The Case of the Haunted Husband

Chapter 1

Stephane Olger gripped the counter over which hats were checked by the patrons of Zander’s Tropical Shack. She could feel the skin drawn tight across her knuckles, could feel blood pounding in her cheeks as she watched the departing back of the manager.

Back of her, Emily Carr, a poker-faced brunette with swiftly competent fingers and thin lips, went quietly about the job of straightening coats on the hangers.

“Well,” Stephane said, without taking her eyes from the manager’s back, “that was crude.”

“He isn’t noted for finesse,” Emily Carr observed, smoothing a flap over a pocket, “Funny how much a man will try to get in one overcoat pocket — no, pardon me all to hell — how much he will get into an overcoat pocket... What are you going to do?”

“Walk out — under my own power,” Stephane Olger said.

Emily Carr turned away from the rack of coats to survey Stephane’s blonde beauty. “It won’t work, Stephane. He is plenty smart. You have been high-hat with him. He isn’t accustomed to that and he doesn’t like it. So what? He gets a couple of patrons to put marked dollar bills in the tips. You check out the coin. The tips aren’t there. Where does that leave you?”

“Emily, I don’t know what happened to that money. I distinctly remember both tips. I put them in the drawer, and...”

“And were called away?” Emily asked.

“Yes, why?”

“Oh, nothing. He lifted them out himself while you were gone — and left all the rest of the money. Then he checks up. You are responsible. You have been knocking down on tips. What are you going to do? You will do as he says now.”

“I wish I had slapped his face. I will do it yet.”

“He will blacklist you for dishonesty. Tip chiseling is the one thing they won’t stand for in this business.”

“Emily, you never have trouble like that. I have plenty. What is wrong with me?”

“You leave yourself wide open.”

“What is a girl supposed to do with a man who takes advantage of his position?”

“Laugh him off,” Emily Carr said easily, “before he gets funny ideas.”

“I didn’t notice any preliminaries.”

“I did. Not today, but yesterday, the day before, and most of last week. I went with a fighter once. He told me never to let the other man get set. He said to keep them off balance. Whenever the other man gets set, you are going to get jarred. Don’t let them do it.”

Stephane said, “Well, I am tired of checking hats. I am going after something else. I have got a friend in Hollywood. You remember Horty?”

Emily shook her head.

“The girl who came to call on me when she was on her vacation. I brought her in here...”

“The girl with the upholstered curves?” Emily interrupted.

“That’s the one.”

“I shall bet nothing gets her goat,” Emily Carr said.

“You are right. She would take something like this right in her stride.”

“Listen, Stephane, use your brains. Don’t get all worked up because...”

“I am fired?” Stephane asked.

“That is what he said,” Emily agreed. “Those were the words he used, but he doesn’t mean it that way. He means that you are to come to him filled with tears and humility while you try to convince him someone else got the dough. I told you he wasn’t noted for finesse.”

Stephane looked at her watch. “Think you can handle it alone, Emily?” she asked.

“If you want it that way.”

“I do. If he comes back here looking for me, tell him I have decided to... Tell him I have decided to look for a new proposition.”

Emily Carr’s sensitive mouth twisted into a quick smile. “He would appreciate that.”

“Yes, I suppose he would.”

“Need any dough?”

“No. I shall hitchhike.”

“What’s your middle name, Stephane?”

“Claire. Why?”

“All right, drop the Olger. It sounds hard, and with your complexion it sounds sort of Russian. Make it Stephane Claire. That will take. You can’t tell, babe, you just might get a break in Hollywood. And if you get a break, you shall make good. You are not like those yellow blondes that fade fast. You have got that white-gold touch. You are metal, the kind of metal that takes a temper and holds it.”

“Thanks,” Stephane said, and put on her coat and hat.

“You are different from most of us in this game — and you are running away from something. What is it, a husband?”

Stephane said, wearily, “No, from money with strings tied to it.”

“What money, and what strings?”

“A rich uncle. He thought he could dictate to me — even pick out the man I was to marry.”

Emily studied her. “Better go back, kid.”

“Not me. I am headed for Hollywood. You can’t tell, I might bust into pictures.”

“You might at that. Tell Sam Goldwyn hello for me. Tell Clark Gable I sent my love. Any messages you want to leave for the manager?”

“Yes, one.”

Emily’s eyes twinkled. “I will try and convey it to him so he will understand. Good-Bye, kid.”

“Bye.”

“Luck.”

“Thanks.”