“What does A.H. stand for?”
“Amelia Holly Patton. It’s my real name, but nobody knows it except for a few close friends, so it’s as good as having an unlisted number.”
“That was a smart trick,” I said.
“It was the only way I could think of to tell you without telling him. I was pretty sure if you’d tried to find me in the book you’d catch on.”
I caught her shoulders and pulled her down toward me.
“Just a minute, you Irish hedge-hog,” she said. “The way you scratched me with that beard—”
“Where?” I asked.
There was cynical amusement in the gray eyes just above mine. “You know damned well where. After you collapsed with your head on my breast, I went on holding you for an hour before you quit shaking.”
“That was a wonderful system you had for thawing me out.”
“Not exactly original,” she said. “But effective. However, you’re not cold now.” “That’s what I mean,” I said.
“You need rest. And food. You should be in a hospital—”
I pulled her head down and kissed her. Her mouth was warm and soft against mine, and then eager, and finally urgent. I tried to unbutton the shirt, but she was lying across my chest. She tightened her arms around my neck. It was like being devoured. Then she turned a little and began tearing at the buttons of the shirt herself. She slid out of it and tossed it on the floor. She wore no bra.
“See?” she said.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll bet you are.”
”I mean I’m sorry I was asleep. Does it hurt?”
She smiled. “Not particularly. I’m just making a big thing of it, looking for sympathy.”
“I don’t know about sympathy, but if you could use some admiration—”
“I guess the Irish are hard to kill,” she said.
I took her in my arms and kissed her again. She made an eager little sound in her throat, and when I began trying to find the zipper of the other garment she was wearing she took my hand in hers and showed me which side it was on.
* * *
She went out into the other room. I heard music come up somewhere in the background, and then she appeared in the doorway with a pack of cigarettes. She lighted one and put it between my fingers.
“Don’t let go of it all at once,” I said. “Wait’ll I brace myself.”
She smiled. “Poor Irish. Life is just one beating after another.”
I studied the sensation of having melted and wondered if I’d ever again have strength enough to move. I tried to raise my head, and dizziness attacked me. She lighted a cigarette for herself and stood looking down at me. She had nothing on at all, but appeared completely unconcerned about it. I didn’t believe I had ever seen as much statuesque and unflawed blondeness collected in one area before.
“You’re lovely,” I said. “How tall are you?”
“Five-ten,” she replied. “Isn’t it awful?”
“No. Magnificent is the word I was reaching for.”
She lay down beside me. “Blarney.”
“No. I’m too weak to lie about anything. But why are you helping me this way?”
“Why do you keep harping on that?” she asked. “I told you once. You interest me.”
“That doesn’t seem like much of a reason.”
“It’s relative,” she said. “I knew an old man once who sat on a bench in front of a library for eight months trying to figure out why pigeons bob their heads when they walk.”
“Did he ever find out?” I asked.”No. But it kept him from screaming.”
“Bunk,” I said. “A girl with everything? Looks, build, vitality, brains—”
“Did you ever read a volume of first chapters? But never mind; I told you there was no way to explain it to a non-writer, so let’s get back to you for a sort of preliminary brainstorming session. Do you have any money?”
“About one hundred and seventy dollars.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all I’ll ever get my hands on. There may be some in the checking account, and there’s some savings and a few shares of Southlands Oil Company stock that all add up to about six thousand, but there’s no way I can get it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied. “I could lend you money, but that’s not the big problem, anyway. If you’re to escape for good, it’s a matter of changing your whole identity and way of life. Naturally, you can never go to sea again.”
“It won’t work,” I said. “Going to sea is the only thing I like or know how to do. I’d be like a fish with feathers, trying to live ashore. That’s what my wife and I fought about all the time.”
“All right, let’s drop that for the moment and study another possibility. I don’t think you killed Stedman, so maybe we could find out who did. What did Lanigan have to say?”
I told her.
“Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully. She blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling and studied it. “That has a definitely intriguing ring. Especially the coincidence about Stedman’s partner. What was his name again?”
“Purcell,” I said. “Jack Purcell.”
She nodded. “I’m pretty sure I remember reading about it. And that girl sounds interesting.”
“There are probably several thousand good-looking brunettes in a city this size,” I said. “And maybe she didn’t have anything to do with it anyway.”
“You never find out why pigeons bob their heads by dismissing it as an optical illusion. The thing to do is try to find her. But you can’t even think of going out of here until that black eye fades.” She raised herself on an elbow and looked at my face with critical appraisal. I studied the interesting curves this gave her breasts and put my hand under one.
She smiled and shook her head. “The forever undefeated, or at least hopeful. But about that eye—it’ll probably be another three days, at least. They have some very sharp descriptions of you, and the red hair is bad enough, along with your height, but those bruises are like carrying a sign with your name on it.”
“I’m going to have to do something about clothes.”
“That’s all taken care of,” she said. “Except I’ll have to buy you another hat and topcoat. The ones you had on last night are in the descriptions now. Let’s see—the coat was tweed, so I’ll get you a tan gabardine—”
“Where did you get the others?”
“Courtesy of my ex-husband. Or maybe I should say the more recent of my two ex-husbands. When he moved out, he left a trunk of his personal effects in the storeroom of the apartment house and never has sent for it. I went down yesterday and broke into it to see what I could find, since he’s about your size. There were two suits, both conservative, dark gray flannel, and a lot of shirts and other things. And I brought up some pajamas and a flannel robe for you to wear around the apartment. They’re in the closet.”
She got up and went into the bath. I could hear her in the tub. After awhile she came out wearing a panty girdle and bra and sat down at the dressing table to put on her stockings.
“There’s a safety razor in the cabinet,” she said.
“Thanks,” I replied. I sat up on the side of the bed. Weakness and vertigo hit me and I almost fell over. I managed to prop myself upright, and watched her pull the nylon up a smooth and rounded thigh and clip it to the little tabs on the girdle. “You’re an exciting girl.”
She rotated the ankle and tugged it straight. “Regroup,” she said. “You’ve had all the excitement you can take.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Shopping,” she said. “We’ve got to get some food in you before you collapse. And I have to go to the library. I’ll be back in about an hour.”