Well, I did mind. I wanted to ask Treacle some personal questions-questions about Munroe Randall and Helen O’Daniel-and I didn’t want to do it in front of her because it might inhibit him. But if I told her to leave us alone, I’d pay for it later: I’m not hard-boiled enough, or macho enough, despite Kerry’s accusation, to order women around and get away with it. So I sighed-I seemed to be doing a lot of sighing today-and said, “All right.” And the three of us went off together to the bar.
Inside, the air conditioner was going full-blast and it was nice and cool. We sat in a booth, away from the half-dozen other patrons, and a waitress came over to take our orders. She was Chinese, and she reminded me vaguely of Jeanne Emerson, and that in turn reminded me of the night Jeanne had come to my flat and what had happened while she was there. The memory made me feel uncomfortable; I couldn’t look at Kerry because I was afraid she’d see something in my expression. Some tough guy I was.
So instead I focused my attention on Treacle and launched into an edited version of how things had gone in Musket Creek. When I was done he shook his head in a martyred kind of way and allowed again as how everyone who lived there was a loony. But then he qualified it, for my benefit, by saying that he couldn’t believe any of them was really dangerous.
“No?” I said. “How about Jack Coleclaw?”
“Well, anyone can lose his temper, you know. And Frank…” He paused because the waitress had returned with our drinks-beer for Kerry and me, a Tom Collins for Treacle. I didn’t look at her while she was serving us. “Frank,” Treacle continued when she was gone, “well, he’s not the most tactful guy in the world.”
“He provokes trouble, you mean?”
“No, no. It’s just that he’s too blunt sometimes. I’ve tried to tell him you have to be careful when you’re dealing with loonies, but he forgets himself.”
I started to say something, but before I could get it out Kerry said in miffed tones, “Loonies. Why do you have to keep using that word?”
He blinked at her. “Well, I-”
“They’re not such loonies. They only want to be left alone. And they’re frustrated.” I threw her a warning look but she ignored it. “Mr. Treacle, may I ask you a frank question?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Don’t you or your partner give a damn what happens to those poor people?”
I felt like reaching across the table and strangling her a little. You don’t talk that way to people you’re trying to get information out of, people you want to cooperate. At least I don’t; if I did I would have ended up unemployed a long time ago. But she got away with it, just as she’d got away with fast-talking Hugh Penrose earlier.
“Certainly we care, Miss Wade,” Treacle said. He didn’t sound ruffled or defensive; he didn’t even sound surprised anymore. Maybe it was a question he’d heard any number of times before. “Neither of us has a heart of stone, you know. And Munroe didn’t either.”
“Then how can you just waltz into Musket Creek and take their land away from them?”
“We’re not trying to take their land away from them,” Treacle said patiently. “Why, their own parcels will be worth far more than they are now once we’ve restored the Gold Rush camp and opened it to the public.”
“You mean turned the place into some kind of tourist-trap.”
“That’s not true. Our plans call for careful, authentic restoration. We’re very much interested in improvement and preservation of historical landmarks…”
They went on that way, Kerry offering challenges, Treacle using his salesman’s rhetoric to defend himself and his attitudes. She was being controlled now, though, like the leader of a debate team; so was Treacle. I nibbled at my beer and thought how nice it would be to take both of them back to the Sportsman’s Rest and throw them into the swimming pool.
What I was waiting for was Kerry to finish her beer. It didn’t take her long; she was thirsty and she got it down reasonably fast. When her glass was empty she said, “Excuse me,” more to Treacle than to me, and got out of the booth and hurried off. It never fails. The stuff goes right through her; as soon as she takes in twelve ounces, she has to go to the ladies’ room. Her plumbing is as predictable as Old Faithful.
Once she was out of earshot I said to Treacle, “I picked up a couple of rumors today. Maybe you can tell me if they’re worth anything.”
“Rumors?”
“I understand Randall was a ladies’ man. One rumor has it that he didn’t mind playing around with his friends’ wives.”
Treacle looked startled. He opened his mouth, shut it again; after about five seconds he said, “Munroe and Helen O’Daniel?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Who told you that?”
“A woman named Penny Belson. Is it true?”
“I don’t know. My God, how would I know?”
“Randall didn’t flaunt his women?”
“No.”
“Or talk to you about them?”
“Well, sometimes. But never anything about Helen.”
“What about Helen? You think she’s a nice, faithful wife or what?”
He hesitated. One hand fumbled inside his coat and came out with a panatela. He started to unwrap it, but then his memory told him I wasn’t partial to cigar smoke. He gave me a nervous glance and put the thing away again.
“You didn’t answer my question, Mr. Treacle.”
He cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “I… guess I’ve heard some things about Helen myself.”
“Like what? That she plays around?”
“Yes.”
“With anybody you know?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Is O’Daniel aware of what’s going on, you think?”
Treacle nodded reluctantly. “He’s the one who told me about it.”
That startled me a little. “He told you his wife sees other men? Why?”
“We were drinking one night at the country club a few months ago. We’d both had a little too much. I don’t know, he just started to talk about it.”
“Was he upset, angry?”
“No. Just… matter-of-fact. He didn’t seem to care, particularly. He said it’s been going on a long time.”
“And he puts up with it? Why doesn’t he get a divorce?”
“He can’t afford to. He’d have to give Helen half of everything he has. That would mean liquidating assets, selling his house and boat-he just won’t do it.”
“Okay from his point of view,” I said. “But what about hers? Why doesn’t she get a divorce and take half of everything he’s got?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s your opinion of her? What kind of person do you think she is?”
“I don’t really know her very well,” he said. “We’re not friends.”
“She ever make a pass at you?”
“My God, no.”
“What would you have done if she had?”
“Turned her down, of course,” he said a little stiffly. “Munroe may have played games like that, but I don’t.”
“Suppose Randall did play games like that. And suppose O’Daniel found out. How do you think he’d have reacted?”
He shook his head. “I can’t say.”
“How did the two of them get along? Were they friendly?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“No friction or anything like that lately?”