Harold Lawlor

“ Clever Coralie, cruel Coralie. Together we had killed her, and together we had killed whatever future we might have had for ourselves. There is no love without trust, and there'll be no trust, ever, between Michael and me. There'll be no children now, for Michael and me—children whose parents were murderers. ”

“ But Michael, I thought, would never understand this, never blame Coralie for what was happening. Men, they say, are by nature more open, more direct. If I went to him, telling him what I suspected, I felt he'd only regard Coralie as misunderstood, and myself as jealous, suspicious—at best, a whining martyr. ”

“ Only an infinite weariness. We can never destroy it. It will be with us always.
You'll never give up, will you, Coralie? I know that now. Know it as certainly as I know that the day will finally come when Michael and I, goaded beyond endurance, will drink as you desire—from the cranberry goblet. ”

“ Michael had loved Coralie! What was he saying?
"Don't you think I saw what she'd been doing all along, working to destroy our marriage?" His face was cold, implacable. "I knew what Coralie was capable of. Why, when a child—" He broke off. "It doesn't matter now. But she never fooled me. Never. I had a right to some happiness. And that was why I killed her."
Why we killed her. Five capsules, I thought dully. Five had been enough.
Michael picked up the cranberry goblet. Looking around for some place to throw its contents, he finally poured the liquid into the bowl of zinnias on the table. ”

“ In the beginning, every morning after Michael had left for the office, I would knock at Coralie's door eager to make amends, to try to get off on the right foot with her. But I was never permitted to enter. Mrs. Dunnigan, our housekeeper (and Coralie's willing slave) , would open the door the merest slit. And her thin-lipped mouth would open the merest slit, too, in her hard, set face.
Miss Coralie was resting. Miss Coralie didn't feel well enough this morning for visitors. No, there was nothing you could do. Yes, Mrs. Whittington, I'll let you know if she asks for you. ”

“ Luckily, Michael was preoccupied and asked no questions. "Get somebody else," be suggested shortly, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Evidently her going meant nothing to him.
At the station I gave him the key to the court cabinet, and asked him to put it on his key-chain with the others. This roused him. "What?" he laughed. "Are you a secret drinker? Are you locking temptation away?"
"Exactly!" I agreed demurely, lifting my face for his kiss.
So that was that. The cranberry goblet would stay where it was for awhile. There'd be no more Mrs. Dunnigan in the apartment, playing tricks. ”

“ I faltered. "The box said one capsule only. It seems reasonable to suppose that a person bent on suicide would put two in the glass, doubling the dose, then add a third to make certain."
But Peter shook his head. "Three would have made her very ill, but they wouldn't have killed her. She must have taken more."
I couldn't understand it. Peter was very emphatic that three wouldn't have killed her. When he had left, I kept thinking, "But there were only three! The one capsule Coralie had put in the glass herself, and the two that I—"
I shut off my thoughts. ”

“ I started for the door, determined to get out before I made an exhibition of myself.
"You won't do anything, you won't do anything," she taunted in a chant that followed me across the room. "No matter what you do, I'll win. ”

“ Doom comes in many guises, each one sure and deadly....
By HAROLD LAWLOR
It looks as innocent as Coralie herself—that cranberry goblet. It has been in Michael's family for many years—the last of a set once owned, perhaps, by his grandparents. But no one really knows. Michael himself doesn't know. It has just been around for as long as he can remember. Square at the top, slightly convex at the sides, its bowl is the color of ripe cranberries—a live glowing scarlet, deepening sometimes to ruby; its stem and base are of rock crystal, clear and. ”

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