Martin raised his eyebrows. “No. Why should I? Did you?” He looked at the doctor and the sheriff in turn. “Did any ofyou?” His frown deepened and furrows appeared on his brow. “What are you saying? That Miss Headleywasn’tcarrying your child?”
Ben spoke up before Roen could. “She wasn’t carrying any man’s child.”
Ridley said, “She was using a bolster to simulate pregnancy.”
Martin opened his mouth, closed it again.
Roen asked, “Do you have knowledge of anyone with whom she had a disagreement? Someone who had given her offense?”
“Someone other than you?” Martin asked baldly. “No. As you must know, she was a disagreeable woman, more likely to give offense than receive it. People in her employ or those who served her tended to grit their teeth and bear it. I know I did. Think what you will of me for that.”
“Did she make the acquaintance of anyone in particular?” asked Ben. “Assignations? Trysts?”
“None. It was my job to know where she was, what she did. There was nothing like that. She arranged to meet Mr. Shepard at the library yesterday, but he was working out of town.”
“We’re aware,” said Ben.
“You have no suspects?” asked Martin. When his question went unanswered, he went on. “You’ve questioned everyone at the hotel? Mr. Butterworth? Fedora Chen? What about Mrs. Shepard? Perhaps she thought she had motive.”
At his sides, Roen’s hands clenched. He said nothing.
“We’ve been thorough, Mr. Cabot,” Ben said. “I’m still not clear why you were not staying at the Butterworth if you were hired by Miss Headley to look after her.”
“It was a combination of her preferring that we maintain a distance and her unwillingness to pay for the more expensive room. As with her car on the train, I was never invited to her room. I took my meals at the Butterworth, which allowed me to attend to Miss Headley’s whereabouts and plans.”
“Miss Chen’s also,” said Roen.
“I suppose,” Martin said, shrugging. “She worked there.”
“My mother said you specifically asked for Miss Chen to wait on your table.”
“That’s true. She didn’t chatter, didn’t spill things. She came and went silently. I appreciated that. Forgive me, but I fail to understand what one has to do with the other.” When no one responded, Martin said, “I’ve satisfied myself as to the truth of Miss Headley’s death, and I will be making my own inquiries. Mr. Headley will expect it of me even though my contract was with his daughter. And although it is wholly inadequate, it is also the only way I have of making amends for what appears to have been a tragic oversight.”
“Oversight,” Ridley said under her breath. She bent her head to hide the derisive curl of her lip.
“I cannot stop you from looking into the circumstances of Miss Headley’s murder,” said Ben, “but not only is it unnecessary, you could easily complicate and compromise our investigation.”
Martin gave this the consideration he thought it was due, which is to say he gave it none at all. “As you said, you cannot stop me. Gentlemen. Doctor. If there is nothing else, I assume I am free to leave.”
“Yes,” said Ben. “Yes, of course.”
Martin tipped his hat to Ridley and bade them good day. When he was out of sight of the surgery window, he consulted his pocket watch again. Pleased that there was still time for him to gather his bags and get to the station, Martin Cabot proceeded to the boardwalk, whistling softly. It was some time before he realized the tune was “The Band Played On.”
•••
Roen, Ben, and Ridley retired to her office adjacent to the surgery. Ridley sat at her desk while the men took seats opposite. The housekeeper appeared to ask if they required refreshment. Since none of them had eaten, Ridley asked for coffee and breakfast rolls.
Roen sat back in his chair and stretched his legs to the side so his boots did not touch Ridley’s cherrywood desk. Ben did not show the same consideration. He set the toes of his boots against the ornate scrollwork that bordered the bottom edge. Ridley set her elbows on the desktop and steepled her fingers so her chin rested on the tips. She looked from Ben to Roenand then back to her husband. “Well?” she asked. “Mr. Cabot was either wholly inadequate to the task of watching over Miss Headley or he did the deed himself.”
Neither man spoke to her assertion. Roen said, “Did you notice he was carrying?”
Ben nodded. “Don’t see many shoulder holsters like that around here. You might be the only other person I know who has one.”
“You still have it in your office?”
“Sure. You want it back?”
“Yes. I think I do. Cabot wasn’t wearing his when we spoke to him earlier. What do you suppose changed?”
