Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Seventy-Three
Miss Furstenberg watched the
concentric circles race each other to the far edge of the lily pool.
“Then you know the reason why
this part of the estate is kept closed off?” she murmured.
“I learned about the alligator
yesterday,” I admitted. “Why is such an ugly brute kept here?”
“It was none of my doing, I assure
you. I hate the horrid thing. Surely you don’t mean to suggest—”
“I am not suggesting anything,
yet,” I said. “But you must realize that it is rather unusual to keep an
alligator on one’s estate.”
“My father brought it here from
Florida,” Miss Furstenberg revealed reluctantly. “For some reason, the creature
seemed to fascinate him. He insisted on keeping it in the pond.”
“How does the creature survive
the winter?” I asked. “It is already quite chilly.”
“I believe there is a steam
heater underneath the pool which keeps the water from freezing,” Cybil said.
“My father had it installed when the pool was built.”
“Your father is not living here
now, I am told.”
“That is true.” Miss Furstenberg
quickly switched the subject back to the alligator. “Mother and I would like to
get rid of the beast, but we’ve never been able to do it.”
“Any zoo should be willing to
take it off your hands.”
“Mother often spoke of getting in
touch with one, but for some reason she never did. I suppose she hesitated to
give the alligator away on Father’s account.”
I remained silent, wondering how
deeply I dared probe into the private life of the Furstenberg family. After
all, there are certain inquiries which a person of sensibility cannot make. I
couldn’t very well ask: “Have your parents separated? Why did your father leave
home? Is it true he is wanted by the authorities for evading income tax?”
although these were the questions on the tip of my tongue.
Instead, I asked, “Your father is
away, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Miss Furstenberg answered.
“Father was rather peculiar in many ways. He had a decided flair for the
unusual. Take this estate, for instance. He had it built at great expense to
resemble a castle he once saw in Germany.”
“I’ve never visited such an
elegant place.”
“It is entirely too flamboyant
for my taste, but Father loved every tower and turret. If only things had
turned out differently—”
Her voice trailed away, and she
stared at the ground, lost in deep thought. Arousing herself, she went on once
more.
“If you had known Father, you
would understand it was not strange for him to have an alligator on the estate.
At one time he kept imported peacocks. The place was fairly overrun with them.”
I offered no comment, and moved
closer to the edge of the lily pool, gazing into the now-tranquil waters.
“I know what you are trying to
imply,” Miss Furstenberg said. “It couldn’t be possible. I refuse even to
consider such a ridiculous theory.”
“It does seem rather
far-fetched,” I admitted. “Of course, tragedies do occur, and those footprints—”
“Please, not another word or
you’ll drive me into hysterics!” Cybil cried. “You are trying to play upon my
feelings so that I will tell you things! You are only trying to get a story!
I’ll not talk with you any longer.”
She turned and ran up the path
toward the house.
I had overplayed my hand this time. Perhaps Dad was right. I may have an excess of imagination. Also, too lively a tongue. I honestly had not decided what I would do with any information Cybil Furstenberg might divulge, but it was obvious that I’d been tainted by association with the Greenville Examiner and its overzealous photographer, Shep Morgan.
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