She leaned toward me.
“Stop that,” I said, watching her mouth.
She sat back. “Harry says he offered you...”
“I don't like Harry's work. Flo, what kind of perfume you using?”
“Why?”
“Like to give you a bottle, as interest, when I pay back the hundred.”-
“You know what I want you to give me, Matt.” She started for me again and I opened the door and slid out of the car.
“It's easier for me to give you the perfume. What's it called?”
“It's called, go to hell you two-timing son of a bitch!” she snapped and drove off.
I got a bus to White Beach, wondering how women knew these things so damn fast.
When I got to the cottage Mady was waiting and I kissed her, mumbled, “Baby, you don't need any perfume.”
“What?” She sniffed at me, said, “You've been around some chick using Heavenly Drops—ten bucks a dram, or some such fantastic price.”
I grinned. “All in line of duty—don't worry. Anybody call for me?”
“No. And you can't make me jealous. As you said, we're alike. Bet you never got along with a girl so well before?”
“That's so,” I said, hugging her and thinking how damn true it was. “Never cared for a girl before—except to sleep with—and I suppose that's how they felt about me. Always got restless with me. Had to keep themselves busy—refurnishing my place, or go on a clothes binge, or one even went in for a correspondence course—anything to keep them busy. Of course, they were all hit- and-jump affairs, only playing me for a meal ticket.”
“Not just for a meal ticket—with those shoulders. And why are women always looking for meal tickets? Don't men, too?”
“Men happen to be the breadwinners in our society.”
Mady gave me a mock sneer, “Balls.”
“Why don't you say 'Breasts'?”
“Don't you start making fun of me. Speaking of jobs, I've been out looking. I start Monday as cashier in a movie house near here. Forty a week—means about
“Yeah,” I said, which didn't mean anything. I didn't want her to start working so soon—we hardly had any time together. But the routine of a job might be what she needed.
I let go of her and walked into the kitchen, took a pill with a glass of water. She pointed to my skinned knuckles as I was holding the glass. “Must have been a tough gal you were out with.”
“Oh that—I stumbled on an old friend.”
“Matt, if it's none of my business, say so, but what are you up to? I'm just so afraid of you getting hurt, I mean...”
“Don't worry about me, I...”
“Don't give me any of that
I sat on a kitchen chair, pulled her down on my lap. “Okay, you have a right to know, but one thing—I don't want you to repeat this to anybody.”
“Repeat what?”
“I'm doing a little free detective work... I'm going to send Willie Saxton the Third to the gas chamber for killing his sister and brother-in-law.”
Mady jumped off my lap, stared at me bug- eyed.
“You said yourself you didn't believe Henry Wilson was a murderer. It kind of narrows down to Saxton, doesn't it? That's why you have to keep this quiet.... Willie doesn't have a thing to lose by killing again.”
“Saxton?” Mady repeated, and shivered. “He's a louse, but I never thought of him as a killer. And he was here all Sunday night.”
“How do you know? Baby, when you're sleeping off one, you're out. You know that.”
“That's so, and I really tied one on that weekend.... That was only a few days ago and it seems like years. Are you sure he did it?”
“I've been sure all along.”
“Then why didn't you...?”
“I didn't give a damn before now... I've taken a great dislike to him, so exit Saxton the Third: justice shall triumph, praise the Lord and pass the gas chamber.”
Mady shuddered. “You seem almost happy about it.”
“I feel good. Like I smacked a guy down today who... well, I feel good about that too. The important thing is, I feel like working. As for Saxton, he means nothing more to me than stepping on a fly that's annoying us. Does he mean anything to you?”
“What kind of a crack is that?”
I stood up, took her hand. “It's just that you seem upset over my gunning for him.”
Mady squeezed my hand tightly. “Because he's mean and nasty... and now you say he's a killer. I'd snap my cap if anything happened to you.”
I kissed her, nibbled at her lips. “Don't worry about it—I can give Saxton lessons in how to be a nasty joker—if I want to. Now forget everything I told you... you think I'd let anything like Saxton spoil what we have?”
“No, you wouldn't,” she said, giving me a long, hard kiss. Then she pulled out of my arms, smiled, said, “There's work to be done. I'll make up the bed, you dust the living room.”
“Yes ma'am.”
She took a dust cloth out of the closet and I went to work. It was after three and about ten minutes later the phone rang. It was Joe and he sounded jittery. He was parked around the corner and I told him I'd be right there. I put the camera away in my room, told Mady I was going out again. She said, “Saxton?”
“No—Some more free work, for a friend.”
“You're sure friendly. My rival with the stink-water?” .
“Wrong again—a man.”
“One you skinned your knuckles on?”
“My, my, you think I've only one friend in the world? It's your brother Joe.”
“What are you two cooking up?”
“A little money-saving scheme.”
Mady laughed, fine deep laughter that tickled me. “Watch out for Joe, those civil service characters are always thinking up some racket to make an extra buck. Where'd you get the camera?”
“Rented it. Joe and I are going to take dirty pictures,” I said, ducked her slap, and walked out of the house.
Joe had on his blue-gray postman's uniform and he looked as sloppy as in his regular suit. I sat beside him, asked, “How did things go?”
“Loughlin was sore about stalling him in the bar. I'm to meet him tonight in Seward Park at seven sharp.”
“Fine. Pick me up at the house at six-fifteen. You tell the barkeep about Harry being a pansy?”
Joe nodded, mumbled, “Jesus, I hate this! I know he's putting the screws on me, but there must be some other way of getting back at him.”
“What other way? Unless you want to stand up and fight his charges, and as you said, you'll lose your job.”
“I know, I'm doing what you told me.”
“Now the most important piece of business will be in the park. You walk with him till you reach this bench we pick out—and it has to be
“You told me all that last night.”
“Unless we get a shot of him sitting on your lap, the whole deal is a bust. Soon as he hits your lap, start fighting. He'll grab your shoulder to keep from falling—that's the picture we want. Then you go into your act, calling him a...”
“I know what to do! Let's not keep talking about it.”
He was too nervous, so I said, “Go home and relax— take a couple of drinks. But don't get stiff on me.”
“What I need is sleep. Couldn't shut my eyes last night. Damn heavy delivery today, too. Lot of magazines and ads.”
“See you at six- fifteen, and be on time,” I said, opening the door. “I have to return to my dusting.”
He smiled for the first time. “Mady must really go for you. Dusting!”
I spent the rest of the afternoon fooling with the camera, to make sure I'd be able to work it in the dark. Mady wanted to know where Joe and I were going, was mad when I wouldn't tell her. She made supper and was off on a talking jag, maybe to get even with me. She kept telling me all the little things Billy did till I stopped it by talking about some of Flo's habits.
She was still angry when Joe honked his horn and as I left I told her, “Let's cut the past history from now on. Both of us. Billy doesn't mean a thing to us—or you— as of the first time we kissed. I don't expect you to brush his memory off in a few days, but I get awful jealous at the thought that any other man made you happy.”
“I'm sorry. I don't know why I keep talking about him—maybe it's a habit.”
“It's because we're not together enough. Another couple days and I'll change that.”
Joe was so jittery he stuttered as we drove to the park, locked the car, and found a bench. The bench was isolated and directly across the sidewalk from a large, head-high clump of bushes.
Joe left to meet Harry, walk him back to the trap. It was pretty, dark for so early in the evening and I stumbled around in the bushes till I made an opening, so I could shoot the bench clearly. I set up my camera and flash gun and waited. Judging by the stink, the bushes were a favorite urinal, and from the way the ground was littered—even in the dark—this particular spot was popular with lovers, although people would have to be ready to explode to forget the smell.
I checked the camera again, licked the flash bulb for better contact, made sure I had a few more bulbs ready in my pocket, listened to the night sounds of the insects and waited. About ten minutes later I saw Harry walking with that jaunty, stiff-legged, almost dancing walk of his. Joe was lumbering along as though trying to use his feet as little as possible.
