I spread it out fondly. It was a mans calling card. Thin pale ivory, just off white. Engraved on that were delicately shaded words. In the lower left hand corner a Stillwood Heights telephone number. In the lower right hand corner the legend, By Appointment Only. In the middle, a little larger, but still discreet: Jules Amthor. Below, a little smaller: Psychic Consultant.
I took hold of the third cigarette. This time, with a lot of difficulty. I teased the card out without cutting anything. It was the same. I put it back where it had been.
I looked at my watch, put my pipe in an ashtray, and then had to look at my watch again to see what time it was. I rolled the two cut cigarettes and the cut card in part of the tissue paper, the one that was complete with card inside in another part of the tissue paper and locked both little packages away in my desk.
I sat looking at the card. Jules Amthor, Psychic Consultant, By Appointment Only, Stillwood Heights phone number, no address. Three like that rolled inside three sticks of tea, in a Chinese or Japanese silk cigarette case with an imitation tortoise-shell frame, a trade article that might have cost thirty-five to seventy-five cents in any Oriental store, Hooey Phooey Sing Long Sing Tung, that kind of place, where a nice-mannered Jap hisses at you, laughing heartily when you say that the Moon of Arabia incense smells like the girls in Frisco Sadies back parlor.
And all this in the pocket of a man who was very dead, and who had another and genuinely expensive cigarette case containing cigarettes which he actually smoked.
He must have forgotten it. It didnt make sense. Perhaps it hadnt belonged to him at all. Perhaps he had picked it up in a hotel lobby. Forgotten he had it on him. Forgotten to turn it in. Jules Amthor, Psychic Consultant.
The phone rang and I answered it absently. The voice had the cool hardness of a cop who thinks he is good. It was Randall. He didnt bark. He was the icy type.
So you didnt know who that girl was last night? And she picked you up on the boulevard and you walked over to there. Nice lying, Marlowe.
Maybe you have a daughter and you wouldnt like newscameramen jumping out of bushes and popping flashbulbs in her face.
You lied to me.
It was a pleasure.
He was silent a moment, as if deciding something. Well let that pass, he said. Ive seen her. She came in and told me her story. Shes the daughter of a man I knew and respected, as it happens.
She told you, I said, and you told her.
I told her a little, he said coldly. For a reason. Im calling you for the same reason. This investigation is going to be undercover. We have a chance to break this jewel gang and were going to do it.
Oh, its a gang murder this morning. Okey.
By the way, that was marihuana dust in that funny cigarette case the one with the dragons on it. Sure you didnt see him smoke one out of it?
Quite sure. In my presence he smoked only the others. But he wasnt in my presence all the time.
I see. Well, thats all. Remember what I told you last night. Dont try getting ideas about this case. All we want from you is silence. Otherwise
He paused. I yawned into the mouthpiece.
I heard that, he snapped. Perhaps you think Im not in a position to make that stick. I am. One false move out of you and youll be locked up as a material witness.
You mean the papers are not to get the case?
Theyll get the murder but they wont know whats behind it.
Neither do you, I said.
Ive warned you twice now, be said. The third time is out.
Youre doing a lot of talking, I said, for a guy that holds cards.
I got the phone hung in my face for that. Okey, the hell with him, let him work at it.
I walked around the office a little to cool off, bought myself a short drink, looked at my watch again and didnt see what time it was, and sat down at the desk once more.
Jules Amthor, Psychic Consultant. Consultations by Appointment Only. Give him enough time and pay him enough money and hell cure anything from a jaded husband to a grasshopper plague. He would be an expert in frustrated love affairs, women who slept alone and didnt like it, wandering boys and girls who didnt write home, sell the property now or hold it for another year, will this part hurt me with my public or make me seem more versatile? Men would sneak in on him too, big strong guys that roared like lions around their offices and were all cold mush under their vests. But mostly it would be women, fat women that panted and thin women that burned, old women that dreamed and young women that thought they might have Electra complexes, women of all sizes, shapes and ages, but with one thing in common money; No Thursdays at the County Hospital for Mr. Jules Amthor. Cash on the line for him. Rich bitches who had to be dunned for their milk bills would pay him right now.
A fakeloo artist, a hoopla spreader, and a lad who had his card rolled up inside sticks of tea, found on a dead man.
This was going to be good. I reached for the phone and asked the 0-operator for the Stillwood Heights number.
15
A womans voice answered, a dry, husky-sounding foreign voice: Allo.
May I talk to Mr. Amthor?
Ah no. I regret. I am ver-ry sor-ry. Amthor never speaks upon the telephone. I am hees secretary. Weel I take the message?
Whats the address out there? I want to see him.
Ah, you weesh to consult Amthor professionally? He weel be ver-ry pleased. But he ees ver-ry beesy. When you weesh to see him?
Right away. Sometime today.
Ah, the voice regretted, that cannot be. The next week peraps. I weel look at the book.
Look, I said, never mind the book You ave the pencil?
But certainly I ave the pencil. I
Take this down. My name is Philip Marlowe. My address is 615 Cahuenga Building, Hollywood. Thats on Hollywood Boulevard near Ivar. My phone number is Glenview 7537. I spelled the hard ones and waited.
Yes, Meester Marlowe. I ave that.
I want to see Mr. Amthor about a man named Marriott. I spelled that too. it is very urgent. it is a matter of life and death. I want to see him fast. F-a-s-t fast. Sudden, in other words. Am I clear?
You talk ver-ry strange, the foreign voice said.
No. I took hold of the phone standard and shook it. I feel fine. I always talk like that. This is a very queer business. Mr. Amthor will positively want to see me. Im a private detective. But I dont want to go to the police until Ive seen him.
Ah, the voice got as cool as a cafeteria dinner. You are of the police, no.
Listen, I said. I am of the police, no. I am a private detective. Confidential. But it is very urgent just the same. You call me back, no? You ave the telephone number, yes?
Si. I ave the telephone number. Meester Marriott he ees sick.
Well, hes not up and around, I said. So you know him?
But no. You say a matter of life and death. Amthor he cure many people
This is one time he flops, I said. Ill be waiting for a call.
I hung up and lunged for the office bottle. I felt as if I had been through a meat grinder. Ten minutes passed. The phone rang. The voice said:
Amthor he weel see you at six oclock.