tf *Cash. A lot of cask w
^Somebody beat me to it, hunk?" Webb's grin was tight
and mirthless as he stepped over to the desk and picked up his gun and the shells. As he started to load them Cor-dovez stopped him,
"Please/' he said politely. "Not until you leave, senor."
Webb understood the suggestion. He tucked the revolver inside his jacket and pocketed the shells. "You're pretty handy with one of these, Julio.**
"Thank you/* Cordovez made a small bow. "I have had much practice. For many years I was an assistant chief with SegurnaL . . . And what will you do now?"
"Sleep on it, I guess/' Webb said. "I canie a hell of a long ways to make a collection and I'm not going back empty-handed if I can help it. I think Baker had the dough ready for me. Somebody took it."
He stopped at the door and turned the bolt. "I'm going to start looking, Julio. I think our friend Grayson had better start looking, too. Because he's still in hock. He knows it and I know it. ... See you," he said and went out.
Cordovez buttoned his jacket. "A very determined young man," he said. "And possibly a dangerous one. Do you agree?"
Jeff said he agreed and smiled to himself at the little detective's phrasing. He looked round the room and suddenly he had no further desire to search it. He was tired, depressed, and discouraged. And in the morning, or sometime soon, he would have to face his stepbrother, a thought which served only to heighten his discontent.
"All right, Julio," he said. "Let's forget it for tonight. Can you be here in the morning?"
"I will be here on the front terrace when you come down for your breakfast." He made his customary bow. "Euenas noches" he said and started along the hall.
Jeff watched him make the turn into the corridor leading to the elevators before he got out his key. He unlocked his door and then stopped as something caught his eye on the
floor. He knew then that a note had been thrust under the door and stepped back into the lighted hall to read it. It was very short and had no salutation:
Please stop at 320 when you get in no matter how late. K.H.
6
KAREN HOLMES wore a pastel-gray flannel robe that was securely belted and buttoned at the neck. Ballet-type slippers cut her height down so that the robe trailed slightly, and when Jeff followed her into die room he saw that her face had a pink, scrubbed look and the corners of her eyes were sleepy.
"Thank you for coming/* she said. "I didn't know how long you would be so I curled up here." She indicated the easy-chair in the comer. *1 must have fallen asleep."
She asked him to sit down and he swung out the desk chair, waiting until she had settled down on the one she had just left. While she made sure her knees were covered he had a chance to see that her hair had been combed out and fell softly along the sides of her face, and it occurred to him that she was more attractive this way than she had been on the plane. But he had not forgotten the Miami incident and waited with a mounting curiosity to see what she had to say,
"I had to talk to you/' she said finally. "1—1 wanted you to understand."
She hesitated, looking right at him now. When he made
ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT rq
nojeply she folded her hands and put them on one knee. ^ "Fin not apologizing for coming here/' she said. "I was hired to see if I could get an assignment of the stock your stepbrother will inherit. I still intend to try/'
"Then what is there to explain?" Jeff said. "You picked me up and steered me into the restaurant and gave me a mickey. You had a job to do and you did it. It didn't matter how you did it or what means you used. I suppose if I'd refused the drink your pals there in the airport would have slugged me."
"That's what they said. That's why I had to use that powder."
"Oh," Jeff said. "Then you didn't make it yourself?"
That one brought the color to her cheeks, Her back seemed to stiffen and the dark-blue eyes had sparks in them.
"All right," she said spiritedly. "If you don't want to know the truth perhaps you'd better go. I can assure you it's no fun for me either,"
He eyed her steadily for a long moment and decided she meant what she said. He also knew, though he could not tell why, that it was important to hear what she had to say.
"I don't blame you for being angry," she said. "If It will help any to know I'm ashamed of myself, I am. But if— 31 *
She let the sentence trail. A small sigh escaped her. She no longer looked like the smart and worldly secretary she had claimed to be on the flight to Miami. With her head slightly bowed and her glance averted, she looked so feminine and desirable that his defenses were weakened and some of his annoyance evaporated.
"AH right," he said. "Let's start over. You work for the Acme Agency. Let's start there."
"I'm afraid 111 have to start before that. It will take a while and it won't be easy." She sighed again and her glance came up. Then, as though determined to make the
effort, she straightened her shoulders. "I suppose you wonder why I'm a private detective."
"Frankly, yes. I bought that insurance secretary routine. That I could believe."
"What I told you about Wellesley and the secretarial school was right/" she said, "but that was not what I wanted when I was growing up. My father is a retired police captain. I had a brother who would have been a policeman too if he hadn't been killed in the Pacific in 1945. I've read about little boys who want to grow up to be cowboys or baseball players or engineers. Wei, I wanted to be a policeman."
She tucked one foot under her and said: "At first my father accepted the idea because he thought I would outgrow it. Then, when we heard about my brother, Edward —I was twelve then—it seemed even more important. I couldn't be a policeman, but I could be a policewoman. There was never any doubt in my mind. I took Dad's kidding—he still wouldn't believe I was serious—and I went to* college as we'd planned. It wasn't until I graduated that we really had it out together.
"He said I should go to secretarial school. He used every possible argument against my being a policewoman and when he realized I was still determined he thought of a compromise. He's the one who suggested I try being a private detective. He had some friends in the business and there were times when a woman was useful. If I would go to secretarial school he'd give me one year as a private detective without interference; he was willing to gamble that one year would cure me of the idea."
She looked up without moving her head. "I guess it sounds childish now/" she said softly. "I guess it is childish. But when you grow up with an idea that seems so important it's not always easy to put it aside. With me I suppose it was a minor obsession." She sighed and said:
"So I did some studying and maybe Dad pulled some strings. Anyway I got the license and went to work and it couldn't have been more dull. Sometimes I would follow people. I was never told why e I simply followed them~or tried to—until my feet were sore and my legs ached. When the day was over I wrote a report and that was that. I worked behind department-store counters, all kinds of counters, spying on the help to make sure they were honest. I felt like a spy. I hated it. I never had an exciting moment in nine months or even a very interesting one. Then they told me about coming here/*
"How did they know I was coming?" Jeff asked. "How did they know about my stepbrother?"
"They said there was a leak in your office."
"When did they tell you?"
"Saturday."
"That was a quick leak," Jeff said dryly. "This was the Tyler-Texas outfit that found this out?"
"Yes. Actually I don't know the details. All 1 know is that my boss said he had a job I'd like. He knew what plane you were taking and we tried to get a reservation on an earlier flight but by the time I managed to get tourist cards from the consul there wasn't any earlier flight. It wasn't until I got to the airport and you were pointed out to me that I even knew who you were."