6
The three of us were at breakfast early that afternoon when the Jorgensens arrived. Nora answered the telephone and came away from it trying to pretend she was not tickled. “It's your mother,” she told Dorothy. “She's downstairs. I told her to come up.”
Dorothy said: “Damn it. I wish I hadn't phoned her.”
I said: “We might just as well be living in the lobby.”
Nora said: “He doesn't mean that.” She patted Dorothy's shoulder.
The doorbell rang. I went to the door.
Eight years had done no damage to Mimi's looks. She was a little riper, showier, that was all. She was larger than her daughter, and her blandness was more vivid. She laughed and held her hands out to me. “Merry Christmas. It's awfully good to see you after all these years. This is my husband. Mr. Charles. Chris.”
I said, “I'm glad to see you, Mimi,” and shook hands with Jorgensen. He was probably five years younger than his wife, a tall thin erect dark man, carefully dressed and sleek, with smooth hair and a waxed mustache.
He bowed from the waist. “How do you do, Mr. Charles?” His accent was heavy, Teutonic, his hand was lean and muscular.
We went inside.
Mimi, when the introductions were over, apologized to Nora for popping in on us. “But I did want to see your husband again, and then I know the only way to get this brat of mine anywhere on time is to carry her off bodily.” She turned her smile on Dorothy. “Better get dressed, honey.'
Honey grumbled through a mouthful of toast that she didn't see why she had to waste an afternoon at Aunt Alice's even if it was Christmas. “I bet Gilbert's not going.”
Mimi said Asta was a lovely dog and asked me if I had any idea where that ex-husband of hers might be.
“No.”
She went on playing with the dog. “He's crazy, absolutely crazy, to disappear at a time like this. No wonder the police at first thought he had something to do with it.”
“What do they think now?” I asked.
She looked up at me. “Haven't you seen the papers?”
“No.”
“It's a man named Morelli—a gangster. He killed her. He was her lover.”
“They caught him?”
“Not vet, but he did it. I wish I could find Clyde. Macaulay won't help me at all. He says he doesn't know where he is, but that's ridiculous. He has powers of attorney from him and everything and I know very well he's in touch with Clyde. Do you think Macaulay's trustworthy?”
“He's Wynant's lawyer,” I said. “There's no reason why you should trust him.”
“Just what I thought.” She moved over a little on the sofa. “Sit down. I've got millions of things to ask you.”
“How about a drink first?”
“Anything but egg-flog,” she said. “It makes me bilious.”
When I came out of the pantry, Nora and Jorgensen were trying their French on each other, Dorothy was still pretending to eat, and Mimi was playing with the dog again. I distributed the drinks and sat down beside Mimi.
She said: “Your wife's lovely.”
“I like her.”
“Tell me the truth, Nick: do you think Clyde's really crazy? I mean crazy enough that something ought to be done about it.”
“How do I know?”
“I'm worried about the children,” she said. “I've no claim on him any more—the settlement he made when I divorced him took care of all that—but the children have. We're absolutely penniless now and I'm worried about them. If he is crazy he's just as likely as not to throw away everything and leave them without a cent. What do you think I ought to do?”
“Thinking about putting him in the booby-hatch?”
“No—a,” she said slowly, “but I would like to talk to him.” She put a hand on my arm. “You could find him.”
I shook my head.
“Won't you help me, Nick? We used to be friends.” Her big blue eyes were soft and appealing.
Dorothy, at the table, was watching us suspiciously.
“For Christ's sake, Mimi,” I said, “there's a thousand detectives in New York. Hire one of them. I'm not working at it any more.”
“I know, but— Was Dorry very drunk last night?”
“Maybe I was. She seemed all right to me.”
“Don't you think she's gotten to be a pretty little thing?”
“I always thought she was.”
She thought that over for a moment, then said: “She's only a child, Nick.”
“What's that got to do with what?” I asked.
She smiled. “How about getting some clothes on, Dorry?”
Dorothy sulkily repeated that she didn't see why she had to waste an afternoon at Aunt Alice's.
Jorgensen turned to address his wife: “Mrs. Charles has the great kindness to suggest that we do not —”
“Yes,” Nora said, “why don't you stay awhile? There'll be some people coming in. It won't be very exciting, but—” She waved her glass a little to finish the sentence.
“I'd love to,” Mimi replied slowly, “but I'm afraid Alice—”
“Make our apologies to her by telephone,” Jorgensen suggested.
“I'll do it,” Dorothy said.
Mimi nodded. “Be nice to her.”
Dorothy went into the bedroom. Everybody seemed much brighter. Nora caught my eye and winked merrily and I had to take it and like it because Mimi was looking at me then.
Mimi asked me: “You really didn't want us to stay, did you?”
“Of course.”
“Chances are you're lying. Weren't you sort of fond of poor Julia?”
“'Poor Julia' sounds swell from you. I liked her all right.”
Mimi put her hand on my arm again. “She broke up my life with Clyde. Naturally I hated her—then—but that's a long time ago. I had nofeeling against her when I went to see her Friday. And, Nick, I saw her die. She didn't deserve to die. It was horrible. No matter what I'd felt, there'd be nothing left but pity now. I meant 'poor Julia' when I said it.”
“I don't know what you're up to,” I said. “I don't know what any of you are up to.”
“Any of us,” she repeated. “Has Dorry been—”
Dorothy came in from the bedroom. “I squared it.” She kissed her mother on the mouth and sat down beside her.
Mimi, looking in her compact-mirror to see her mouth had not been smeared, asked: “She wasn't peevish about it?”
“No, I squared it, What do you have to do to get a drink?”
I said: “You have to walk over to that table where the ice and bot.tIes are and pour it.”
Mimi said: “You drink too much.”
“I don't drink as much as Nick.” She went over to the table.
Mimi shook her head. “These children! I mean you were pretty fond of Julia Wolf, weren't you?”
Dorothy called: “You want one, Nick?”
