Bina listened impatiently. Francie was talking fast enough now, and to the point. But she wasn’t making sense. Bina had to make her explain before she remembered she was giving away family secrets! She said severely, “My company does not like fraud.”
She forced herself to look stern.
Francie gave an exasperated snort. “Oh, my sister’s not trying to cheat your company. She just had to fly back east to the sanitarium that week to see that poor, alcoholic blob she has for a husband.”
“Husband!” Bina was horrified by the startlement in her own voice.
Francie stopped short, staring at her. “You mean my sister used her single name to the insurance company, too?”
“Yes... yes, she did,” Bina murmured, relieved.
Francie shook her head, frowning unhappily. “Charlie says I’m always getting things screwed up. But this would have come out. Lorraine’s so smart in some ways, I don’t know how she can be so dumb in others. Hanging on to that no good bum. It’s on his account she’s getting this health insurance, see? To pay his bill if she folds up. That’s why she’s out here now, slaving away for his old partner — just to hold that no good’s job for him. And if you ask me, the whole things a waste of time. He’ll never keep a job again.”
Her rising indignation overcame her better judgment. “I’m going to call Lorraine right now and tell her what a mess she’s got us all into!”
“Oh, no!” Bina cried, “don’t do that!”
“We’ll have this out once for all. She made a bad mistake when she thought I’d start sneaking and lying for her!”
Bina grabbed her arm desperately. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Babcock! I can work it out. You just forget it!”
But Francie shook her off. “And I ought to reverse the charges!” She was moving angrily toward the phone, when Bina gave up and headed for the door.
“Give me Crestview six-eight—” Bina heard as she walked rapidly back to her car. To her sudden consternation, she saw that a car had driven into the driveway behind her, blocking her path. Charlie was leaning over the door, already launched on a jovial harangue.
Bina stepped on the starter, and backed gently against the car’s front bumper, rousing the two men from their conversation. She leaned out to shout cheerily, “Could I get out, please?”
Charlie leaped back obligingly, and was shouting instructions for backing to his prospect, when the house door slammed.
“Charlie!” Francie’s voice was sharp with command, and Bina stayed frozen, her hands clenched on the wheel, her eyes on the car behind her moving so slowly out toward the street.
“Charlie!” Francie was closer, and there was a frantic belligerence in her tone now that seemed to Bina to be shrilling, “Stop that woman!”
But Charlie called back as he ran toward the street, “Keep yer shirt on, Francie. There! You’re fine, lady. No one coming! Back right out!”
Miraculously, the drive was empty behind her. Charlie’s arms swung with her as her car backed into the street. He was waving goodbye to her as Francie reached her husband’s side, talking excitedly.
VIII
With determined restraint, Bina kept herself from pressing her foot to the floor as she headed back to the freeway. She was safe, she told herself firmly. By the time Francie had gasped out her story, it would be too late for Charlie to get Bina’s car number. If he started pursuit, her car could out-race his trailer.
After a mile or so, she relaxed. Charlie would not take his wife’s account too seriously. He’d think she just hadn’t understood what Bina was there for. If Francie wanted to call the police, he’d be against it. Why advertise how she got everything mixed up?
And, with the danger of being held at the Babcock’s ended, Bina spirits suddenly soared. She was going to make it home before Jerry, all right. And she had her answer! The simple — unbelievably simple — answer to the one thing that really had frightened her.
Lorraine did not love Jerry! Lorraine had no reason to kill Clarissa because she stood in the way of her marrying Jerry — or to frame Bina, herself, for murder.
The little car sped back over the speedway now with a contented hum. Everything Lorraine had said at luncheon made beautiful sense when you added to the picture an alcoholic husband, who had been Jerry’s partner in Boston! It also made it clear why Jerry could never explain Lorraine to Clarissa or the “trouble” he’d had in his Boston office. Clarissa hadn’t approved of alcoholics any more than she had of boats. But Jerry wasn’t letting his old partner down. Sympathetic Jerry. Wonderful Jerry!
Tonight she could tell him what she had done — if she was lucky — before the police got there. Then they’d explain everything to Lorraine, so she wouldn’t be upset over the business with her sister.
And, as for that silly jade business, she would go through her bracelets again. She might have missed the culprit that had dropped the broken pieces at Clarissa’s and at home, and started Lefty off on his wild crusade, which was really only injured pride rebelling against having a possible murder suspect for a son-in-law.
She breathed in the good sea air with relief and a warm gratefulness as she drove the last curving mile to the apartment. Everything was going to be all right now. She had carried the thing through and it had come out the way she knew it would.
Swinging into the driveway she maneuvered expertly along the narrow strip of concrete beside the white slab of the building, and back into her car stall. She fairly ran up the back stairs.
But in the kitchen, she stood suddenly still, moaning softly, “Oh, no!”
It was definitely Marge’s fine, Italian hand. A couple of silver shakers were hers. And a few dozen of her initialed glasses were among the confusion of bottles, lemons, oranges, cherries, olives, ice cube trays and caterer’s boxes of hors d’oeurves that littered sink and work table.
Numbly, Bina moved on into the darkened dining room and stood unnoticed, watching the gay and familiar scene. It might have been ‘Cocktail hour at Marge’s’. The same crowd. Toto beaming as he wound his way dexterously among them with his tray of glasses.
Bina’s eyes sought out Jerry. He was beside Marge in the vortex of the hilarious group, that seemed to be welcoming Hal and Jan Edwards.
Marge was declaring between shrieks of delight, “Hal, you were divine. A consummate ham!”
“And that cop gave you a real grilling,” Jerry grinned.
Jan Edwards murmured, “I only hope they didn’t follow us here.”
“There she is!” It was Marge who had seen Bina. She dashed over to pull her into the midst of the group. “Darling, there was an officer here again this afternoon, waiting to haul you in. I called Hal from the kitchen phone, and he rang us back. He said that you and Jan had gone to a movie, he didn’t know which one.
“We put the cop on the phone to hear. And he gave up and left. Isn’t it wonderful! I mean, just like in mystery books. I do like to see those cops get slapped down — or at least, disappointed — when they go around rattling sabers, making it ghastly for you and Jerry just because you got married.”
Jerry said, “You were so late, we were afraid you had been picked up.”
Silence crackled around Bina suddenly while they waited for her response. She still felt numb, and a little incredulous. “It was — nice of you,” she managed weakly.
It was humorously inadequate. In the shock of anti-climax, Bina tried again — and to her horror, heard herself lashing out at Marge, “But my father is still on the police force!”
Racing for the bedroom, she could hear Marge’s contrite wail. “Me and my big mouth! I always forget—”