them.'
Crane waited for her to continue.
'He told me to mind my business,' she said.
'This seems to be Talmadge s night to fight.'
Her voice suddenly softened. 'It s his cold. He has a terrible cold.'
'What does he know about Peter and Carmel?' Crane asked.
She shook her head. 'He wouldn t tell me. I think he threatened Peter with it tonight. They had such a quarrel. It must be about Carmel.' Her plump hands trembled. 'Peter s a fool. He ought to know she s out to destroy the March family.'
Crane nodded wisely. A girl was singing with the orchestra in the ballroom. He hoped he would be able to remember what Alice was saying. He took a sip of whisky to clear his mind, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He no longer felt embarrassed about being in the Ladies Locker Room.
She continued in a voice harsh with passion. 'You don t know it, but Richard March was in love with her. She made him love her; then she killed him.'
His eyes popped open. 'Killed him?'
'She was responsible.' Defiantly, she finished her drink. 'Oh, she didn t kill him herself. She hasn t the courage for that, but she was responsible.' Her glass slid across the wicker table, was nearly deflected to the floor by a pile of golfing magazines. 'Richard wasn t so bad, either.'
'A lot of girls thought he was swell.'
'Sure they did.' Her words sounded like sobs. Crane realized she didn t care who she was talking to; she was simply having a good emotional blowoff. 'Sure they did,' she repeated. 'Why not?'
'He had appeal, hey?'
'There wasn t a girl in town who didn t want him.'
He nodded to show he understood.
'And then, when he did fall in love himself, he had to fall for her.'
Crane said, 'Don t tell me you still love him?'
'I don t know.' Her eyes glowed. 'I loved him like hell once. I would have done anything for that man.'
This was the second time Crane had heard a woman say she loved Richard. Delia, and now Alice, who should hate him. He was beginning to have an acute admiration for Richard.
He asked, 'But what about Talmadge?'
She thought for a moment. 'I like him, but in a different way.'
Crane closed his eyes again. He seemed to be able to hear better with them closed. He groped for his glass, found it, had a drink. The inside of his mouth was numb, he could hardly taste the whisky.
'Why do you think he ought to turn up Peter?'
'I ll tell you. He — ' She hesitated for so long a time that, thinking she might have left the room, Crane opened his eyes. ' I don t know why I m saying all this.'
'Hell!' He poured her a good shot of whisky. 'It s just between us girls.'
'I don t care, anyway.' She reached for the glass. 'Peter hasn t any claim on me.'
'Peter?'
'Yes.' She looked like an angry cat. 'I think he killed Richard. I don t believe it was an accident.'
'Peter?' He realized he had said this before, and asked, 'Why?'
'Because of Carmel.'
He felt very confused. He didn t think it was the liquor, either. 'But what makes you think…?'
'He was outside before Richard died.' Her voice was spiteful. 'We d been dancing, and I noticed he was looking around for Carmel. John was dancing with Janice Squires. When Carmel had been gone for half an hour Peter suddenly left me on the floor and went outside.'
She took a drink. Crane could hear the music upstairs. He wondered how long he d been in the locker room.
Alice went on, 'Then Carmel came back, looking scared. And in about ten minutes Peter came in. He was pale. I thought he was sick. Imagine! I was worried about him.' She laughed. 'Imagine! I asked him if he was sick.'
'Maybe he was,' Crane said. 'Maybe he went out for air.'
'No.' Her lips were drawn into a thin smile. 'He either saw… or did… something.'
Crane suddenly became aware of someone in the room. He opened his eyes, saw a pair of silver slippers, a long row of big silver buttons, white shoulders. It was Carmel March. She had on a black evening gown with silver buttons up the middle. She apparently had been standing there for some time.
She came and stood over Alice. 'You louse,' she said. 'You fat, troublesome louse!' Her voice was hard.
She bent over and slapped Alice s face from right to left. It sounded like a paper bag bursting.
She said, 'I ve been wanting to do that for a long time.'
Alice looked frightened, but she came out of her chair in a hurry, her head shielded by her left arm. 'You…' she said, taking a step in Carmel s direction. She clawed at Carmel s face, left parallel red slashes on her neck.
Carmel slapped her again, sent her back against the table. Both the whisky bottle and the seltzer siphon toppled, rolled across the table in unison, shattered on the floor.
Alice fumbled for a weapon on the surface of the table, with both hands flung magazines in Carmel s face. She was sobbing, choking. She rushed at Carmel, grappled with her.
For five seconds they wrestled, their eyes white and mad, their red mouths distorted, their faces close. Above the sound of their breathing briefly rose the music of a waltz, sweet with violins. Then Alice s tangerine- colored nails flashed in the light, tore more flesh from Carmel s neck. A second downward, clawing stroke broke the skin on Carmel s shoulder, tore off one of the evening gown s straps, half her white brassiere. She threw both arms around Carmel s neck, tried to wrestle her to the floor. Carmel bit her forearm to the bone.
Alice s scream tortured Crane s eardrums.
Freed from the encircling arms, Carmel hit out with her closed fist, moved up, hit again. Alice, caught off balance, fell back against the wall, slid to the floor, remained for an instant in a sitting position, then fell on her left side. Blood oozed from the bite in her arm.
Carmel stood over her, watching her. She looked frightened. 'She isn t…?' she began.
Crane said, 'The Hays office would never pass you like that.'
Without taking her eyes off Alice, Carmel pulled up brassiere and dress. 'Look at her,' she commanded. 'See if she s dead.'
'I hardly think so.' Crane got up and bent over Alice. 'No. She s breathing.'
'Thank God!' Carmel sat in Alice s chair. 'What a terrible thing!'
'I ve paid ten dollars for a seat at worse fights.'
'If I d killed her… '
Feet sounded in the corridor. Dr Woodrin and Ann appeared at the locker-room door. 'Did someone… ' the doctor began, and then caught sight of Alice. 'My God! What happened?'
'A little tussle,' Crane said.
The doctor knelt beside Alice, felt her pulse. He straightened her body, said, 'Get me a pillow.' Ann got two damp towels from the shower room, and he wrapped these around the girl s head. In the medicine chest Ann found iodine and bandages for the arm.
Carmel, watching them, was so pale that Crane became alarmed. He thrust a glass in her hand. 'Drink this.'
'I m all right,' she said.
'What happened?' Ann asked.
'They got into sort of a discussion,' Crane said.
Carmel said, 'Alice was drunk.'
Dr Woodrin, from the floor, glanced at her with inquiring eyes. 'It doesn t make any difference, anyway.' He looked to Crane. 'There ll be no scandal as long as we keep quiet.'
'I was going to call the newspapers,' Crane said. 'But…'
Carmel interrupted him. 'Will she be all right?'
'Sure.' Dr Woodrin looked boyish with his close-cut black hair and pink-and-white cheeks. 'I think it s alcohol
