You’re Lonely When You’re Dead

I

The clock on my desk showed ten past five. Sunblinds making the office dim and airless were drawn against the sun that sizzled the sidewalks in an unexpected and premature taste of the coming summer.

While I wandered about the room, my jacket off, my collar undone and my tie hanging loose, Paula sat at her desk and looked as cool as a block of ice.

‘There was no sign of him,’ I said, moving to the climax of my story, ‘so we went up on the roof. He was there all right.’ I paused to mop the back of my neck, pausing by the window to look into the hot street below. ‘He had been shot through the head with a .45 as he was looking through his telescope. The slug made a hole about an inch wide in his skull and I’d say he’d been dead about twenty minutes — not more.’

Paula didn’t get excited. She held her lower lip between finger and thumb and pulled gently: a sure sign she didn’t like what I was telling her.

‘There’s a big clump of mangroves near the house’ I went on. ‘I reckon the killer hid there, waiting for Leadbetter to show himself and then shot him. It was nice shooting. The slug’s still in his head. It’s my bet they’ll find it’s the same gun that killed Dana.’ I stubbed out my cigarette, yawned and rubbed my eyes. ‘Well that’s about all. We came away quick. There was no one to see us. I’m sure of that.’

Paula gave me a long worried stare, reached for a cigarette, lit it and flicked the match into the ashtray.

‘I don’t like it, Vic,’ she said. ‘Maybe we could have prevented this killing if we’d opened up to Brandon about the Cerfs.’

‘Maybe, but I doubt it,’ I said. ‘Anyway, Leadbetter had it coming to him. He could have told the cops what he knew; he could have told Jack, but he didn’t. He preferred to deal with the killer. I bet he thought he would make himself a little money, only he stopped a slug instead.’

Paula nodded.

‘That could be it.’ She twisted around in her chair and looked through the slots in the sunblinds, thinking. ‘Brandon will turn on the heat when the news breaks. We’re going to be right in the middle of the squeeze.’ She brooded for a long minute, then shrugged, turned to face me. ‘What now, Vic?’

‘I’ve sent Benny to Frisco to see if he can dig up anything about Anita. It certainly looks as if she was on the scene of the murder. My next move is to have a talk with Barclay.’

‘You have a tricky job there,’ she pointed out. That suit of Dana’s was evidence only so long as it was in the cupboard. Taking it puts Barclay in the clear. He can always deny knowing anything about it.’

‘Sure, but it was a risk I had to take. I was hoping we might find something from the suit. Clegg’s working on it now. Besides, Mills might have been looking for it for all I know. When I have Clegg’s report I thought I’d sneak it back and then confront Barclay with it.’

‘Risky, but I suppose it’s the only thing you can do. What happened to her underclothes, shoes and stockings?’

‘I don’t know. They may be hidden in Barclay’s place somewhere. I hadn’t much time before Mills arrived. That’s something I can look for when I go back.’

‘Are you going to Mills’s place?’

I grimaced.

‘I guess so. I’m not over anxious to run into him again, but I’ll have to go out there. He may have nothing to do with the killing. I’m beginning to think he hasn’t, but we’ll have to be sure before we drop him.’

‘It’s all a question of time, isn’t it? We’ve got to get this business straightened out before the police do.’

‘Just as soon as Clegg is through with that coat and skirt I’ll go back to Barclay. Right now it looks as if he’s the killer. If I can crack him it’s in the bag. Give Clegg a ring, will you, and see what happening?’

While she was phoning I went over to the window again. There were a lot of things that puzzled me. Why was Dana stripped? Why had Anita given her the necklace? To part with twenty grand worth of diamonds seemed cockeyed to me for the return she got. On the other hand she may not have given the necklace to Dana. She may have asked her to look after it for her. She may have been meeting the blackmailer and was scared he might take it from her. Somehow I couldn’t see Dana taking the necklace as a bribe. It looked that way, but the more I thought about it the less likely it seemed. It didn’t fit in with her character.

Paula said, ‘Clegg’s on the line. He wants to speak to you.’

I reached for the receiver. Clegg said he could find no bloodstains, no sand, nothing to give me a lead at all. I thanked him, said I would collect the suit on my way down town and hung up.

‘Nothing,’ I said in answer to Paula’s inquiring look. ‘Then she couldn’t have been wearing it when she was shot. The front of her skull was smashed in. Whatever she was wearing had to get stained.’

‘Maybe he made her strip before he shot her,’ Paula said.

‘If he did, surely there would have been some trace of sand in her clothes.’

‘She might have undressed in the car.’

‘Yeah,’ I ran my fingers through my hair. ‘I better see Barclay. I’ll take Kerman with me. We may have to push that guy around a little, and I have an idea he might be difficult to push.’

As I was moving towards the door the telephone buzzer sounded.

Paula cradled the receiver in her slim white hand and looked at me.

‘Tip from the porter’s office. Brandon’s on his way up.’

I grabbed hold of my coat and hat.

‘Stall him, Paula,’ I said, making for the door. ‘Tell him you don’t know where I am, but I’ll be in some time tomorrow morning. I’ll use the rear exit.’

I jerked open the door and shot into the corridor. I had just reached the bend in the corridor when I heard the elevator doors swing back. I nipped out of sight as Brandon went stamping over to my door and rapped with impatient knuckles.

II

I parked under the same beech tree at the entrance to Wiltshire Avenue, removed the registration card from the steering post and climbed out of the car into the solid heat of the sun. ‘We walk from here,’ I said. ‘It’s just at the top of the road.’

Kerman reluctantly got out of the car, adjusted the blue-and-red silk handkerchief that peeped out of his top left-hand pocket, ran his thumb along the edge of his dapper moustache and stifled a groan.

‘As far as that?’ he said, staring. ‘Jeepers! My feet feel as if they’ve been scuffling in a bed of red-hot embers. Think he’ll give us a drink?’

‘He’s more likely to bend a two-handed sword over our skulls,’ I returned, tucking under my arm Dana’s coat and skirt I had made into a brown-paper parcel. ‘He’s a collector of medieval weapons.’

‘Well, that’s nice,’ Kerman said. ‘A two-handed sword, huh? That’s something I’ve never been hit with.’

We walked side by side up to the long avenue, keeping in the shadow of the trees.

‘The idea is to get to his bedroom and plant Dana’s things in his wardrobe without being seen,’ I said, as we paused outside the iron-studded gate. ‘If he’s in the garden hold him in conversation until I join you. If he’s in the house I’ll have to take a chance that he doesn’t hear me. With any luck he won’t be home.’

‘You’ll look a little flatfooted if he catches you and calls the cops,’ Kerman said, grinning. ‘I can just imagine Brandon’s face when you’re marched in on a charge of breaking and entering.’

‘We have to keep him away from the telephone,’ I explained. ‘That’s why I’ve brought you along. Don’t let’s have any misunderstanding about that. We’re going to act very tough indeed.’

‘That’s fine, so long as he doesn’t act very tough with us.’

I pushed open the gate and glanced around. The doves were still on the roof, and there was no one in the garden.

‘I wonder if he’s skipped,’ I said, looking towards the house.

‘Do I go first?’ Kerman asked.

‘Sure. Ring the bell, and if he’s there keep him amused until I’ve had time to get into his bedroom. I shouldn’t be two or three minutes.’

‘I hope you’re not,’ Kerman said, and went off briskly towards the house.

I watched his progress up the wooden steps to the front door and heard the bell ring sharply somewhere in the house. We waited, but nothing happened, and Kerman looked my way, lifted his hands and shook his head. I made motions, telling him to ring again. He rang again. Then without any warning a voice said, ‘What exactly do you think you’re up to?’

Maybe I didn’t jump more than a foot, but it felt like a yard. I swung around.

A tall hunk of male beef was standing just behind me; the kind of lad women would fall for in a big way. He had a lot of black curly hair, and his eyes seemed bluer than they were because of the rich golden tan of his skin. He had a complacent, smug air about him of a guy who’s been told so often he is handsome that he has at last come to believe it, and it hasn’t been such hard work at that.

I didn’t have to be Philo Vance to guess he was Barclay. Dana had said he dressed and looked like a movie star and that description about fitted him. He wore an apricot-coloured rugger shirt, white linen slacks with a crease sharp enough to slice bread with, and white buckskin shoes with brown explosions. Around his thick hairy wrist was a heavy gold-chain bracelet, and around his thick hairy neck was a green silk scarf with his initials neatly monogrammed just where I could read them.

‘Mr. Barclay?’ I asked, not perhaps as nonchalantly as I would have liked but near enough to make no difference.

‘What if I am?’ He had a Lawrence Tibbett baritone, very manly and rich; the kind of voice that would send shudders up the spines of bobby-soxers, but did nothing at all to mine.

I handed him my card: the one with the Universal Services’ crest in the corner, and stood back while he examined it as enthusiastically as if I’d handed him the business end of a skunk. He took his time about reading it, turned it and stared at the blank side for a moment or so, then returned it as if it soiled his fingers.

‘Sorry and all that,’ he said, and sneered thoughtfully at a Charlotte Collins dahlia that happened to be in his line of vision. ‘I have all the service I want. Thank you for calling: some other time perhaps.’

Kerman joined us. Barclay studiously ignored him.

‘We’re not offering service,’ I said. ‘We’re acting for a client whose wife happens to be a friend of yours. You may be able to help us.’

Although he managed to hold his bored, contemptuous attitude a wary expression now came into his eyes.

‘Still sorry,’ he said, waving his hand to the gate. ‘I’m a little pressed for time right now, and besides I don’t like snoopers.’

‘We can get our information from the police,’ I said. ‘But then you know what the police are; they haven’t any respect for the individual. We have.’

He took one hand from one trousers pocket, rubbed his square jaw thoughtfully and still managed to appear as unruffled and as calm as a mountain capped with snow.

‘What do you want?’ he asked. ‘Let’s be quick about it.’

‘Sorry, but our business is a little too serious to discuss in a hurry. Shall we go and talk it over?’

He looked from me to Kerman and back to me again, and his eyes hardened.

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ he exclaimed, losing his poise, and pushing past me, walked with long quick strides towards the house.

We went after him.

‘Do you still plant exhibit A?’ Kerman asked out of the corner of his mouth.

‘Not a hope. We’ll either have to trap a confession out of him or beat it out of him. I don’t know what else we can do.’

‘It should be fun beating it out of him,’ Kerman said gloomily.

Barclay opened the front door and entered the living room without bothering to see if we were following. He crossed over to a big cocktail cabinet, opened the double doors to reveal an interesting collection of bottles on the inside of the doors were racks that held cut-glass tumblers, and set in the middle of the cabinet was a tiny refrigerator. It was the most efficient drinking apparatus I had seen, and by the way Kerman reacted, rubbing his hands briskly and teetering up and down on his toes, he thought so too.

‘Well, say your piece and be quick about it,’ Barclay said, selecting a glass and half filling it with whisky. He added a splash of soda and an ice cube from the refrigerator, closed the cabinet doors with a sharp click that told me he wasn’t going to open them again until we had gone, and moved over to the settee where he stretched out his manly bulk.

I waited in silence until he had settled himself, then stripped the brown paper off the rolled-up coat and skirt and tossed them into his lap.

‘How did this suit get into your cupboard?’ I asked.

He put the whisky down on the occasional table at his side, poked at the coat doubtfully, a look of blank surprise on his face.

‘What was that again?’ he asked, and his head came round and he stared at me.

‘That suit was in your cupboard. I want to know how it got there.’

He brushed the suit from his lap on to the floor, picked up his whisky, took a long drink and set the glass down again.

‘Are you drunk or just crazy?’ he asked.

‘Look, don’t let’s have any of that,’ I said. ‘I called here about a couple of hours back. There was no one home so I had a look round, and I found that suit in the cupboard in your bedroom.’

‘Did you?’ He was getting over his surprise now. ‘So you took it away and brought it back again. Very clever,’ and he a lowed himself a small sneer.

‘I took it away because I wanted to have it examined for bloodstains.’

He lifted his head sharply at that. There was a sudden bright glitter in his eyes.

‘What do you mean — bloodstains?’

‘That suit belonged to Dana Lewis, the girl who was shot near East Beach last night.’

He swung his legs off the settee and sat up.

‘What the hell is all this?’

‘I’m asking you how it is that this suit, belonging to a girl who was murdered and stripped last night, happened to be in your cupboard.’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about, and I don’t care. I’ve had enough of this. Take your old clothes and beat it!’

‘I have very definite evidence to connect you with Dana Lewis,’ I said quietly. ‘She was one of my operators and was watching Mrs. Cerf at the time she was murdered.’

That stopped him. He pulled up like an angry bull confronted by a barbed-wire fence.

‘What’s this — blackmail?’

‘Nothing as simple as that. The murdered girl was a friend of mine. I’m checking up on her death. I want to know how her clothes got into your cupboard.’

‘Well, well, well,’ he said and got slowly to his feet; very big, dangerously quiet and controlled. ‘But all the same it smells of blackmail to me. Before we go any further with this, let’s call the police. I’d like them to hear what you’ve just said, then you can produce your proof, and if you can’t they’ll know how to take care of you.’ His hand reached for the telephone, but Kerman was a shade too fast for him. He grabbed the telephone, yanked the cable loose from its moorings and threw the instrument across the room.

‘No phone, pal,’ he said.

Barclay’s reaction was immediate. Moving fast for a big man he socked Kerman on the side of the head. It was a nice punch, and Kerman went down, taking the table with him. By the time Barclay turned to let fly at me I was already moving in on him. I got my face out of the way of a left swing, touched him lightly on the chest with my left, straightened him a trifle, then uncorked the right-hand wallop that Comrade Mills had treated so flippantly, only Barclay wasn’t in Mills’s class and he took the punch on the side of his jaw. His eyes rolled back, the whites showed and he fell forward on his face with a crash that shook the room.

‘Nice work,’ Kerman said, getting slowly to his feet. He held the side of his face tenderly. ‘He packs quite a punch. Think we could help ourselves to a little of his whisky?’

‘Let’s help ourselves to a lot,’ I said, stirring Barclay’s thick body with my foot.

Kerman went over to the cocktail cabinet, still rubbing his face. He made two drinks, handed me one and swallowed the other at a gulp. I drank half mine and set the glass on the table. I was worried about Barclay. He hadn’t acted like a guilty man, and I had an uneasy feeling he had been genuine when he said he didn’t know what I was talking about.

‘We’ll have to handle this a little smarter than we’re doing now,’ I said, ‘if we don’t want a showdown with the cops.’

Kerman poured himself another drink. Now he had got his hands on the whisky he was thoroughly happy.

‘We’re doing all right,’ he said. ‘He started the fight anyway. Let’s get him talking,’ and he picked up the soda syphon and squirted a jet of soda into Barclay’s face.

Barclay grunted, rolled over, shielding his face with his hands, then slowly lifted his head and blinked up at us.

‘Come on, sissy, don’t loll around all night,’ Kerman said, putting down the syphon. ‘We have a lot to talk over,’ and he reached for an Indian club that was hanging on the wall and balanced it lightly in his hand. ‘And don’t go showing off your strength again or I’ll give you a tap with this.’

Barclay got to his feet, stripped off his sodden scarf and dropped it on the floor. His eyes were dark explosions, but without a word he walked slowly over to the settee, sank down on it and fingered his jaw where a lump was forming.

‘Now, suppose we start all over again?’ I said, lighting a cigarette. ‘How did this suit get into your cupboard?’

After a long pause he said with a snarl in his voice, ‘I tell you I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

And the trouble was I didn’t believe he did.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘So you don’t know what I’m talking about. Well, I’ll tell you. Three days ago Franklin Cerf hired us to watch his wife. Never mind why. He had his reasons, but we needn’t go into that. Dana Lewis was the operator detailed to shadow Mrs. Cerf. She reported that Mrs. Cerf and you were on friendly terms and were meeting secretly. This information was not passed on to Cerf by the way. Last night she received a telephone call about one o’clock, and she left her apartment. She was found later on the sand dunes near East Beach, shot through the head.

‘Her murder puts us on a spot We guarantee our clients absolute secrecy, and if we help the police we can’t avoid breaking our guarantee and giving Mrs. Cerf away. That’s bad for our business, and we’ve decided to carry out our own investigation.

‘We are looking for Mrs. Cerf. You may or may not know she’s disappeared. We thought this place would be a likely hide-out for her, and late this afternoon I came here to see if she was around. No one was home so I searched the place. I didn’t find Mrs. Cerf, but I did find Dana Lewis’s clothes in your bedroom cupboard. I’m giving you a chance to explain how they got there. If you can’t give me an explanation then I’m going to assume you killed her and take the necessary action. You have a pretty sound motive for getting rid of her. She knew you and Mrs. Cerf were fooling around together. You’re not the type who’d welcome an outraged husband on your heels, and you might have been tempted to shut her mouth with a gun. Now do you understand what I’m talking about?’

He stared at me for a long minute.

‘Why, you’re crazy!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve never set eyes on the girl, and besides, I was out of town last night. I’ve just got back.’

‘Kerman and I exchanged glances.

‘Where were you?’

‘Los Angeles. I left here at five o’clock yesterday evening by car and I’m just back. You’ll find a bag in my car if you like to look.’ He had lost a lot of his smug complacency now, and anger had given place to uneasiness.

‘Where did you spend the night?’

‘I was with a girl.’

Kerman shot his cuff and produced a pencil.

‘Let’s have her name and address, pally,’ he said.

Barclay gave him a cold stare.

‘That’s likely, isn’t it?’

‘Well, there’s no harm asking,’ Kerman said, disappointed.

‘Look, Barclay,’ I put in. ‘Please yourself, but if you give us the name and address so we can check your story you’ll be putting yourself in the clear. That is if the girlfriend doesn’t mind.’

Barclay gave a sour smile.

‘What the hell!’ he said. ‘She won’t mind. Kitty Hitchens — Apartment 4834 Astoria Court.’

That seemed to be that. I intended to send Kerman to check, but I hadn’t a doubt he was speaking the truth. The address came out too pat for a lie.

‘She could always say you were with her even if you weren’t,’ I pointed out just for something to say.

‘The doorman saw me. I had a drink at the bar and the barman knows me. The elevator boy will remember me too. I often go over there. They’ll remember I didn’t leave until three o’clock this afternoon.’

‘Is she as good as all that?’ Kerman asked, interested.

Barclay glared at him.

‘But it still doesn’t explain how these clothes got into your cupboard, does it?’ I said.

‘I guess not, and I don’t believe they were there. I think you two punks were going to stick me for blackmail only you fluffed it.’

‘Mind if we go upstairs and have a look around? Her underwear and shoes are missing. I hadn’t time to look for them on my first visit.’

He stared at me, his thick fingers drumming on the table.

‘How do I know you didn’t plant them up there when you came a while ago?’

‘You don’t. You just have to be the trusting type. Let’s go up and see.’

We went up. None of us had much heart for the search, and it was pure accident that Kerman found the shoes. They were concealed at the back of the airing cupboard in the bathroom, under a pile of blankets.

‘Pretty smart,’ Barclay said, sneering. ‘Going to make anything of it?’

‘You wouldn’t be so damned cocky if we were the police,’ I said. ‘Now we’ll really take the joint to bits.’

We did, but we didn’t find Dana’s underclothes. There were another woman’s garments in one of the bedrooms: a couple of pairs of pyjamas, some stockings and an evening dress. Barclay said they belonged to a girl he once knew, but who hadn’t been around for some time. Kerman gaped at him in sheer amazement.

We trooped back to the living-room, and I put the shoes with Dana’s coat and skirt. There was a short pause while Barclay poured drinks. He handed us each a whisky and went to sit on the settee.

Although he was acting tough I could see he had been shaken by the discovery of the shoes, and his controlled uneasiness convinced me still further that he didn’t know anything about Dana’s death.

‘Where do we go from here?’ he asked, after he had swallowed half his drink.

‘I guess this lets you out,’ I said. ‘It looks as if the clothes and shoes were planted on you.’

‘I swear they were,’ he said, seriously. ‘But who did it I can’t imagine.’

‘I can make a guess. Why not the killer? If the police had found what we’ve just found you’d be behind bars by now.’

‘I guess that’s right.’

‘The one person who can help us is Mrs. Cerf. We’ve got to find her. Any idea where she is?’

He shook his head.

‘The last time I saw her was three days ago. We had dinner together.’

‘How did you come to meet her in the first place?’

‘On the beach. She was lonely, and I happened to be around. She doesn’t have a lot of fun with Cerf.’

I eyed him stonily.

‘How long have you known her?’

‘About ten days.’ He gave a leering little grin. ‘Can I help it if they chuck themselves at me, and that’s what she did.’

‘Did you ever have trouble with her?’

‘What do you mean — trouble?’

‘Have a scene in a shop with her? Did you ever miss anything?’

He was more alert than he looked.

‘You mean she was one of those — light-fingered?’

I nodded.

‘So that’s why Cerf was having her watched! I thought he was trying to get evidence for a divorce. She did too.’

“You still haven’t answered my question.’

‘Nothing like that. I haven’t missed a thing.’

I ran my fingers through my hair.

‘She knew she was being watched? She told you so?’

‘Sure. She told me some girl was following her. That’s why I dropped her. I keep clear of divorce courts.’

‘So you dropped her?’

‘You bet I did.’

‘We have reason to believe she was being blackmailed. Did she ever say anything to you about that?’

The blank look of surprise on his face spoke for itself.

‘No. That’s a new one on me.’ He flicked the edge of his glass with his finger-nail, making it ring. ‘She did try to borrow money off me the last time we met.’

‘How much?’

He gave a sneering laugh.

‘It didn’t get as far as that. I don’t believe in lending money to married women.’

‘Did she ever mention Ralph Bannister in her conversations with you?’

‘No. Is he in this too?’

‘You know him?’

‘Well, I’ve met him. He runs L’Etoile. I go out there sometimes.’

I was getting nowhere fast.

‘Has she ever been here?’

A watchful look came into his eyes.

‘That’s none of your damned business.’

Kerman tapped him on the arm with the Indian club.

‘Don’t get shirty, pally,’ he said warningly.

‘Ever run into a guy named Caesar Mills?’ I asked.

‘You mean her chauffeur? I’ve seen him once or twice. Why bring him in?’

‘I thought he was a guard at the house.’

‘Maybe. He drives her around sometimes. I don’t know anything about him.’

‘I found a photograph of Mrs. Cerf in one of your drawers. I take it she gave it to you?’

‘Pretty picture, isn’t it?’ he said and laughed. ‘She gave it to me all right.’

‘Know when it was taken?’

‘A few years ago. She used to be in some show in Frisco. That’s before she turned mannequin. What happened to the photograph? Did you take it?’

‘Yeah; don’t expect to get it back.’

He lifted his massive shoulders.

‘I should worry. I’ve got a trunk full of pictures like that. Women are funny that way. Once you’ve seen them without their clothes...’

‘Well, I guess we’ll be running along,’ I broke in. I was tired of him now. Handsome homewreckers always give me a pain in the gut. I stood up. ‘If I think of anything else I want to know I’ll call in and see you again.’

‘Aren’t you going to make anything of those shoes?’ he asked, his voice casual but his eyes shifty.

‘I guess not. Consider yourself lucky.’ I picked up Dana’s clothes and shoes, jerked my head at Kerman, and we went to the front door, opened it and walked down the wooden steps. Neither of us looked back. The doves cooed at us from the gable but we didn’t look at them either. We went down the garden path, out through the gateway and down the avenue to the car.

‘I’m glad you hit him,’ Kerman said suddenly. ‘He’s the kind of heel who needs hitting hard and often.’

‘We’re no better off, Jack. Except I think we can write him off the suspect list. It brings us back to Mills again, but if Mills planted the clothes to throw suspicion on Barclay why did he come back this afternoon?’ I climbed into the car, jabbed down on the starter. ‘We’ll have to check Barclay’s alibi. We can’t afford to take his word. Will you go over and see this dame? Make the check as complete as you can.’

‘I’ll drive over tonight,’ Kerman said, suddenly enthusiastic. ‘Kitty Hitchens, eh? I once knew a redhead called Kitty. She was double jointed. Talk about acrobatics...’ He gave a deep sigh, then went on, suddenly excited, ‘Say! If this Hitchens doll fell for a sissy like Barclay how’s she going to react to me?’

‘She’ll probably call a cop,’ I said irritably. ‘For the love of God, get your mind off women, can’t you? We have a job of work to do, and so far we’re doing it damned badly.’

I pulled away from the kerb and headed downtown fast.

III

There was a light showing through the windows of my cabin as I pulled up outside the gate. Whoever was in there wasn’t making a secret of it, so I decided it couldn’t be a burglar, but just to be on the safe side I crept up the verandah steps and peered cautiously into the room. A faint but subtle perfume wafted through the open french windows to greet me.

Miss Bolus lay on the casting couch, a magazine in one hand and glass half-full of neat Scotch in the other. A cigarette drooped from her full red lips and an irritable little frown wrinkled her brows. She wore a white taffeta evening dress with a low-cut, strapless bodice that set off her golden-tanned shoulders and swept in a full skirt to her brocaded satin shoes.

Not quite sure if what I saw was an illusion, I stood in the doorway and gaped at her. She looked up, dropped the magazine on to the floor and gave me a brief, disinterested nod of her head.

‘I thought you were never coming,’ she said petulantly. ‘I’ve been waiting hours.’

‘If I had known you were here I would have hurried,’ I said, coming into the room. ‘What goes on?’

‘You’d better hurry,’ she said. ‘We’re going out.’

‘We are? Where?’

‘Where do you think? I have found the Packard.’

‘At L’Etoile?’

‘That’s where you told me to look for it, isn’t it? It was with a lot of other cars in the rear garage.’

‘And you found it — just like that?’ I reached for the whisky bottle, poured a drink and sat down on the edge of the couch. ‘Any trouble?’

‘Don’t sit on my dress you oaf,’ she said crossly. ‘Of course I didn’t have any trouble. I just talked to one of the mechanics.’ She looked at me out of the corners of her chinky eyes. ‘Men find it easy to talk to me.’

‘I can believe that. You didn’t give anything away?’

‘No.’ She drained her glass, set it on the floor and lay back against the cushions. She was easily the most ravishing-looking girl I had ever seen.

‘Well, that’s fine,’ I said. ‘And you’ll take me out there now?’

“Yes. I may have seen all there is to see, but you never know. You’d better change.’ She sat up and lowered her feet to the floor. ‘Did you see Barclay?’

‘I saw him, but there’s nothing there. He has an alibi for the time of the shooting. My only hope now is Anita Cerf.’

‘Well, you may find her tonight. Go and get changed.’

I went and changed. While I was adjusting my tie, Miss Bolus pushed open my bedroom door and leaned against the door frame.

‘Have you a gun?’ she asked.

I looked over my shoulder and stared at her, then shook my head.

‘Do you think I’ll need one?’

“You might. There were some tough boys about that place. I expect they’re still there. It depends if you’re looking for trouble or not. If you are you’ll need a gun.’

‘I never look for trouble; besides I don’t own a gun. What sort of joint is this? I’ve always heard it’s a luxury night club.’

‘So it is, but there’s a lot of heavy gambling going on there, and every member has to vouch for his or her guest. Bannister is hard boiled. He has a couple of muscle men to take care of snoopers. I’m just warning you. You won’t be able to do what you like there.’

‘Well, I can always try,’ I said, and touched the sides of my hair with brushes. I counted my money, slid the small change into my pockets and decided I was ready. ‘Let’s go. Did I tell you you look good enough to eat?’

‘Is that the best you can do?’ she asked, and looked at me from under her eyelashes.

‘Why, no. I wasn’t trying.’ I moved closer. ‘Do you want me to try?’

She lifted her elegant shoulders and drifted out of reach.

‘Save it for a rainy afternoon.’

I watched her wander across the sitting room to the verandah doors. I don’t know when the room had looked more glamorous. I turned off the lights and followed her down the path to the car.

As she settled beside me in the bucket seat, I said, ‘Caesar Mills was out at Barclay’s place this afternoon, having a look round.’

She tilted her chin and I felt her stiffen.

‘I’m not interested in Caesar Mills,’ she said in a cold, flat voice.

‘Maybe not, but I have a feeling you know a lot more about him than you’ve told me. How about opening up?’

She took a cigarette-case from her evening bag, lit a cigarette and kept her tilted chin pointing to the pool of light made by the headlamps of the car.

‘I’m not talking about Mills,’ she said emphatically. ‘I told you — he doesn’t interest me.’

‘I was under the impression you and I had an account to square with him. Isn’t that why you’ve joined up with me?’

‘No, it isn’t. I wouldn’t need your help or anyone else’s to get even with Mills. I can take that little rat any time I want.’

‘Well, okay, if we don’t talk about Mills, let’s talk about you.’ I swung the car on to Orchid Boulevard and trod on the gas. ‘What lies behind the sultry look in your eyes?’

She made an impatient movement, sank further down in the seat and said nothing.

‘Don’t be so hard to get,’ I said, glancing at the shadowy outline of her tilted chin. ‘What’s your story? I’m burning up with curiosity. You appear out of nowhere, cotton on to me as if you’ve known me all your life and mix yourself up in something you say has nothing to do with you. What lies behind it all? Who are you?’

‘That’s easy,’ she said, and gave a hard, short laugh. ‘I’m nobody. The only thing about me that’s glamorous is the way I look. The rest of me comes right out of an ashcan. I was brought up the hard way, and when I say hard I mean hard. My dad did a strong-man act at the pit doors of the Gaiety Theatre in New York. He made about ten dollars a week. When I was old enough to quit school, and I was twelve when I did quit, I took the collection bag along the queue, and that’s a swell place to get your leg pinched or for a guy when he’s giving you a dime to run his paws over you. My mother went off with a bond salesman when I was three. I don’t blame her. It couldn’t be a lot of fun to be married to a sap as dumb as my dad. But he was kind, and I wouldn’t let anyone but me say a word against him. He killed himself trying to earn a living to keep me. The joke was I could have kept him and myself, and would have thought nothing of it only he wouldn’t stand for it. Maybe he thought I picked up the bruises on my legs from a woodpecker. Maybe he didn’t know about the bruises.’

I said, ‘Light me a cigarette. I’m not altogether sure I want to hear any more of this.’

She laughed again.

They never do, but you asked for it and you’ll get it. My dad died when I was fifteen. From then on I got along all right. I’m not saying it wasn’t a hard racket, nor has it been much fun, but I’ve got along.’ She lit the cigarette and pushed t into my mouth. ‘And I’ll tell you something. If you don’t want me to hate you, don’t ever offer me money, because I’ll take it, and do I hate a man who gives me money.’

‘Then why take it?’

‘I’m superstitious that way. If I ever refuse a dime I’d expect to lose a dollar.’

‘Well, I haven’t enough to make it worth your while,’ I said frowning into the night. About a couple of miles at the top of the hill I could see the lights of Fairview. I urged the car forward. ‘If you’re planning to get anything out of me, honey, you’re on the wrong horse.’

‘Don’t act dumb,’ she said acidly. ‘I’m not expecting anything from you. I can always pick up a little money when I need it. I’m a poker player, and can make enough to live on any night at L’Etoile. That’s more than my dad could do, the poor dumb sap. And another thing, don’t ever play cards with me. I can’t help cheating and I’d skin your bankroll.’

‘You’re certainly giving yourself a swell build-up. What’s the idea?’

‘You said you wanted to know what lies behind the sultry look in my eyes. I’m telling you.’

‘You certainly are.’

She glanced at me. The light from the dashboard lit up the lower part of her face. Her lips glistened red in the faint light.

‘I’ll make you a proposition,’ she said suddenly. How about giving me a bed in that lousy little cabin of yours?’

‘What was that again?’

‘I’m suggesting I live with you. The rent I’m now paying for a two-room apartment a pig would sneer at makes my flesh creep.’

‘I have only one bed,’ I pointed out.

‘Well you don’t have to be coy about that. I wouldn’t be,’ she said, and laughed. ‘You mean you don’t want me?’

‘That’s more or less the idea. It’s just that I’m used to being on my own and like it that way; nothing personal in it.’

‘That’s a new one!’ she exclaimed, and for the first time since I had met her she sounded cheerful. ‘My mistake. I’m always trying to save money. It’s a failing of mine. Forget it.’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ll forget it. I’m beginning to wonder if you are as tough as you sound.’

‘Try me and see,’ she said.

I took her at her word and shoved on the brakes, bringing the car to a standstill by the edge of the grass verge. I twisted around in my seat and looked at her.

‘No time like the present,’ I said. ‘The last dame I passed up has been haunting my dreams. I’ll take good care you don’t.’

I slid my arm round the back of her neck and pulled her to me. She came easily enough and there was a mocking little smile in her eyes.

‘You don’t want me to live with you,’ she said gently, ‘but you don’t mind stopping the car.’

‘Let’s not go into that now,’ I said, and began to browse lightly over her upturned face. It was a lovely face, and when my mouth touched hers she gave a little sigh and relaxed into my arms. We stayed that way for a while. Kissing her was like stopping the hands of a clock. Time ceased to exist.

It wasn’t until another car went past and nearly blasted us off the road with its horn that the spell was broken. I straightened, touched my lips with a handkerchief, put my foot tenderly on the starter.

‘Remind me to take up an option on that when that rainy afternoon comes along,’ I said, and headed once more for Fairview.’

IV

L’Etoile night club stood in its own grounds. The entrance was by way of a carriage drive, guarded by a set of iron gates and a couple of hard-faced bouncers who passed us through as soon as Miss Bolus showed herself at the car window. By the way they saluted her they were old friends. They didn’t bother to look at me.

The building when we reached it was three storeyed, compact and overlighted. On the roof, shining like a beacon, was a star-shaped sign of electric lights. There was the usual green-and-white awning over the front entrance and the usual red carpet down the steps to the drive. The doorman who opened the car door wore a uniform that would have made the late Marshal Goering gnash his teeth with envy.

A hat-check girl in a skirt that would have done better service as a cutlet frill and a bodice that should have been downright ashamed of itself, took my hat and gave me a check and a leer.

Miss Bolus said she was going to the Ladies’ Room and would I wait?

I hadn’t time to say either yes or no before she vanished through a door marked Madames, and left me high and dry in an atmosphere so lush that it threatened to suffocate me. But not for long.

Out of the crowd that drifted in a steady stream through the open doorway, a lean guy with a face like a weasel and eyes like sloes picked his way towards me. I could tell he was going to talk to me by the way his eyes fastened on me the moment he saw me. As soon as he came to rest before me I decided by the cut of his tuxedo he was some kind of bouncer. I was right.

‘Looking for someone?’ he asked in a voice you could have grated a nut on.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Should I be?’

He licked his lips with a pale tongue, eyed me slowly from head to food and tried again.

‘Waiting for someone?’

‘Check,’ I said, and jerked my thumb towards the Ladies’ Room. ‘She’ll be out in a moment — I hope.’

He relaxed, but not much.

‘Gotta checkup,’ he explained in a slightly less aggressive tone. ‘We don’t encourage guests to roam around without their escorts. Members only, mister, and their friends. We get a lot of guys drifting in who shouldn’t be here. Thought I didn’t recognize your face.’

‘I don’t always recognize it myself, especially in the early morning,’ I said.

He scratched the side of his jaw and ran his eyes over me again. I could see he wasn’t too sure of me.

‘What would be the name of the lady?’ he asked. ‘Just to keep the record straight.’

‘Miss Bolus.’

Immediately he looked as if he had bitten into a quince.

‘Oh, her,’ he said, the nut-grater back in his voice. ‘Then you’re in swell company.’ There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Iris voice. He stalked away to third degree another guy who had just handed in his hat and was looking helplessly around.

Miss Bolus drifted out of the Ladies’ Room and joined me.

‘Who’s the fella with the face like a weasel?’ I asked, and indicated with my thumb.

‘That’s Gates,’ she told me. ‘He’s one of Bannister’s musclemen. He’s all right if you leave him strictly alone.’

‘He doesn’t seem to like you a lot. When I told him I was with you he looked like he had swallowed a bee.’

‘Did he? Remind me to cry when I have a spare moment,’ Miss Bolus said indifferently. ‘But never mind Gates. What shall we do?’

‘Let’s drink,’ I said. ‘My nerves need bolstering up.’

She took me through the lobby, along a wide corridor, past double glass doors over which was a lighted sign that read Grillroom, into a big room, furnished with dozens of tub-shaped chairs, a carpet that made you think you were walking on a lawn, and a horseshoe-shaped bar behind which four barmen, immaculate in white coats, officiated with speed and efficiency that was something to see.

We had several drinks. They were no more poisonous than any of the other drinks in town, but much more expensive. After the third whisky I said I thought Miss Bolus had better go away and play poker.

‘And what do you think you’re going to do?’ she asked, making motions to the barman to fix another round.

‘I’m going to snoop,’ I said. ‘Just give me the layout of the joint. Any idea where she might be?’

‘The most likely place is the top floor. Bannister has an apartment up there, and I think there are other rooms on the same floor. If she’s anywhere she’ll be there.’

‘Then that’s where I’ll be.’

She lifted her shoulders.

‘You’ll never get as far. I told you if you’re looking for trouble you’ll find it here, but please yourself.’

‘If that dame’s here I’m going to find her. If someone spots me I can always pretend I’ve lost my way.’

The barman placed two more whiskies before us and I parted with more money.

‘Go ahead,’ she said without enthusiasm. ‘You won’t get far so I don’t see it matters. But don’t get any bright ideas. One or two wise guys have tried to be funny with Bannister and they’ve run into an awful beating.’

‘If there’s one thing I like about you more than another it’s your goodwill and encouragement,’ I said testily. ‘Finish up your drink and run away. If I do meet with trouble leave me to find my own way out. Don’t send for the cops. Brandon is only waiting his chance to get his hooks into me.’

‘I won’t,’ she said, finished her drink and slid off the stool. ‘It’s you who are sticking your neck out, and it’s your neck. I’m going up to the first floor. We can go that far together.’

The final whisky gave me a feeling of tremendous confidence. I told Miss Bolus so.

‘Just wait until you sober up,’ she said unfeelingly.

We went from the bar, down the corridor to a flight of stairs.

A short, thickset man who looked as if he had slept in his tuxedo, stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hands deep in his coat pockets, a bored expression on his face. He looked like an ex-pug, and there was scar tissue on the flesh over his cheekbones. He glanced at Miss Bolus and gave her a curt nod, shot out a hand and gripped my arm.

‘Where’s he going?’ he asked in a throaty growl.

‘He’s coming with me,’ Miss Bolus said. ‘Don’t work so hard. Bannister won’t pay you anymore.’

He took his hand away, grunted and waved us on. We went up the stairs, and when we were out of earshot I said, ‘Is that another of Bannister’s playmates?’

‘That’s Shannon. He used to be a fighter, but he was never any good. If I had to pick a quarrel with either Gates or him, I’d pick one with him. Gates carries a gun.’

‘I think we’d better say goodbye before you have me too scared to do what I want to do. I shouldn’t be long.’

‘That’s one thing I’d bet my girdle on,’ she said.

We were by now in a long corridor, and at the far end was another flight of stairs. Near where we were standing was the entrance to the poker room, and by the look of the crowd business was brisk.

‘There’s another bar farther down the corridor,’ she told me. ‘You can see the stairs from there. Don’t get into too much trouble,’ and with no show of further interest in me she went into the poker room and was swallowed up in the crowd.

I walked down the corridor like a guy who is planning to have fun but is in no hurry to get started. As she had said, another bar, a lot smaller than the one downstairs, was near the foot of the stairs. I glanced in. It was packed solid, and no one looked in my direction. I looked back over my shoulder. A blonde and a tall, beefy man who lurched as he walked, were coming towards me. The blonde had a bleak look in her eyes as she steered the beefy man into the bar. Neither of them paid any attention to me. As they began to fight their way through the crowd I jumped for the stairs. I went up them three at a time, and making no noise. I arrived at the top without anyone shouting ‘Hey!’ or shooting me in the back.

Facing me was another long corridor and a number of doors giving off it that had nothing to tell me what lay behind them.

I was standing looking down the corridor, trying to make up my mind what was the best and safest thing to do, when a door about ten feet from me jerked open and a blonde woman in a white silk blouse and brick red slacks stepped into the corridor

It was Anita Cerf.