I concluded that lawyer's argument and drew her gently into my apartment, closing and locking the door behind us. I got her into the armchair where she sat upright, spine straight, hands clasped in her lap. She stared pensively into the dying flames.
'Could we have a drink?' I asked. 'Please? I think it might help.'
She gave the barest nod and I hastened to pour us two small glasses of brandy. I pulled a straight-back chair up close to her and leaned forward earnestly, drink clasped at my knees.
'Now,' I said, 'I presume you are disappointed in me because of something Adolph Finkel may have alleged about my, uh, visitor this morning. Is that correct?'
Again, that brief, cold nod.
'Cleo, that young woman is an important witness in a case I am currently investigating, and I needed information from her. Here is exactly what h a p p e n e d. . '
I think I may say, without fear of self-glorification, that I was at my most convincing best. I spoke slowly in a grave, intense voice, and I told Cleo nothing but the truth. I described my bus ride uptown in the storm, the atmosphere at Mother Tucker's, my meeting with Perdita Schug and Colonel Clyde Manila.
'It sounds like a fun place,' Cleo said faintly, almost enviously.
'Oh yes,' I said, encouraged, 'we must go there sometime.'
Then I went on to explain my failure to elicit any meaningful intelligence from Perdita during dinner, and how I had decided the evening was wasted and that I should return home alone by any means possible. I described how Perdita and the Colonel insisted on driving me in the chocolate-coloured Rolls-Royce, and how we all drank, and they smoked joints en route. I held nothing back.
'I've never tried it,' Cleo Hufnagel said reflectively. 'I'd like to.'
I tried to conceal my amazement at that. I described how Perdita Schug had forced her way into my apartment and how, after a drink, she had revealed information of inestimable value in the case under investigation.
'And then. . ' I said.
'And then?' Cleo asked sharply.
As delicately as I could, I explained what happened then.
During this part of my confession, Cleo had begun to smile, and when I described my makeshift bed and how I awoke a mass of aches and pains, she threw back her head and laughed outright. And my telling of the tender conversation in the morning, just prior to Perdita's departure, sent her into a prolonged fit of hearty guffaws and she bent over, shaking her head and wiping her streaming eyes with a knuckle.
'Then we came out into the hallway,' I said, 'and there was Adolph Finkel. I swear to you, Cleo, on our friendship, that's exactly what happened.'
'I believe you, Josh,' she said, still wiping her eyes. 'No one could have made up a story like that. How did you get her home?'
I told her how we had discovered Colonel Manila still waiting in the snowdrift, and how they had driven me to work and then gone off together.
'Will you see her again?' she asked, suddenly serious.
I thought about that.
'Cleo, I cannot promise you I will not. Things may develop in the investigation that will necessitate additional conversations with her. But I assure you, my only motive in seeking her company will be in the line of business. I have no personal interest in Perdita whatsoever. Would you like another brandy?'
'Please,' she said, and I went gratefully to replenish our glasses, fearing she might detect guilt in my face. I had told her the truth — but not the whole truth.
I came back with our drinks, pulled my chair closer, took her free hand in mine.
'Am I forgiven?' I asked.
She was looking uncommonly handsome that night. But each time I saw her I discerned new beauty. The long hair I had once thought of as only gleaming chestnut now seemed to me to have the tossing fascination of flame. The smile I had defined as pleasant but distant now appeared to me mysterious and full of promise. The thin nose was now aristocratic, the high, clear, brow bespoke intelligence, and the wide mouth, instead of being merely curvy, was now sensuous and madly desirable.
As for her figure, I could not believe I once thought her skinny. I saw now that she was elegant, supple as a willow wand, and her long arms and legs, slender hands and feet, were all of a piece, pliant and flowing. There was a fluency to her body, and I no longer thought of her as being a head taller than I. We were equals: that's what I thought.
'Of course I forgive you,' she said in that marvellously low and gentle voice. 'But there is nothing to forgive. The fault was mine. I have no claims on you. You can live as you please. I was just being stupid.'
'No, no,' I said hotly. 'You were not stupid. Are not stupid.'
'It was just t h a t. . ' she said hesitantly. 'Well, I was — I was hurt. I don't know why, but I was.'
'I would never do anything to hurt you,' I vowed.
'Never! And I haven't forgotten about the kite either. I really am going to buy a red kite for us. With string.'
She laughed. 'I'm glad you haven't forgotten, Josh,' she said, gently taking her hand from mine. 'Now do you want to talk about what I found out? About the arsenic?'
I nodded, even though at that moment I most wanted to talk about us.
She took the envelope from the floor at my feet and opened the flap. I moved the table lamp closer.
'I'll leave all of this for you to read,' she said. 'Most of it is photocopies, and photostats from medical journals and drug company manuals. Josh, it's awfully technical.
Maybe I better go over the main points, and that will be enough for you, and you won't have to read it all. That man you said was poisoned by arsenic — was he killed? I mean, was he fed a large quantity of arsenic at one time and died? Or small amounts over a period of time?'
'Small amounts,' I said. 'I think. And I don't believe he died. At least not from the arsenic.'
'Well, arsenic comes in a lot of different chemical compounds. Powders, crystals, and liquids. There's even one type that fumes in air. Pope Clement the Seventh and Leopold the First of Austria were supposed to have been assassinated by arsenic mixed in wax candles. The fumes from the candles were poisonous, and whoever breathed them died.'
'That's incredible,' I murmured, and before I could help myself I had flopped to my knees alongside her chair and taken up one of her long, slender hands again. She let me.
'I think what you're looking for, Josh, is arsenic trioxide. It's the common form and the primary material of all the arsenic compounds.'
'Yes,' I said, putting my lips to the tips of her fingers.
'Arsenic trioxide.'
'It is white or transparent glassy lumps or a crystalline powder. It is soluble if mixed slowly and used extremely sparingly. It is odourless and tasteless. A poisonous dose would be only a small pinch. There might be a very slight aftertaste.'
'Aftertaste,' I repeated, kissing her knuckles, the back of her hand, then turning it over to kiss that pearly wrist with the blue veins pulsing faintly.
'Only two- or three-tenths of a gram of arsenic trioxide can kill an adult within forty-eight hours, so you can see how a tiny amount could cause illness.' She obviously
intended to finish her lecture despite the distractions.
'Arsenic affects the red blood cells and kidneys, if I read these medical papers correctly. The symptoms vary greatly, but a victim of fatal arsenic poisoning might have headaches, vertigo, muscle spasm, delirium, and stupor.
Death comes from circulatory collapse. In smaller doses, over a period of time, there would probably be a low-grade fever, loss of appetite, pallor, weakness, inflammation of the nose and throat. You notice that those symptoms are quite similar to the flu or a virus, and that's why arsenic poisoning is sometimes misdiagnosed. In tiny doses over a long period of time, there is usually no delirium or stupor.'