I went through the stack of canceled checks once more. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but my subconscious must have noticed something my conscious mind had missed. It had. Not many of the checks were over a hundred dollars, but all of the checks to one outfit, Vogue Shops, Inc., were over a hundred and some were over two hundred. At least half of Eve’s four hundred dollars a month was being spent in one place. And other checks were dated at different times, but the Vogue checks were all dated the first of the month exactly. Wondering how much they did total, I took paper and pencil and added the amounts of six of them, for the first six months of the previous year. The smallest was $165.50 and the largest $254.25, but the total — it jarred me. The total of the six checks came to $1,200. Exactly. Even. On the head. And so, I knew a minute later, did the six checks for the second half of the year. It certainly couldn’t be coincidence, twice.
Eve Bookman was paying somebody an even two hundred bucks a month — and disguising the fact, on the surface at any rate, by making some of the amounts more than that and some less, but making them average out I turned over some of the checks to look at the endorsements. Each one was rubber-stamped Vogue Shops, Inc., and under the rubber stamp was the signature John L. Littleton. Rubber stamps under that showed they’d all been deposited or cashed at the Dearborn Branch of the Chicago Second National Bank.
And that, whatever it meant, was all the checks were going to tell me. I rebanded them and put them back as I’d found them, took a final look around the room to see that I was leaving everything else as I’d found it, and went back to the living room. I was going to call Uncle Am at the office — if he wasn’t there, I could reach him later at the rooming house — but I took the chain off the door first. If Eve walked in while I was talking on the phone, I’d just have to switch the subject of conversation to printing equipment, and Uncle Am would understand.
He was still at the office. I talked fast and when I finished, he said, “Nice going, kid. You’ve got something by the tail and I’ll find out what it is. You stick with the Bookmans and let me handle everything outside. We’ve got two lucky breaks on this. One, it’s Friday and that bank will be open till six o’clock. Two, one of the tellers is a friend of mine. When I get anything for sure, I’ll get in touch with you. Is there an extension on the phone there that somebody could listen in on?”
“No,” I said. “There’s another phone in Ollie’s office, but it’s a different line.”
“Fine, then I can call openly and ask for you. You can pretend it’s a business call, if anyone’s around, and argue price on a Miehle vertical for your end of the conversation.”
“Okay. One other thing.” I told him about the two alleged nitro pills I’d appropriated from Ollie’s bottle. I told him that on my way in to town for dinner, I’d drop them off on his desk at the office and sometime tomorrow he could take them to the lab. Or maybe, if nitro had a distinctive taste, Doc Kruger could tell by touching one of them to his tongue.
9.
It was five o’clock when I hung up the phone. I decided that I’d earned a drink and helped myself to a short one at the bar. Then I went to my room, treated myself to a quick shower and a clean shirt for the evening.
I was just about to open the door to leave when it opened from the other side and Eve Bookman came home. She was pleasantly surprised to find me and I told her how I happened to have the house key and Ollie’s car, but said I’d been there only half an hour, just to clean up and change shirts for the evening.
She asked why, since it was five thirty already, I didn’t stay and drive her in in Ollie’s car. That way we wouldn’t be stuck, after dinner, with having both the Buick and the MG downtown with us and could all ride home together.
I told her it sounded like an excellent idea. Which it was, except for the fact that I wanted to get the pills to Uncle Am. But there was a way around that. I asked if she could give me a piece of paper, envelope and stamp. She went to her room to get them and after she’d gone back there to dress, I addressed the envelope to Uncle Am at the office, folded the paper around the pills and sealed them in the envelope. All I’d have to do was mail it, on our way in, at the Dearborn Post Office Station and it would get there in the morning delivery.
I made myself comfortable with a magazine to read and Eve surprised me by taking not too long to get ready. And she looked gorgeous, and I told her so, when she came back to the living room. It was only six fifteen and I didn’t have to speed to get us to the Pump Room by seven. Ollie wasn’t there, but he’d reserved us a table and left word with the maître d’ that something had come up and he’d be a bit late.
He was quite a bit late and we were finishing our third round of Martinis when he showed up, very apologetic about being detained. We decided we’d have one more so he could have one with us, and then ate a wonderful meal. As an out-of-town guest who was presuming on their hospitality already, I insisted on grabbing the check. A nice touch, since it would go on Ollie’s bill anyway.
We discussed going on to a night club, but Eve said that Ollie looked tired — which he did — and if we went clubbing, would want to drink too much. We could have a drink or two at home — if Ollie would promise to hold to two. He said he would.
Since Ollie admitted that he really was a little tired, I had no trouble talking him into letting me do the driving again. Eve seemed more genuinely friendly than hitherto. Maybe it was the Martinis before dinner or maybe she was getting to like me. But it was an at-a-distance type of friendliness; my radar told me that.
Back home, I offered to do the bartending, but Eve overruled me and made our drinks. We were drinking them and talking about nothing in particular when I saw Ollie suddenly put down his glass and bend forward slightly, putting his right hand under his left arm.
Then he straightened up and saw that we were both looking at him with concern. He said, “Nothing. Just a little twinge, not an attack. But maybe to be on the safe side, I’ll take one—”
He took a little gold pillbox out of his pocket and opened it.
“Good Lord,” he said, standing up. “Forgot I took my last one just before I got to the Pump Room. Just as well we didn’t go night-clubbing, after all. Well, it’s okay now. I’ll fill it”
“Let me—” I said.
But he looked perfectly well now and waved me away. “I’m perfectly okay. Don’t worry.”
And he went into the hallway, walking confidently, and I heard the door of his room open and close so I knew he’d made it all right.
Eve started to make conversation by asking me questions about the girl in Seattle whom I’d talked about, and I was answering and enjoying it, when suddenly I realized Ollie had been gone at least five minutes and maybe ten. A lot longer than it would take to refill a pillbox. Of course he might have decided to go to the john or something while he was there, but just the same, I stood up quickly, excused myself without explaining, headed for his room.
The minute I opened the door, I saw him and thought he was dead. He was lying face down on the rug in front of the dresser and on the dresser there wasn’t any little bottle of pills and there weren’t any amyl nitrite ampoules, either.