“Go on, Mrs. Kerrigan. It may be important. Aquista died just now.”
“He died?” Her hands went to her breast and wound themselves in the fur cape. She looked from me to her husband, her blue eyes darkening. “Is Anne mixed up in it?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he said. “This is enough of this, Kate. Go inside. You’re cold and upset and making a fool of yourself.”
“I am not. You can’t order me in. I have a perfect right to talk to anyone I choose.”
“You’re not going to shoot off your mouth to this bastard.”
“I haven’t been–”
“Shut up.” His voice was quiet and deadly. “You’ve made enough trouble for me already.”
He seized her elbows from behind and half carried her to the door of the lobby. She struggled weakly in his grasp, but when he released her she went in without a backward glance.
He came back toward me, running his fingers lovingly through his hair. It was clipped in a crew cut, much too short for his age. I guessed that he was one of those middle-aging men who couldn’t face the fact that their youth was over. It gave him an unreal surface, under which a current of cruelty flickered.
“You don’t believe in killing them with kindness.”
“I know how to handle bitches. Purebred bitches or any other kind of bitches. I also know how to handle nosy sons of bitches. Unless you’re here in some official capacity, I suggest you get off my property. But quick.”
I looked around for Church. He was in a public telephone booth at the end of the row of cottages. The receiver was at his ear, but he didn’t seem to be talking.
“Take it up with the sheriff,” I said. “I’m with him.”
“Just who are you, fellow? If I thought you sicked the sheriff onto me–”
“What would happen, sweetheart?” He was my favorite man now. I kept my hands down and my chin out, hoping that he would swing and give me a chance to counter.
“You’d be flat on your back with a throatful of teeth.”
“I thought you only pushed women around.”
“You want a demonstration?”
But he was bluffing. From the sharp bright corners of his eyes he was watching the sheriff approach. The sheriffs face was solemn and composed: “I owe you an apology, Don. I don’t often lose my head like that.”
“Don’t you? You’ll try it on one too many taxpayers. Then you won’t be able to get yourself elected dog-catcher.”
“All right. Let’s bury it. I didn’t hurt you.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“I said bury it,” Church repeated quietly. His facial muscles were anatomized by the effort he was exerting to hold himself under control. “Tell me more about Anne. Nobody seems to know where she is. She didn’t tell Hilda she was quitting her job or going anywhere.”
“She didn’t quit the job. She just went away for the weekend and didn’t show up for work Monday morning. Apparently she didn’t come back from the weekend. I haven’t had any word from her.”
“Where did she go?”
“You tell me. She doesn’t report to me.”
They faced each other for a long still moment. There was something worse than potential violence between them, a hatred that went beyond violence and absorbed them completely, like a grand passion.
“You’re a liar,” Church said finally.
“Maybe I am a liar. Maybe it’s just as well I am. If I am.”
Church saw me watching them and jerked his head in peremptory command. I left them bound in their quiet vicious quarrel and went into the dark lobby.
Its darkness was barely penetrated by the green and yellow light that filtered in through the Venetian blinds. Mrs. Kerrigan was curled on a lounge in the farthest corner. All I could see of her was silver-pointed hair and the wet gleam of eyes.
“Who is it?”
“Archer. The one who brought you the trouble.”
“You didn’t bring the trouble. I’ve had it all along.” She rose and came into the center of the room. “You’re not on the local police force, Mr. Archer.”
“No, I’m a private detective. The southern counties are my normal beat. I stumbled into this one.”
“Didn’t we all.” Her odor was faint and fragrant, like nostalgia for half-forgotten summers. Her troubled whisper might have been the voice of the breathing darkness: “What does it all mean?”
“Your guess is better than mine. You know the people involved.”
“Do I? Not really. I don’t really know my own husband, even.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Seven years. Seven lean years.” She hesitated. “Mr. Archer, are you the sort of detective people hire, to find out things about other people?”
I told her that I was.
“Could I – can I trust you?”
“It’s up to you. Other people have been able to, but I don’t carry references.”
“Would it cost a great deal? I have some money left.”
“I don’t know what you have in mind.”
“Of course you don’t. I’m sorry. I’m awfully scatterbrained tonight.”
“Or else you don’t want to tell me.”
“That may be it.” I could sense her invisible smile. “Or it may be that I don’t know exactly what I want done. I certainly don’t want to make trouble for anyone.”
“Such as your husband?”
“Yes. My husband.” Her voice dropped, almost out of hearing. “I found Don packing last night, both of his big suitcases. I believe he intends to leave me.”
“Why not ask him?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” she said with a desolate kind of wit. “He might give me an answer.”
“You’re in love with him?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” she said a little wildly. “I was at one time, quite a long time ago.”
“Another woman?”
“Other women, yes.”
“Would Anne Meyer be one of them?”
“I know she used to be. There was a – a thing between them last year. He told me it was off, but it may still be on. If you could find her, find out whom she’s seeing–” Her voice trailed off.
“Exactly how long has she been missing?”
“Since she took off for the weekend, last Friday.”
“Where did she spend the weekend?”
“I don’t really know.”
“With your husband?”
“No. At least he says not. I was going to say–”
Kerrigan spoke behind me: “What were you going to say?”
He had quietly opened the door of the lobby. His bulky shadow moved forward out of its panel of light. He pushed past me and leaned tensely toward his wife: “I told you not to shoot off your mouth.”
“I didn’t–”
“But I heard you. You wouldn’t call me a liar now, would you, Kate?”
His back swung sideways, I heard the crack of the blow, and the woman’s hissing gasp. I took him by the shoulder.
“Lay off her, bully boy.”
The heavy wad of padding came loose in my hand, and something ripped. He let out a canine yelp and turned on me. One of his flailing fists numbed the side of my neck.
I backed into the light from the doorway and let him come to me. He charged like a ram, directly into my left. It straightened him up, and I followed through with a short right cross to the jaw. His knees buckled. He swayed forward. I hit him again with my left before his face struck the carpet.
His wife kneeled beside him. “You men. You’re like horrible little boys.” She cradled his head in her hands, and wiped his cut chin with a laceedged handkerchief. “Is he badly hurt, do you think?”
“I doubt it. I didn’t hit him often.”
“You shouldn’t have hit him at all.”
“He asked for it.”
“Yes. I suppose he did.” Kerrigan stirred and moaned. She looked up at me fearfully. “You’d better get out of here now. Don has a gun and he knows how to use it.”