'Aren t you going to do anything about Delia?'
'I ll see if I can hear of somebody named Delia.'
'I ll find her,' Ann said.
'If somebody named Delia calls on you, you will.'
'No, I ll find her.'
'Am I supposed to keep house while you re doing this?'
'No. I ll just find her. There s no reason why I can t detect.'
'No reason except blondes don t have brains.'
'You ll see.'
'O.K.,' Crane said. 'But I bet I get her first.'
'Champagne?'
'Sure.'
'It s a bet.'
They shook hands. Ann s hand felt smooth and slender. Crane asked, 'What are you going to do?'
'Do you think I d give away the secrets of my profession?'
'Gosh!' He was impressed. 'You re beginning to talk like a detective.'
'I am a detective,' Ann said. 'Just because you didn t want me to come along doesn t mean — '
'You were the boss s niece.'
'You were afraid I would tell him how much you drank?'
'No,' Crane lied. 'The thing was I hadn t seen you in blue pajamas.'
Ann looked as though she might blush, and said, 'About the deaths, what do you want me to find out from Carmel?' She didn t look angry. 'She s coming over this morning.'
'Maybe I won t go to work,' Crane said.
'You ll go to work if I have to send for the police,' Ann declared. 'What do you want me to find out?'
'I don t know.' He looked at his coffee cup, but it was empty. 'What d you and Carmel talk about while I was with old man March?'
'Just ordinary small talk.' Ann tinkled the bell on the table. 'How stuffy a small town is… the best shops… where to get your hair done… places to go at night… '
Crane asked eagerly, 'Did you get the names of some good joints?'
Beulah came in and said, 'Yes, ma am?' Ann said, 'More coffee for Mr Crane.' Pleased, Crane thought it might be nice to have a thoughtful girl like Ann around the house. Particularly one as seductive in a pair of pajamas. He wondered if she had slept with her bedroom door locked.
Ann continued, 'They both seemed awfully nervous.' Crane said, 'They seemed pretty interested in each other, too.'
'Do you think so?' she asked coldly, as if she didn t like the idea.
'When a dame almost weeps over a guy s wound I wonder.' Crane put sugar in his coffee. 'You notice, she didn t worry whether I had a wound or not.'
'Give her time.'
Crane laughed, then said, 'Carmel scares me. Especially after hearing old man March accuse her. I d hate to have her pump me full of carbon monoxide.'
Ann said, 'Bill, do you really think those people were murdered?'
'Carmel d have a good motive.'
Ann s green eyes were thoughtful. 'She d certainly have some money if she blotted out the entire March family.'
'Twenty millions or so.'
'A girl could dress well on that.'
It had turned out to be a fine morning. Sunlight the color of overripe Camembert cheese flooded the cement driveway, made the lawn a bright green. Two businesslike robins looked for bugs in the grass.
Ann said, 'Of course, Peter has the same motive as Carmel.'
'Sure. If he lives he gets the dough.'
'But I m sure he didn t do it,' Ann said. 'Why?'
'Well… he doesn t look like a murderer.'
Crane groaned. 'And you claim to be a detective!'
'I m sorry,' Ann said, and added, 'but if he s a suspect he s your suspect.'
'No. My suspect is Carmel.'
'They re your suspects. I give them to you.'
'All right,' Crane said. 'But what s left for you?'
'Oh, I ll dig up something.'
'Don t get a secondhand suspect,' Crane warned her. 'They re not reliable.'
'If I want I can have the bandit.'
'You can if he isn t a friend of Peter.'
'How could he be a friend of Peter? He hit him in the face, didn t he?'
'I know,' Crane said. 'But do you think Peter would have gone after him unless he was sure the man wouldn t shoot?' He put out his cigarette. 'You didn t see me going after the man, did you?'
'No, I didn t.'
'You don t have to be nasty about it.'
'I wasn t. I just said, No, I didn t!'
'I wouldn t be surprised,' Crane said, 'if the man came to help Peter, to act as a lookout.'
'No,' Ann said. 'The bandit called him March. Don t you remember?'
'Sure, but..
'He wouldn t have called him by name if he was an accomplice. His idea would have been to pretend he didn t know him.'
'Maybe blondes have brains at that.'
Ann said, 'You see who ll drink the champagne.'
'I will,' Crane said stoutly.
The doorbell rang and Beulah brought in Peter March.
'Beulah,' he asked, 'you fix the Cranes a good breakfast?'
'Yes, Mister Peter,' Beulah giggled.
'Beulah used to work for Richard. She knows the house,' Peter explained. 'That s why Dad had her come.'
'We found her this morning on our doorstep,' Crane said. 'We thought she was a waif.'
'How s your wound?' Ann inquired. 'It s fine,' Peter said. 'You were pretty brave.'
'I wasn t really.' Peter March looked down at her. 'I just got mad at the thought of losing those letters.'
To Crane s critical eye he didn t look as though he d gone on much of a bender with Carmel. His face was clean shaven, and there was a touch of color in his cheeks. His straight black brows, in daylight, didn t seem so heavy. A smile made his face pleasant. 'Have you heard from the guy?' Crane asked.
March looked at him sharply. 'Why should I have?'
Crane s face was innocent. 'Didn t you say something about blackmail last night?'
'That was just excitement.' Peter March s face relaxed. 'I don t think there was anything really dangerous in those letters.'
Crane wanted to ask him, then, why the bandit was so eager to get them, but he decided he d better not appear too interested.
'I hope the guy doesn t come back,' he said.
Peter March smiled at Ann. 'You re not afraid, are you?' He was really quite good looking when he smiled.
'Certainly I am,' Ann said.
He stared at her admiringly. 'You didn t look scared last night.'
Crane thought, what the hell! Was this competition? The rich man s son and the poor employee s wife. Of course, Ann wasn t really his wife, but he suddenly decided he did not like Peter.
