Now You See It... Part 28

Sheriff Plum was rubbing his chin, his expression making it clear that all this was unclear to him.

"Do you get it?" Ca.s.sandra pleaded, looking at him with an expression halfway between appeal and contempt.

"Listen-" he started.

She couldn't, and rushed on. "Where did it happen? In mis room. When did it happen?" She looked at her wrist- watch, bunking exaggeratedly to make the tiny numbers come into focus. "Approximately two hours ago. Why did tt~"

"Two hours?" Plum was aghast. "Why wasn't I told

sooner?"

"I was unconscious!"

"What about the man who called me?"

"I have no idea who called you! It must have been my husband, but why should he call you?"

My question exactly. I thought- ;

108 Richard Matheson

Ca.s.sandra's voice had gotten very shrill, and the Sheriff gestured to calm her down.

'Take it easy," he cautioned.

"How. can I take it easy when my husband is a mur- derer?" she cried.

"Okay, okay," said Plum. "Let's get some evidence going, then."

He gestured toward the room. "Where were you located when it happened?"

"Lying on the floor over there," she answered, pointing toward the entry-hall door.

He winced as though reluctant to ask for elucidation lest it bring back confusion. But he had to know.

"And why were you... lying over there?" he asked.

Ca.s.sandra's sigh was heavy. She must have seen no end to this; f didn't. Still, it had to be dealt with eventually.

"Because I'd been shot," she told him.

Seeing the flare of eye-glazed bewilderment on his face, she added quickly, "Not with a gun! With a Mowgun!"

He stared at her.

"Oh, G.o.d," she murmured.

Still, trying, she pointed toward the fireplace.

"You see me African blowgun hanging over me mantel- piece?" she asked.

Sheriff Plum looked in that direction. His expression did not indicate dawning perception.

"That thing hanging on the wall above me fireplace?" she asked. "Over the two dueling pistols?"

"Dueling pistols," he muttered, still no glimmer in his eyes.

'That long thing?" she said, voice rising, "like a tube? A wooden tube?"

"Oh, yes," he said.

"Thank G.o.d," she murmured.

"Now, see here, ma'am," he began.

Now You SeelL.. 109

"Thafs what I was shot with," she informed him, cover- ing his words with hers. "It had a poisoned dart in it. No, no, I take that back! I don't mean poison!" she added des- perately, noticing a new confusion on his face. "Obviously, it wasn't poison or I'd be dead. It must have had some kind of drug on its point. Something that paralyzed me, knocked me out. Thafs why-"

She stopped, staring unbelievingly at the blankness of his expression. Local politics are at a very low ebb, I thought.

"This is going to last forever," she mumbled.

You know, by now, how little regard I held for this woman. It is the measure of Plum's density mat I actually felt sorry for Ca.s.sandra.

She was watching as the Sheriff walked to the fireplace and took down the blowgun. He held it up to me window light to peer through it. "No dart," he said.

"Do you actually think he'd put it back in there?" she snapped.

"Mrs. Delacorte, you're giving me a lot of things to digest all at once," me Sheriff said; he was beginning to sound a little grumpy now. "Let's try to be polite to one another,

shall we?"

Maybe there is a brain inside there somewhere, I thought.

Deep inside, of course.

"You're right, I'm sorry," Ca.s.sandra repented. "It's just that I'm so upset."

"Of course you are." He nodded. "Very well men. You were hit with a blowgun dart mat had some kind of drug in its point-is that what you're telling me?"

"That's what I told you," she responded, watching him return me blowgun to its spot above the mantelpiece.

"Now we're getting somewhere," he said.

I saw Ca.s.sandra cast an imploring look to the heavens just before Plum turned back to her.

"Where did it hit you?" he asked.

110 Richard Mathesod

"Does it really matte-?" she retorted.