She read it through carefully. I watched her eyes moving back and forth as she shifted them from one line to the other. After a while, they quit moving, but she kept them focused on the paper, pretending still to be reading, gaining time to think before she had to look up and face the situation.
Abruptly she looked up at me. “He was murdered then?”
“Yes.”
“Who— Who did it?”
“They don’t know.”
“But you know, don’t you?”
“I have an idea.”
Her eyes shifted again. She pulled her lower lip in under her teeth, moved it slowly while she made biting motions. “Have you been employed to solve the murder?” she asked abruptly.
“No.”
“Would you — well, if you knew who did it, would you necessarily have to—”
“No.”
Abruptly she gave me her hand. “Mr. Lam,” she said, “I think you’re wonderful.”
“And you’ll do what I ask you to?”
“Yes.”
“All right, remember you’ve had this apartment as Mrs. Sidney Jannix. You don’t want to have any connection with this apartment. They must never be able to trace you to it. That would be fatal. Clean out of here. Ship your baggage or buy a ticket to San Francisco, check your baggage, and have the baggage checks in your purse. I suppose Whitewell gave you money enough to see you through, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He insisted that I accept that so that I could leave all of my own money behind when I left. That was a part of the stage setting.”
“If Philip had used his brain,” I said, “that would have been the one clue which would have convinced him your disappearance had been planned in advance and financed. All right now, clear out of here. I want it so that no one can ever connect you with this apartment. Go out on the streets and start wandering around. Find a policeman. Ask him what town this is. Keep doing goofy things until someone picks you up, but whatever you do, don’t take a drink of anything.”
“Why?”
“Because if you have liquor on your breath, they’ll throw you in as a drunk. If you’re cold sober, and still act goofy, they’ll call in a doctor. The doctor may try to trap you. He may smell a rat. You’ve got to carry it through. Think you can do it?”
“I can try. I’d do anything.”
“Luck to you,” I said, and shook hands with her again.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to wait until you land in the hospital, and then I’m going to discover you. After that, I’m going to Las Vegas and report to Whitewell.”
She said, “You’re giving me a swell break, aren’t you?” I said, “I see no reason for throwing you overboard if I can bring the ship into port.”
Her eyes were searching mine, and she was smiling somewhat wistfully. “You’re trying to be tough and hard-boiled — and you’re just a romanticist at heart. You remind me of Philip.”
I started for the door. “Okay, try and be in the hospital by dark.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I walked down the stairs and out to the street. The high elevation gave the shadows a slightly purplish hue. All about me the life of Reno flowed by in a steady stream. Reno claims to be the biggest little city in the world, and it might also claim to be the most distinctive. There’s an individuality about Reno which hits you right between the eyes: cowpunchers clumping along the sidewalks in high-heeled riding-boots, disillusioned, bitter women waiting for their period of residence to expire, voluptuous cuties who are playing tag with life, and have dropped in on Reno during a period of transition, boldly looking for some temporary masculine contacts and not being overly particular. Gamblers rub elbows with tourists. Cowpunchers pass the time of day with the owners of dude ranches. Sunburned vacationists, enjoying the healthful climate, mingle with pale-faced tourists who are gawking about at the sights of the divorce capital.
I wanted a few moments in which to think things out before I went back to the cabin. I drifted with the crowd through the doors of one of the more popular casinos, stood in a corner absently watching the expressions of the faces grouped around the wheel of fortune. Behind me, I could hear the steady whir of a slot machine. Intermittent. ly, there’d be the tinkle of coins spilling into the cup.
I turned around to look.
Helen Framley, her back turned toward me, was busily engaged in milking one of the two-bit machines.
I walked quietly to the door and out into the street.
Chapter Fifteen
Helen Framley came breezing into the cabin. “Gosh, I’m hungry. Anything to eat in the place?”
“Coming up right away,” Louie said. “I’ve got some Spanish beans in the oven, keeping warm. I’ve had them simmering all day. Wait until you taste them.”
“Boiled beans?” she asked.
“Not exactly. You boil ’em, then fry ’em, and mash ’em up into a meal with a little garlic. Don’t tell me you’ve never tasted Mexican fried beans.”
“No, but they sound good.”
“I’ll have ’em ready in just a jiffy.”
Louie went out into the kitchen to busy himself over the stove.
Helen said to me very casually, “Donald, you were asking me about money. How are you fixed on cash?”
“I can get by.”
“I don’t believe it. How many traveler’s checks have you got?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get along.”
“Let me see.”
“I tell you, I’m all right.”
“Come on, let me see. Where’s the book of checks?”
I took out the book. There were three twenty-dollar checks left.
She laughed. “Chicken feed,” she said, “for the expenses you’re carrying. Listen, I want to pay some of this.”
“Not a chance.”
“Don’t kid me. I’m dough-heavy, and I’m going to contribute. Try and stop me.”
She opened her purse, pulled out a roll of bills, peeled off three twenties which she put back in her purse and tossed the balance over to me.
I shook my head.
“All right then, it’s a loan,” she said. “You can pay it back.”
“How much is in there?”
“I don’t know. Three or four hundred dollars. Count it.”
I counted it. There was four hundred and fifty dollars in the roll.
“Where’d you get it?” I asked.
“Oh, I had it in my purse. Remember, I had the roll when Pug and I came to a parting of the ways.”
I put the money in my pocket. I didn’t say anything about having seen her in. the casino.
After dinner we drove uptown and took in an early movie. Louie seemed to be feeling very much himself. Helen didn’t talk much. She had the quiet of calm contentment about her.
On the way home, she sang little snatches of popular tunes, and when we arrived at the cabin, had us stop to stand outside the door and look up at the stars. She said suddenly, “I know, of course, it’s going to end. I’m afraid it’s going to end soon, but it’s grand while it’s lasting, isn’t it, Louie?”
Louie retorted, “Are you asking me? You know the way we’re getting along, it seems like we all belong to the same lodge.”
We laughed then and went inside.
I waited until Helen was in the shower, getting ready for bed, then said, “I think I’d better send a telegram, Louie. I’m going to run back uptown. Don’t wait up for me, and tell Helen it may be an hour or so because I have to wait for a reply.”
I made my voice sound casual, and it registered with Louie.
“Okay, buddy,” he said. “Don’t wander down any dark alleys, and if anybody gets tough with you, remember the old Hazen shift. Give ’em the old one-two, and when you hit, remember to follow through.”