“I know,” I said. “I’m quitting.”
“And how are you going to support this little wren, or has she a fortune of her own?”
“We’ll get along.”
“Donald Lam, you listen to me. You can’t pull out and leave me in the lurch this way, and what’s more, you aren’t in love. You’ve just fallen for some little trollop who’s given you the come-hither eye. My God, if you knew as much about women as I do, you’d never even think of marrying one. Don’t ever kid yourself. They want security, and they don’t want to be old maids. They’re hunters, Donald, ruthless, skillful, unprincipled, who talk mealymouthed and make sheep’s eyes at you, but all the time in the backs of their heads they’re thinking, ‘Well; this man isn’t exactly what I want, but he’ll do in a pinch, and he’s so soft-hearted and polite that if I just string him along, I can lead him into a proposal of marriage without his ever knowing he’s had a ring stuck through his nose. He’s too much of a gentleman to turn me down.’ They—”
“This woman isn’t like that.”
“Oh, no! No, of course not. She’s different.”
“She is.”
“Well, why won’t she let you keep your job then?”
“Because she doesn’t like police. She doesn’t like detectives. She wouldn’t really fall for me if I kept on being a private detective.”
“What’s wrong with being a private detective?”
“Some people are just prejudiced, that’s 41. This girl has been on the other side for too long.”
“Who is she?”
“You wouldn’t know her.”
“Who is she?”
“She’s a nice kid, but she never did have the breaks. She—”
“Who is she?”
“She’s the girl who had the apartment where Harry Beegan’s body was found.”
Bertha Cool took a deep breath, folded her hands on her lap, looked at me steadily, then slowly exhaled and shook her head. “You’ve got me stopped,” she said. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
“Just get someone else to take my place.”
“Donald, are you serious?”
“Of course.”
“You realize what you’re saying?”
“Naturally.”
“You mean that you’re going to give up your job simply to make a play for a little tart who plugs slot machines for a living, and who was living with a broken-down prize fighter?”
“We’ll leave her out of it.”
“Don’t ever kid yourself, all she’s in love with is your pay check. You quit your job, and she’ll give you the air.”
“Not that girl. You see, she knows who murdered Harry Beegan.”
Bertha Cool said, “Now, listen, lover, you know as well as I do that— She what!”
“Knows who murdered Harry Beegan.”
“How?”
“She was in partnership with Beegan. Naturally, he told her everything.”
“In partnership!” Bertha snorted.
“That’s right. They were partners. It was a business arrangement.”
“Oh, yes,” Bertha sneered. “A business arrangement. Of course, he lived in her apartment, but it was just a business arrangement. She’s a dear, sweet little girl, and she couldn’t think of marrying a private detective. Oh, dear, no. And because Beegan was her partner he told her everything. I presume that means he talked to her after he was dead.”
“Will you lay off of her?”
“I’m just trying to keep you from making a fool of yourself. Within six months, you’ll wonder how you could have been such a complete utter ass.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, I do. I know it. I’ll tell you something else. If that girl knows who murdered Harry Beegan, she’d better come through with the information. If you ask me, I think it’s a stall. I think she murdered him. She must have. He was found in her apartment.”
“Will you make out a check for what I have coming and quit talking?”
“I’ll be damned if I do, not until you come to your senses. I wouldn’t give you your money if you were drunk, and I’m not going to give it to you while you’re crazy. And what are we going to do about finding Corla Burke?”
“You can hire someone else to get on the job, someone who’s had more experience than I have and who will be crazy to get the position.”
Bertha Cool said, “I’m not so certain that Harry Beegan’s murder isn’t connected with Corla Burke’s disappearance.”
I said, “Helen Framley’s a nice girl. She wouldn’t know about that. All she knows about is Harry Beegan’s murder, and you know how girls like that are. They won’t rat. That’s another reason why I’m quitting my job. She’ll tell me all she knows. If I were working for you, I’d have to betray her confidence. I don’t want to be in that position.”
“Donald, you’re crazy!”
“No. I’m in love.”
“Well, being in love doesn’t need to paralyze your brain cells. You don’t have to—”
There was a gentle knock on her door. She called, “Come in, please.”
The door opened, and Arthur Whitewell stood in the doorway.
Bertha Cool said, “Why, hel-lo, Arthur. Come in.”
He said, “I thought you might want to take a little stroll around the city, and look in on some of the roulette games. After all, we can’t let business entirely monopolize our time. All work and no play, you know. Is that a new dress?”
“Yes. I had it sent up. And it fits.”
“I’ll say it fits! It’s wonderfully becoming.”
Bertha said, “I never thought I’d see the day when I ‘could wear ready-made clothes again.”
Whitewell said, “You have a knack of wearing clothes. Anything you put on would look well. You have a marvelous figure — just the right proportions.”
Bertha Cool said archly, “Flatterer!”
“No. I mean it. How about the stroll down the main stem, and risk a few dollars on the wheel of fortune?”
Bertha said, “Do you know what’s happened to me?”
“No.”
She said, “Donald wants to quit. Can you imagine that?”
“Quit what?”
“Quit working for me.”
Whitewell looked at me. His eyebrows leveled. “When does he want to quit?”
“Now,” I said. “Immediately.”
“What’s the matter?” he asked, looking from Bertha to me.
“He’s in love,” Bertha explained. “She’s a dear, sweet, innocent little girl who—”
I got up and started for the door. “If you’re going to discuss my private affairs,” I said, “you’ll probably feel more free to do so if I’m not here. And if you’re going to talk about that girl, I don’t want to listen. She’s far too good for you to understand.”
I pulled the door shut behind me and started down the corridor. I’d gone half a dozen steps when I heard the door jerk open, then Bertha Cool’s voice saying, “Let him go, Arthur. It won’t do any good. Once he’s made up his mind, he—” The closing door cut off the rest of what she had to say.
I walked back to the Cactus Patch. Louie Hazen hadn’t got back. I went down to the telegraph office and said, “I’m Donald Lam, with the B. Cool Detective Agency. I’m expecting a telegram from Los Angeles sent to me at the Sal Sagev Hotel. It—”
“Just a minute,” the attendant said. “I’ll take a look.”