The Key West Citizen

Chapter
Brenda stumbled across the room and bent over the motionless form on the floor.
"Tom, Tom," frantically she breathed his name, fear smothering her voice. Instinctively she reached out her hand as she knelt beside him, then drew back a little. There was nothing she could do. A dry, hard sob shook her as she gazed at the silent figure and realized that it was too late. There was nothing anyone could do for Tom now. Then she felt two firm hands on her shoulders, drawing her up and away from the body.
"There is nothing you can do," Christopher said gently. "I would not touch anything. Here. Let me get something for you." He guided her to a chair near the window. "Sit here for just a minute. I'll find a glass of water—"
Desperately Brenda fought back the tears which were choking her. The shock of finding Tom dead stunned her for a few minutes, then gradually her head cleared and she was able to remember what the doctor had said:
"You must be very careful—no excitement—no emotional strain— There is only one end to the road you are traveling, Mrs. Blair—"
The words came back to her with desperate clearness now. Tom had reached the end of the road because he would not listen or perhaps he didn't care enough—
Gratefully she sipped the water Christopher brought her. The telephone began to ring. She started from her chair to answer it but his voice made her hesitate.
"I'll take care of that, Brenda. Are you all right?" he demanded breathlessly. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Then she heard him at the telephone across the room exclaim frantically.
"For God's sake don't let anyone come up to this apartment. Keep her down in the lobby. I tell you Mrs. Blair can't see anyone. I'll explain later—oh
He slammed the receiver back on its hook and hurried across the room. "I'm sorry Brenda. I couldn't stop her. She's on her way up here.
Who—what are you talking about?"
"Someone named Norman— coming here. I tried to stop her. The boy hung up on me. I won't let her in."
In the distance they heard the clang of the elevator, then a knock on the apartment door. Christopher started for the hall "You better let her in." Brenda said in a low shaken voice. "She'll think we're trying to hide something, if you don't." She swayed to her feet as Christopher disappeared through the doorway.
The next instant she heard Francine's voice shrilling:
"Oh, Tom—oh, I—I'm sorry. Don't know you—or do I?"
There was a moment's silence then Brenda heard Christopher's low voice reply:
My name is Humbert. I'm sorry to tell you there's been an accident. Mrs. Blair is in there. Please don't make it harder for her than it is now. ...
"An accident—not Tom—" The brittle voice rose to a higher pitch. I was afraid this would happen— Her voice faltered, then she ran into the living room, stopping abruptly as she saw the body on the floor
"My God—this is awful—
Now her voice had dropped until it was scarcely more than a hoarse, frightened whisper "He didn't get away with it—I knew they'd get him.
Slowly she raised her head and stared at Brenda who was facing her across the room, bracing herself with one hand on the back of chair. "So—you're Brenda.
The whisper grew louder, became a hoarse monotone. "You know more than you'll tell, too. Both of us do. If he'd come across this wouldn't have happened. I warned him. ... I was afraid—
The girl's face was ashen under her rouge. Her platinum blonde hair straggled limply around her face, evidently blown by the wind which was rising from the lake. She looked nervously from one to the other of the silent watchful people in front of her. Her forehead glistened with perspiration. Brenda saw the growing fear in her face.
"You are still afraid of something," Brenda thought, as the girl sank into the nearest chair, suddenly too shaken to stand.
"We'll have to get a doctor." Christopher said abruptly. "Whom shall I call?
Doctor Harrington. They'll get him for you at the switchboard. He lives next door.
Christopher hurried out of the room and when he returned a few minutes later Brenda was sitting in a chair and Francine Norman was standing in front of her, talking in a rasping voice that showed mounting excitement.
"I tell you he was bumped off. He was sick, all right, but not that sick. Don't you tell me Tom Blair died of a heart attack— that's the bunk. Too many people wanted to get rid of him. I told him—I warned him, but he wouldn't listen to me. Getting rid of people who are in the way —ain't hard. It's done every day. ..." She giggled. It was like laughter with a bad falsetto undertone of hysteria in it.
"Stop that." Christopher commanded angrily, striding across the room and pushing himself between the girl and Brenda.
"Stop that noise. You don't know what you're talking about. You better go. Mrs. Blair can't stand any more tonight—from any one."
"No," the girl answered quickly. "I'm staying." But she walked away from him and started slowly circling the room. On the desk and the side tables she moved boxes and looked under magazines and books. Then she sauntered up to the door of the bedroom, but at a glance from Brenda Christopher barred her way at the door and motioned her to the sofa. With an insolent shrug of her shoulders the girl slouched down on one end of the sofa, and a silence menacing as death itself settled heavily over the room.
To be continued