I grinned back at her. “Don't put me in a spot, sister,” I said. “I thought maybe I was going to get somewhere if I jumped it on you, but I see I was backin' the wrong gee. I'd tell you all about it if I could, but for the moment I've got to keep this under my hat. Suppose you tell me how I can get in to see Spencer?”
The Swiss steak did a lot to break up the hostile atmosphere, but she wasn't going to let me get away with it as easily as that.
She looked at me pretty straight. “You know, Mr. Mason, I don't like this at all. You said you wanted to talk business. My business is to do with Fabrics. Then you start some story about a wretched gunman instead. Is this a cheap joke?”
I found I was getting flustered. This certainly was something new to me.
I said feebly, “This ain't a joke. I'm dead serious, but I'm in a spot....”
She pushed back her chair. “In that case, Mr. Mason,” she said coldly, “I don't think we need waste any more time.”
Another dame would have got herself smacked, but this baby had me jumping through hoops. I said urgently, “Don't go, don't walk out on me... I'll come clean on this.”
She shook her head. “No... I think I'd better go.” But she made no move. Maybe she was the cutest of them all, but she was woman enough to be curious. I took a look over my shoulder to see how close the next table was, satisfied myself that no one could hear me, and dived right into the story. I gave it to her from the first gong to the last.
She sat with her hands in her lap, her eyes wide, her lips parted. I gave her the story with everything I had, and I held her to the last word. Sitting there, I thought she looked swell.
“Apart from the ten grand,” I concluded, “this frame-up interests me. It would make a swell story, and I always like to think the right guy gets the right punishment.”
She said, in barely a whisper, “But... but... Mr. Spencer... no, I can't believe that....”
I shrugged. “I've never met the guy. At the same time, why the hell does he have a gunman? Why should a guy in Fabrics be mixed up with a thug like Katz?”
I saw her suddenly give a little shiver. “You know a little more about this than you're lettin' me think. Ain't that right?”
She hesitated. Then she shook her head. “I can't help you.... I'm his personal secretary.... You see that, don't you?”
I scratched my jaw. “Yeah, I guess so,” I said doubtfully. “At the same time, baby, you gotta remember that this is a murder rap, and accessories don't get much pity.”
She went a little white when I said this, but she again shook her head. “No, not now,” she said firmly.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe later.”
The Greek brought the coffee and I gave her a cigarette. We sat there in silence, smoking. I wasn't sure where I was going from here. I had hoped that something would have broken, but it seemed as tight shut as before.
“I guess I'd better look this Spencer guy over,” I said at last. “Maybe I'll, get something out of him.”
Mardi fiddled with her coffee-spoon. “I wish you wouldn't,” she said, without looking at me. “Don't you think that it would be better to leave this business alone?”
I raised my eyebrows. I must say I was getting a hell of a lot of encouragement on this job. “I've gotta get into this,” I said. “Can't you understand with a thing like this there's a big angle as a story hanging to it? If I bust this thing, it'll start a riot. I shall be the guy responsible. It'll mean something then.”
“I don't want to sound a crab,” she said, putting her hand suddenly on my sleeve, “but isn't it a bit big? I mean... I don't want you to think....” She stopped in confusion.
“Meanin' I'm a small-town hick an' might get a swell belly-ache if I bit this off an' couldn't chew it?” I grinned at her to show her I wasn't mad.
She looked at me then, and her eyes were troubled. “No, I didn't mean that quite,” she said. “But if what you have told me is true... isn't it rather one-sided? Don't you think you ought to have someone to back you, if you're determined to go ahead?”
I tapped the ash off my cigarette. This was the kind of girl I'd thought about for a long time. A girl who talked things over and put out ideas. “Suppose you were handlin' this, what would you do?”
She didn't hesitate. “I wouldn't make a move until I found out who the woman was who telephoned you. Why she was giving you all that money. What were her interests in starting the investigation.”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, “that's a swell idea, but not easy. Just a voice on the telephone... wants some finding.”
She glanced at her watch and gave a little exclamation. “I must go,” she said, stubbing out the cigarette and gathering her gloves and bag. “Thank you for the lunch.”
I pushed back the chair and followed her. “You haven't paid the check,” she said softly.
I grinned. “Not in this burg,” I said, waving to the Greek. He beat me to the door and held it open.
“I hope,” he said, bowing in half, “you will bring the beautiful lady again.”
Mardi flushed, but I could see she was mighty pleased. I nodded. “You'll be seein' her again,” I promised.
I called a taxi. She turned to me. “I hope you won't come back to the office,” she said quickly. “I hope you won't do anything silly until you've thought about things. Find out who that woman is first.”
