she doesn t.'
Simeon March snarled, 'I m not paying you for philosophy. Just get Carmel.' His cigar jerked with each word.
'You hate her, don t you?' Crane said.
'Wouldn t you hate the woman who killed your son?'
'If I was sure she had.'
'I am sure.' The old man was shouting now. 'You get proof. That s what I want. Proof.' He got to his feet, leaned over the huge desk until his face was a few feet from Crane s. 'Anything else you want?'
Crane moved back a step. 'Why isn t Talmadge March your lawyer?'
Simeon March blinked at him, then said, 'Too young.'
'Do you think he could be hard up?'
'No. He has plenty of money.'
Crane felt relieved that the interview was over. He was glad he didn t work steady for the old buzzard. He went to the door, halted. 'Have you told anybody you suspect Carmel?'
'Judge Dornbush, my lawyer, knows something about it.'
'Would he talk?'
'Certainly not!' Jaw set, he scowled at Crane. 'Why d you want to know?'
'There re some funny stories going around town.'
'About Carmel?'
'Yes.'
'Why, damn them!' Simeon March hit the desk, made the humidor rattle. 'They wouldn t dare talk about a March!' He glowered at Crane. 'Even if she is a murdering wench.'
He let himself in the house with his key. Ann Fortune was in the blue-and-white living room. The crackling fire put rose tints in her tanned skin, darkened the green in her eyes. She was wearing a gray suit with a jacket trimmed in Persian lamb. Her hair was the color of cane syrup.
She placed a marker in her book. 'Hello.'
'Hello.'
'You re home early.'
He backed up to the fire. 'I got lonesome.'
'Really?'
'Really.' The fire warmed his ankles, the backs of his knees. 'It s swell to come home to you.'
'Why, Bill!' Her voice was warm. 'Thank you.'
'I was worried about you being alone, too.'
'Oh, I was all right.' She smiled at him. 'But I m glad you worried.'
'And then I wondered…'
'Yes, Bill.'
'I wondered if you d let me… have a martini.'
'Why, you…' She threw the book at him. It missed him, went into the fire. 'That s really why you came home.'
'No. I was lonesome. But I wanted a cocktail, too.'
'Remember your promise not to drink?'
'Can t I have one? Please?' He looked at her beseechingly. 'I m tired. I ve had a hard day.'
'I m sick of hearing that,' Ann said. 'All you do night after night is come home tired, wanting to take off your shoes and drink martinis.'
'I don t care about taking off my shoes,' he said. 'I just want some martinis.'
'Am I supposed to slave all day over an ice-cold shaker?'
'I slave over an ice-cold ice box, don t I?'
She admitted that was true. 'I ll let you have just one.' She got bottles and a tray of hors d oeuvres, put them on the end table by the couch. She mixed vermouth and gin in a ratio of one to three and one half added a drop of orange bitters and ice. She stirred with a long spoon, poured into a cocktail glass with an olive in the bottom. 'Just one, now,' she warned him.
Refreshed by the drink and some anchovies, he told her of his interview with Simeon March. 'He s bound and determined to hang Carmel,' he said.
Ann said, 'I wonder what Mr March would say if he heard her side of the case.'
'He wouldn t believe her.'
Ann said, 'If she kills anybody it ll be Alice March. I wouldn t be surprised if she took a sock at her someday.'
'Oh no,' Crane said. 'She s too much of a lady.'
'Anyway, I think Donovan s in this.' Ann s voice was determined. 'And I m going to find out.'
'It d be better if you went back to New York instead of getting mixed up with a lot of gangsters.'
'No.'
Crane saw it was useless to argue with her. He admired her courage, and, anyway, he thought Donovan was bluffing. He was probably sore about Delia and wanted to scare him away so he couldn t make another pass at her. If you were really going to kidnap somebody you didn t warn them first. He turned the conversation to Peter March, pretended not to notice a sudden chill in Ann s attitude.
'He s a fine candidate for the noose,' he said, not without satisfaction.
'I d rather not discuss him,' Ann said.
'It was clever of Williams to discover he looked like John,' Crane continued.
She didn t say anything.
Crane said, 'Of course, Talmadge is a good suspect, too.' She didn t seem to be interested, but he went on, 'He s always trying to pin the odor of gardenias on Carmel and he tipped off Donovan I was back at the Crimson Cat. The only trouble is I think only one person did the murders.'
'You think Talmadge suspects you re a detective?'
'Nobody does,' Crane said. 'Least of all Simeon March.'
'Then why did Talmadge warn Donovan?'
'Because of Delia. He didn t know she had gone. He wanted to tip off Donovan; he thought, from the gossip he d heard, that I was chasing her.'
'He was probably right,' Ann said. 'And I think you re missing the most important thing, not going after Slats Donovan.'
'You d better concentrate on Peter March, and stop worrying about me and Donovan.'
'I m going after him.' Her face was determined. 'I m not afraid of him, even if you are.'
'Don t tell me you ve given Peter March up?'
She didn t answer.
'Or are you afraid he is guilty?' he taunted her. 'Carmel s a fine motive. Peter killed Richard because Carmel loved him, and John because she was married to him.'
After a time she said, 'You re nasty. I try to help, and you make it seem as though I was out after Peter… or his money.'
'He does have a lot of money, doesn t he?'
She said, 'I think you re horrible.' She walked out of the living room with quick, short steps.
CHAPTER XIV
In a corner of the Country Club ballroom Crane found Ann talking to Alice and Talmadge March. 'May I have this dance, madam?' he inquired. He hadn t seen her since dinner.
She was wearing an evening gown of black satin which clung tightly to her body and then, halfway to her knees, flared out to the floor. The black contrasted well with her taffy hair. She fitted very nicely in his arms. She smelled very nice, too. She smelled of English lavender.
