“What about it?”
He scratched his head.
I did a little prompting. I said, “I notice from the complaint that it was filed just about eleven months after the date of the accident. Were any previous demands made on you?”
Cullingdon said, “No. That’s because the woman didn’t think she was injured at first, didn’t think it was anything serious. She had a little trouble, I guess, which gradually got worse. She went to a doctor who gave her some routine treatments and didn’t think much of it; then finally she went to a specialist who told her she’d developed a complication from an injury she’d sustained — an injury to the spine.”
“And that went back to the automobile accident?”
He nodded.
“So then she got some attorneys and sued you?”
Again he nodded.
“And your insurance company made a settlement?”
“That’s right.”
“At your suggestion?”
“As a matter of fact,” Cullingdon said, “I was quite a bit put out about that. I didn’t want the insurance company to settle it — not for any big sum.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I didn’t think it was my fault.”
“Why?”
“Well, it was just one of those things. I thought she was a lot more to blame than I was. I’ll admit I was trying to beat a signal, and I may have squeezed through a little bit, but just the same she was as much to blame as I was. Of course, the way it looked at first, no great damage was done. We busted a couple of headlights, crumpled a fender or two and punched a hole in my radiator. She jumped out of the car as spry as you please, and I thought I was in for a tongue lashing, but she just laughed and said, ‘Naughty, naughty, you shouldn’t try to beat a signal.’ ”
“What did you say?”
“I told her, ‘Naughty, naughty, you shouldn’t go through an intersection at forty miles an hour.’ ”
“Then what?”
“Oh, we took each other’s license numbers and exchanged cards, and a few people came up and gave advice, and then someone kept yelling to get the intersection cleaned up, and that was about all there was to it.”
“Make any settlement with her?”
“She never submitted a bill.”
“You didn’t submit a bill to her?”
“No, I kept waiting, thinking something might come of it. Then when nothing did... well, to tell you the truth, I had just about forgotten about it when the action was filed.”
“How much did the insurance company pay?”
“I don’t know as they’d like to have me tell.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it’s... well, it was a good round figure. Apparently she really had a spinal injury.”
“I’d like to know how much.”
He said, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll ring up my insurance people tomorrow and ask them if there’s any objection. If there isn’t, I’ll telephone your office and let you know how much it was.”
“Will you tell me who carried your insurance?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I think I’ve told you about all I want to — going at it blind this way.”
I said, “It’s an interesting case.”
“What interests me,” Cullingdon said, “is what you’re investigating. Do you think there was something fishy about it?”
I said, “Don’t get that idea through your head. I might be just checking up on her general financial responsibility.”
“Oh, I see,” he said. “Well, I’ll tell you, Mr. Lam, unless she spent that money foolishly, she should be a pretty good credit risk for anything within reason. She got a mighty nice settlement out of the insurance company.”
“Thanks,” I told him. “You get in touch with them tomorrow, and give our office a ring and tell us how much it was — in case there’s no objection. Will you?”
“Okay, sure.”
We shook hands. I went down to the agency car and was just switching on the ignition when I saw another car pull up to the curb behind me and stop.
The young woman who got out of that car was a slender-waisted, smooth-hipped, easy moving package of class. I looked at her twice. Then I recognized her.
She was the girl who sold cigars and cigarettes at the Rimley Rendezvous.
I switched off the ignition on my car, lit a cigarette and waited.
It was about a five minute wait.
The girl came out, walking rapidly, pulled open the door of her car and jumped in.
I got out of my car and raised my hat with something of a flourish.
She waited while I walked over to stand beside the door of her car. “You have to have a license for that, you know,” I said.
“For what?”
“For acting as private detective.”
She flushed and said, “You certainly do get around, don’t you?”
“So so. Not half as much as I should have.”
“What do you mean by that?”
I said, “I’m a dumbbell when it comes to being a private dick.”
“Looking at it from my angle, you don’t seem to be dumb.”
“I am.”
“Just why?”
I said, “The county clerk’s office is closed now.”
“Well?”
I said, “I thought I was smart. I checked back on the Register of Actions, found where Irma Begley had been the plaintiff in a suit to recover damages from an automobile accident and thought I’d done something smart.”
“Hadn’t you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I quit.”
“I don’t get you.”
I said, “As soon as I found where she had been a plaintiff in one suit, I made a note of the name of the defendant, the attorneys for the plaintiff, and walked out.”
“What should you have done?”
“Kept on looking.”
“You mean...”
“Of course I do.” I grinned at her. “I’m hoping you weren’t as dumb.”
“Why?”
I said, “We can pool information and it will save me going to the county clerk’s office tomorrow.”
She said, “You’re smart, aren’t you?”
“I’m just telling you I’m dumb.”
She said, “There are four actions that I know of.”
“All under her own name?”
“Of course. She’s not crazy that way.”
“How did she really get the spinal injury?”
“I don’t know.”
“How long have you been checking on it?”
“I... Some little time.”
“Why?”
She said, “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”
I said, “Are you going to ride with me in my car? Am I going to ride with you in your car? Or have I got to follow you to see where you’re going and what you do next?”
She thought that over for a moment, then said, “If you’re going any place with me, you’re going in my car.”
I was careful to walk around the front of the car so she couldn’t start out without running over me, opened the door on the right-hand side, slid into the seat behind her, pulled the door shut, and said, “Okay, rive carefully because I’m always nervous with a strange driver.”
She hesitated for a matter of seconds, then accepted the situation. “Do you,” she asked bitterly, “always get what you start after?”
I smiled and said, “You’ll feel better if I say yes, won’t you?”
“I don’t give a damn what you say,” she said angrily.
“That simplifies it,” I told her, and kept quiet.
After a while she said, “Well, what do you want, and where are we going?”
“You’re driving the car,” I told her. “And I want to know all the answers.”
“Such as what?”
“What are your hours at the Rendezvous?”
She jerked her face around in surprise. The car wobbled on the road. She snapped her attention back to the car, said, “Well, of all the questions.”