"How have you felt about it, Lila?"
"I don't know, Pat." She shrugged wearily. "I don't know any more.! put up a fight at first, but then I just kind of gave up. I'm not very bright; there's no point in telling you that. There's no work I'm any good for, and Doc had that hold over me, and, well, I just gave up. I didn't know what else to do."
"Do you know what Doc's plans are about Fanning Arnholt?"
"Fanning Arnholt?" She looked blank.
"The textbook deal."
"I don't know anything about it, Pat. Really I don't."
I threw a few more questions at her, trying to trip her up. But she was telling the truth. She didn't know anything of Doc's plans. She simply did as she was told, and no questions asked.
"I'll tell you something," I said, "and I want you to believe me, Lila. You're on a hell of a spot. Almost as bad a spot as I'm on. Doc isn't going to be around any more after tonight. You're going to be left alone, without any money and probably even without a place to live, and you're going to be right in the middle of one of the biggest scandals that ever hit Capital City."
She turned on me, startled. Then, she laughed, incredulously. "But-how? Why? I mean-"
"I can't explain now. It would take too much time; it wouldn't make sense to you. But here's something to think about. Since you aren't Mrs. Luther, who is?"
"Who?" She laughed again. "Why-well, no one. I mean, Doc just made-"
"Huh-uh. He didn't make the story up. He'd know it would be checked. He was married under exactly the circumstances he said he was, and his wife followed him here after he reestablished himself. He's kept her out of the dirty work-as much of it as he could-and used you instead. And now that the elections are going sour…Well, what do you think is going to happen, Lila?"
"I…" She frowned, trying to think and getting absolutely nowhere. "I don't-Tell me what to do, Pat."
"You were supposed to pick me up here tonight?"
"Yes. I was supposed to make it look like-like we'd been out together."
It seemed like the showdown, but I couldn't be positive. And if I jumped the gun, there wouldn't be any proof. I could set the deal up only once, and if it fell through I'd never get another chance.
"Tell me what to do, Pat."
I hesitated. Then, I took a notebook and a pencil from my pocket. "Do exactly what you first intended to," I said. "But do this also. When-if-I give you the nod, excuse yourself and call this party. Tell her to go to-"
I hesitated again…To go to Doc's house? No. No, he couldn't leave from there. There'd be things he'd have to take with him- clothing, toilet articles and soon- and he couldn't take them from the house.
"… tell her to come to this address, and bring some help with her. Tell her to stake the place out and…"
I ran through it a couple of times, spelling it all out. Because it was simple enough, but so was she. I tore the page from my notebook, watched her tuck it into her purse and stepped on the starter.
I drove on to the house. I parked the car in the garage, and opened the door for her. She followed me up the drive, lagging a few steps behind; then, as we neared the porch, she caught up with me and linked her arm through mine.
She clung to it tightly, letting her long soft hip brush against me. We entered the hall, and she pulled me around suddenly and kissed me on the mouth.
I grinned and patted her on the arm. I didn't say anything. I didn't wipe off the lipstick.
It was just eight-thirty. Arm in arm, we went down the hall and into my room.
There were about a dozen people in the room. Doc was there, of course, and Hardesty. Then there was Burkman, Flanders and Kronup, and a couple of the textbook men. The others I didn't know, although I'd seen most of them around the house or the capitol from time to time.
My bed had been pushed against the wall, along with the desk, table and reading stand. Doc was sitting on a stool in front of the radio. The others were lounging in a half-circle of chairs facing the instrument.
The air was blue with cigar and cigarette smoke. Everyone except Doc had a glass in his hand.
Lila and I sat down in two straight chairs, the only unoccupied ones, and for a moment every eye was on us-and the room was completely silent.
Every eye was on us, and then on Doc, watching his startled scowl, the protruding teeth that bared suddenly, unconsciously it seemed, in anger.
He stared at us, turning the dial of the radio. "This is it," he said slowly.
And the announcer's quick, falsely excited voice filled the room:
"Ladies and gentlemen, we take you tonight to Orpheum Hall where Mr. Fanning Arnholt, president of the National Phalanx, is speaking on 'Our Schools-Battleground of the Underground.' As you doubtless know, Mr. Arnholt has long been in the vanguard of those alert and courageous citizens who are fighting the good battle against subversive influences. He has-"
Then they were all staring at the radio which had suddenly gone dead.
"I don't know." Doc shook his head at their unspoken question. "The thing's working all right. It-"
"If you will stand by for just a moment"-it was the announcer again-"there seems to be… Mr. Arnholt was right here on the platform with me a moment ago, but he seems to have been called away. I wonder-yes, there he is now! He's talking to some other gentlemen, and he looks quite-quite ill. And… Stand by, please!"
The two textbook men looked at each other nervously. Someone said, "What the hell?" and there was a chorus of "Shhs." I glanced at Lila. I nodded. I hadn't known quite what to expect, but I knew this was the beginning of it. She got up and left the room quietly. And I saw, or thought I saw, a peculiar look in Doc's eyes. But he didn't say anything, and no one else seemed to notice her departure. They were all too interested in what was-or wasn't-coming from the radio.
It wasn't completely silent, now. We could hear the subdued roar of the audience, and the sound of several voices, apparently near the microphone. Two of them rose above the others:
"But Mr. Arnholt is the scheduled speaker…"
"… isn't speaking… we're paying for time…"
"… all right. I'll take over."
The microphone popped and rattled, and the announcer came back again:
"Thank you for waiting, friends. Due to the unforeseen circumstances, which will be explained to you, Mr. Arnholt will be unable to address you tonight. I will now turn your over to Mr. Ralph Edgars, state president of the National Phalanx… If you please, Mr. Edgars."
"Thank you," said another voice. "Uh-I didn't come here prepared to talk, folks, and I'm sorry that I have to. It's my job to tell you that I and the organization which I head in this state seem to have been pretty badly taken in..
He paused and cleared his throat, and the audience was as absolutely silent as this room where we sat. Even I, who had expected something like this, leaned forward, straining to hear:
"A few minutes before Mr. Arnholt was scheduled to speak tonight, a number of documents-or I should say photostats of documents-were delivered to me on this stage. I was amazed and dismayed to find that they cast serious doubts on Mr. Arnholt's motives for being here and on the entire series of talks he intended to make in this state.