy, Mr. Kinsolving?"

"No. I mean, I earn a good living, and I have some investments, but my wife has always been wealthier than I."

"Mr. Kinsolving, forgive me for asking this, but have you and your wife recently had any domestic difficulties?"

Sandy took a deep breath. Who else had Joan told? Best to be frank. "Yes and no. I mean, no, we have had no quarrels or upheavals, but nevertheless, earlier this week my wife expressed the intention of getting a divorce."

"Did she say why?"

"She said she was in love with another man."

"And his name?"

"Terrell duBois."

"Is Mr. duBois known to you?"

"Yes, he is a business competitor of mine."

"What is your business, sir?"

"1 am senior vice-president of John Bailley amp; Son, who are importers and distributors of wine and spirits. I run the wine division."

"And Mr. duBois is in the wine business?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Kinsolving, would a divorce from your wife make a material difference in the circumstances of your employment?"

"Possibly. Part of my conversation with Laddie on the car phone was directed at that. We both expressed a desire to meet and work out how the company would be run. You see, Joan and Laddie's father, Jock Bailley, passed away earlier in the week, so things were in a state of flux."

"I see," Duvivier replied. "I believe the scene in the basement has been cleared by now; I wonder if you would accompany us down there?"

"All right."

The three men got into the elevator and started down.

"May I ask, what is in the safe?" Duvivier asked.

"In the way of valuables, only my wife's jewelry. I only have a few things, and I've never bothered putting them in the safe. Other than her jewelry, there are various papers-insurance policies, some stock certificates, our wills."

They reached the basement and walked toward the storage room, stepping over a pool of blood where Albert's head had lain. The door to the storage room was ajar, and Sandy was relieved to see that Joan's body had been removed. There was, however, another pool of blood.

"Have you figured out what happened?" Sandy asked.

"This is preliminary, of course," Duvivier said, "but we believe the intruder was already in the building when Mrs. Kinsolving and the chauffeur got off the elevator. He probably stood in the shadows in that alcove, there, and waited for Mrs. Kinsolving to open the storage room and the safe."

"The safe was open?"

"I'll come to that in a moment. Apparently, Albert hung back a bit, and the intruder struck him in the back of the head with a fire extinguisher that was affixed to the wall in the alcove. He then went to the storage room and attacked Mrs. Kinsolving."