“Angela, darling! Guess…!” He beamed. “Right the first time, my dear… I’ve been out of town — Chicago. Yes, an important case. Just got back a day or two ago, and I thought I’d give you a ring. What are you doing this evening?… That’s too bad. Can’t you break it?… I’ve been out of town; I really have… You must be mistaken, darling. I wasn’t at the Mocambo last week… Me, with a blonde? Are you kidding? You know I like brunettes… I mean, a certain brunette…”
Peel put his left elbow upon the table and leaned his head against the palm of his hand. He listened to Beagle give Angela the old routine.
“Of course I solved the case, dear; don’t I always?” He screwed up his face. “Yes, I’m holding heavy. Well, that’s fine, Angela. And, ah, have you got a friend?… Yes, that’s right… Mmm,” he looked across the table. “About six feet tall. Well, I wouldn’t exactly call him handsome… he’s on the rugged side… Ethel, eh? Fine, fine, she sounds just right… Tell you what, we’ll pick you up in a half hour. ’Bye, darling…” he hung up and looked at Joe Peel’s scowling face.
“On the rugged side, am I? Not handsome…”
“I said you were six feet tall. That’s giving you a break…”
“I warned you — I get first choice.”
“Oh sure, Joe. Don’t worry about that. She says Ethel’s a pip. Angela’s never wrong about a thing like that. You wait and see…”
17
Angela lived in a living-room-bedroom-kitchen apartment on Las Palmas just off Sunset. It was a one-story building, shaped like a U and called, in Hollywood, a court.
She was already dressed and putting a final polish on her nails when Otis Beagle and Joe Peel arrived. In response to their ring she opened the door and threw herself into Beagle’s arms.
“Darling!” she cried. “This is simply wonderful…”
Beagle kissed her soundly, then held her off to introduce Joe Peel. “My friend, Joe Peel…”
Angela regarded Peel with considerable disappointment. “Otis, how could you! You said he was six feet tall…”
“What’s four inches, more or less…”
“Three,” Peel corrected. He smiled sourly at Angela. “Besides, I carry a portable stepladder in my pocket, for dames who insist on necking guys six feet tall.”
Angela laughed merrily. “He’s cute.”
Joe Peel thought Angela was cute too, but he didn’t say so.
“I’ll see what you’ve got in the icebox,” he said. He went into the kitchen while Angela went into another clinch with Beagle. He found a pint bottle or rye, only half-empty, got a tray of ice cubes and some ginger ale and fixed three drinks.
He carried them into the living room and Beagle and Angela were still in the clinch.
“Break it up, kids!”
Beagle released Angela and then the door bell rang.
“Oh, that’s Ethel!” cried Angela. “She lives here in the court.”
“All by herself?” Peel asked.
Angela took time to give him a dirty look before opening the door.
“Ethel!” she squealed, “you’re just in time. The boys are here…”
Ethel stood about five feet eleven in her high-heeled pumps. She was a blonde, a big girl but nicely streamlined. Otis Beagle’s eyes gleamed as he sized her up.
But Ethel wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were on Joe Peel. Peel returned her look and a slow grin twisted his lips.
“Hello, Ethel,” he said.
“Hi,” Ethel replied.
Peel turned to Beagle. “Otis — meet Ethel.”
Beagle came forward. “It’s a pleasure, Ethel.”
“Is it?” asked Peel.
Beagle looked at him sharply. “What’s the matter with you, Joe?”
“I need a drink.” Peel looked at the glasses in his hands and set them down on a coffee table. “Need one more now. Angela — come, help me…”
He took her arm. She resisted for a moment, then allowed herself to be led into the kitchen. But there she whirled on Peel.
“What’s the idea? Ethel’s your date.”
“She’s too tall for me. I like ’em your size…” He suddenly grabbed Angela and kissed her. She shoved him away.
“Now, wa-ait a minute…”
“Beagle likes Ethel — and I like you…”
Angela glowered at the door leading to the living room. “The big babboon. I got a good notion to…” She suddenly turned back to Peel. “There’s something fishy about this. I saw the way you and Ethel looked at each other. Say… you know her…”
Peel chuckled. “You didn’t tell her our names when you asked her on the double-date?”
“No-no, I don’t think I did.” Angela looked sharply at Peel. “So you do know her. And Otis…”
“He doesn’t. But I… well, I’ve met her…”
“Where?”
Peel shrugged. “It’s quite a while ago.”
“You’re up to something!”
“Just fun,” said Peel. “So let Beagle have Ethel for tonight, huh?”
Angela sized up Peel for a moment. “For the whole evening?”
Peel took her in his arms and kissed her — hard. After a while Angela kissed back. Then Peel released her. “For the whole evening…”
“Well…”
Peel led her back into the living room, where Beagle and Ethel were now having a little tête-à-tête. “All right kids,” Peel announced. “We’re going to the Mocambo…” He grinned. “Otis has a drag there — he’ll get us a ringside table.”
“Naturally,” said Beagle.
It was a tight fit in the rear seat of the taxi, but Peel solved the seating problem by taking Angela on his lap. Beagle didn’t seem to mind. He was pretty engrossed with Ethel.
Arriving at the Mocambo, Beagle did his stuff. A ringside table was the result.
“With a table like this,” said Peel as they were seated, “we ought to have champagne.”
“Oh, goody,” cried Angela.
“Better stick to whiskey, Joe,” Beagle advised. “Remember, you’ve done a bit of drinking today.”
“I know, but this is a celebration.”
Angela promptly asked, “What’re we celebrating?”
“A case that Otis thinks we’ve solved.”
“Cut it out, Joe,” Beagle snapped.
But it was too late. Angela rose to the bait. “Oh, tell me about it. I’ve always wanted to hear the inside of a real mystery…”
“This wasn’t anything,” Beagle scowled. He turned to Ethel. “Like to dance, Baby?”
“After a while,” Baby said, looking steadily at Joe Peel. “I’d like to hear about the case you solved…”
“Go ahead, tell her, Otis,” Peel urged, grinning wickedly.
“You know it’s a policy of the office not to talk about cases.”
“But this is just among ourselves…”
“You tell us,” Angela pouted, “and if he doesn’t want to listen he doesn’t have to.”
“I won’t.” And Beagle turned his shoulder to Peel and Angela. He took Ethel’s hand, but she pulled it free.
“I want to hear it, too.”
“It’s about a guy named Jolliffe,” said Peel. “Wilbur Jolliffe. You probably read in the papers about him.”
“No,” said Angela, “but go ahead.”
Peel looked at Ethel. “You’ve heard about Jolliffe, haven’t you?”
“The name is familiar. Committed suicide, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. Jolliffe was one of the boys, you know. About sixty and liked them twenty or so. About six months ago he got mixed up with a dame—”
“If you’re to tell the story, Joe, tell it right,” cut in Beagle. “Jolliffe got caught in a badger game. We scared off the crooks for him and that’s all there was to it.” He glared at Joe Peel.