looking up at them and appraising the situation. 'Hey mister...' he said. His voice was a menacing rumble.
With a sigh, Gant released the door. Ellen opened it, ducked in and slammed it closed. She sank into soft worn leather. Outside Gant was leaning over, his hands on the door, staring in at her through the glass as though trying to memorize the details of her face. She looked away.
She waited until the cab had left the curb before telling the driver her destination.
It took ten minutes to reach the New Washington House, where Ellen had registered before calling on the Dean,-ten minutes of lip-biting and quick-handed smoking and bitter self-denunciation, the release of the tension which had been built up before Gant's arrival and which had been left hanging, unspent, by his anticlimactic assume banter. Cousin Hester! Oh, she had really messed things up! She had bet half her chips and got nothing in return. Still in the dark as to whether or not he was the man, she had made further questioning of him or his landlady completely impossible. If investigation of Powell should show he wasn't the man, proving that Gant was, she might as well give up and go back to Caldwell, because if-always the second, the big 'if'-if Gant had killed Dorothy, he would be on guard, knowing Ellen's face and knowing what she was after by the questions she had asked Mrs. Arquette. A killer on guard, ready perhaps to kill again. She wouldn't risk tangling with that-not when he had seen her face. Better to live in doubt than to die in certainty. Her only other course would be to go to the police, and she would still have nothing more to offer them than 'something old, something new,' so they would not solemnly and usher her politely from the station.
Oh, she had made a fine start!
The hotel room had beige walls and clumsy brown furniture and the same clean, impersonal, transient air as the minature paper-wrapped cake of soap in the adjoining bathroom. The only mark of its occupancy was the suitcase with the Caldwell stickers on the rack at the foot of the double bed.
After hanging her coat in the closet, Ellen seated herself at the writing table by the window. She took her fountain pen and the letter to Bud from her purse. Staring down at the addressed but still unsealed envelope, she debated whether or not to mention, in addition to an outline of the interview with Dean Welch, the story of the Gant fiasco. No... if Dwight Powell turned out to be the one, then the Gant business meant nothing. It must be Powell. Not Gant, she told herself,-not with that lighthearted chatter. But what had he said?-Don't be fooled by my disc jockey dialogue. I'm not kidding...
There was a knock at the door. She jumped to her feet. 'Who is it?'
'Towels,' a high feminine voice answered.
Ellen cross the room and grasped the doorknob. 'I... I'm not dressed. Could you leave them outside please?'
'All right,' the voice said.
She stood there for two minutes, hearing occasional passing footsteps and the muffled sound of the elevator down the hall, while the knob grew damp in her hand. Finally she smiled at her nervousness, visualizing herself peering under the bed old-maid fashion before going to sleep. She opened the door.
Gant lounged with one elbow against the jamb, the hand propping up his blond head. 'Hi, Cousin Hester,' he said. 'I believe I mentioned my insatiable curiosity.' She tried to close the door, but his foot was in the way, immovable. He smiled. 'Much fun. Follow that cab!' His right hand described a zigzag course. 'Shades of the Warner Brothers. The driver got such a kick out of it he almost refused the tip. I told him you were running away from my bed and board.'
'Get away!' she whispered fiercely. 'I'll call the manager!'
'Look, Hester,'-the smile dropped-'I think I could have you arrested for illegal entry or impersonating a cousin or something like that, so why don't you invite me in for a small confab? If you're worried about what the bellhops will think, you can leave the door open.' He pushed gently on the door, forcing Ellen to retreat a step. 'That's a good- girl,' he said as he eased through the opening. He eyed her dress with exaggerated disappointment. ' Tin not dressed,' she says. I should have known you were a habitual liar.' He strolled to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. 'Well for pity's sake, coz, stop shaking! I'm not going to eat you.'
'What... what do you want?'
'An explanation.'
'She swung the door all the way open and remained standing in the doorway, as though it were his room and she the visitor. 'It's... very simple. I listen to your program all the time...'
He glanced at the suitcase. 'In Wisconsin?'
'It's only a hundred miles away. We get KBRI. We really do.'
'Go ahead.'
'I listen to you all the time, and I like your program very much... I'm in Blue River, so I thought I'd try to meet you.'
'And when you meet me you run away.'
'Well what would you have done? I didn't plan it that way. I pretended to be your cousin because I... I wanted to get information about you-what kind of girls you like...'
Rubbing his jaw doubtfully, he stood up. 'How did you get my phone number?'
'From the Student Directory.'
He moved to the foot of the bed and touched the suitcase. 'It you go to Caldwell, how did you get a Stoddard directory?'
'From one of the girls here.'
'Who?'
'Annabelle Koch. She's a friend of mine.'
'Annabelle...' He had recognized the name. He squinted at Ellen incredulously. 'Hey, is this really on the level?'
'Yes.' She looked down at her hands. 'I know it was a crazy thing to do, but I like your program so much...' When she looked up again he was by the window.
He said, 'Of all the stupid, idiotic...'-and suddenly he was staring at the hallway beyond her, his eyes baffled. She turned. There was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen. She looked back at Gant and he was facing the window, his back to her. 'Well, Hester,' he said, 'that was a flattering explanation' -he turned, taking his hand from inside his jacket -'and one I shall long remember.' He glanced at the partially open bathroom door. 'Do you mind if I utilize your facilities?' he asked, and before she could say anything he had ducked into the bathroom and closed the door. The lock clicked.
Ellen gazed blankly at (he door, wondering whether or not Gant had believed her. Her knees quivered. Drawing a deep steadying breath, she crossed the room to the writing table and took a cigarette from her purse. She broke two matches before she got it lighted, and then she stood looking out the window, nervously rolling her fountain pen back and forth over the surface of the table which was bare except for her purse. Bare... the letter... The letter to Bud! Gant had been standing near the table and he had tricked her into turning towards the hallway and then he had been facing the window and he turned, taking his hand from inside his jacket!...
Frantically she hammered on the bathroom door. 'Give me that letter! Give it to me!'
Several seconds passed before Gant's deep-toned voice said, 'My curiosity is especially insatiable when it comes to phony cousins and flimsy stories.'
She stood in the doorway with one hand on the jamb and her coat in the other, looking from the still-closed bathroom door to the hallway and smiling inanely at the occasional passers-by. A bellhop asked if there were anything he could do for her. She shook her head.
Gant finally came out. He was folding the letter carefully into its envelope. He put it on the writing table. 'Well,' he said. He viewed her ready-to-flee figure. 'Well.' He smiled somewhat uncomfortably. 'As my grandmother said when the man on the phone asked for Lana Turner, 'Boy, have you got the wrong number.' Ellen did not move.
'Look,' he said. 'I didn't even know her. I said hello to her once or twice. There were other blond guys in that class. I didn't even know her name until her picture was in the papers. The teacher had taken attendance by seat numbers, never called the roll. I didn't even know her name.' Ellen didn't move.
'Well for God's sake, if you want to break a speed record that coat's only going to be in the way.' She didn't move.
In two swift strides he was at the bedside table, snatching up the Gideon Bible. He raised his right hand. 'I swear on this Bible that I never went out with your sister, or said more than two words to her... or anything...' He
