After I'd eaten I had a brandy and dropped a few nickels in the juke box. I rolled dice with the bartender for drinks and won once and lost twice. By seven o'clock I was pretty well relaxed; as relaxed as I could be under my circumstances.
And, then, the cop came in.
He was a big, lumbering fellow with a broad red face, and he had little round unblinking eyes. He came through the door slowly, twirling his club as though it were an extension of his fingers, and stopped at the front of the bar. He looked the place over, walls, ceiling, floor and fixtures; studying it as if he might be considering its purchase. Then, he lumbered down to us.
The bartender finished his roll and passed the cup to me. I picked it up, numb fingered, and the cop swung the club up, caught it, and pointed it over his shoulder.
"That your coupe out there?"
"Yes," I said, easing my feet off the stool rungs. "It's mine."
"Buy it new?"
"No.
"How long you had it?"
"Not very long," I said.
He stared at me blank-faced. The club came down and began to twirl again.
"What'd you pay for it?"
"A hundred and seventy-five."
"Who'd you buy it from?"
"Capital Car Sales."
He caught the club under his arm, took a pencil from the side of his cap and a notebook from his hip pocket. He wrote in the book, his lips moving with the movement of his hand. He closed it, returned it to his hip and replaced the pencil in its clip.
"Been lookin' for a good cheap coupe," he said. "Think I'll go down and see them people."
And then he turned and lumbered out, the club spinning and twirling at his finger tips.
I had two more drinks, stiff ones, and got out of there.
At eight-fifteen I turned up the long wooded drive which led to Dr. Luther's house.
Three blocks from the house, a convertible was parked against the curb. I was swinging out to pass it when a woman stepped into the beam of my headlights and held up her arm.
Lila.
"Oh, Pat," she said, as I stopped beside her. "I'm so glad you came along. I seem to be out of gas."
"That's too bad," I said. "If you'll steer your car, I'll push it home for you."
"Oh, that's a lot of bother," she said, and she opened the door of my car and climbed in. "Let's just leave it here. I'll send one of the boys back after it."
I closed the door for her, but I didn't drive on. She could have walked home in five minutes. Why wait for me? For obviously she had waited for me.
I turned and looked at her, and she smiled at me brightly in the darkness. "Well, Pat? Hadn't we better be going?"
"Doc told you to wait there for me, Lila," I said. "Why?"
"Now what are you talking about, Pat?" she laughed. "I told you I was out of gas."
"Do you know what you're doing, Lila? Or are you just running blind, doing as you're told?"
She shook her head, not answering.
"Lila," I said. "I think you're pretty straight. I think you'd like to be straight. But you're mixed up in something damned bad. If you keep on, the same thing that happened to Eggleston may happen to you."
"Eggleston?" Her voice was puzzled. "Who's he?"
"You know who he was. The private detective."
"I don't know anyone named Eggleston-any private detectives."
"Don't hand me that," I said. "You had an appointment with him last night…and he was murdered."
"Murdered?" she said blankly. "And I had an appointment with him? You're joking, Pat!"
I grabbed her by the arms and started to shake her; and then I let go and slid under the wheel again.
"Yes," I said, "I was joking. Now I'll drive you home."
"I really don't know anything about it. Honest, I don't."
"No," I nodded. "You don't. Eggleston's appointment was with Mrs. Luther. You're not Mrs. Luther."
26
She gasped and whirled on me.
"That's not true! Why-why-" she laughed, a little hysterically, "I never heard of such a thing!"
"All right, then," I said, "we'll say that you are Mrs. Luther. You're Doc's wife and marriage doesn't mean a thing to you. You're Doc's wife and you killed Eggleston last night or you had him killed."
That got her; hit her hard from two directions. It hurt her pride deeply, and it frightened her even more.
"Y-you-you guessed it," she said, at last. "I didn't tell you!"
"No," I said. "You didn't tell me. Doc did. He told me enough so that I should have seen it. How did it start, Lila? Were you a patient of his?"
"N-not"-she shivered-"not at first. I met him on the train, years ago-about ten years, I guess it was- when he was coming here for the first time. I-I'd been losing a lot of sleep, and I thought I might be going crazy. He talked with me, and afterwards I felt better. And when he opened his offices here, I started consulting him. I-he found out what was worrying me."
"What was it?" I kept my voice gentle, sympathetic. "Had you killed someone?"
"My husband. I-I didn't mean to-I don't think I meant to-but I guess that doesn't matter. I was tired, of waiting on him, I suppose, and I gave him too much of the medicine. They all said I'd killed him. They couldn't prove anything, but they kept saying it. I had to leave there."
"And Doc picked up where your neighbors left off," I said. "He convinced you that you had committed murder. I imagine he even got you to admit it, didn't he?"
She turned and looked at me, eyes widening. "You sound like-like you don't think I-"
"Of course, you didn't do it intentionally," I said. "Doc wanted to use you so he made you believe you'd killed your husband. Let's see if I know what happened, then, after he had you start posing as his wife. He-"
"No need to guess about it, Pat," she said, and she told me how it had been.
Doc had used her in a kind of high class badger game with the capital big shots. He didn't take money. Money might have led to a charge of blackmail and, at any rate, the easy money crowd seldom had heavy cash assets. So, when Doc caught his "wife" in a compromising situation with one of the big boys, he simply demanded to be cut in on the political gravy. That gave him his "in," enabled him to get out of the game fast. For, of course, it couldn't be worked indefinitely. As it was, talk began to circulate that Lila Luther was too promiscuous to actually be so, and that Doc seemed jealous only when he could profit by it. His victims couldn't charge him with blackmail, but they could run him out of town if they learned the truth. They could fix it so that, even in the shadiest political circles, no one could afford to become involved with him.
"I guess that's why he hates me so much," Lila concluded. "It's been years since I've been of any use to him but he's had to go on keeping me. He's had to treat me as a man in his position would be expected to treat his wife. I guess, in the long run, I've gotten a lot more from him than I got for him."