Joan had been doing some volunteer work at one of the hospitals and had made friends with one of the patients, a little old woman who lived at the Spain. When this woman was released from the hospital she made Joan promise to come and see her, and only yesterday Joan had kept that promise. As she was crossing the lobby to the desk she ran smack into Erika. They went through a “What are you doing here?” routine. It seemed they had both come to visit someone.
Erika was just starting out when a bellboy came up to her. “There’s a phone call for you, Miss Morton,” he said. “Do you want it in the booth, or shall I have them hold it till you get up to your room?”
I guess the way the boy said it, his smile, his ready recognition, made it impossible for Erika to bluff it out. She took Joan upstairs to her room and there, she told her:
“You and I are different, Joan. You’re satisfied to live the way we do — in a goldfish bowl. Because of father and his business everything we do is watched and commented on. You’re content to wait till the right man comes along, marry him, and live happily ever after. I’ve been married, and I can’t go back to be treated like a schoolgirl. I want some privacy. I want some independence. So I come here occasionally and stay under another name — Eloise Morton.”
She’d chosen a name with the same initials because her accessories, bags, handkerchiefs, were monogrammed. She said there was no harm in it. It was just that Mike insisted on choosing her friends for her, making her pIans for her. She wanted some part of her life, she said, where she could make her own friends and be out from under Mike’s supervision, loving as it might be.
Joan was shocked but, being Joan, she tried to understand. She could understand how, after a year of complete independence, Erika might find Mike’s chaperonage chafing from time to time. Erika tried to make her promise she wouldn’t say anything to Mike. Joan wouldn’t promise, but she did say she’d think about it and tell Erika before she went to Mike, if that was her decision.
“Last night I was in bed,” Joan said, “But I couldn’t get to sleep. Kathy had gone to bed. About one o’clock the phone rang. I picked it up quickly so the ringing wouldn’t disturb Kathy. It was Waldo. He sounded as though he’d been drinking. He wanted to talk to Erika. I told him she wasn’t home. Then he said, ‘I know I can count on you, Joan, to keep your mouth shut. Find her, Joan, and tell her I’ve got to see her. Tell her if she doesn’t get in touch with me within two hours — by three o’clock — I’m going to tell Mike Malvern she’s been using his confidential files for a cozy little racket. I have a hunch he might slap even Erika down for that kind of double-cross. And tell her that goes for her play-writing boy-friend, too.’
“I wanted to ask him more, but I heard, or thought I heard, the click of one of the extension phones. I didn’t want Kathy to hear what Waldo was saying... Oh, Vance, I knew then that Erika and Austin Graves must be using Mike’s confidential material for blackmail. Erika was with Mike so often when he picked up stories; she even made the records for his file. It wouldn’t have been too hard for her to discover the combination to the vault. And he loves her so, Vance. He loves her so that the possibility would never enter his head. He thought of you, he thought of Kathy — people whose loyalty is beyond question. He never thought of Erika.”
“Whose loyalty was even farther beyond question,” I said.
Joan nodded. “Excitement was like a disease to her,” Joan said. “Even as a little girl she’d do crazy things, just for the thrill of it. She didn’t need money — Mike would give her all she needs. But she would steal information from Mike and blackmail people with it — just because it was dangerous, and because she liked to control people. Mike has power, you know, but he uses it for good. Erika wanted it to use for excitement, for thrills.” Joan took a deep breath. “I knew Waldo wasn’t fooling, Vance. I didn’t know if Erika was still at the Spain, but I took a chance and called there. I couldn’t get a connection.”
“The fire,” I said.
Joan nodded. “Of course, I had no way of knowing whether she was there. I tried all the friends I could think of, without any luck. I tried her favorite night spots. Then, without any particular plan, I got dressed and went out on the town looking for her. Around half-past two I hadn’t found her. I was beginning to get panicky about Waldo. I called the Wakefield, but his room didn’t answer. He’d said Erika was to get in touch with him there by three, so I thought maybe he’d be there again. I... I went there just as I’ve told you, and found him. I just wanted him to hold off, not do anything crazy until we located Erika.”
“Poor baby,” I said.
“Then, this morning, there was no word from Erika — and all the talk from Mike about the leak. I’d read about the fire at the Spain, but there was no list of the injured or dead in the early editions. As soon as I could get free I went over there — as you know.”
“But, Joan, darling, why didn’t you just tell this as you’ve told it to me?”
For the first time her eyes filled with tears. “Vance, you don’t know what it’s like not to be loved by someone you love and need. Mike has never forgiven me because my mother died giving birth to me. He’s never been unfair, but he’s never loved me. It’s been Erika, always Erika, he adored. I couldn’t be the one to tell him the truth about her. He would hate me even more for knowing. When I knew this morning that Erika was dead I knew I’d never tell him. It may never have to come out now, Vance.”
“It’ll have to. I—”
“You’re not going to tell, Vance.”
“But, Joan—”
“I didn’t kill Waldo, so they can’t prove it. They’ll have to let me go after a while. The chances are they’ll never identify what’s left of Erika unless they’re given a lead, and they’re not going to get it from you or me. It’s better for Mike that she should just disappear. In time he’ll convince himself it was some underworld enemy of his who did away with her. Anything would be better than that he should know she never really loved him and that she quite calmly betrayed him.”
“And you’d let him go on thinking that you and Waldo—?”
“What does it matter? He can’t have less regard for me than he’s always had.”
I shook my head. I felt a little groggy. “Joan, how do you know Erika didn’t kill Waldo? You were so positive about it.”
She looked at me, her eyes wide. “But, darling, don’t you see? Waldo called at one o’clock. As soon as he hung up I called the Spain. It was on fire then, and she was there, trapped!”
It was about midnight when I left Joan. I felt as if I’d been beaten around the head. I remembered I’d promised Carson I’d call him when I got through talking to her. I went into a drugstore and rang him.
“I don’t know any more than I did when I left you,” I said.
“You’re lying,” he said cheerfully.
“Oh, she’s hiding something,” I said, “but I don’t know what it is.”
“Ought to have your mouth washed out with soap,” Carson said. “You talked to the woman for three hours and all you did was tell her you loved her?”
Three hours!
“You’re wrong about one thing, though, Mr. Carson,” I said. “Erika didn’t kill Waldo.”
“How do you know?”
“I can’t tell you,” I said, “but that’s one thing I did find out.”
“Was it Joan?”
“No, you idiot!”
“Okay, Romeo; have it your way,” Carson said. “But remember one thing: Joan is safe in Jail with her secret. You’re walking around loose with it. Somebody might not like that.”