Cut Thin to Win

Chapter 14

At the hotel, I climbed into a bathtub and tried to scrub off the sickly sweet smell of jail disinfectant.

I knew that most of the odor was still in my nose rather than on my body, but I gave my body a good scrubbing anyway.

I went to a restaurant, had a good meal, a good night’s sleep, and about noon stopped by the Western Union office.

A telegram had just come in for me. It read:

The telegram was signed Essex.

I sent him a telegram in reply.

I signed it Donald.

I did a little gambling, killed a little time, and put through a person-to-person call to Elsie Brand at the office.

“How are you coming, Elsie?” I asked.

“I was just ready to close the desk and go home,” she said. “Where are you, Donald?”

“It’s probably better if you don’t know,” I said. “How are things at the office?”

“Tight. Very, very tight.”

“Got any money?”

“I can get some.”

“Get on a plane that reaches Las Vegas at ten-thirty tonight. I’ll meet you.”

“Oh, Donald, I can’t make it.”

“Sure you can.”

“Well, I’ll... I’ll try. What do I tell Bertha?”

“Tell her nothing. Leave a note that you won’t be in tomorrow.”

“Donald, Bertha is fit to be tied.”

“Let’s tie her then.”

She laughed nervously. “I’ll be on the plane,” she said.

“Bring a brief case, notebooks, pencils and that small tape recorder, the one that works with flashlight batteries. We may need it.”

“Donald, Bertha told me if I heard from you at all or knew where you were, I was to let her know at once.”

“She’s in touch with Sellers?”

“He’s been in the office two or three times.”

“How does he feel?”

“Chewing cigars like mad, pacing the floor and telling Bertha she’s got to bail out before everything crashes.”

“And Bertha wants to bail out?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Donald. She got mad at Sellers the last time he was in and told him that she wasn’t going to condemn you without a hearing. He got mad at her and told her he’d been jeopardizing his standing on the force, trying to protect her on account of friendship, and that she couldn’t presume on it too far.”

“That’s fine,” I told her. “Keep the pot boiling,”

“Well, don’t you think for a minute it isn’t boiling— Are you going to meet me at the plane, Donald?”

“Yes.”

“Donald, have you got... accommodations?”

“Yes.”

“One room or two?” she asked.

“Two.”

“Oh.”

She was silent for a while.

“You’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you.”

I hung up and went down to the telegraph office.

Essex was burning up the wires:

I sent him a wire: “I’M NOT A RAT.”

And signed it Donald.

Then I had a session at the tables, dinner, drove around enough to shake shadows, then went to a motel, looked the place over and selected two adjoining units which had a connecting door.

After I had registered and paid in advance, I went to the airport and picked up Elsie as she got off the plane.

She was starry-eyed with excitement. Her fingers dug into my arm. “Oh, Donald, this is so exciting! You have something for me to do — I mean, this is business?”

“Business,” I said.

“You really have two rooms?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. But there’s a connecting door.” She didn’t say anything for a while.

We got her baggage, got in the car I had rented, and I drove her to the motel. I felt it might be a good plan to keep moving around and, with a rented car and a motel while still retaining my room at the hotel, I was in a little more flexible position.

“You left a note for Bertha?” I asked her.

“Yes, I just left a note and said I wouldn’t be in. You know what that means, she’ll probably fire me.”

“She can’t fire you,” I said. “You’re my secretary. She can fire her own secretary if she wants to, but she can’t fire you. We’ve been through that before. You’re mine.”

She started to say something, then lowered her eyes demurely. “Yes,” she said, and then, after a moment added, “I am.”