home. When I deliver you at your house I’m through. Why she picked on me I couldn’t say. Like I said, it’s just a job.”
We turned the flank of a hill and hit a wider, more firmly paved road. He said his house was a mile farther on, on the right side. He told me the number, which I already knew. For a guy in his shape he was a pretty persistent talker.
“How much is she paying you?” he asked,
“We didn’t discuss it.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not enough. I owe you a lot of thanks. You did a great job, chum. I wasn’t worth the trouble.”
“That’s just the way you feel tonight.”
He laughed. “You know something, Marlowe? I could get to like you. You’re a bit of a bastard—like me.”
We reached the house. It was a two-story over-all shingle house with a small pillared portico and a long lawn from the entrance to a thick row of shrubs inside the white fence. There was a light in the portico. I pulled into the driveway and stopped close to the garage.
“Can you make it without help?”
“Of course.” He got out of the car. “Aren’t you coming in for a drink or something?”
“Not tonight, thanks; I’ll wait here until you’re in the house.”
He stood there breathing hard. “Okay,” he said shortly. He turned and walked carefully along a flagged path to the front door. He held on to a white pillar for a moment, then tried the door. It opened, he went in. The door stayed open and light washed across the green lawn. There was a sudden flutter of voices. I started backing from the driveway, following the back-up light. Somebody called out.
I looked and saw Eileen Wade standing in the open doorway. I kept going and she started to run. So I had to stop. I cut the lights and got out of the car. When she came up I said:
“I ought to have called you, but I was afraid to leave him.”
“Of course. Did you have a lot of trouble?”
“Well—a little more than ringing a doorbell. ”
“Please come in the house and tell me all about it.”
“He should be in bed. By tomorrow he’ll be as good as new.”
“Candy will put him to bed,” she said, “He won’t drink tonight, if that’s what you are thinking of.”
“Never occurred to me. Goodnight, Mrs. Wade.”
“You must be tired. Don’t you want a drink yourself?”
I lit a cigarette. It seemed like a couple of weeks since I had tasted tobacco. I drank in the smoke.
“May I have just one puff?”
She came close to me and I handed her the cigarette. She drew on it and coughed. She handed it back laughing. “Strictly an amateur, as you see.”
“So you knew Sylvia Lennox,” I said. “Was that why you wanted to hire me?”
“I knew who?” She sounded puzzled.
“Sylvia Lennox.” I had the cigarette back now. I was eating it pretty fast.
“Oh,” she said, startled. “That girl that was—murdered. No, I didn’t know her personally. I knew who she was. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“Sorry, I’d forgotten just what you did tell me.”
She was still standing there quietly, close to me, slim and tall in a white dress of some sort. The light from the open door touched the fringe of her hair and made it glow softly.
“Why did you ask me if that had anything to do with my wanting to, as you put it, hire you?” When I didn’t answer at once she added, “Did Roger tell you he knew her?”
“He said something about the case when I told him my name. He didn’t connect me with it immediately, then he did. He talked so damn much I don’t remember half of what he said.”
“I see. I must go in, Mr. Marlowe, and see if my husband needs anything. And if you won’t come in—”
“I’ll leave this with you,” I said.
I took hold of her and pulled her towards me and tilted her head back. I kissed her hard on the lips. She didn’t fight me and she didn’t respond. She pulled herself away quietly and stood there looking at me.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “That was wrong. You’re too nice a person.”
“Sure. Very wrong,” I agreed. “But I’ve been such a nice faithful well-behaved gun dog all day long, I got charmed into one of the silliest ventures I ever tackled, and damned if it didn’t turn out just as though somebody had written a script for it. You know something? I believe you knew where he was all along—or at least knew the name of Dr. Verringer. You just wanted to get me involved with him, tangled up with him so I’d feel a sense of responsibility to look after him. Or am I crazy?”
“Of course you’re crazy,” she said coldly. “That is the most outrageous nonsense I ever listened to.” She started to turn away.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “That kiss won’t leave a scar. You just think it will. And don’t tell me I’m too nice a person. I’d rather be a heel. ”
