‘Poor kid,’ I said, and kissed her again.
We sat there in the car, our lips held together, her body close and warm against mine. The bitterness and tension flowed out of me. I ceased to hate the world. A peaceful feeling took possession of me. It wasn’t passion. It wasn’t that kind of a kiss. I don’t know what kind of a kiss it was because I’d never had one before like it. She did things to me — things which I’d never before experienced.
Her sobbing ceased. She quit kissing me, gave a nervous, quivering little gasp, opened her purse, took out a square of handkerchief, and started drying her tears.
‘I’m a sight,’ she said, looking in the mirror on the inside of her purse. ‘Has Sally Durke come out yet?’
The question brought me back to realities with a jump. I peered through the windshield of the car at the entrance of the apartment house. It was forbiddingly inanimate. A dozen Sally Durkes could have come out and gone away, and I’d have been none the wiser.
‘She hasn’t left, has she?’ Alma asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I hope not.’
There was something throaty in her laugh. ‘I hope not,’ she said. ‘I feel a lot better. I— I like to be kissed by you, Donald.’
I wanted to say something and couldn’t. It was as though I was seeing and hearing her for the first time. Little cadences in her voice, little tricks of expression were registering with me for the first time. God, I must have been bitter not to have seen her. She had been with me for hours and yet this was the first time I’d really noticed her. Now, all of my attention was concentrated on her presence. I couldn’t think of anything else. I could feel the warmth of her body coming through her clothes where her legs were pressed against mine.
She seemed to have perfect control of herself, making her face over, applying lipstick with the tip of her finger.
Once more I tried to say something and couldn’t. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. It was like wanting to sing and not being able to.
I turned my attention back to the apartment house, and tried to concentrate on watching for Sally Durke. I wished I had some way of telling whether she’d gone out. I thought of going back to the apartment house and ringing her doorbell. That would let me know whether she was in, but I couldn’t think of anything to say if she was in. Then, she’d know I was shadowing her — or would she? At any rate, she’d know I was hanging around.
Alma raised her hand and started to button the collar of her blouse.
‘Do you,’ I asked, ‘want to tell me about that now?’
‘Yes,’ she said, and then after a moment added, ‘I’m frightened, Donald. I guess I’m an awful baby.’
‘What are you frightened of?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t you think the arrival of Sandra’s brother will make a difference?’
‘No... That is, I shouldn’t say that. I just don’t know.’
‘What do you know about him, Alma?’
‘Not very much. Whenever Sandra speaks of him, she says they didn’t get along very well.’
‘You mean recently?’
‘Well, Yes.’
‘What does she say about him?’
‘Just that he’s peculiar and very independent. The fact that Sandra’s his sister doesn’t mean a thing to him.’
‘And yet she turned to him when she needed help?’
‘I don’t know,’ Alma Hunter said. ‘I think he came to her. That is, I think he got in touch with her by long distance telephone. I don’t know. I have an idea — tell me, Donald, do you suppose there’s any chance he’s in partnership with Morgan?’
‘What do you mean? On this slot-machine business?’
‘Yes.’
‘There’s a chance of anything,’ I said. ‘What makes you ask?’
‘I don’t know. Just from the way he seems to be acting, and from a remark Sandra let drop, and — while you were there in the room with him, I could hear a little of the conversation, not all of it, but a word here and there which gave me the general drift.’
‘Morgan is,’ I said, ‘a husband. He’s a defendant in a divorce action. The papers are going to be served on him. Then he’ll either come into court, or he’ll default and cease being a husband. Therefore, why worry about it?’
‘Because I think you can’t dispose of him as simply as that. I think he’s — dangerous.’
‘Now,’ I said, ‘we’re getting to the point I wanted to talk about.’
‘What?’
‘Those bruises on your neck.’
‘Oh, he has nothing to do with them.’
‘Go ahead. Tell me about it. Who was it?’
‘A b-b-burglar.’.
‘Where?’
‘Someone who broke into the apartment.’
‘When?’
‘Last night.’
‘You two girls were there alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where was Sandra?’
‘She slept in the other bedroom.’
‘And you were sleeping in the room with the twin beds?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sandra was sleeping in the room where Bleatie is now?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘-Oh, I shouldn’t tell you about it. I promised Sandra I wouldn’t say anything to anyone.’
‘Why all the secrecy?’
‘Because she’s having enough trouble with the police. They’re trying to locate Morgan, and they’ve been coming in at all hours of the day and night and asking all sorts of questions. It’s been very embarrassing.’
‘So I imagine, but that’s no reason why you should be choked to death.’
‘I fought him off.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘It was a hot night,’ she said. ‘I was sleeping without very much on. I woke up and a man was leaning over the bed. I moved and started to scream. He grabbed me by the throat and I began to kick. I kicked him in the stomach with my heels and got my knees up against his shoulders and pushed with all my might. If I’d slept just a second longer, and he’d got closer to me, he’d have choked me; but when I got my knees up and pushed, I finally broke his hold.’
‘And then what happened?’
‘And then he ran.’
‘Where?’
‘Out into the other room.’
‘And then what?’
‘Then I called Sandra. We turned on the lights, and looked through the apartment. Nothing was disturbed.’
‘Did you find how he got in?’
‘It must have been the fire escape because the door was locked.’
‘Was he dressed?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. I didn’t see him. It was dark.’
‘But you could feel, couldn’t you?’
‘Well, yes, in a way.’
‘And you never did see him? You wouldn’t recognize him if you saw him again?’
‘No, it was dark as pitch.’
‘Look here, Alma,’ I said. ‘You’re nervous. There’s more to this than you’re telling me. Why don’t you give me a chance to help you?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘I can’t — I mean, there isn’t — I’ve told you everything.’
I sat back and smoked a cigarette in silence. After a minute, she said, ‘You’re really truly a detective, aren’t you? I mean legally?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you have a right to carry a gun?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Could you — could you get a gun if I gave you the money, and let me carry it for a while?’
‘Why?’
‘Protection.’
‘Why the gun?’
‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘Good lord, if you’d wakened in the middle of the night and found someone leaning over you, and then hands clutching at your throat and—’
‘Then you think it’s going to happen again?’
‘I don’t know, but I want to stay with Sandra, and I think she’s in danger.’
‘What’s she in danger of?’