Ralph went to the low, glass-topped bar in front of the studio couch, opened it and took out a flagon of rye and a large shot glass. He filled it and settled back on the couch, his face bland and uncommunicative as he waited for Aline to return.
It took her ten minutes. Her features were still tight and ravaged, but rouge and powder and a hairbrush had done much to improve her appearance. She sat down beside him, shook her head and shuddered when he lifted his glass and gestured toward its mate with the dregs of a drink she had left before leaving for Bart’s party.
“Not for me,” she said flatly. “Never again. I swear it. What do you think could have happened after you left me here without a key?”
“I still think the normal thing would have been for you to ring the superintendent.” He glanced at the speaking tube near the door. “Why not call him and find out, if it’ll set your mind at rest?”
“And wake him up at this time to ask him that?” she protested. “He’d think I’d lost my mind. Besides, if I did come up, I didn’t stay.”
“I gather,” said Ralph drily, “that you didn’t stay. However, it would be a starting point if you’re determined to backtrack. Up here, you could have telephoned anyone you liked without dimes. Go ahead and buzz him on the speaking tube. What are janitors for?”
“I’d be ashamed to ask him. If he didn’t think I was crazy, then he’d know I was too drunk to know what I did.”
“All right, then,” said Ralph amiably, “I’ll buzz him, and talk to him on the speaking tube.” He hesitated a moment, then added reflectively. “Better still, to save you embarrassment, I’ll telephone him, and let him think it’s an outside call. I’ll say I’m a friend who knows you came home about midnight without a key and am worried. I’ll ask if he let you in, and that won’t give anything away. Know his number?”
“No. But it’s listed under ‘Superintendent’ in the black book there on the telephone stand.” She started to get up, but Ralph caught her arm.
“You just sit here nice and comfy. I’ll find it.” He went to the telephone and flipped the pages of her private listing, dialed the number and waited.
The phone rang a long time before a sleepy voice demanded: “Yeh? Who you calling?”
“Are you the superintendent at the Maidstone?”
“Yeh. What you want?”
“I’m a friend of Miss Aline Ferris in Apartment 4-F. We’ve just discovered that she left her handbag with her keys here when she went home about midnight, and we’re a little worried. Her phone doesn’t answer. Did she ring you about midnight to let her in?”
“No. Haven’t see Miss Ferris for days.” He slammed the receiver down hard.
Ralph replaced his receiver and turned to Aline. “That’s not the answer. Let’s see, now.” He crossed over and sat down beside her and stretched his long legs out comfortably. “There you were about midnight on your own doorstep and operating under your own power, but actually passed out mentally. You had no key and no money to telephone. I had driven away thinking you were safely inside. What happened then?”
“Oh, I don’t know… I don’t know,” Aline cried out. “But I’ve just got to find out.”
“U-m-m. It would be lots easier to figure out if I knew where you were when you finally came to. Didn’t you ask anyone how you got there?”
“There wasn’t anyone to ask,” she told him. “I was alone. It doesn’t matter exactly where. In a hotel room, if that helps any. But how did I get there?” Her voice was shrill, close to hysteria.
“Take it easy,” Ralph said calmly. “There are dozens of possible explanations. Let’s reason it out together. From the way you acted last time, I know you’re outwardly rational when you’re passed out, but… less inhibited than when you’re sober, let us say. The real you takes charge of your body. You remain perfectly logical and self- possessed. Now: What would you have done under those same circumstances if you had been sober?”
“I… don’t know. Get the superintendent to let me in, probably.”
“But we know you didn’t do that. And I’m not sure you would have tried. Remember your aversion to waking him just a few minutes ago? You were ashamed to let him know you were so drunk you didn’t remember. In your condition at midnight some part of your mind realized that you were damned tight, and you didn’t want him to see you like that. So, what?”
Aline’s face brightened and she caught Ralph’s wrist in a tight grasp. “I know! The cocktail lounge just down the street. It stays open until four, and I often drop in for a drink after work. The night bartender knows me, and I wouldn’t have minded at all going in and telling him I’d mislaid my bag and needed a dime for the telephone. I’ve left enough in tips, goodness knows. He wouldn’t think anything of it. I must have gone there.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Ralph agreed. He smiled genially and put a big hand over hers.
“But whom did I call… if I did telephone?”
“First thing to find out is whether you made any call at all. It’s possible he might have seen you dialing… or helped you look up a number. He’d remember an incident like that.” Ralph swung to his feet and glanced at his watch. “It’s not quite four. What’s the name of the joint?”
“Gosh, I… I don’t know. I’ve been in dozens of times, but I guess I just never noticed.”
“We can go down and ask him, if you really want to try and clear this up.”
“You go, Ralph,” she said impulsively. “Please. His name is Joe. Just ask him if Miss Ferris was in to use the telephone. Please, Ralph. I just don’t feel up to it.”
“Sure. You must be shot. Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
She said, “You’re sweet,” and was suddenly listless. She stood up and let him kiss her, then drew away when he tried to become more ardent. “Ring my bell and I’ll let you in.”
“Not jealous of Doris, are you?” he asked, smiling.
“No. I don’t think so. I’m just not at my best tonight.” She watched him go out, then sank down on the couch and buried her throbbing head in her hands.
“Dear God,” she moaned softly, “let me get out of this. Just this one time, please help me. I’ve learned my lesson tonight. I swear I have. I’ll never, never, take another drink as long as I live.”
Once more, tears of self-pity wet her face. She was stretched out on the couch, still sobbing, fifteen minutes later when her buzzer sounded. She dragged herself up and pressed the button that released the catch on the door to the building downstairs.
She was standing in the open doorway of her apartment, dabbing at reddened eyes with a cool, damp washcloth, when Ralph stepped from the elevator. He frowned unhappily when he saw that she had not changed into a negligee in his absence, but nodded as he approached, saying, “We hit it on the head, darling. I caught Joe just as he was closing the joint, and he said that’s exactly what you did.”
Aline stepped back to let him enter, her breathing tremulous and irregular. “Then I did go there to telephone?”
“That’s right. Joe remembered right away. Said you sort of acted strange when you came in just after midnight. Said you walked straight enough, but your eyes had a glassy look he’d seen often enough when people were passed out.” Ralph took her hand and led her to the couch where they sat down and he linked his arm in hers as he continued:
“Joe said you walked right up to him and told him you had lost your purse and needed a dime to telephone. He didn’t care about the dime, but he was a little worried. Thought you ought to go home in your condition, and told you so. But you blazed away at him and said you could take care of yourself, and what you needed was a man. You told him to give you the dime and stop his yapping.” He paused, squeezed her arm, and looked down at her for approval.
Aline’s face was pale and her voice was sick with shame as she breathed, “How awful! I’ll never be able to look him in the face again. I can’t believe I’d say such things.” She drew her arm from his and leaned away from him.
Ralph poured himself another drink, crossed his legs, and settled back against the cushions. “You toss off a lot of inhibitions when you get that way, my sweet. Like the other time with me. God, if you could just remember…”
“Don’t… please,” Aline pleaded, her cheeks scarlet. “Maybe I’m just a two-dollar whore at heart, but don’t rub it in. Tell me what else Joe said.”
“Well, he gave you the dime and you went to the telephone book and looked up a number. When you found it, you asked him if he had a pencil and would he write it down for you. You know, the phone booth is across the room
