Her mouth went tight and she looked very angry. "For the Lord's sake, has that damned woman sicked the police on me? That's just like her nerve! I don't know what the police would have to do with it, if anybody's got reason to call the police it was me, and I'm not sorry I knocked her down either. Her trying to tell me that lie about Bert! She had it coming. I'll never see that fifty bucks again, might as well forget it."
Galeano said gently, "I think you'd better let us in, ma'am." She marched across the room and plumped herself down on the couch, and Galeano and Higgins took the couple of chairs opposite. This was a typical furnished apartment, nondescript furniture, a T.V. in one corner, glimpse into a kitchen at one side, a bedroom at the other.
Galeano said, "Suppose you tell us your side of the story, Mrs. Arvin."
She lit a cigarette with an angry snap of the lighter. "I suppose she's claiming that I tried to rob her or swindle her or something. And I thought she was a nice woman when I first knew her. You bet I'll tell you my side of the story, and if I can't prove it, she can't prove that damn lie about Bert."
"When did you first know her, Mrs. Arvin?"
"When I had that job at McClintock's. I was only there six months, it was three years back. She worked there, too, I don't know if she still does." She was smoking rapidly. "Damn it, I was sorry for her then-the reason I loaned her the fifty. She was married to a drunk, she wanted shut of him, can't blame her for that-and she needed the money to hire a lawyer. She said it was just temporary till payday, and I let her have it. And she never paid it back. Well, I had reason enough for it going out of my mind for a while. Bert died of a heart attack about a month later-my husband-and it was a big shock to me. After the funeral I quit my job and moved up to Fresno to live with my son and his wife-them saying it was the sensible thing to do-all over me that snippy little girl was, and didn't I find out why, all they wanted was an unpaid housekeeper and baby-sitter!" She snorted. "I never did get on with that girl, anyway, don't understand what Roy sees in her." It was possible that there were quite a few people Myra Arvin would not get on with.
"When I remembered the money, I wrote Rose at the restaurant, I didn't know her address, but I never got an answer, and I know she must've got the letter. I was mad about it but there wasn't anything I could do up there, and I don't know why I stuck it out as long as I did, but I finally had it with that girl and her two spoiled brats, and I came back down here a couple of weeks ago-found this apartment got a job at Denny's-the one on Santa Monica, I'm on the night shift-and when I got settled I was going up to McClintock's, see if Rose was still there, only I ran right into her at that little market on the corner. I didn't know she lived around here. So I asked her about the fifty and she tried to put over this damn lie. She said she paid it back, she gave it to Bert when he came to pick me up one night at the restaurant. She said I was back getting my coat, and Bert thanked her and put it in his pocket. I ask you!"
"You didn't believe her?" asked Galeano. I
"Listen," she said, "I was married to Bert Arvin for thirty-two years. You think I didn't have him trained to hand over all the money to me? He wasn't just so smart about handling money and I'm a good manager, I always handled all the money. He wouldn't have held it out on me. And anyway, she knew he was dead and couldn't speak up for himself-just a plain lie to get out of paying me back."
"You went. to see her about it again last Friday night?" asked Higgins.
"I sure did. I'd already had a couple of arguments with her. I'd looked up her address and found she lived just a couple of blocks away. I could use that money-just moving back here like I said-and I wasn't going to let her get away with it. I don't know what she told you, but I went there and she wouldn't let me in. She stood in the door and argued with me-said she wasn't going to pay the money twice-and I just got mad. I saw there wasn't one damn thing I could do about it, I couldn't prove she never paid Bert, but I know she hadn't. And finally I just gave her a shove, I was damn mad, and I guess I caught her off balance and she fell down-and I can't say I'm sorry. I haven't been near her since. I don't care what she told you."
"She didn't tell us anything, Mrs. Arvin," said Higgins.
"She's dead. She hit her head when she fell down and fractured her skull."
She stared at him with mouth open, and her complexion went muddy gray. "You mean when I pushed her-you mean-Oh, my God-my God-I never meant to hurt her any way-Oh, my God."
Galeano said, "I'm afraid you'll have to come downtown with us."
"You're arresting me for murder-for killing her? I never meant-"
"Well, it won't amount to that," said Higgins. The charge would probably be involuntary manslaughter and she wouldn't serve much time.
"Oh, my God," she said dully. "Can I go get dressed? I can't go anywhere like this." They didn't think she'd try to cut her throat, alone in the bathroom; she wasn't the type, so they let her go.
Galeano lit a cigarette. "The poor henpecked husband," he said. "Seeing a chance to keep a little cash for himself."
"I wonder what he did with it," said Higgins.
"Maybe blew it on a more congenial female," said Galeano.
They were never to know that two and a half years ago Mrs. Amelia Brown, moving into a cheaper apartment on West Adams Street, had with surprise and gratification discovered two twenties and a ten in an envelope at the back of the closet shelf in the bedroom. She had decided not to mention it to the manager. It was her business. It had meant a few little extra luxuries that month, and a really nice birthday present for her oldest granddaughter.
GALLEANO GOT Home to the little house in Studio City at six-thirty. It had been murderously hot again today. He looked at the house as he turned into the drive and thought again that it could stand a coat of paint, but with the baby coming-maybe next year they could afford it. Marta hadn't heard him drive in. She was in the backyard, sitting on the grass playing with the little gray tabby kitten she'd got from the people down the street. He stood for a moment looking at her fondly, his darling Marta, with the tawny blond hair and dark eyes. She wasn't showing the baby much; it was due in March. She had on a green sundress and she was laughing down at the kitten. It would be funny if the baby should arrive on their first wedding anniversary. It was going to be Anthony for his father or Christine for her mother.
"Nick, I did not hear you come in." She scrambled up and came running to him and he kissed her soundly. "I was just thinking, I wish I could afford a better house for us."
She laughed. "But you do not know how rich it makes me feel to own a whole house, with a nice yard to make a garden?" She'd never lose her little German accent. She'd had a rough time for a while-her first husband killing himself, and losing the baby. He hoped he could make it all up to her from now on. "You look tired, Liebchen. Come in and sit down, I have dinner nearly ready."
That night about eight-thirty, Patrolman Manuel Gonzales was peacefully cruising on his regular tour in Hollywood. He'd turned on to Vermont for the second time and presently came to the L.A.C.C. campus. Several of the buildings were lit up-for evening classes probably, he thought-and there were cars in the parking lot. Just doing the routine, he turned in and drove around there. He had nine A.P.B.'s posted on the squad's dashboard, plate numbers to look for. He didn't know why the front-office boys were after them, it could be anything from a stolen car to a heist suspect to murder. But that wasn't his business. He drove slowly around the lot, looking casually at plate numbers, and suddenly, down at the end of the lot, he spotted one. He braked and checked the number with the posted A.P.B. They matched. A two-year-old Chrysler Newport, navy-blue, and