“Talk to her then,” he said tightly. “As a matter of fact she knew the Almores. She knew Almore’s wife, the one who killed herself. Lavery knew her too. Could that have any possible connection with this business?”
“I don’t know. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
“I’d marry her tomorrow, if I could,” he said stiffly.
I nodded and stood up. I looked back along the room. It was almost empty now. At the far end a couple of elderly relics were still blowing bubbles. The rest of the soft chair boys had staggered back to whatever it was they did when they were conscious.
“There’s just one thing,” I said, looking down at Kingsley. “Cops get very hostile when there is a delay in calling them after a murder. There’s been delay this time and there will be more. I’d like to go down there as if it was the first visit today. I think I can make it that way, if I leave the Fallbrook woman out.”
“Fallbrook?” He hardly knew what I was talking about. “Who the hell—oh yes, I remember.”
“Well, don’t remember. I’m almost certain they’ll never hear a peep from her. She’s not the kind to have anything to do with the police of her own free will.”
“I understand,” he said.
“Be sure you handle it right then. Questions will be asked you
“You could call me from the house down there—before you call the police,” he said reasonably.
“I know. But the fact that I don’t will be in my favor. And they’ll check the phone calls one of the first things they do. And if I call you from anywhere else, I might just as well admit that I came up here to see you.”
“I understand,” he said again. “You can trust me to handle it.”
We shook hands and I left him standing there.
18
The Athletic Club was on a corner across the street and half a block down from the Treloar Building. I crossed and walked north to the entrance. They had finished laying rose-colored concrete where the rubber sidewalk had been. It was fenced around, leaving a narrow gangway in and out of the building. The space was clotted with office help going in from lunch.
The Gifierlain Company’s reception room looked even emptier than the day before. The same fluffy little blonde was tucked in behind the PBX in the corner. She gave me a quick smile and I gave her the gunman’s salute, a stiff forefinger pointing at her, the three lower fingers tucked back under it, and the thumb wiggling up and down like a western gun fighter fanning his hammer. She laughed heartily, without making a sound. This was more fun than she had had in a week.
I pointed to Miss Fromsett’s empty desk and the little blonde nodded and pushed a plug in and spoke. A door opened and Miss Fromsett swayed elegantly out to her desk and sat down and gave me her cool expectant eyes.
“Yes, Mr. Marlowe? Mr. Kingsley is not in, I’m afraid.”
“I just came from him. Where do we talk?”
“Talk?”
“I have something to show you.”
“Oh, yes?” She looked me over thoughtfully. A lot of guys had probably tried to show her things, including etchings. At another time I wouldn’t have been above taking a flutter at it myself.
“Business,” I said. “Mr. Kingsley’s business.”
She stood up and opened the gate in the railing. “We may as well go into his office then.”
We went in. She held the door for me. As I passed her I sniffed. Sandalwood. I said: “Gillerlain Regal, the Champagne of Perfumes?”
She smiled faintly, holding the door. “On my salary?”
“I didn’t say anything about your salary. You don’t look like a girl who has to buy her own perfume.”
“Yes, that’s what it is,” she said. “And if you want to know, I detest wearing perfume in the office. He makes me.”
We went down the long dim office and she took a chair at the end of the desk. I sat where I had sat the day before. We looked at each other. She was wearing tan today, with a ruffled jabot at her throat. She looked a little warmer, but still no prairie fire.
I offered her one of Kingsley’s cigarettes. She took it, took a light from his lighter, and leaned back.
“We needn’t waste time being cagey,” I said. “You know by now who I am and what I am doing. If you didn’t know yesterday morning, it’s only because he loves to play big shot.”
She looked down at the hand that lay on her knee, then lifted her eyes and smiled almost shyly.
“He’s a great guy,” she said. “In spite of the heavy executive act he likes to put on. He’s the only guy that gets fooled by it after all. And if you only knew what he has stood from that little tramp”—she waved her cigarette —“well, perhaps I’d better leave that out. What was it you wanted to see me about?”
“Kingsley said you knew the Almores.”
“I knew Mrs. Almore. That is, I met her a couple of times.”
“Where?”
“At a friend’s house. Why?”
