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"Now don't you be scared,” and he got up reluctantly. So Mendoza wanted to question her himself. "You just-"

But Mendoza was taking up his hat, thanking the Ferne suavely for her help. He looked at the girl with narrowed eyes, a little grim, and Hackett cursed himself for ever saying anything about… And what the hell had got into him, anyway, feeling like that?

When the door was shut and they started down the sunken steppingstones to the street, he said irritably, "And what the hell got into you? You looked like the villain in an 1890 melodrama, twirling your moustache and ogling that-that-"

Mendoza grinned, getting out his keys. " Vaya, I always like to oblige a lady. She expected it of me." He looked at Hackett curiously. "Very odd," he murmured to himself. "You, of all people, too. I won't say you have quite as good a brain as me, but I've always found you reasonably quick on the uptake, and you've worried through more complicated cases than this on your own." He shook his head and slid under the wheel.

"What are you talking about? Look, Luis, that coat-it looks funny, but she'd naturally deny it when she knew why we were interested. She got rattled-"

"Oh, the coat," said Mendoza. He had brought it with him, presumably with the Ferne's gracious permission. "It's not the one that figured in that little adventure, so don't worry about it… Every once in a while I'm surprised to find all over again that some cliche is true. But it does astonish me to find this one operating on you. At least I hope it's just that-the one about love causing temporary derangement-and not that you're losing your grip on the job."

"I'm not-will you lay off that? What d'you mean, you've got an idea-"

" Nada de eso, nothing doing," said Mendoza. "I shouldn't have to explain anything to you, so I'm not going to. But when I think how close I came to- An idea? I have a very good idea, now, of what happened, but there are still a lot of little things to fill in. Work it out for yourself if you can-meanwhile, be quiet, I've got serious thinking to do."

***

They were greeted in the anteroom of Mendoza's office by an unusually excited Sergeant Lake. "Lieutenant, I've found that Marner woman for you-"

"Oh, good," said Mendoza. He didn't sound very interested. "One of the agencies?"

"No, it was the damndest thing, it looked hopeless, you know-not a smell anywhere-and then I go out for coffee and buy a paper and there she is on the front page! Look."

They looked, and Mendoza laughed. "Well, I will be damned! And I wonder now if maybe that ties into this… " It was a good-sized cut, of a pretty brunette and a middle-aged man; and the story took up two short columns. Pickering to Wed Second Wife was the head. "Revealed yesterday was the forthcoming marriage of Thomas (‘Toby') Pickering, the famous producer and vice-president of Capital Films, Inc. A widower for eleven years, Pickering, 47, confirmed that he is shortly to wed Miss Marian Marner, 38, model. Miss Marner-"

"Producer," said Hackett. "I don't see quite how, but it might-Anyway she knew Twelvetrees-Trask, we'd better see her-"

" Pronto," agreed Mendoza. "You get hold of this Pickering on the phone, Art, and find out where she is. I've got some routine jobs for, let's see, about three men, Jimmy-who's available? I'll brief them.. ."

After a good deal of trouble with a succession of receptionists and secretaries, Hackett got hold of Pickering in his sanctum sanctorum. (Easier to get on the direct wire to the President than to any Hollywood film official.) Pickering, curiously enough, seemed to know more about it than Hackett did. His voice on the phone was incisive, crisp.

He said, "Hell. We were hoping it wouldn't be necessary. And I hope to God we can keep the whole damned mess away from the press. But if you've got hold of it, of course, that's that. Yes, well, look, Sergeant-sorry, what did you say the name was?-Sergeant Hackett, suppose I call Miss Marner and we arrange to meet in your office. O.K.? Say eleven-thirty… Right. I don't know if you have any control over that part of it, the press, but I hope- Oh, you do. Yes, but there'll be the legal end, if there's a trial and so on. Well, we can say the hell with it, if people want to gossip let them-it's one of the hazards in my business-but that isn't to say we wouldn't prefer the whole damned thing was kept under cover. If you see what I mean. At the same time, I'm aware that you'd like to know what we have to contribute, and while I'm not at all happy you've connected us with it,"-a short laugh-"maybe I shouldn't be surprised, I understand from that recent magazine article we've got a police force to be proud of

… O.K., I'll contact Miss Marner and we'll be in your office at eleven-thirty."

Hackett relayed this information to Mendoza when he came in with Higgins, Dwyer, and Landers. "Good, good. I have a fair idea what they're going to tell us, but it'll be nice to know the details."

"I'd like to know what's in your mind. You act like it's about all over, barring an arrest. I tell you, that girl… I still think you swallowed that tale of the Kingmans' too easy. We know they had a motive, we know they were there at the right time, or thereabouts-what more-"

" Atras, atras, out of the way!" said Mendoza briskly. "Before we get to the arrest, there are all these niggling little details I have to find out, to satisfy the D.A., and no time like the present to start. You're getting paid to be a detective too, I'm not going to explain it in one-syllable words-you go off somewhere and think, maybe it'll come to you."

Hackett said a rude word and went away. Mendoza sat down at his desk and called the Temple. He asked Madame Cara a couple of questions, and the answers were just what he expected to hear. Then he went through the phone book, made a list of the clothing wholesalers and divided it up with the three men, and they started on that tiresome routine.

By the time Sergeant Lake looked in and said Miss Marner and Mr. Pickering had arrived, among the four of them they had accumulated a dismaying list of retail stores. Mendoza shooed the others out to go on checking, and Hackett came in, still looking disgruntled, behind the two new witnesses.

Mendoza looked at Marian with interest. Twelve years hadn't changed her a great deal; she didn't look much younger than she was, but she was still pretty, her figure was still very good, she was smartly dressed. She checked a little when she saw him standing there at his desk, and then said, "Oh-well, hello, Luis. I didn't know we were coming to see you. And I don't suppose it's Sergeant Mendoza now, is it?"

"Lieutenant."

"Yes, you were always one to get on. I used to know this one, Toby."

She sat down in the chair Hackett held.

"Really, well, that makes things a little easier maybe," said Pickering, looking slightly amused. He was handsomer than the newspaper cut had suggested: a biggish man with thick graying hair, erect carriage, and his voice and eyes said he was aggressively capable. He took the chair Hackett indicated and planted it firmly closer to hers, sat down, and looked at Mendoza consideringly.

"We can trust him," she said, "that I'll say." She smiled a little tautly. "He's sharp enough to cut himself, but he'll be honest."

"I don't know that reassures me," said Pickering. "We've been compounding felonies and maybe acting as accessories before the fact all over the place. This is going to make the hell of a stink if it has to come out."