“George Ansley,” he told her. “A struggling contractor trying to get by.”
“And,” she observed, taking out a notebook, “I suppose, in order to comply with the amenities of the situation, I’ve got to have the license number of your automobile.”
“JYJ 113,” he told her.
“Mine is CVX 266. I’m all covered by insurance and I suppose you are.”
He nodded.
“Then we can forget the legal aspects of the situation and discuss the personal. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
“Not very well,” he said. “I was just coming out of the driveway. You were coming along the road, and I thought you were turning in at the driveway.”
She shook her head. “I was trying to avoid this thing in the road, a clod of earth, a dead cat or something. The car swung out all right around the obstruction, whatever it was, and then when I started to straighten, I couldn’t. I saw your headlights right ahead of me. Then they pin-wheeled off to one side, then I was rolling over, and that’s the last I remember... Can you go on from there?”
“I got out of my car and ran through the hedge to see if there had been any damage,” Ansley said, “and you were out like a light. Evidently you’d hit the ground feet first and skidded along on the damp grass.”
“You had a flashlight?”
“I had a worn-out flashlight. The batteries didn’t last long.”
She glanced at him archly. “And a good thing, too — from my point of view,” she said.
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t see much,” he told her.
She laughed. “Oh, well, legs are standard equipment anyway, and, thanks to the wet grass, I didn’t lose any skin, although I feel a little muddy in places.”
Ansley took out his wallet, handed it to her, and said, “My driving license is in the cellophane compartment there. Copy the number and the address.”
“Oh, that isn’t at all necessary,” she said. “After all, that’s a formality reserved for strangers who intend to sue each other. I hope we’ll be friends.”
“Believe me,” Ansley said, “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re not hurt.”
“I’m all right. No doubt I’ll be a little sore tomorrow.”
“You’re sure that’s all it is?”
“Sure.”
“You must have had something of a concussion,” Ansley said. “You certainly were out cold.”
“Probably hit the back of my head on the ground,” she said, “but it’s been hit before. I’ve done some skiing and swimming and what with one thing and another I’ve had my share of knocks.”
“Rather an active career,” Ansley said.
She laughed. “I’m an active woman. I like action... You said the property belonged to Meridith Borden?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a politician, isn’t he?”
“Public relations is the way he describes himself.”
“That’s just another way of saying lobbyist, isn’t it? I’ve read comments about him. Some people seem to think he’s a man with a cloven hoof.”
“I guess any person in politics has his share of enemies,” Ansley said noncommittally.
“Do you know him?”
“I’ve met him.”
“You were coming from there?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, all right,” she said, laughing. “I didn’t want to pry into your private affairs. I was just making conversation.”
“I didn’t mean to be secretive,” he said.
“Perhaps you didn’t mean to be, but you are. I think you’re naturally secretive. Do you know, George, I’m getting just a little headache. If you don’t mind, I’m going to settle back and close my eyes.”
“Now, look here,” Ansley said, “you’re going to a doctor. You’ve had a concussion, and—”
“Don’t be silly!” she protested. “I don’t need a doctor. If I do, there’s a doctor who lives in the same apartment house. I’ll get him to give me a sedative. Now, don’t be a silly boy, just go ahead and drive me to the Ancordia and forget it.
“You turn on Lincoln Avenue and go to 8st Street, and then turn right and—”
“Oh, I know where it is now,” Ansley said. “I’ll take you there.”
She settled back against the cushions, closed her eyes.
After some five minutes Ansley eased the car to a stop in front of the Ancordia Apartments.
His passenger opened her eyes, seemed dazed for a moment, sighed sleepily, leaned over against him. Her chin came up as her head cradled against the side of his arm. Her lips were half-parted, her eyes were dreamy as she raised and lowered the lids.
“Well, here we are,” Ansley said.
“Here— Who...?”
“Look here,” Ansley said, bending over to look into her face, “are you quite all right?”
Her eyes opened then. For a moment they were fastened on his with a provocative smile. Her lips remained parted. Her chin tilted just a little more.
Ansley bent forward and kissed her.
She sighed tremulously; her warm lips clung to his, then suddenly, as though wakening from a dream, she stiffened, pushed him back and, for a moment, seemed indignant.
“I was asleep,” she said. “I—”
“I’m sorry,” Ansley said.
Abruptly she laughed. “Don’t be. I guess I led with my chin... I was half-asleep thinking of one of my boy friends.”
“I couldn’t resist the temptation,” Ansley said contritely. “I—”
“Don’t apologize. Men aren’t supposed to resist temptation. That’s in the feminine department. Am I going to see you again?”
“I’ll take you to your apartment,” Ansley said.
“Indeed you won’t,” she told him. “I’m quite all right.”
“No, no, I want to see you up.”
“Well, as far as the street door,” she compromised. “After all, you’re going to have to leave your car double-parked.”
Ansley hurried around the car to help her out, but she had the door open before he arrived. She gave him her hand, slid out from the seat, paused, said, “I’ll bet I’m mud from head to toe.”
She moved her skirt up along the nylon stocking with a gesture that seemed entirely natural and uninhibited, then suddenly laughed, let her skirt drop, and said, “I guess I’d better make that inspection in the privacy of my apartment.”
She ran lightly up the steps to the apartment, fumbled in her purse, said, “Oh, dear, I left my key at the office again. I’ll have to get one of my friends to let me in.”
She pushed on the button and a moment later a buzzer announced the latch was being released on the street door.
She opened the door for an inch or two, held it open with her foot, turned to Ansley and said, “I’m going to let you kiss me again, George. Either my dreams deceived me or you’re an expert. I’m fully awake now.”
Ansley swept her into his arms.
His kiss was long. Her response was practiced.
“I’m fully awake now, myself,” Ansley said, looking at her hungrily.
She smiled at him. “Mustn’t try to make too much progress the first night, George. I hope I see you again. Give me a ring. Bye now.” She slipped through the door.
Ansley stood for a moment watching the slowly closing door, hearing the click of the latch as the door closed.
He turned, retraced his steps to his automobile and sat for a moment behind the wheel, his forehead puckered in thought.
Chapter Two
Perry Mason and Della Street, enjoying a leisurely dinner, had sat through the floor show, had danced twice and were finishing up on brandy and Benedictine when Della Street looked up with a slight frown of annoyance at the young man who was approaching their table with a businesslike directness which indicated he had some definite objective in mind.