The Case of the Crimson Kiss

Chapter one

Preoccupation with her own happiness prevented Fay Allison from seeing the surge of bitter hatred in Anita’s eyes.

So Fay, wrapped in the warmth of romantic thoughts, went babbling on to her roommate, her tongue loosened by the double cocktail which Anita had prepared before dinner.

“I’d known I loved him for a long time,” she said, “but honestly, Anita, it never occurred to me that Dane was the marrying kind. He’d had that one unfortunate affair, and he’d always seemed so detached and objective about things. Of course, underneath all that reserve he’s romantic and tender. Anita, I’m getting a break I don’t deserve.”

Anita Bonsal, having pushed her dinner plate to one side, toyed with the stem of her empty cocktail glass. Her eyes were pinpricks of black hatred which she was afraid to let Fay Allison see. “You’ve fixed a date?” she asked, concentrating on the rotating base of the glass.

“Just as soon as Aunt Louise can get here. I want her to be with me. I... and, of course, I’ll want you, dear.”

“When will Aunt Louise get here?”

“Tomorrow or the next day, I think. I haven’t heard from her definitely.”

“You’ve written her?”

“Yes. She’ll take the night plane. I mailed her my extra key so she can come right on in whenever she gets here, even if we aren’t here.”

Anita Bonsal was silent, but Fay Allison wanted to talk. “You know how Dane is. He’s always been sort of impersonal. He took you out at first as much as he did me, and then he began to specialize on me. Of course, you’re so popular, you don’t mind. It’s different with me. Anita, I was afraid to acknowledge even to myself how deeply I felt, because I thought it might lead to heartache.”

“All of my congratulations, dear,” Anita said.

“Don’t you think it will work out, Anita? You don’t seem terribly enthusiastic.”

“Of course it will work out. I’m not gushing because I’m a selfish devil and it’s going to make a lot of difference in my personal life — the apartment and all that. Come on, let’s get the dishes done. I’m going out tonight and I presume you’ll be having company.”

“No, Dane’s not coming over. He’s going through a ceremony at his bachelors’ club — one of those silly things that men belong to. He has to pay a forfeit or something, and there’s a lot of horseplay. I’m so excited, I’m just walking on air.”

“Well,” Anita said, “I go away for a three-day weekend and a lot seems to happen around here. I’ll have to start looking for another roommate. This apartment is too big for me to carry by myself.”

“You won’t have any trouble. Just pick the person you want. How about one of the girls at the office?”

Anita shook her head, tight-lipped.

“Well, of course, I’ll pay until the fifteenth and then...”

“Don’t worry about that,” Anita said lightly. “I’m something of a lone wolf at heart. I don’t get along too well with most women, but I’ll find someone. It’ll take a little time for me to look around. Most of the girls in the office are pretty sappy.”

They did the dishes and straightened up the apartment, Fay Allison talking excitedly, laughing with lighthearted merriment, Anita Bonsal moving with the swift efficiency of one who is deft with her hands, saying little.

As soon as the dishes had been finished and put away, Anita slipped into a black evening dress, put on her fur coat, smiled at Fay Allison, and said, “You’d better take some of the sleeping pills tonight, dear. You’re all wound up.”

Fay said somewhat guiltily, “I’m afraid I talked you to death, Anita. I wanted someone to listen while I built air castles. I... I’ll read a book. I’ll be waiting up when you get back.”

“Don’t,” Anita said. “It’ll be late.”

Fay said wistfully, “You’re always so mysterious about things, Anita. I really know very little about your friends. Don’t you ever want to get married and have a home of your own?”

“Not me. I’m too fond of having my own way, and I like life as it is,” Anita said, and slipped out through the door, gently pulling it shut behind her.

She walked down the corridor to the elevator, pressed the button, and when the cage came up to the sixth floor, stepped in and pressed the button for the lobby. She waited until the elevator was halfway down, pressed the stop button, then the button for the seventh floor.

The elevator rattled slowly upward and came to a stop.

Anita calmly opened her purse, took out a key, walked down the long corridor, glanced swiftly back toward the elevator, then fitted the key to apartment 702 and opened the door.

Carver L. Clements looked up from his newspaper, removed the cigar from his mouth, regarded Anita Bonsal with eyes that showed swift approval, but kept his voice detached as he said, “It took you long enough to get here.”

“I had to throw a little wool in the eyes of my roommate and listen to her prattle of happiness. She’s marrying Dane Grover.”

Carver Clements put down the newspaper. “The hell she is!”

“It seems he went overboard in a burst of romance, and his attentions became serious and honorable,” Anita said bitterly. “Fay has written her aunt, Louise Marlow, and as soon as the aunt gets here they’ll be married.”

Carver Clements shifted his position slightly, as though by doing so he could look at the tall brunette from a slightly different angle. “I had it figured out that you were in love with Dane Grover yourself.”

“So that’s been the trouble with you lately!”

“Weren’t you?”

“Heavens, no!”

“You know, my love,” Clements went on, “I’d hate to lose you now.”

Anger blazed in her eyes. “Don’t think you can own me!” she said sharply. “You only rent me.”

“Let’s call it a lease,” he said.

“It’s a tenancy-at-will,” she flared. “And kindly get up when I come into the room. After all, you might as well show some manners.”

Clements arose from the chair. He was a spidery man with long arms and legs, a thick, short body, a head almost bald, but he spent a small fortune on clothes that were skillfully cut to conceal the chunkiness of his body. He smiled and said, “My little spitfire! But I like you for it. Remember, Anita, I’m playing for keeps. As soon as I can get my divorce straightened out—”

“You and your divorce!” she interrupted. “You’ve been pulling that line...”

“It isn’t a line. There are some very intricate property problems. I don’t dare to seem too eager, and the thing can’t be handled abruptly. You know that. You should know that.”

“I know that I’m tired of all this pretense. I’m tired of working. If you’re playing for keeps, take me off the dole and make me a property settlement.”

“And have my wife’s lawyers suddenly drag me into court for another examination of my assets and start tracing the checks...”

“Make it in cash.”

“And have the bank withdrawals checked? Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not going to be. I’m going to be practical. What if I should get dragged into your domestic mess anyway? Look at the chances I’m taking.”

His eyes were somber in their steady appraisal. “I like you, Anita. I can do a lot for you. I like that fire that you have. But I want it in your heart and not in your tongue. My car’s in the parking lot. You go on down, get in the car, and wait. I’ll be down in five minutes.”

She said, “Why don’t you take me out as though you weren’t ashamed of me? As though...”

“And give my wife the opportunity she’s looking for? Then you would have the fat in the fire. The property settlement will be completed and signed within five or six weeks. Thank heavens, I’ll then be free to live my own life in my own way. Until then... until then, my darling, we have to be discreet in our indiscretions.”

She started to say something, checked herself, turned and stalked out of the apartment.

Carver Clements’ automobile was a big luxurious sedan equipped with every possible convenience, but it was cold sitting there, waiting.

Anita waited for several minutes, then, as she felt the chill creeping through her sheer nylons, turned the ignition switch and pulled out the heater button.

It took a minute or two for warmth to generate in the heater. Then a welcome current of warm air swirled caressingly about her legs.

After ten minutes, which seemed twenty, she grew impatient. She flung open the car door, went to the entrance of the apartment house, and angrily pressed the button of 702.

When there was no answer, she assumed that Clements must be on his way down in the elevator, so she walked back into the shadows, to stand there, impatient, feeling a strange desire to smash something. But Clements didn’t appear.

Anita used her key to enter the apartment house. The elevator was on the ground floor. She made no attempt at concealment this time, but pressed the button for the seventh floor, left the elevator, strode down the corridor, stabbed her key into the metal lock of Clements’ apartment, and entered the room.

Carver L. Clements, dressed for the street, was lying sprawled on the floor.

A highball glass lay on its side two feet from his body. It had apparently fallen from his hand, spilling the contents as it rolled along the carpet. Clements’ face was a peculiar hue, and there was a sharp, bitter odor which seemed intensified as she bent toward his froth-flecked lips. Since Anita had last seen him he had quite evidently had a caller. The print of half-parted lips flared in gaudy crimson from the front of his bald head.

With the expertness she had learned from a course in first aid, Anita pressed her finger against the wrist, searching for a pulse. There was none.

She opened her handbag, took out the silver cigarette case and held its smoothly polished surface close to the man’s lips. There was no faintest sign of moisture which would indicate breathing.

Carver L. Clements, wealthy playboy, yachtsman, broker, gambler for high stakes, was quite dead.

In a panic Anita Bonsal looked through the apartment.

There were all too many signs of her surreptitious and intermittent occupancy of that apartment — nightgowns, lingerie, shoes, stockings, hats, even toothbrushes and her favorite toothpaste.

Anita Bonsal turned back toward the door and quietly left the apartment. She paused in the hallway, making certain there was no one in the corridor. This time she didn’t take the elevator, but walked down the fire stairs, as she had done so many times, and returned to her own apartment on the sixth floor.

Fay Allison had been listening to a musical program on the radio. She jumped up with glad surprise as Anita entered.

“Oh, Anita, I’m so glad! I thought — thought you wouldn’t be in until real late. What happened? It hasn’t been any time since you left.”

“I developed a beastly headache,” Anita said. “My escort was a trifle intoxicated, so I slapped his face and came home. I’d like to sit up and have you tell me about your plans, but I do have a headache, and you must get a good night’s sleep tonight. You’ll need to be looking your best tomorrow.”

Fay laughed. “I don’t want to waste time sleeping. While I’m unconscious I can’t revel in my happiness.”

“Nevertheless,” Anita said firmly, “we’re going to get to bed early. Let’s undress, put on pajamas, have some hot chocolate, and then we’ll sit in front of the electric heater and talk for just exactly twenty minutes.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you came back!” Fay said.

“I’ll fix the drink,” Anita told her. “I’m going to make your chocolate sweet tonight. You can start worrying about your figure tomorrow. After all, you’ll be a married woman before this chocolate can put any pounds on you.”

She went to the kitchen, opened her purse, took out a bottle of barbiturate tablets, and emptied a good half of the pills into a cup. After she had carefully ground them she added hot water until they were, for the most part, dissolved.

She placed chocolate on the stove, added milk and melted marshmallows, and called out to Fay, “You undress, dear. I’ll put on my pajamas after we’ve had the chocolate.”

When she returned to the living room, carrying the two steaming cups, frothy with melted marshmallows floating on top, Fay Allison was in her pajamas.

Anita Bonsal raised her cup. “Here’s to happiness, darling.”

“Lots of happiness,” Fay Allison said almost dreamily.

After they had finished the first cup of chocolate, Anita talked Fay into another cup, then let Fay discuss her plans until drowsiness made the words thick, the sentences detached.

“Anita, I’m so sleepy all of a sudden. I guess it’s the reaction from having been so keyed up. I... darling, it’s all right if I... you don’t care if I...”

“Not at all, dear,” Anita said, and helped Fay into bed, tucked her in carefully, and then gave the situation careful consideration.

The fact that Carver Clements maintained a secret apartment in that building was known only to a few of his cronies. These people knew of Clements’ domestic difficulties and knew why he maintained this apartment. Fortunately, however, they had never seen Anita. That was a big thing in her favor. Anita was quite certain it hadn’t been a heart attack. It had been poison, some quick-acting, deadly poison. There was no use worrying herself, trying to figure out how it had been administered, or why. Carver Clements was a man who had many powerful friends and many powerful enemies.

The police would search for the woman.

It wouldn’t do for Anita merely to remove her things from that apartment, and, besides, that wouldn’t be artistic enough. Anita had been in love with Dane Grover. If it hadn’t been for that dismal entanglement with Carver Clements... However, that was all past now, and Fay Allison, with her big blue eyes, her sweet, trusting disposition, had turned Dane Grover from a disillusioned wolf into an ardent suitor. Well, it was a world where the smart ones got by. Anita had washed the dishes. Fay Allison had dried them. Her fingerprints would be on glasses and on dishes. The management of the apartment house very considerately furnished dishes identical in pattern — and it only needed a little careful work on her part. She would, of course, put on gloves. The police would find Fay Allison’s nightgowns in Carver Clements’ secret apartment. They would find glasses that had Fay’s fingerprints on them. And when they went to question Fay Allison, they would find she had taken the easy way out, an overdose of sleeping pills.

Anita would furnish the testimony that would make it all check into a composite, sordid pattern. A girl who had been the mistress of a rich playboy, then had met a younger and more attractive man who had offered her marriage. She had gone to Carver Clements and wanted to check out, but with Carver Clements one didn’t simply check out. Things weren’t as easy as that. So Fay had slipped the fatal poison into his drink and then had realized she was trapped when Anita returned home unexpectedly and there had been no chance for Fay to make surreptitious removal of her wearing apparel from the upstairs apartment. Anita would let the police do the figuring. Anita would be horrified, simply stunned, but, of course, cooperative.

Anita Bonsal deliberately waited three hours until things began to quiet down in the apartment house, then she took a suitcase and quietly went to work, moving with the smooth efficiency of a woman who has been accustomed to thinking out every smallest detail.

When she had finished, she carefully polished the key to apartment 702 so as to remove any possible fingerprints, and dropped it in Fay Allison’s purse. She ground up all but six of the remaining sleeping tablets and mixed the powder with the chocolate which was left in the canister.

Then she donned pajamas, took the remaining six tablets, washed off the label with hot water, and tossed the empty bottle out of the back window of the apartment. Then she snuggled down into her own bed and switched off the lights.

Over in the other twin bed, Fay Allison lay motionless, except for a slight chest motion as her shallow breathing raised and lowered the coverlet.

The maid was due to come at eight the next morning to clean up the apartment. She would find two still figures, one dead, one in a drugged stupor.

Two of the tablets constituted the heaviest prescribed dose. The six tablets Anita had taken began to suck at her consciousness. For a moment there was swift panic. Perhaps she had really taken too many. Could it be that... that... perhaps...

It was too late now. The soothing influence of the drug warmed her consciousness into acquiescence.

She wondered if she could call a drugstore and find out if... a moment later she was asleep.