The Removers

Chapter Fifteen

You HAD TO hand it to the kid. She didn't do any silly, self-conscious, September-Morn stunts with the towel. She just kept right on drying her hair. After all, it was her house, and if she wanted to entertain gentlemen in her living room without any clothes on, it was her business.

"I'd appreciate it," she said, "if you'd close the door, Mrs. Logan. From either side."

Beth said dryly, "Yes, I can see how you might feel a slight draft, Moira."

She stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind her. She looked slim and kind of elegant, although she wasn't really dressed up. She was wearing a white silk shirt or blouse-I never have learned how they make the distinction-with her monogram on the pocket: E for Elizabeth. She'd been Beth to me but I remembered that she was Elizabeth to Logan. Her skirt was nicely tailored of some fine khaki material, or maybe the stuff is called chino when it joins the aristocracy. Her legs were bare, which always seems a pity to me; but the stocking business is dormant throughout that country all summer. She had enough of a tan to get by with it; and her neat, polished, saddle-leather pumps did nice things for her ankles.

She had her white Stetson on. Combined with the practical material of her skirt, it gave her an outdoorsy, western look. Apparently she was taking herself quite seriously, these days, as the lady of the ranch. I couldn't help thinking it was too bad he couldn't take her back to the family estate, if any, in old England; she'd have had lots of fun dressing up in tweeds, and she'd have looked swell in them, too. "Did you want to see me about something, Mrs. Logan?" Moira asked.

Beth said, "If I did, I picked the right time, didn't I, dear? For seeing you, I mean… Actually, I was looking for Mr. Helm. I started to knock and the door swung-"

"There's a bell, honey," Moira said. "You know, an electrical device operated by a small white button. What made you think you'd find Mr. Helm here?"

It was a good question. Beth didn't answer. I was shocked to see her standing there, obviously caught, like a schoolgirl, in a barefaced lie. It takes practice to become a good liar and she'd never given the subject much attention. She'd had an awkward question thrown at her, and she'd tossed out a phony answer without thinking, and now she was stuck with it. She obviously didn't know how she'd known she'd find me here. In fact, she hadn't known she'd find me here at all.

Moira didn't smile or show any visible signs of triumph. "Well, I'll leave you to discuss your business with Mr. Helm," she murmured.

Now, at last, she wrapped the big towel casually about her, before turning away. It was impeccable strategy. A woman's rear leaving the room naked never looks very dignified. I followed her into the bedroom. She turned on me fast.

"God damn it, get her out of here before I scratch her lousy eyes out!"

"Relax, kid," 1 said. I looked around. "What about the neighbors?"

"What do you mean?"

"Guns have been fired. Men have been torn to bloody shreds by wild beasts-"

"Ah, think nothing of it. We're all air-conditioned, hadn't you noticed? Anyway, if St. Peter were to blow his trumpet, those biddies would just gripe about that inconsiderate little trollop in the blue house turning her TV up too high…" Moira drew a long breath. "What the hell does she want here, anyway?"

"I don't know," I said. "But I think it would be a good idea to find out, don't you?"

She glanced at me, hesitated, and said, "That depends,

"On what?"

"On whose side you're on."

I looked down at her for a moment, and she looked right back with those sea-green, grown-up eyes. I took her face in my hands and kissed her on the forehead.

She let her breath go out softly. "Well, all right!"

I asked, "Do you want me to get you some things from the other room?"

"Skip it. She's got me so mad I could wade through dead bodies knee deep. You'd better get out there and entertain her… Malt"

"Yes?"

"Don't make a habit of it, baby. What the hell good is a kiss on the forehead, for God's sake!"

I grinned and went out of the room. Beth had laid her western hat aside. Without it she wasn't Elizabeth of the Double-L Ranch any more; she was just a slender attractive woman to whom I'd once been married. Her light-brown hair looked smooth and soft. She was looking at a bookshelf, obviously cataloguing the kid's literary tastes for future reference. She turned as I came up.

"Matt," she said gently, "I'm surprised at you. That child!"

I said, "All available evidence proves she isn't, including, I believe, her birth certificate. Anyway, it's really none of your business now, is it, Beth? As I recall, you said it was a mistake and we shouldn't repeat it."

"No," she said. "I was just a little surprised, that's all, seeing you here."

"That's not the way you said it the first time. You said you'd come here to find me, remember?"

She smiled ruefully. "I know. It was silly of me, wasn't it."

"Have you thought of a better story?"

She said, "Well, no, I-"

"Of course, as a last resort, there's always the truth. What the hell are you doing here, Beth?"

She said, "Why, I-" Then she laughed. "You know, it's funny to be called that again. He calls me Elizabeth, you know."

"I know," I said. "Talking of surprises, think of the one I got, discovering you married to the former bodyguard of Sally Fredericks, a very competent gent packing an automatic pistol in a well-fitting shoulder holster. Considering the reasons you left me-"

She winced. "I know it must seem strange. I-"

She stopped. The kid was coming towards us from the open bedroom door. She'd put on sandals, a pair of plaid shorts-quite snug and predominantly blue-and a crisp white short-sleeved shirt, worn outside the shorts. Under other circumstances, I might have said it looked like a boy's shirt. With her inside it, the resemblance wasn't noticeable. Her hair was still damp about her head, and she'd got a dry towel with which to work on it some more.

She said, "Did I hear my dad's name being taken in vain?"

I had to think back to recall that Sally Fredericks had been mentioned. I said, "We were actually speaking of his one-time best boy, the Duke of Nevada."

"Ah, the Duke," Moira said, rubbing her head energetically. She turned to Beth. "I think we should have him in here, don't you, Mrs. Logan? He must be getting lonesome, waiting out in the car, or wherever he is, waiting for you to make your report."

Beth frowned. "I don't know what you mean. Larry isn't-"

The kid lowered the towel. Her bright hair was a wild, tumbled mess about her head, but suddenly she didn't look very cute or particularly funny; even if she had, the expression in her eyes would have kept anyone from laughing.

"I'm surprised at the Duke," she said softly. "Sending his wife… He must be getting old. I guess he just can't take it any more." She was watching Beth with dangerous intentness. "Can you take it, Mrs. Logan?" I asked, "Kid, what are you driving at?"

She wheeled on me. "Where are your brains, baby? Okay, you were married to her once, does that mean you have to stop thinking when she walks in the room? What's she doing here? Haven't you figured it out yet? They didn't want you, did they? I heard them talking; they were surprised to find you here-just as she was! That means they didn't come from Dad. He wouldn't send anybody after me. If he wants me, all he has to do is pick up the phone. I'm not scared of him; I'll come. He certainly wouldn't send a couple of goons to rough me up; he reserves that privilege for himself! Well, who else could have sent them but Duke Logan, hitting back at Dad for something? He's still got friends who'd do it for the Duke. But they didn't come back, and he's getting old and cautious I guess, and he's pretty well known around town, so after waiting awhile he sent his wife in here to scout around cautiously and find out what went wrong… Isn't that right, Mrs. Logan?"

She'd swung back to face Beth, who licked her lips. "I don't know what you-"

Moira had her by the arm. Before I understood what she was about, the two of them were at the bedroom door-the closed one. Moira turned the knob with her free hand, kicked the door open, and gave Beth a hard push.

"Can you take it, Mrs. Logan? Take a good look and go make your damn report!"