Don't be scared, Cecil. Yes, I know: this is it. "Ann came to my apartment about quarter to eight, Mr. Warner. I can't bring back the early part of the conversation too well, except I know it was nothing important. Just usual comments on the weather, I guess—it was a very hot evening, sticky hot. Her suit—the powder-blue—it was summer weight of course, but I remember it looked sort of warm, I think I asked something silly about how could she stand wearing even the jacket in such weather, and—Mr. Warner, do I understand it right, that I shouldn't repeat any of the things she said? It seems reasonable that I shouldn't—after all, Ann's not here to set me right if I misquoted her."
"That's how it is, Callista. I'm sure you understand it. Just tell your own side of it—what you did, what you observed, what happened."
"Yes, I'll try. There was that small talk for ten minutes or so, and then I was going ahead, very clumsily I guess, telling her about—Jimmy and me. Oh, wait, one thing—I remember that at the start, when she'd just arrived, I was going to offer her a drink, and I didn't because I had a sort of half-memory that she didn't take alcohol. A mistaken memory—likely had her tastes confused with someone else's—but I know that was in my mind, that's why I didn't offer her one." Cecil, I just invented this: is it any damn good?
Apparently he was not displeased. "You didn't offer her a drink then or any time, is that right?"
"That's right. You see, I—Ann Doherty and I were never really very well acquainted. I knew the Dohertys as neighbors of course, from the time they moved in there, but my mother and stepfather saw much more of them than I ever did. I can't say I really knew Jimmy, either, I—" (Cecil, please give me a lift with this one)—"well, I said something like that before, didn't I?"
"The episode with him was—really no more than that, an episode?"
"Midsummer madness. I must have been ready to go overboard for someone. It was chance we happened to meet, that May-day." Handkerchief back in the sleeve, girl—let the palms stay wet, wouldn't look good to be wiping them. "And things got out of control. So far as the affair is concerned, Mr. Warner, if there's any question of blame or responsibility, I'll take it. Nothing could have started if I hadn't allowed it. And Jimmy—well, I can't speak for him, but I know he didn't realize until much later how terribly important I'd let it become to me, for a while. He just slipped, but I went all the way over, head over heels, for a while, and nobody to blame but myself." (Give me that look, won't you?—the Cecil Warner special. Tell me I'm doing all right.) "Then later when he did understand how I was making such a thing of it—well, poor Jimmy, he's not an unkind person and never would be, he was in a spot, I think. He couldn't bear to hurt Ann or me either, and couldn't do anything at all without hurting one of us. I don't know what he could possibly have done except what he did—break off the relation and let time take care of it." (Did the jury see him go? I didn't. Here at the start of the day, that I know.) "Do I need to say any more about this, Mr. Warner?"
"I don't think so. You're free to of course, if anything else occurs to you later. Do you want to get back to the Sunday evening now?"
"Yes." Mother's gone too, behind the Face—but that happened a long time ago. And Cousin Maud with the Plum Jam, I hope. What's the matter, you nice people—isn't the Monkshood Girl putting on a good show? Herb—shall I project the voice at you, Herb? "Where was I?"
"You'd spoken of starting to tell Ann Doherty about it."