lifted the receiver.
Orfamay Quest’s twittery little voice said: “Oh Mr. Marlowe I’ve been trying to get you for just the longest time. I’m so upset. I’m—”
“In the morning,” I said. “The office is closed.”
“Please, Mr. Marlowe—just because I lost my temper for a moment—”
“In the morning.”
“But I tell you I have to see you.” The voice didn’t quite rise to a yell. “It’s terribly important.”
“Unhuh.”
She sniffled. “You—you kissed me.”
“I’ve kissed better since,” I said. To hell with her. To hell with all women.
“I’ve heard from Orrin,” she said.
That stopped me for a moment, then I laughed. “You’re a nice little liar,” I said. “Goodbye.”
“But really I have. He called me. On the telephone. Right here where I’m staying.”
“Fine,” I said. “Then you don’t need a detective at all. And if you did, you’ve got a better one than I am right in the family. I couldn’t even find out where you were staying.”
There was a little pause. She still had me talking to her anyway. She’d kept me from hanging up. I had to give her that much.
“I wrote to him where I’d be staying,” she said at last.
“Unhuh. Only he didn’t get the letter because he had moved and he didn’t leave any forwarding address. Remember? Try again some time when I’m not so tired. Goodnight, Miss Quest. And you don’t have to tell me where you are staying now. I’m not working for you.”
“Very well, Mr. Marlowe. I’m ready to call the police now. But I don’t think you’ll like it. I don’t think you’ll like it at all.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s murder in it, Mr. Marlowe, and murder is a very nasty word—don’t you think?”
“Come on up,” I said. “I’ll wait.”
I hung up. I got the bottle of Old Forester out. There was nothing slow about the way I poured myself a drink and dropped it down my throat.
15
She came in briskly enough this time. Her motions were small and quick and determined. There was one of those thin little, bright little smiles on her face. She put her bag down firmly, settled herself in the customer’s chair and went on smiling.
“It’s nice of you to wait for me,” she said. “I bet you haven’t had your dinner yet, either.”
“Wrong,” I said. “I have had my dinner. I am now drinking whiskey. You don’t approve of whiskey-drinking do you?”
“I certainly do not.”
“That’s just dandy,” I said. “I hoped you hadn’t changed your mind.” I put the bottle up on the desk and poured myself another slug. I drank a little of it and gave her a leer above the glass.
“If you keep on with that you won’t be in any condition to listen to what I have to say,” she snapped.
“About this murder,” I said. “Anybody I know? I can see you’re not murdered—yet.”
“Please don’t be unnecessarily horrid. It’s not my fault. You doubted me over the telephone so I had to convince you. Orrin did call me up. But he wouldn’t tell me where he was or what he was doing. I don’t know why.”
“He wanted you to find out for yourself,” I said. “He’s building your character.”
“That’s not funny. It’s not even smart.”
“But you’ve got to admit it’s nasty,” I said. “Who was murdered? Or is that a secret too?”
She fiddled a little with her bag, not enough to overcome her embarrassment, because she wasn’t embarrassed. But enough to needle me into taking another drink.
“That horrid man in the rooming house was murdered. Mr.—Mr.—I forget his name.”
“Let’s both forget it,” I said. “Let’s do something together for once.” I dropped the whiskey bottle into the desk drawer and stood up. “Look, Orfamay, I’m not asking you how you know all this. Or rather how Orrin knows it all. Or if he does know it. You’ve found him. That’s what you wanted me to do. Or he’s found you, which comes to the same thing.”
“It’s not the same thing,” she cried. “I haven’t really found him. He wouldn’t tell me where he was living.”
“Well if it is anything like the last place, I don’t blame him.”
She set her lips in a firm line of distaste. “He wouldn’t tell me anything really.”
“Just about murders,” I said. “Trifles like that.”
She laughed bubblingly. “I just said that to scare you. I don’t really mean anybody was murdered, Mr. Marlowe. You sounded so cold and distant. I thought you wouldn’t help me any more. And—well, I just made it up.”
