“What did she want?”
“She said that her aunt, the only living relative, and a little bit indisposed at present on account of an automobile accident, had been seeing quite a bit of a relatively young man lately. She had an idea the man might be a slicker who was trying to talk dear auntie out of some money. This Bushnell girl had questioned the maid, trying to find out who the young man was. The aunt got in a huff, said she was fully capable of handling her own business, and didn’t need her niece’s interfering. The niece’s pretty much worked up about it. She wanted the agency to find out all about the man. She wanted something that would cramp his style.”
“Do you think she was afraid he might have dishonorable intentions?”
Bertha snorted. “She paid two hundred bucks. Do you think any dame would part with two hundred smackers to keep a guy from making passes? She’s afraid the thing may get serious. Suppose he should propose matrimony? The aunt’s rich and the niece is the sole heir. That’s the two-hundred-dollar angle, lover.”
I said, “There’s just a chance the whole thing was a plant. Did she want me to work on the case personally?”
“I guess perhaps she did,” Bertha said, “but don’t be so damn conceited. Everyone in the world isn’t thinking about you.”
I didn’t say anything, and Bertha went on after a minute, “She told me how important it was that the thing be handled so skilfully that the man would have no idea he was being shadowed or that anyone was checking up on him. In case he got wise, he’d report back to the aunt and then there would be the devil to pay. If the aunt thought the niece had hired private detectives, there’d be a real estrangement.”
“Meaning the niece wouldn’t inherit the aunt’s money under a will?”
Bertha said, “When I said an estrangement, what do you think I’m talking about? Of course it’d mean the loss of an inheritance. I told her it would be as smooth as a cake of wet soap on the bathroom floor. I guaranteed no one would know there was a thing in the wind.”
“You didn’t warn me to be that careful,” I said.
“Why should I? You’re supposed to know your way around. Anyhow, she paid in advance.”
“I just wanted to get it straight,” I said.
“Well, you’ve got it straight now.”
“And so you told her I’d take over the case?”
“That’s right. I told her I’d have you handle it personally; that it would cost more money that way, but that you were the best operator in the city.”
Bertha waited a few minutes, apparently thinking that over, then frowned, and Said, “When you come right down to it, something is screwy at that. This Bushnell babe wasn’t at all bad-looking.”
“How old?”
“Right around twenty-three.”
“What’s her first name?”
“Claire.”
“Where does she live?”
Bertha said angrily, “I’m not a card index. Get me up in the middle of the night to come and bring you back from your philandering and expect me to give you the address of every client that ever came to the office.”
I didn’t say anything, and Bertha fought it out for a while in silence, then she went on, as though there had been no digression on her part, “With a babe like that, who knew I had a young, brainy partner to handle the case, the normal reaction would have been for her to have gone to him to make the business arrangements, but this chick did nothing of the sort. She said she had unlimited confidence in my ability, that she knew all about our reputation, and she pulled out a cheque-book. She seemed only sort of half-interested — Now, when you come right down to it, that’s funny on the face of it.”
“It’s a little screwy on the face of it, even if you don’t come down to anything,” I said. “Specifically, how much did the girl tell you about her family?”
Bertha said, “Look, Donald, that’s where you and I differ. You always want to go into all the insignificant details that don’t make a bit of difference in the case.”
“In other words,” I said, “she didn’t really tell you anything about her aunt.”
“I got her aunt’s address,” Bertha said. “She told me this personable slicker had an appointment with the old gal for four o’clock in the afternoon.”
“But she didn’t tell you much about the aunt’s affairs, her history, her preferences? You didn’t ask about her love history?”
“Damn it,” Bertha said, “she signed her name on the bottom of a cheque for two hundred bucks! Don’t talk to me about what I should have done.”
“I won’t,” I said. “I just wanted to do a little thinking.”
“I see,” Bertha said sarcastically. “I suppose now you’re going to bed and dream of some little babe who had to draw you a diagram. My God, you were driving her home, way out in the suburbs! Then her brother-in-law was going to drive you back! How nice! How cosy! You went driving along with both hands on the wheel. I suppose you were talking about books, or astronomy, or some of the good shows you’d seen lately, and the poor thing finally had to take that auto court and—”
“She did, for a fact,” I interrupted.
“Well, let that be a lesson to you.”
I said, “When you’re driving through town, go along Seventh Street. I want to stop at the Westchester Arms Hotel. I think I’ll begin to give Mr. Thomas Durham a little highly specialized attention.”
“You be damn careful you don’t let the cat out of the bag,” Bertha said. “The whole thing sounds to me as though you’d spilled the beans. If Durham knew he was being followed…”
“If he knew I was following him,” I said, “he’s a mind-reader and a veteran crook. I did a pretty smooth job.”
Bertha snorted. “He dragged out his red herring within ten minutes of the time you trailed him to the hotel.”
“Not ten — twenty.”
“Okay, twenty. Just time enough for him to get on the phone, call some frail that he knew had plenty of this and that and these and those, and turn her loose on you. I tell you, the guy could take one look at you and tell you’d be a pushover for a bit of fluff — and then she had to stop the car in front of an auto court and tell you she was feeling ill! My God!”
I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.
Bertha drove down Seventh Street, pulled the car to a stop in front of the Westchester Arms Hotel.
“Don’t stay right here,” I said. “Drive on half a block down the street and park. I’ll catch you when I’m ready.”
“The hell you will!” Bertha said angrily. “I’m going home and get some shut-eye. This is your job. I went out and picked you up, when you couldn’t get a taxi, but all you have to do here is step out and grab yourself a cab whenever you’re ready to go. And be sure you itemise it on the expense account so I can collect it from the client as necessary travelling expense.”
I closed the door. Bertha slammed the car in gear and took off, leaving behind her a trail of exhaust gas.
I went into the Westchester Arms.
There were a few people around the lobby. I looked the place over and made certain Durham wasn’t there. I looked in the cocktail lounge. He wasn’t there. I went over to the house telephones and said, “I’m looking for a man by the name of Jerome K. Durham from Massachusetts. Is he registered here?”
She waited long enough to thumb through some records, then said, “No, he isn’t here.”
“That’s funny. Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any Durhams at all?” I asked.