Native Son - Richard Wright [94]
“Gentlemen, you may take pictures, but wait a moment. I’ve just phoned the police and asked that Mr. Erlone be released immediately. I want it known that I do not want to prefer charges against him. It is important that this be understood. I hope your papers will carry the story.”
Bigger wondered if this meant that suspicion was now pointing away from Jan? He wondered what would happen if he tried to leave the house? Were they watching him?
“Further,” Mr. Dalton went on, “I want to announce publicly that I apologize for his arrest and inconvenience.” Mr. Dalton paused, wet his lips with his tongue, and looked down over the small knot of men whose hands were busy jotting his words down upon their white pads of paper. “And, gentlemen, I want to announce that Miss Dalton, our daughter…. Miss Dalton….” Mr. Dalton’s voice faltered. Behind him, a little to one side, stood Mrs. Dalton; she placed her white hand upon his arm. The men lifted their silver bulbs and again lightning flashed in the red gloom of the basement. “I—I want to announce,” Mr. Dalton said in a quiet voice that carried throughout the room, though it was spoken in a tense whisper, “that Miss Dalton has been kidnapped….”
“Kidnapped?”
“Oh!”
“When?”
“We think it happened last night,” said Mr. Dalton.
“What are they asking?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
“Have you any idea who it is?”
“We know nothing.”
“Have you had any word from her, Mr. Dalton?”
“No; not directly. But we’ve had a letter from the kidnappers….”
“Is that it there?”
“Yes. This is the letter.”
“When did you get it?”
“Tonight.”
“Through the mail?”
“No; someone left it under our door.”
“Are you going to pay the ransom?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Dalton. “I’m going to pay. Listen, gentlemen, you can help me and perhaps save my daughter’s life by saying in your stories that I’ll pay as I’ve been instructed. And, too, what’s most important, tell the kidnappers through your papers that I shall not call in the police. Tell them I’ll do everything they ask. Tell them to return our daughter. Tell them, for God’s sake, not to kill her, that they will get what they want….”
“Have you any idea, Mr. Dalton, who they are?”
“I have not.”
“Can we see that letter?”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t. The instructions for the delivery of the money are here, and I have been cautioned not to make them public. But say in your papers that these instructions will be followed.”
“When was Miss Dalton last seen?”
“Sunday morning, about two o’clock.”
“Who saw her?”
“My chauffeur and my wife.”
Bigger stared straight before him, not allowing his eyes to move.
“Please, don’t ask him any questions,” said Mr. Dalton. “I’m speaking for my whole family. I don’t want a lot of crazy versions of this story going around. We want our daughter back; that’s all that matters now. Tell her in the papers that we’re doing all we can to get her back and that everything is forgiven. Tell her that we….” Again his voice broke and he could not go on.
“Please, Mr. Dalton,” begged one man. “Just let us take one shot of that note….”
“No; no…. I can’t do that.”
“How is it signed?”
Mr. Dalton looked straight before him. Bigger wondered if he would tell. He saw Mr. Dalton’s lips moving silently, debating something.
“Yes; I’ll tell you how it’s signed,” said the old man, his hands trembling. Mrs. Dalton’s face turned slightly toward him and her fingers gripped in his coat. Bigger knew that Mrs. Dalton was asking him silently if he had not better keep the signature of the note from the papers; and he knew, too, that Mr. Dalton seemed to have reasons of his own for wanting to tell. Maybe it was to let the Reds know that he had received their note.
“Yes,” Mr. Dalton said. “It’s signed ‘Red.’ That’s all.”
“Red?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know the identity?”
“No.”
“Have you any suspicions?”
“Beneath the signature is a scrawled emblem of the Communist Party, the hammer