We walked on into the private office. As I closed the door I saw Elsie watching me speculatively. I said, “I don’t want to be disturbed.”
Alta sat down on the settee across from the desk, and I sat down beside her.
“Is this your office, Donald?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What did you take it for? I mean what’s the idea?”
“Just a little flyer in mining stock.”
She looked at me thoughtfully. “You play them awfully close to your chest, don’t you?”
“Not particularly.”
“And I’m not to say anything about those letters?”
“Not to anyone. Let’s see the envelope.”
She handed me the envelope, and I burned the letters carefully one at a time, and ground out the ashes in a cuspidor.
I’d just finished with the last of the bunch when I heard a commotion in the outer office, the sound of heavy steps and then Bertha Cool banged the door open. Henry Ashbury was just behind her.
Bertha said, “Donald, lover, why the hell didn’t you tell me where you were going when you left? After all, you’re supposed to be working for me, you know.”
“I was busy,” I said.
Alta jumped up and threw her arms around her father. “Oh, Dad,” she said, “I’m so happy!”
He held her off at arm’s length so that he could look at her. “Everything cleaned up all right?”
“Perfectly,” she said, and left a smear of lipstick on his cheek.
Bertha looked me over suspiciously.
Ashbury swung his eyes to look across at me. “Well, young man?” he asked.
“What?” I inquired.
“What’s the answer?”
“There isn’t any. I did the job I was supposed to do. It’s all finished, so far as that angle is concerned.”
“But what about this murder?”
“What about it?”
“Apparently Carter is the one who was in that room, but he won’t admit anything, and Mrs. Ashbury rushed to the telephone and got a lawyer for him.”
“Who did she get, Crumweather?”
“Yes.”
“Crumweather,” I said, “should put up rather a good fight. They may have a hard time proving the murder.”
“Don’t you think you should get that cleaned up a little more thoroughly?”
“Why should I?” I asked. “It’s a police job. Why should we be interested in it?”
“So that we could see justice done.”
“You’d prefer to have your divorce handled very quietly and without any notoriety, wouldn’t you?”
He nodded.
I said, “Under those circumstances, Crumweather is a pretty good lawyer for Carter to have.”
He stood looking at me for a minute, then said, “You’re right as usual, Lam. Come on, Bertha, let’s get out of here.”
Bertha said, “I want Elsie back in the office.”
“You can have her in two or three days as soon as I can wind up the business here.”
Bertha looked at Alta, then back at me, then at Henry. She said, “All right, Donald, remember you’re working. This is an office, and these are office hours. Break it up.”
“Break what up?” I asked.
She jerked her head in the direction of Alta.
Alta Ashbury pushed up her chin. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Cool,” she said, “but as far as I’m concerned this case isn’t finished. There are some other things I want to talk over.”
“Well, I’ve got a detective agency to run, and I’m employing this boy. You can talk to him after hours.”
Alta said, “I’ll do nothing of the sort. You may not realize it, but we’re paying you a hundred dollars a day, Mrs. Cool.”
“You mean the—” Bertha Cool heaved a sigh. She took quick stock of the situation, and said to me, “I’m going over to the agency office,” and turned to Alta and said, “At that rate, dearie, you can hire him by the month,” and jerked open the door of the private office.
Ashbury said, “See you later, Donald,” and to Bertha, “Just a minute, Mrs. Cool. I want to run down to your office and check up on a few points.”
I heard the sound of Ashbury’s chuckle, heard Bertha Cool slam the door shut so hard she jarred the glass partition, and then Alta Ashbury and I were in the office — alone.