“Sure.” I took the easiest way—out through the still-open glass door, and onto the terrace again.
Myra Rutter was sitting by the pool, wearing the blue-green satin swimsuit again, the inevitable glass in her hand. She turned her head as my footsteps sounded on the concrete patio, and called, “Danny?” As I got close, I saw her eyes were hidden by an enormous pair of dark glasses, glitter-framed and opalescent. Her bottom lip was badly swollen and a dark bruise was beginning to show on one tanned cheek.
“Going without saying good-bye, Danny?” The swollen lip made it hard for her to smile. “That’s hardly gallant!”
“He hit you?” 1 asked bleakly.
“Twice—once where it shows, and once where it doesn’t.” She touched her midriff gently. “I hate to admit that James is a real gentleman—never even raised his voice once when he walked in on us, did he?”
I heard quick footsteps pounding across the concrete and turned to see Rutter hurrying toward us, with a flushed face and an ugly look in his gray eyes.
“Get the hell out of here, Boyd!” he said thickly. “Our deal didn’t include my wife—I thought that was understood.”
“I was saying good-bye,” I remarked idly.
“Did I hear somebody say something about you two having made a deal?” Myra asked lazily. “And it doesn’t include me? I’m desolate!”
“Shut your filthy mouth!” her husband said elegantly.
“James wants me to find out who killed his mistress,” I said to Myra. “It’s not that he misses her so much, I think—more that he’s worried the cops might have elected him as the killer.”
“Get out! Before I lose control!” Rutter snarled.
“That’s James,” Myra said lightly. “He just can’t help his finer feelings always getting the better of him. I often wonder why he wouldn’t be fair about Louise Lamont and let me beat him up occasionally.”
Rutter took a swift step toward her chair, his arm raised ready to backhand her across the face. Her right arm moved swiftly and the contents of her glass hit him in the face.
“Why don’t you cool down, darling?” she asked placidly. “It’s too hot out here for exercise.”
He pawed blindly at his face while he called her a whole lot of names, including a few you shouldn’t call anybody. After maybe ten seconds of it, I figured enough was enough.
“As a new employee, Mr. Rutter,” I said politely, “I’d like to offer my services right now. I think I can be of some help.”
I grabbed his coat collar in one hand and the seat of his pants in the other, then ran him forward at a vigorous pace and let go suddenly when he was on the edge of the pool. The momentum gave him the startling appearance of walking the first couple of steps on the water, then there was a huge splash and he disappeared from view.
The dark* glasses studied me for a moment, while one hand negligently flicked drops of water from the top of a curved thigh.
“Danny was that nice?” she asked reproachfully. “Now you’ve watered my drink.”
There was a soggy roar which sounded vaguely like a drunken sea lion, as Rutter’s head suddenly emerged above the surface. He plowed across to the edge of the pool and hauled himself out onto the concrete. I waited until he’d gotten to his feet and stood there dripping puddles of water all over the place.
“You want to play it real rough, Jimmy-baby,” I told him carefully, “I’ll throw you right back in—only this time I’ll tie a weight to your legs.”
A whole gamut of emotion chased across his face while I waited, then finally his shoulders hunched tight and he walked quickly past me toward the house.
“I think he’s mad about something,” Myra said cheerfully.
“I should’ve slugged him a couple of times,” I said regretfully. “Right where it doesn’t show.”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” she said. “I think maybe you’d better go now, Danny.”
“Yeah.” I looked at her uncertainly for a moment. “Well, thanks for everything.”
“I’m sorry we were interrupted,” she said softly. “Like they say—better luck next time?”
The sun still shone radiantly from a cloudless sky as I walked down the forty steps that led back to the road. A gentle zephyr carressed my cheek and the scent of hibiscus was still heavy in the air, but now it wasn't lazy any more—only decadent—and I wasn’t too sure where that left Danny Boyd.
It was ten of five when I walked into Elmo’s jewelry store, figuring I should have another talk with Mr. Elmo himself. The titian fantasy bent over the desk lifted a little, revealing the calm, composed, and exciting face beneath.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Boyd—the fake tiara collector!” Tamara O’Keefe said pleasantly. “I’m afraid we don’t have any more in stock right now, but maybe I can interest you in some very uncultured pearls? They would make a perfect match for your personality.”
“I would like,” I said patiently, “to see Mr. Elmo. Is he in?—and please give a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ without any further embroidery?”
“My!” She smiled evilly. “You are in a bad temper today, Mr. Boyd. What happened? Someone steal your Wheaties private detective badge?”
“In,” I snapped, “or out?”
“Oh, you’re still talking about Mr. Elmo?” she cooed. “He’s out—if you call San Francisco out. Most people think it’s'definitely in”
I tried to ignore the taut thrust of her bosom against the black silk dress but who can ignore nature? “I wanted to ask him some questions,” I explained. “1 guess they’ll keep. When does he get back?”
“Tomorrow evening,” she said, “but you can wait in his office if you like.”
“I’d rather go buy myself a drink,” I grunted.
She glanced up at the wall clock thoughtfully, then tapped a pencil idly against her front teeth for a few moments before she made up her mind.
“You’re right, Mr. Boyd,” she said decisively. “It is drinking time—almost. I feel I should repay your offer of the Boyd good neighbor policy with an invitation to share the O’Keefe mutual hospitality plan. You buy me a drink and maybe I can answer some of your questions. How about that?”
I looked at her suspiciously. “This isn’t just a gag, or something?”
“I never joke about drinking,” she said haughtily. “Do we have a deal, or don’t we?”
“You bet your life,” I said.
“Then give me five minutes to put on a new face.”
“I like the old one just fine.”
“With that profile you’re naturally biased in favor of tired old faces,” she said tartly. “I’ll be back.”
It took her around ten minutes, of course, before she was ready, then I drove her to the hotel and we went into
the Luau Bar. The Polynesian waiter, who looked more like he was born in the Bronx, showed us to a nice secluded corner alcove. Alter the drinks were served, Tamara lit a cigarette and leaned back against the plush upholstery. “You want to ask your questions now, Mr. Boyd?”
“Danny is the name,” I said.
“Okay—Danny.”
“How long has Willie Byers been with the store?” “Around five years, I guess.”
“You know him well?”
She made a face. “Well enough. He's one of the dangerous ones—the leer is concealed!”
“Huh?” I gurgled.
“It’s a little hard to explain.” She thought for a moment. “Take you as an example—you’ve got an open leer on your face the whole time so a girl knows she’s got to be real careful whenever you’re within striking distance. But there are some men who seem harmless, and they can be deadly, because they catch you off guard. If you see what I mean?”
“And Byers is one of those?”
“That’s how I figure him. I remember one day when we were alone in the vault—”
“Go on,” I said eagerly.
“Never mind!” she said in a brooding voice.