“For a while,” I said.
She said, “What did you want to see him about?”
I said, “Frankly, I was worried about the time element. I wasn’t certain when you come right down to it, not absolutely certain, it was three-thirty. I got to thinking it might have been later. I wanted to ask him about it so I could be dead certain.”
She said, “The time is wrong. But I know the accident happened because I saw his car.”
“When?”
“When it was in the garage being fixed. It was laid up for — oh, I guess a week. They had to get a new radiator and some parts for the front of it.”
“When did he tell you about the accident, on the fourteenth?”
She said, “He mentioned it rather casually and — well, he didn’t seem to pay too much attention to it. He wrote the insurance company and reported it, and I suggested to him that he’d better notify the police. That was the afternoon of the fourteenth.”
I said, “I’d hate to get off on the wrong foot. I fixed the time as three-thirty because that’s when Dudley Bedford told me the accident took place according to the police records.”
“Just who is Dudley Bedford, Donald?” she asked.
“All I know is that he’s the boy friend of a girl I’ve met.”
“How well do you know her?”
“I’ve just seen her a couple of times.”
“Do you expect to see more of her?”
“Probably.”
“How much more?”
“That,” I said, “depends.”
“Is it a girl named Doris Ashley?”
“Yes.”
“And Bedford’s her boy friend?”
“I think so. Why do you ask?”
“Because,” she said, “Bedford has been in touch with Mr. Holgate, and Mr. Holgate didn’t tell me what the conversation was about. Usually he does. It’s part of the way he runs the office. He’ll tell me all about the various people who come in, give me his impressions of them, let me know what their business is and all that, so I’ll know how to handle myself if they should call up when he isn’t in; whether to break my neck trying to locate him or whether to just brush them off.
“But with Bedford, Mr. Holgate just didn’t tell me a thing and of course I didn’t ask.”
“Well,” I said, “I think we’d better look in Maxton’s office, then go find Holgate. Let’s close up the place here, turn off the lights and see what we can do.”
She opened the safe, took out a key. We opened the door to Maxton’s office and switched on the light.
The place was neat and orderly.
“Not a thing touched here,” she said.
She stood for a moment in thoughtful contemplation, then switched off the light and closed the door.
The spring lock clicked.
She went to the safe, replaced the key, closed the safe door, spun the combination, walked over to her typewriter, switched off the motor and put the plastic cover over the machine.
Then she went into Holgate’s office, closed and locked the windows and switched off the lights. We went out, got in my car, and she had me drive to Holgate’s apartment.
No one answered the door. The place was dark.
We tried a couple of clubs where he frequently played cards and drew a blank.
“The guy has to be someplace,” I said.
She said, “All right, Donald. He’s someplace but we don’t know where that someplace is. It’s late and I’m going to bed. We’ll sleep on it and see what we can find out in the morning.”
I looked at her, and her face was just too innocent. I knew damned well she wasn’t going to bed and going to sleep. I also knew damned well she wanted to get rid of me in order to look in some other place where she thought Holgate might be found. She didn’t want anybody to know where that place was. She was a good secretary.
I rode along with the gag, took her back to her apartment, said good night and drove away.
I circled the block, came back and parked and hadn’t been there more than two minutes when a car came out of the parking lot driving fast.
I got close enough so that when the car went through the lighted intersection I could see it was Lorraine driving. She was all alone in the car.
I didn’t try to follow.
I went back to the Perkins Hotel.
There was a note for me to call Doris no matter what time I came in.
I put through the call and a moment later heard Doris’ voice on the line.
“Hello,” she said cautiously, noncommitally.
“How’s tricks?” I asked.
“Donald!” she exclaimed, recognizing my voice. “I thought you were supposed to stay there in the hotel and be where we could reach you with messages.”
“Well,” I said, “I got sidetracked. It’s something I’ll have to tell you about later. What’s the trouble, anything?”
“I was hoping you’d get in touch with me this evening, Donald, before it got too late.
“Too late for what?”
“For respectability.”
“Do we have to be respectable?”
“I do — in this apartment house.”
“Why don’t you move?”
She laughed and said, “Seriously speaking, Donald. I thought I was going to see more of you.”
“You are.”
“When?”
“Tonight?”
“It’s too late, Donald. They lock the outer door.”
“How about tomorrow?”
“That would be fine. When?”
“The earlier the better. I called you tonight. You didn’t answer.”
“You called me?”
“Yes.”
“Just once?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I’m not certain about the time. It was at what you’d call a respectable hour.”
“Oh, Donald! That must have been when I ran down to the corner to get some cigarettes! Oh, I’m sorry! I was... hoping you’d call. A girl shouldn’t say that. It sounds— Oh, hell, Donald, do we have to stand on convention?”
“No. Can I come out?”
“Not tonight, Donald. I’d get put out.”
“All right, we were talking about tomorrow, early.”
She hesitated a moment, then said, “I have to go to the airport to meet a friend tomorrow. Why don’t you drive out to the airport with me?”
“Your friends,” I said, “are sometimes a little violent. I still have a sore jaw.”
“That,” she said, “I’m very angry about that, and believe me, he knows it. No, this isn’t a man friend, this is a girl friend. Really I shouldn’t let you see her. She’s a raving beauty, a blonde with a wonderful figure. She’s been back east for a while and she’s coming in on the early plane and wants me to meet her.”
“Do I know her?” I asked.
“I hope not,” she said. “I guess you’ve heard about her, though. She’s Vivian Deshler — you know, the girl who was hurt in that automobile accident.”
“Oh, yes,” I said, feeling my way cautiously. “That’s the accident I saw on the thirteenth of August.”
“That’s right.”
I said, “I’ve been wondering about the time element of that accident, Doris. Your friend may have given me the wrong time. I think the accident may have been an hour and a half later than—”
“Donald, don’t let anyone fool you. The accident was at three-thirty.”
“How do you know?”
“A friend and I saw Vivian’s car at four o’clock. You could see the dent in the rear. She drove out here right after the accident.”
“You’re sure of the time?”
“Of course.”
I said, “Okay, Doris. Why don’t I pick you up about eight o’clock? We can have breakfast, then drive to the airport.”