“That only proves it’s their anniversary,” Joe said. “When we’ve been married that long I’ll probably have to hit you for enough to pay the check.”
He said it tenderly, hoping to remind her of the vows they’d exchanged before a Justice of Peace a little after dawn.
“He’s a thief!” Prudence insisted. “And they can’t be married. They don’t match.”
It was as stupid an observation as Joe had heard, but he hadn’t married Prudence for her brains. He tried to signal the waiter to get his check before she took such an interest in any of the other customers, and that was just when the lady with the big thirst suddenly took affront at what was being confided to her across the table.
“You called me a tramp!” she shrieked. “How dare you call me a tramp?”
The organist had run out of music. So this lady’s outburst had an instant audience of every ear in the room.
“I won’t sit with you when you talk to me that way!.. And you can take your lousy coat back!”
“That’s an awfully careless way to treat mink,” Prudence observed.
It was rather careless, the way she peeled off the coat and draped it over the man’s head, but that wasn’t what made Joe uneasy. In the smoky darkness, he couldn’t tell a mink from a French poodle. Maybe Kingman, Arizona, wasn’t as remote as he’d imagined. That thought and all its # disturbing implications upset him so much he almost missed the next round. Obviously, the man with the coat on his head wouldn’t take it lying down. He was already on his way to the bar where his lady friend was beginning to free-lance.
“You called me a tramp—” she whined.
He wrapped the coat around her shoulders and whispered in her ear. It must have been mink. She didn’t whine long. A few minutes later, she was staggering off to the powder room to replace her face, and the man, looking pleased with the world, was calling for his check.
Joe also looked pleased with the world.
“So you’ve seen a real night-life drama,” he remarked, “complete with happy ending. Now we can go—”
Joe watched Prudence march off to the powder room, and now he wasn’t pleased with the world at all. She’d never been so difficult before. Maybe it was the city that upset her — the lights and the noise and that lobby swarming with strangers. Prudence had never spent a night in a hotel before. And then Joe saw the light. She was nervous — the poor kid was nervous! The thought pleased him. He began to feel very proud and tolerant. No wonder she was making such a fuss over nothing. No girl wants to admit she’s nervous when she’s married a man of the world. Smiling over the thought, Joe lit a cigarette. After all, how did he want her to be — brazen, like on those ladies of the evening hovering around the bar?
The waiter brought the check and Joe signed with a flourish. Still smiling, he lit a cigarette. The waiter looked at him strangely and went away. Then the lady with the reclaimed mink emerged from the powder room and went out with her sneaky faced friend. She wasn’t in condition to see much of anything, but he looked at Joe strangely they passed. Seconds later, Prudence returned, she looked at him strangely, too.
“Joe, why are you smoking two cigarettes?”
Joe coughed out both cigarettes and ground them into the ash tray.
“Have they gone?” Prudence asked. “She was awfully sick in there.”
“And you nursed her, I suppose.”
“I didn’t go near her, but I could hear. She’s still careless, too. She dropped her mink coat on the floor and left her purse lying open on the make-up table. Her name is Leona Muller.”
“I thought you didn’t go near her.” And then Joe had a horrible thought. “You didn’t—”
“It was just lying there open. The catch wasn’t caught.”
“But ransacking another woman’s purse!”
“I didn’t ransack anything. I just found the identification card and wrote it down for the police.” Prudence had a small piece of pink paper in her hand. She held it under the table lamp and began to read: “Leona Muller, 1221—”
“The police?” Joe echoed.
“In case something terrible happens. I have a feeling, Joe. There’s something wrong. That expensive mink coat and a shabby old purse— They don’t match.”
“So she likes to economize!”
“And I don’t think she should go off with that man tonight. I don’t trust him.”
“Look, honey,” Joe said. “I’m an understanding guy, but this has gone far enough. I’m your husband and I order you to forget Leona Muller, her mink coat, and all of this silly business once and for all. We’re getting out of here right now!”
Gently, but masterfully, he grabbed her wrist. It was the wrist of the hand that clutched the small slip of pink paper. He looked closely at the slip of pink paper. It had perforated edges.
“Prudence—”
Joe tried to hide the tremor in his voice.
“Just one question. Where did you get this paper to write the name and address on?”
Prudence looked at him unblinkingly.
“I looked in my purse, but I didn’t have anything to write on. Only a pen—”
“So you took this slip of paper from Leona Muller’s purse?”
“It’s just a little piece.”
It was just a little piece, until Joe took it from her hand and unfolded it. Pink, perforated edges— Yes, it had to be. Joe sat down again and buried his face in his hands. The little piece of pink paper was a check made out to Leona Muller for the sum of $28,000.
When a man has married a woman who steals $28,000 on her wedding night, he must take drastic action. Joe sat with his head in his hands for fifteen seconds. Then he stood up.
“Come on,” he ordered.
“Are you going to call the police?” Prudence asked.
“Not unless you want to postpose our honeymoon for about ten years. Those two went out of the street door. They must have a car in the parking lot.”
“But Joe—”
“And when we catch them, I do the talking understand? You found that check on the powder room floor — understand?”
“But Joe—”
Joe wasn’t the top west coast representative of Anderson Electronics just so he could argue with a five foot brunette who couldn’t keep her hands out of another woman’s purse. He was practically dragging her behind him when they reached the street. The man and the woman had a start of several minutes on them, but with the woman in such a fluid state, they couldn’t move very fast. The hotel parking lot was just around the corner of the building. The lights were burning brightly. About halfway down the center row of cars, a man in a plaid suit was trying to pour his female companion into the front seat of a light green midget sedan. At first Joe wasn’t sure—
“You called me a tramp! I haven’t forgotten you called me at tramp!”
Joe was sure then. He ran forward.
“Hey!” he yelled. “Hey — you!”
“Joe, be careful!” Prudence cried.
This was the one time she lived up to her name. The man had his mind on what he was doing — and both hands, until Joe came on the scene. He didn’t seem to appreciate interference.
“Who asked you to butt in?” he demanded. “Can’t a man have a fight with his wife, without a buttinsky butts in?”
“I’m not butting in,” Joe said. “I’ve got something for you—”
“And I’ve got something for you!”
Joe didn’t even have time to duck — much less explain. Sneaky face was in a terrible hurry. A fist had shot out of nowhere, a car door slammed, and above the plaintive wail — “You called me a tramp—” the midget motor sputtered alive, when Prudence reached him, Joe was seated in the middle of the asphalt drive and the little sedan was nosing its way toward the exit of the parking lot.