I didn’t move.
I didn’t have a chance to move, because her arms were around me and her head was on my shoulder, and I could feel the weight and the warmth of her quivering against me. The perfume was rising all around me, and her voice was rustling into my ear.
“Oh, Mark, I’m glad. I’m so lonely, so frightened. I don’t know what to do. If you only knew what it’s been like, just sitting here day after day, wondering what was going to happen next.”
“Please, Daisy.”
“Don’t talk. Let’s not talk now. Let’s forget all about what’s happened. You’ll do that for me, won’t you, Mark? You’ll help me to forget?”
I twisted my head away. “That’s not my job, Daisy. I’m here to help you remember.” Her pajamas had a tendency to gape. So did I. But I didn’t move.
“Mark. Darling. Try to understand...”
I wasn’t letting her finish her sentences, or anything else she planned on starting. I reached out and held her at arm’s length. “I understand, Daisy,” I said. “You don’t go for me, really. You’re just scared.”
“All right. I’m scared. I said so, didn’t I? How long do you think I can go on this way, watching people getting murdered, knowing that Harry’s been threatened too?”
“So you went into a big vamp scene,” I told her. “Which would end up by you getting me to promise that I’d quit the investigation.”
She got off my lap so fast I thought she’d hit the ceiling. Literally. Figuratively, that’s just what she was doing now. “You’re going to quit!” she snapped. “You’ve got to! I’m not taking any more of this. They killed Foster, they killed Trent, they tried to kill you. Where’s it going to end? Do you want to see Harry dead, is that it?”
“Calm down,” I answered. “Take another drink. Take two drinks. Get yourself loaded, for all I care. Do you good.”
“Nothing does any good. Not as long as this keeps on. Mark, you’ve got to lay off. Can’t you see this is all your fault? If you hadn’t stirred things up again, there wouldn’t have been any trouble.”
“My fault?” I shook my head. “Harry hired me, in case you don’t remember. And have you forgotten why? Because he has to clear things up in order to swing his deal. You’ve got a big stake in this too, Daisy. You know that.”
“Not enough to risk our lives—his and mine. Mark, be reasonable.”
“I’m reasonable.”
“I’ll talk to Harry. I don’t know how much he promised you for doing this, but I’ll see that he pays you every penny, in full. You don’t have to keep on just for the money.”
“It isn’t the money alone, believe me,” I said. “And I don’t expect to be paid off unless I deliver the goods.”
She poured her third drink. This time she was slow about it, and careful. Nothing spilled, but when she turned to face me I could see she hadn’t lied. She was jumpy, and her voice held an unnatural edge. “Quit talking about delivering the goods. I mean it. The minute I see Harry, I’m going to get him to stop you. This has gone far enough.”
“It’s going further, I’m afraid.” I stood up. “Listen to me, Daisy. Stopping me won’t help matters now. This is a police job, because of the murders. You can take me off the case, but they’ll go on.”
“Let them. They haven’t done anything so far.”
“How do you know? Don’t underestimate the police. And they may turn up something any minute now. If they do, good. If they don’t, things won’t change. The murderer, whoever he is, will still be at large. If he has any future plans, he’ll go through with them whether I’m involved in the case or not. Seems to me you’d want my help. The more help you’ve got, the sooner we’ll settle this thing.”
“Mark, there’s something you’re not telling me. Some reason why you insist on risking your life, our lives, taking crazy chances. What is it?”
I tugged at my eye-patch. “I can’t tell you, Daisy. Let’s just say that I’m a crusader, shall we? And let it go at that?”
“Crusader?” She slammed her glass down on the table. “Well, I’m talking to Harry, wait and see. He’ll have you off your horse in no time. So you might as well stop, right now.”
I shrugged. “When he tells me to quit, I quit,” I said. “Until then—”
“Where are you going?”
“Got to see a guy about breaking a lance with the heathen.” I headed for the door. “Tell Harry I’ll call him.”
“Mark...”
She wasn’t angry any more. She was very soft. Soft and clinging.
“What is it?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.
“Do you have to go?”
“I have to go. I’m sorry, Daisy. Really, I am.”
“So am I. I—I’m not putting on an act, this time. I like you, Mark.”
“I like you, too, Daisy. That’s why I’m going to try and save the family fortune.”
She sighed. Standing where she was, I could feel it as well as hear it. “All right, you stubborn idiot! But couldn’t you at least kiss me?”
“No,” I said. “I couldn’t at least kiss you. As you damned well know.”
“Maybe you’re right, at that.”
“I know I am. And so do you. See you, Daisy.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful?”
“I’m always careful. You’ve just had a demonstration.” I left her standing there and went out through the hall. The fresh air outside had its points, but I preferred the perfume I’d left behind.
Driving away, I wondered what was the matter with me. Old age setting in? Perhaps; although I hadn’t noticed any of the symptoms when Daisy Bannock put her arms around me.
Then what was it? Why did I deliberately walk away from that setup and head for trouble?
Why was I stopping at this drugstore? Why did I call Apex and ask for Mr. Kolmar? Why did I bother to find out he was at home this afternoon instead of at the studio? And why did I get back in my car and head off to the San Fernando Valley?
I’d already had the San Fernando Valley. Enough to last me the rest of my lifetime, however long that might be. Going out there again might shorten it considerably.
And remembering fat little, redfaced Abe Kolmar, I couldn’t understand why I’d prefer his company to Daisy’s. Daisy had red-gold hair and white sateen pajamas. Why, Kolmar was baldheaded, and I bet he didn’t have a pair of white sateen pajamas to his name.
So why was I going?
Mark Clayburn, crusader, riding his rusty steed into the Valley. Into the Valley of Death rode the six hundred. Bring on your heathen, your infidels. Here comes Clayburn, ye true and parfait knight. Dig the stance of that lance. Onward, Christian soldiers!
It was hot in the Valley this afternoon. I was sweating. I didn’t stop perspiring as I passed Trent’s place, either. No signs of life, though. There wouldn’t be. And what about signs of death?
No police cars, either. I was glad of that. Maybe I’d be sorry, later on. A police car in the neighborhood might come in handy.
I kept driving. Kolmar lived way out. He was a good five miles away from Trent. But come to think of it, that wasn’t very far. A man could cover the distance in a very short time. I might ask Kolmar about that.
Then again, I might not. I’d have to wait and see.
I waited and saw his ranch loom ahead.
This was the genuine article. Kolmar did have a ranch, and it was big enough to serve as a location for his oat operas. Come to think of it, here’s where Dick Ryan died. Here’s where Dick Ryan died, and Tom Trent got it only five miles away. Very interesting.
The car entered the gateway between the fence posts and climbed a long hill. The big house was set way back from the road. I could see a corral and outbuildings, baking under the sunlight.