I saw her start to turn away, then suddenly turn back, and realized that the girl at my table had given her some sort of a signal.
For a moment she looked full at me, and I caught the impact of her dark, feverish eyes; then she turned away, standing so that I could see the long curves of her body beneath the red gown which clung to her like wet silk.
Rosalind said, “She’s feeling pretty low today. She was a witness on that murder case.”
“You mean the lawyer that was killed?”
“Yes.”
“The deuce! What did she know about it?”
“She heard the shot — just as she was opening the door of her apartment house.”
“And the realization that she had heard the shot that caused the death of someone upset her?” I asked.
“Not Marilyn. She was upset because the officers woke her up to question her, and she lost some of her beauty sleep.”
“Does she drink?” I asked.
The girl looked at me suddenly, said, “You’re a detective, aren’t you?”
I raised my eyebrows in a gesture of surprise. “Me, a detective?”
“Yes, you are. You want to talk with her about that shooting, don’t you?”
I said, “I’ve been accused of lots of things in my life, but I think this is the first time anyone has taken a good look at me and said I looked like a detective.”
“You are, just the same. Okay, you’re a good sort. I’ll give you a tip. Marilyn Winton is as cold as an electric icebox, but she’s accurate. If she says that shot was fired at two-thirty, it was fired at two-thirty, and you don’t need to waste time worrying about it.”
“But you will get her over here so I can talk with her?”
“Uh huh. And that makes me feel better.”
“What does?”
“Your being a detective. I thought perhaps you really were falling for her.”
“Tell me about that love affair of hers. How did the man get her to fall for him?”
“Believe it or not, by sheer indifference. Once he got her going, he pretended he didn’t care whether she liked him or not. That bothered her. Men have always been the other way, threatening to kill themselves if she wouldn’t marry them, and all that sort of stuff.”
“You’ve talked with her?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“About what happened?”
“Yes.”
“Think she’s telling the truth?”
“Yes. She heard the shot and looked at her watch the minute she got to her apartment.”
“And she was cold sober?”
“She’s always cold and sober.”
I grinned at her and said, “I guess you’ve told me all I need to know, Rosalind. I won’t have to waste time with Marilyn.”
She said, “I’ve already given her the signal that you were falling for her and she’s expecting to come over. Notice the way she’s turning so you can see her curves? She’ll look back at you over her shoulder in a minute, and give you a half smile. She got that pose from an art calendar.”
I said, “It’s a shame she’s wasting it. Tell her I changed my mind, and decided she had halitosis or athlete’s foot, or something. Good night.”
“Will I be seeing you again?” she asked.
“That the standard line you hand all the customers?”
She looked at me frankly and said, “Sure. What the hell did you think? That I want to marry you? If you’re a detective, be your age.”
“Thanks,” I told her. “You may see me again at that. In the meantime, I’m off.”
“Where?”
“Leg work. Lots of leg work. Chores. Damn details. I hate them, but you have to do them.”
She said, “I guess that’s life. For you and me and the other guy.”
“That the way it is with you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She made a little gesture and said, “Because I was a damn fool. I have to make a living. I’ve got a kid.”
I said, “On second thought, I guess the information was worth ten dollars to the agency. Here’s the other five.”
“No kidding, it’s on an expense account?”
“On an expense account — and my boss is a big-hearted egg.”
Her hand joined mine. “Gosh, aren’t you lucky — a boss like that!” The five-dollar bill slipped over into her palm. She walked with me as far as the door. “I like you,” she said. “I wish you really would come back.”
I nodded.
She said, “I tell all the customers that, but this time I happen to mean it.”
I patted her shoulder and went on out. She stood in the door, watching me down the street. I caught a taxi-cab at the corner and drove out to the airport.
It was just the old routine leg work of a complete check-up, but something you can’t overlook if you want to be a good detective.
The passenger lists showed that Emory G. Hale had been a passenger on the 10:30 plane for New York City, that he’d returned on the plane, arriving at 8:30 that morning. I even checked to make sure he’d actually traveled on the plane.
The records showed that he had.
I took a cab back to the hotel. I was past due for a lot of shut-eye.
Chapter Twelve
It was past noon when I went to Hale’s apartment. He was out. I had a combined breakfast and lunch at the Bourbon House and tried Hale again.
No dice.
I went down St. Charles Avenue to the apartment house where Roberta had lived and studied the place as carefully as I could while walking by. Then I went back to the hotel and wrote out a typewritten report for the office files, being careful to list all my expenses.
I went back to the apartment at about four. Hale was in.
He was, moreover, in a very jovial mood.
“Come right in, Lam. Come in and sit down. Well, young man, I think I did you a little good. I drummed up another customer for you.”
“That right?”
“Yes. A man was here asking about you. I gave you a very good recommendation, very good indeed.”
“Thanks.”
We sat looking at each other for a while; then he said, “It’s very interesting. I’ve been searching the apartment.”
“For what?”
“For something that might give us some clue.”
“She hasn’t lived here for three years.”
“I know, but I was just looking around on the off chance. You can’t tell when something might be found — letters or something.”
“That’s right.”
“I’ve already found quite an assortment of things, letters that had worked under the papers that were placed on the bottom of the desk drawers, and there in the writing desk a whole lot of correspondence had dropped down in back of the drawer. I haven’t got it all out yet. I put the drawer back when I heard your steps on the stairs. I didn’t know just who it was that was coming.”
He walked over to the desk and pulled out the top drawer.
“Don’t happen to have a pocket flashlight, do you?” he asked.
“No.”
He said, “I’ve been looking down here with a match, but it’s rather dangerous. An end may drop off the match, and set the whole thing afire.”
He struck a match, shielded the flame with his hand for a moment, then pushed his arm down inside the place where the drawer had been. “Take a look down there,” he said.
Back down in the lower part of the desk I could see a litter of papers; then the match flickered out.
“Can’t we get at them by taking the lower drawers out?” I asked.
“No. I’ve tried that. There’s a partition back of the lower drawers. See?”
He pulled out one of the lower drawers. A solid partition was behind it. It left a space some six or eight inches between the back of the drawer and the back of the desk.