Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Puzzle
in Purple
By
BETSY ALLEN
NEW YORK
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CHAPTER
Top.
Finally the two men edged the cover off, and
inside Connie saw a great mass of white tissue paper
bound round and round, in the shape of a human
figure, with green twine.
The truck driver suddenly caught a glimpse of her
incredulous face and began to laugh. Its a
skeleton, miss, he explained.
A skeleton?
They use them in anatomy classes, the
superintendent added for her benefit.
The truck driver, who probably had never heard
of anatomy, said, Sure, and are they some
expensive babes!
Meanwhile the superintendent was unwinding
yard after yard of the green twine, rolling it, as he
did so, into a methodical ball. Connie watched with
interest, amused now at her own navet. Gradually
the tissue began to float down, falling away from the
frame to the floor. First the cavernous skull stood
revealed, then the shoulder bones and the dangling
cartilaginous framework of the arms.
In spite of herself a shudder of repulsion swept
Connie, and this increased the truck drivers
amusement. Indicating the skeleton with a jerk of his
thumb, he said, Hes a good-natured guy. He wont
bite cha.
Nevertheless Connie was glad that the street door
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14
CHAPTER
you know.
I know. Sandras voice sounded weary, almost
unsympathetic. But it really isnt my
responsibility. She glanced from Eric to Connie,
without much change of expression. I dont believe
weve met.
Oh. I beg your pardon. Sandra Scott Then
Eric looked at Connie and flushed in
embarrassment.
Connie Blair, Connie supplied, and came
forward with a smile. Ive just been admiring Erics
painting. She used the boys first name because she
didnt know his last. You make a marvelous
model.
Thank you. Sandra thawed slightly, pleased
with the compliment. Posing can get to be a bore,
though. It takes so much time!
Eric looked disturbed. Sandras been awfully
generous, he said to Connie. She has been coming
half an hour early, nearly every night.
Connie wondered whether Sandra came out of
generosity or out of vanity. She probably knew that
her portrait would cause quite a stir.
About the cloak, Eric continued. We might
ask Mr. White
Ill go ask him, Sandra offered and then added,
I want to see Roby Woodward, anyway, and I
know he has an appointment with Mr. White to see
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the ball. Since she had been working for Reid and
Renshaw, she felt that she had left such school-day
complications behind her. And now here she was,
back in the midst of it all again!
Yet art school was far different from high school
in many ways. For one thing, most of the students
were more mature. Some of the first-year pupils
were college graduates. Many held daytime jobs
more important than her own. Fortunately, too, most
of the young men and women she had met were very
sincere in their striving for an art education. Their
eyes were on the future and they hadnt come to art
school to waste time.
Interrupting such serious thoughts came Roby
Woodwards voice. Id pay a pretty penny he
offered.
Connie responded to his teasing tone.
I was thinking, she fibbed, that now Id
probably be black-listed.
Roby looked puzzled. For why?
For being caught out of bounds.
Oh, youre the girl Eric Payson had in the
studio! Fie and for shame!
No shame at all, Connie shot back. Eric just
forgot it was forbidden ground. After all, such
secrecy does seem a little childish, dont you think?
For an instant Roby stiffened; then he relaxed and
shrugged. Have you ever been to an art school
20
know that!
And Roby replied, his deep voice dropping to a
growl, Whos running this show, Fritz, you or me?
Connie tried to edge past them silently and get
upstairs to her second-floor classroom. But Fritz
suddenly whirled and stamped away, and Roby
caught at the sleeve of her coat, his voice returning
to its normal lighthearted level effortlessly.
Hi, beautiful! Got a sec?
Im awfully late, Connie said, glancing up at
the clock on the landing.
What Ive got to say wont take long. Roby
grinned down at her. Got a date for the ball?
Well, I Connie began.
Id be proud to take you! Arrogant, halfclowning, Roby bowed from the waist. If youll
dress as Snow White and let me go as your Prince,
that is.
But
No buts, said Roby firmly. This is my party.
Please?
It was small wonder, Connie thought, as she
looked up into Robys dark, mischievous eyes, that
he was the most popular boy in school. He knew just
how far to carry his audacity before he capitulated
with a word like Please?
Connie knew, too, that it was a real honor to be
asked by the chairman of the ball. For a new girl,
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CHAPTER
38
CHAPTER
Sabotage!
52
CHAPTER
Hospital Interlude
Such as?
Id like to know something about Erics family.
Ive never heard him mention them. Id like to know
how Miss Charlotte feels about Roby. Hes her
nephew, you see. And Id like to know whether Fritz
Bachmans blas manner is just a pose, or whether
he really has a mean streak Her voice trailed off
and she added, just above a whisper, Oh, Kit, I
dont like to be suspicious of people. I dont like it
at all!
It was on the tip of Kits tongue to tell Connie
somethingsomething that Roby had told her when
they had been dancing together last night. But she
felt, suddenly, that her twin was becoming overconcerned about the affair at school, and she didnt
want to add fuel, at this particular moment, to an
already hot fire. The story would keep.
Its time to change the subject, she said briskly.
Its too beautiful a day to brood.
They were approaching the hospital, anyway, and
a few minutes later, tiptoeing along its antiseptic
corridors, they sought out Ward 3.
The nurse on duty announced that Mr. Payson
already had two visitors, and that only three were
allowed to visit a patient at one time.
You go in, Connie, Kit said immediately. Ill
wait in the anteroom.
Connie started to protest, thought better of it, and
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CHAPTER
him.
Then Miss Charlotte said, with her usual gentle
graciousness, You know my brother, Mr. White,
Connie, of course. Francis, may I present Miss
Katherine Blair?
Here again was the quaint formality Connie had
remarked in Eric, and she knew that Miss Charlotte
must have had a great influence on his life. As this
thought flitted through her mind, she was watching
Mr. White greet Kit.
Of course! she cried impulsively. Youre the
building superintendent at school!
The moment the words were out she regretted
them. She could feel Miss White stiffen
instinctively, and Mr. White acknowledged her
recognition with a short, curt nod. Connie hadnt
intended to be rude. She flushed in embarrassment.
Did Mr. White consider the job too menial for a
gentleman? What sore point had she unwittingly
touched?
Miss Charlotte covered the uncomfortable pause
with a natural gesture. Sit down, Francis. Youll
have a cup of tea? She took the cup and saucer the
maid brought and poured tea for her brother, adding
with more courtesy than warmth, Its nice to have
you drop in.
As Mr. White took the tea Connie again noticed,
as she had noticed on her first night at school, that
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CHAPTER
work.
The next hour and a half passed with whirlwind
speed, because the number of callers was far above
average. Connie left her switchboard and desk at last
with a sense of anticipation. It was always nice to
have a luncheon date.
A thaw had melted the remains of the Saturday
storm, but overhead, as she and Ken walked a block
across town to a little luncheon place called the
Hamburg Hearth, the sky was gray with the promise
of more snow. Ken glanced up and, making
conversation, said, It certainly looks threatening,
doesnt it? Connie nodded, and could feel an
involuntary shiver trace its way up her spine.
Threatening, she repeated, but she wasnt
thinking of the sky.
Ken sighed, interpreting her murmur correctly.
Might as well tell Mr. Cooper all, he said when
they were seated opposite each other at a postage
stamp-sized table. Whats humming inside that
busy little brain? But before you tell me, understand
one thing. Im not climbing to any more third-floor
windows nor am I rescuing any more damsels in
distress nor jimmying any locks. My days as crimebuster ended with the solving of The Riddle in Red.
Connie giggled, but she believed him. Ken really
meant what he said. All right, she promised, and
with a forefinger traced a cross over her heart.
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muttered.
Oh, no one would dream of touching those!
Connie assured him confidently. There isnt a
student at school who doesnt realize how marvelous
they are!
And valuable, mused Mr. Canfield. Twentyfive thousand on the hoof. He paused and his eyes
narrowed shrewdly. Might be just as well to get
them insured. With a kid down there who would pull
a lunatic prank like that
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CHAPTER
In Erics Locker
pretty one.
I had four brothers and a sister. Two of the boys
got typhoid and died within a week of each other.
You read about things like it in the newspapers,
under headings like, Coal Miners Out on Strike.
Sure, because their families are undernourished, and
they cant afford to pay the prices at the company
store. Of course, with the strike on, they really begin
to starve. Then theres an epidemic Fritz stopped
suddenly and passed a hand over his eyes, which
had grown dull with pain. Why am I telling you
this?
Connie said, just above a whisper, I dont
knowbut go on, if it helps. For the first time she
was seeing tragedy, not arrogance, in the eyes of the
young man opposite her. It was the sort of tragedy
that can dwarf and cripple a boy, that can distort his
aims and his ambitions. She was afraid it had done
this to Fritz.
But the desire to unburden himself had apparently
passed. He shrugged, as though he wanted to shrug
off the memory of squalor. So I got out of it, he
said. It doesnt matter how. And Im staying out,
forever. He pounded the table fiercely. Forever,
understand? And theres only one way to do that.
Keep fighting for one Fritz Bachman. Keep shoving.
Keep on making certain that Im the oneIm the
onethat gets ahead.
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X Marks a Pattern
word.
Yet, had she been alone, her instinctive reaction
would have been to shut the locker and get away
from the spot until she could thinkuntil she could
decide just how much this meant.
One thing was apparent to her quick mind. The
amount of color Eric must have used to paint the
purple cloak on his Rapunzel would be far short of
the amount of color emptied from this jar. She could
see, with alarming clarity, the great purple crosses
on the fairy tale panels, crosses daubed on with a
house-painters brush, vandalistic and odious.
I think, came Fritz Bachmans jeering voice,
cutting into her reflections, that Mr. Jenkins will be
very much interested in this.
Give it to me! Connie spoke impulsively,
stretching out her hand for the bottle.
But Fritz pulled his hand back. Dont tell me
youd like to play accessory? Or that youd risk
being found guilty of suppressing evidence?
Connie dropped her eyes.
It is our bounden duty to refer this to a higher
court. One finger pointed heavenward, but Fritz
sounded far from high-minded. He sounded almost
gleeful, Connie thought.
But its fantastic, utterly fantastic to think
Fritz waited. Yes?
Connie was ready to clutch at a straw. Wheres
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sides?
I doubt ituntil summer vacation anyway. Hes
needed too badly around there.
Imagine ending up as a badly needed skeleton!
Eric chuckled again.
Then he told Connie, with satisfaction, that he
was to be released from the hospital by the week
end. Wait until you see me rocking into school on
my walking cast! he bragged. Im going back to
work next Monday, if I can possibly make it, and Ill
try to get back to school the same night.
Dont rush things, Eric, Connie warned, and a
chill swept over her at the thought that he might
return before he was cleared of the suspicion which
now hung over his name. She didnt want to see Eric
hurt. She wanted to protect him from people who
were shrewd and ruthless like Fritz Bachman, and
from people who were selfish and callow like Roby.
She thought of Miss Charlottes faith in him, and
she wanted to see it justified. He looked so very
vulnerable, lying there in bed.
Sorry, miss, but Im afraid Ill have to ask you to
leave now. Visitors are really not allowed after
hours,, you know. The nurses starched voice
reached Connie and she murmured, Good-bye,
Eric, and turned reluctantly away.
The rest of the week passed quietlytoo quietly,
Connie thought. Things were rather slow at the
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10
say.
II cant believe it. The art director was as
shocked as Connie. He kept staring at the great
gashes as though they must certainly melt together
and mend, setting him free from this nightmare
illusion that the paintings were irretrievably
destroyed.
Connie looked from one to the other of the
unwrapped canvases, identically damaged without
hope of salvation. In a whisper she wondered, Are
they all like this?
Well soon see.
Angry, now, Mr. Canfield tore at the wrappings
on the other paintings, cutting at the cord which
bound them, tearing down the heavy paper that hid
the vandals work.
He stood back. All.
Then he turned to Connie and asked the very
question that was already ringing in her ears with a
sirens scream. Who could have done such a
thing?
Mutely, Connie shook her head. Her eyes were
full of something more than dismay; they were dark
with sorrow. This, she knew in a flash of
understanding, was what she had feared. Not this act
exactly, but something equally dreadful, something
that would relegate the incident of the ball to the
classification of childs play. A really criminal act!
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afternoon.
The criminal will be found and punished, Mr.
Jenkins said, but the blot on this schools good
name can never be erased.
A pin could have been heard to drop as he paused
for a long moment, then continued, To me the
individual who destroys a thing of beauty deserves
to suffer more bitterly than an embezzler or a thief.
This crime cannot be measured in terms of dollars
and cents. It has to do with the soul.
Connie felt as though she had been holding her
breath for a long time. Her glance flickered from
Erics face to Roby Woodwards. Roby was
frowning, his brows drawn together and his forehead
puckered into knobby bumps.
Insurance company detectives will call some of
you in for questioning, the dean was saying. I
hope, as you value your own innocence, that you
will help them to discover the truth.
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11
Constance Blair.
Connie started at the sound of her own name, and
jumped up from the straight chair on which she had
been seated outside Mr. Jenkinss office.
Will you come in, please?
The detective stood in the doorway, his back
against the jamb, to let her pass, and Connie nodded
to him with a slight inclination of her head. At the
deans desk sat the second of the two dark-suited
men whom she had remarked in the hallway of the
school earlier that evening. He looked up at her and
said, Sit there.
Then, with professional absorption, he studied
some notes on a sheet of paper before him. You
work for Reid and Renshaw, Miss Blair? he asked
without looking up.
Yes.
And you started art school at the beginning of
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the term?
Yes.
How well do you know Eric Payson?
The question startled her, as did the sharp eyes of
the man, raised suddenly.
Quite well. I mean, as well as any other student
at school, or better. II came to a party with him
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12
Return Visit
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CHAPTER
13
mornings.
It is.
Then?
Im trying to do a sketch of men and machines
for thefor an assignment, Eric said grudgingly.
He sounded depressed and disturbed.
Are you really? Connie tried to sound lightly
interested. What fun to work thereso nice and
quiet She wrinkled her nose. And less smelly
than the zoo.
She hoped against hope that Eric would ask her to
join him, but he turned away, and she had to make
the suggestion herself. I wonder if youd mind if I
came along? Im doing an assignment on
composition, and it might be interesting to use
machines instead of animals for a change.
If Connies smile had been less winning Eric
might have been able to say a firm no. But as it
happened he shrugged his shoulders and murmured,
All right.
It was all Connie wanteda foot in the doora
chance to talk to Eric, uninterrupted and alone.
She walked home that night humming happily,
but the next morning Connie appeared very docile
and quiet when she met Eric at the plant. She took
her sketchbook to a stool at some distance from the
spot where Eric had set up his easel, and tried to
decide what to draw.
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14
The Knife
on the bench.
Connie sighed. Oh, Eric!
For that matter, my lockers open, and my things
are strewn all around.
An idea flashed into Connies mind. We might
be able to get up there, she said, while Mr. White
is fixing the fires, if thats what hes here to do.
Eric peered into the furnace nearest him. Thats
what hes here to do, all right, he muttered.
Then lets try the ballroom door. If its open we
can get up the back stairs to the studio and through
there to the locker room. Come on!
Silently they crept across the labyrinthine cellar
to the other stairs. Silently they ascended. The
ballroom door opened softly at Connies touch, but
before they started for the balcony stairs she turned
back to Eric.
Have you got a handkerchief?
Yes. Why?
Tie it around the foot with the cast on it, so the
metal walking shoe wont click on the floor, she
whispered sensibly.
Eric followed instructions without a murmur, then
together they began the second lap of their perilous
journey.
Maybe I should have come alone, Connie
thought, as they hurried along. Im so much faster.
But there was both comfort and a feeling of safety in
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CHAPTER
16
Reunion in Meadowbrook
you dont think shes good, you should see our sales
records.
Bragging, Connie teased. Always bragging.
But she was pleased nevertheless.
Mrs. Blair had let Eric take her coat to the hall
and was seated in a barrel-backed chair near the
hearth, toasting her hands and feet. She smiled up at
the young people warmly, and put in a word after
Kit had gone out to the kitchen.
Maybe you and Eric can dream up some ideas
for spring windows, she said to Connie. February
is almost over, and I know Kit has been a little at a
loss
Connie bit her lip contritely. Ive been letting
her down! she realized. With all the excitement in
town Then her eyes grew dreamy and she said,
Spring. Wheelbarrows and garden tools and seed
packets.
And fertilizer and mole traps and chicken wire,
chanted her mother out of long experience.
Eric laughed. Lets make it an amusing
window, he suggested. Gay and foolish.
Like a spring lamb, Connie crooned. We
might have lambs for a background. Cut out of
cardboard and painted. Gamboling on the green, sort
of.
Kit, coming back to the living room in time to
hear the last remarks, cried, Hey! Were running a
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hands.
That faded pink brick for a background, the
young artist continued, now talking almost to
himself. And the black iron railing, with the brass
finials, the polished knocker, the white marble
steps.
Connie could see the pictureMiss Charlotte as
she should be painted, active and busy, part and
parcel of old Philadelphia and yet, contradictorily,
young in spirit.
Oh, Eric, do it! she cried.
Then she turned to her mother. You must meet
Miss Charlotte, she told her. Ill ask to bring you
co call someday. Shes like something out of a
period movie, and yet shes the sweetest, brightest
little lady
Toby, with the complete oblivion of boyhood to
the importance of adult conversation, cut in, Say,
Connie, did you know Moms a Cub mother?
A what? Connie shrieked with laughter.
A Cub mother. Thats important. For our Scout
troop. Its quite a job.
It is quite a job, admitted Mrs. Blair. And right
now it seems to involve baking a batch of cookies.
So if you young people will excuse me
We have to go down to the store, anyway,
Connie remembered. And when we come back
well bring Dad with us.
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Fine!
Come on, Eric! Connie urged happily. Come
on, Kit. She pulled her twin to her feet with both
hands, smiling. Just think! she cried. Someday
well be able to say that the internationally famous
artist, Eric Payson, once designed and painted a
window for Blairs Hardware Store.
Eric took Connie by the shoulders and gave her a
playful shake, but when she turned and looked up
into his eyes she knew that he enjoyed the
affectionate teasing. And she also knew that there
was more truth than fiction in what she had just said.
Someday they would all be very proud of Eric.
Someday he would be truly great.
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