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Chapter 14

Fox, standing, said, “Hello there.”

Cliff looked square at him and said nothing. Amy, having closed the door, came around Cliff and looked at him, with no shine in her eyes or flush on her cheeks.

“What,” she faltered, “what has happened?”

“Nothing.” Cliff bit the word off savagely. “Nothing much. If you two are talking business, I won’t—”

“But Leonard — what’s the matter?”

“I just came to ask if it’s true that you’re a detective working for Dol Bonner. That she assigned you to work on me. That your — my car hitting you was a fake. That the whole thing was a fake!” His voice pitched into harshness. “Well? Answer me!”

“My lord,” Amy said in a very small voice.

He barked at her, “Answer me!”

“Really, Cliff,” Fox intervened, “that’s no way—”

It was a mistake in judgment, for Cliff had a more precarious grip on his self-control than his appearance indicated. With his teeth clenched in sudden ungovernable rage, he hauled off and started his fist for Fox’s jaw. It met nothing but air. Fox ducked, sidestepped, collapsed like a folding stool, and was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. Cliff recovered his balance and his stance and glared down at him:

“Get up! I didn’t hit you! Get up!”

Fox shook his head. “Oh, no. That’s the trick. You can’t hit me while I’m sitting on the floor, and if you try kicking me, I warn you that my next trick won’t be so comical. If you’ll take my advice—”

“I don’t want your advice! I don’t want—”

“Leonard!” Amy implored him. “This is so... so foolish—”

“Is it?” He faced her grimly. “You’re wrong. This is where it stops being foolish! There’s been a lot of talk about making a monkey out of me. By that damn clown. You didn’t talk about it, you just did it! I ask you! Didn’t you? I ask you!”

“No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t ever — want to make a monkey out of you—”

“No? I’ve asked you a question! Will you answer it? Did you deliberately fake that meeting with me because you were assigned to work on me? Inspector Damon has told me you did. I’ve asked Dol Bonner and she admits it. Now I—” His face worked and he tried to arrange it. “Now I ask you! Did you?”

“Yes,” Amy said. She was meeting his blazing eyes. “That was a fake. But it stopped being a fake — soon — even that very first time—”

“You’re a liar!”

“I am not a liar, Leonard.”

His jaw opened and he clamped it shut again. For a fraction of a second the flame of anger and resentment in his eyes gave way to a weaker and more desperate gleam, a gleam of credulous hope; then that was in turn replaced by dull despair and disbelief. “By God, look at you,” he said bitterly. “You’re good. No wonder you took me in! Right now you look as sweet and true and lovely — if I didn’t know—”

It seemed that it was all over and that he could no further trust his strength to resist such blandishments even knowing they were false, for he turned abruptly and headed for the door. But after only three steps, just as Amy began a movement, he wheeled and faced her again.

“You expect me to believe it stopped being a fake,” he said hoarsely. “God knows I’d like to. There’s nothing in the world I’d like to believe as much as that! For hours I’ve been thinking about it, going over every minute, every little thing that happened. A week ago tonight, here in this room — do you remember — that was the most beautiful—”

“Yes, it was, Leonard.”

“It was to me. What was it to you? A fake? I’ve gone back over every minute. That evening dancing at the Churchill — do you remember that? Or even the very first time, when we were driving around after dinner — that first time you let me touch your hand — the way you looked and the way I felt — right then you were suspecting me of being a crook and a damned scoundrel and working on me! You admit that was a fake! Then it all was! It is right now! What do you want out of me now? You’re not getting paid to work me anymore. Why did you say I could come here tonight? Why don’t you lay off and tell me to go to hell?”

“I don’t want anything out of you—”

“Oh, yes, you do! You bungled your job and got suspected of murder, you lady detective, and you need my help—”

“No!” Amy’s eyes snapped. “If you can think that—”

“Miss Duncan!” Fox, who had quietly transshipped from the floor to a comfortable chair, spoke sharply. “Don’t make a brawl of it! The man’s in pain, and you gave it to him. It may take a couple of sessions to remove all traces of doubt, but the least you can do now, in common decency, is to look him in the eye and tell him you are madly and hopelessly in love with him. Don’t you realize the condition he’s in? When he came and saw me here, he was so jealous he tried to sock me.”

There were spots of color on Amy’s cheeks. “After what he just accused me of,” she declared with spirit, “I’m more apt to say I’m madly and hopelessly in love with you.”

“No no. Climb down. You deserved more than you got. You were a lady detective and you were working on him. If I were in his place I wouldn’t completely trust you until after the honeymoon.”

“What... what I said—” Cliff, still hoarse, was stammering. “There is no — what I said — I don’t believe—”

“You will,” said Fox shortly. “If there was nothing worse than this to worry about, but there is. You spoke of Miss Duncan’s being suspected of murder. She was, vaguely. But if two people tell the police what they’ve just told me, it won’t be vague anymore. She’ll probably be charged, locked up, and held without bail.”

They stared at him.

Amy sat down on a corner of the sofa. “But... what could anyone—”

Cliff demanded, in an entirely new tone of voice, “What’s this, a gag?”

“No. I don’t make gags about charges of murder. I’ve seen a man electrocuted. Nor am I trying to make smoke without a fire, just to see if someone will choke — Miss Duncan, look at me, please, you can look at him later. I want to know what’s wrong with your recital of what happened while you were in that building Tuesday evening.”

Amy met his gaze. “There’s nothing wrong with it,” she said stoutly.

Fox grunted. “You said that you entered the building, went straight upstairs, turning on lights on the way, found the door of Tingley’s office open, heard no voices or other sounds and saw no one, got to the edge of the screen and knew no more until you came to on the floor, got out as soon as you could navigate, and came straight here. Do you maintain that that’s the truth and the whole truth?”

“I do.”

“You’re not going to change any of that this side of death?”

“I am not.”

“All right. You, Mr. Cliff. I won’t repeat your story, as you’ll probably prefer to tell Miss Duncan about it yourself—”

“I doubt if she’ll be interested—”

“Okay. You handle that part of it. What I want to know is, how much of it was true and how much wasn’t.”

“It was all true.”

“You’re sticking to that?”

“I certainly am.”

“In spite of the statement I made a minute ago?”

“In spite of everything.” Cliff was frowning uneasily. “But if Miss Duncan — I mean, I thought that was helping her—”

“So did I. And if you want to be gallant and lie to the police or a judge and jury to protect a lady detective, that’s your affair, I have no objection. But understand this, you’re an idiot if you lie to me. I want the truth.”

“You have it. I resent—”

“Go ahead and resent.” Fox arose and went for his hat and coat, returned, and included them both in a glance. “If you ask Nat Collins in the morning, he may tell you what happened today that puts Miss Duncan in real and imminent danger of being arrested for murder. I have stopped telling anyone anything. I still do not believe that either of you was involved in Tingley’s death, but someone is lying for a world’s record, and until I find out who it is I won’t feel like talking. Good night.”