I didn’t say anything.
She said, “I go on at twelve-fifteen. I’m supposed to be dressed, or undressed, whichever you want to call it, and on the floor by twelve-thirty. I work until four o’clock, then I come back at eight-thirty and work until midnight.”
“You know Mrs. Ellery Crail?”
“Of course.”
“Why the ‘of course?’ ”
“She’s there a great deal.”
“Do you know the man who was with her this afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“Now then,” I said, “we begin to get into the big money questions. Why were you interested in checking up on Mrs. Crail’s past?”
“Just as a matter of curiosity.”
“Your own curiosity, or the curiosity of someone else?”
“Mine.”
“Are you that curious about all people?”
“No.”
“Why this particular curiosity about Mrs. Crail?”
“I wondered about her — how she got her start.”
“We wouldn’t, by any chance, be going around in circles, would we?”
“What do you mean?”
“I asked you why you’re checking up on her. It’s curiosity. I asked you why the curiosity. You say it’s because you wondered how she got her start. All of those words mean just about the same thing. Let’s try some new meanings for a while.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“Sure you are. What I’m interested in is the reason back of the curiosity.”
She drove along for awhile apparently debating how much to tell me, then abruptly said, “What did you find out from Cullingdon?”
I said, “He wasn’t suspicious when I called on him. He was interested, and he was going to ring his insurance people and find out if it was all right to tell me the amount of the settlement. I suppose after you talked with him he thought things were coming pretty fast.”
“He did.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He asked me questions about where I lived, and what my name was, and why I wanted to know.”
“And you lied to him?”
“Oh, certainly. I told him I was a newspaper woman getting material for a feature story on certain types of automobile accidents.”
“And he asked you what paper?”
Her face colored. “Yes.”
“And then rang up the city desk?”
“How bright you are!”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“And that was when you walked out?”
She nodded.
I said, “Well, the fat’s in the fire now. If you hadn’t called there, it’s a ten to one shot he’d have called me, and told me the amount of...”
“What were you after?” she asked.
“The amount of the settlement.”
She made a little deprecatory gesture. “The amount of the settlement,” she said, “was seventeen thousand, eight hundred and seventy-five dollars.”
It was my turn to look surprised. “What were you after?”
“Copies of the X-rays of the injuries, of course.”
I thought for a minute, then said, “I beg your pardon.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so dumb. I had just learned about those other cases, and the full implications didn’t dawn on me at once. I guess my mind’s a little sluggish — a little out of practice.”
“What’ll the insurance company do?” she asked.
“They may start an independent check-up of their own.”
There was savage triumph on her face. “That wouldn’t make it so bad,” she said, and then added, “if they did it soon enough.”
I said, “You still haven’t accounted for your curiosity.”
“All right,” she said angrily, “in case you’re so damn dumb, which I don’t think you are, Mrs. Crail was about to purchase the Stanberry Building, buying out old Rufus Stanberry.”
I nodded.
“Well,” she said, “use your head.”
“You mean there’s something in Rimley’s lease about a purchase?”
“I believe so.”
“In case of a bona fide sale the lease is terminated?”
“Within ninety days.”
“And you’re working for Rimley — getting a line on her so her hands will be tied?”
“In a way, yes.”
“Just what’s your connection with Rimley?”
“Is that a crack?”
“If you want to take it that way, yes.”
She said, “Pittman Rimley is nothing to me, except in a business way, in case it’s any of your business, which it isn’t. But I own the hat-checking concession outright as well as the cigar, cigarette, and candy concessions.”
“Do you have to work at them yourself?” I asked.
“I don’t have to for financial reasons, if that’s what you mean, but when you’ve got a business it’s a lot better if you keep on the job yourself.”
“You don’t mind — the working conditions?”
“You mean the costume? Don’t be silly. I have nice legs. If other people like to look at them, it’s all right by me. I’m still the mistress of my own affections.”
“You mean that after she bought the building, Rimley would have to negotiate another lease and that would enable him to either terminate your concessions or raise the ante?”
“Something of that sort.”
“So Rimley knew about Irma Crail’s past and gave you the information and told you to look it up, is that right?”
She hesitated a moment, then said, “Let’s not talk about Rimley.”
I let it go at that. “You say that Irma Crail had pulled this stuff before?”
“Several times.”
“Where?”
“Once here, once in San Francisco, once in Nevada and once in Nebraska.”
“Using her own name each time? You’re sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“And how did you get this information?”
She shook her head.
I said, “All right, it’s a reasonable inference that Rimley gave it to you. Now, let’s go on from there. What was the name of this man you just called on?”
She frowned, “Covington.”
I shook my head. “Cullingdon.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You didn’t remember it very well, did you?”
“I’m not so good at remembering names.”
“In other words, you hadn’t been familiar with the name for a very long time.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Otherwise you’d have remembered it.”
“I’m just not much good at names.”
“Speaking of names?” I said and waited.
“You want my professional name or my real name?”
“Your real name,” I said.
“I thought you would.”
“Do I get it?”
“No.”
“What’s your professional name?”
“Billy Prue.” She switched on the headlights.
“Nice name,” I said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Do names have to?”
“They should sound convincing.”
“What does that sound like?”
“It sounds like a professional name — a stage name.”
“Well, that’s what it is. Therefore, it should be convincing.”
“I suppose we could keep on arguing about that until you’d had sufficient opportunity to think up what you wanted to say about something else.”
“Will you be quiet? I want to think.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted to do.”
“All right, I do. I want to think something over.”
“Cigarette?” I asked.
“No. Not while I’m driving,” she added after a moment.
I settled down comfortably in the seat, cocked one elbow on the armrest and lit a cigarette.