minute you think somebody slammed one to your belly then your breath comes back with a rush and you hope she doesn't move out of the light that makes a translucent screen out of the white nylon uniform.
But she does and she says hello and you feel all gone all over.
She's got light chestnut hair and her voice is just right. She's got eyes to go with the hair and they sweep over you and laugh because she knows how you feel. And only for a moment do the eyes show disappointment because somehow the cigarette gets lit as if she hadn't been there at all and the smoke from my mouth smooths out any expression I might have let show through.
'The doctor in?'
'Yes, but he's with a patient right now. He'll be finished shortly.'
'I'll wait,' I said.
'Would you care to step inside while I make out a card for you?'
I took a pull on the Lucky and let it out in a fast, steady stream. I stood up so I could look down at her, grinning a little bit. 'Right now that would be the nicest thing I could think of, but I'm not exactly a patient.'
She didn't change her expression. Her eyebrows went up slightly and she said, 'Oh?'
'Let's say I'll pay the regular rates if it's necessary.'
The eyebrows came down again. 'I don't think that will be necessary.' Her smile was a quick, friendly one. 'Is there any way I can help you?'
I grinned bigger and the smile changed to a short laugh. 'Please,' she said.
'How long will the doctor be?'
'Another half hour perhaps.'
'Okay, then maybe you can do it. I'm an investigator. The name is Michael Hammer, if it means anything to you. Right now I'd like to get some information on a girl named Berga Torn. A short while back Dr. Soberin okayed her for a rest cure at a sanitarium.'
'Yes. Yes, I remember her. Perhaps you'd better come inside after all.'
Her smile was a challenge no man could put up with. She opened the door, walked into the light again and over to a desk in the corner. She turned around, saw me standing there in the doorway and smoothed out her skirt with a motion of her hands. I could hear the static jump all the way across the room and the fabric clung even closer than it had.
'You'd be surprised how fast a person decides he really isn't sick after all,' she said.
'What about the women patients?'
'They get sicker.' Her mouth pursed in a repressed laugh. 'What are you thinking?'
I walked over to the desk and pulled up the straight-backed
chair. 'Why a dish like you takes a job like this.'
'If you must know, fame and fortune.' She pulled out a file
case and began to thumb through the cards.
'Try it again,' I said.
She looked up quickly. 'Truly interested?'
I nodded.
'I studied to be a nurse right after high school. I graduated, and quite unfortunately, won a beauty contest before I could start practicing. A week later I was in Hollywood sitting on my... sitting around posing for stills and nothing more. Six months later
I was carhopping at a drive-in diner and it took me another year to get wise. So I came home and became a nurse.'
'So you were a lousy actress?'
She smiled and shook her head.
'It couldn't have been that you didn't have a figure after all?'
Her cheeks sucked in poutingly and her eyes looked up at me with a you-should-know-better expression. 'Funny enough,' she said, 'I wasn't photogenic. Imagine that?'
'No, I can't.'
She sat up with the three typewritten cards in her hand. 'Thank you, Mr. Hammer.' Her voice was a song of some hidden forest bird that made you stop whatever you were doing to listen. She laid the cards out in front of her, the smile fading away. 'I believe this is what you came for. Now can I see your insurance credentials, and if you have your forms I'll...'
'I'm not an insurance investigator.'
She gave me a quizzical look and automatically gathered the cards together. 'Oh... I'm sorry. You know, of course, that this information is always confidential and...'
'The girl is dead. She was murdered.'
She went to say something and stopped short. Then: 'Police?'
I nodded and hoped she didn't say anything more.
'I see.' Her teeth pinched her lower lip and she looked sideways at the door to her left. 'If I remember I believe the doctor had another policeman in to see him not long ago.'
'That's right. I'm following up on the case. I'd like to go over everything personally instead of from reports. If you'd rather wait for the doctor...'
'Oh, no, I think it will be all right. Shall I read these off to you?'
'Shoot.'
'To be brief, she was in an extremely nervous condition. Overwork, apparently. She was hysterical here in the office and the doctor had to administer a sedative. Complete rest was the answer and the doctor arranged for her to be admitted to the sanitarium.' Her eyebrows pulled together slightly. 'Frankly, I can't possibly see what there is here to interest the police. There was no physical disorder except symptoms brought on by her mental condition.'
'Could I see the cards?'
'Certainly.' She handed them to me and leaned forward on the desk, thought better of it when my head turned, smiled and sat back again.
I didn't bother with the card she had read from. The first gave the patient's name, address, previous medical history and down at the bottom along the left side was the notation RECOMMENDED BY and next to it was the name William Wieton. The other card gave the diagnosis, suggested treatment and corroboration from the sanitarium that the diagnosis was correct.
I looked at the cards again, made a face at the complete lack of information they gave me, then handed them back.
'They help any?'
'Oh, you can never tell.'
'Would you still like to see the doctor?'
'Not specially. Maybe I'll be back.'
Something happened to her face. 'Please do.'
She didn't get up this time. I walked to the door, looked back and she was sitting there with her chin in her hands watching me. 'You ought to give Hollywood another try,' I said.
'I meet more interesting people here,' she told me. Then added,
'Though it's hard to tell on such short acquaintance.'
I winked, she winked back and I went out on the street.
Broadway had bloomed again. It was there in all its colorful glory, stretching wide-open arms to the sucker, crying out with a voice that was never still. I walked toward the lights, trying to think, trying to put bits together and add pieces where the holes were.
I found a delicatessen, went in and had a sandwich. I came out and headed up Broadway, making the stops as I came to them. Two hours went by in a hurry and nothing had happened. No, I didn't stay on the Stem because nobody would be looking for me on the Stem. Later maybe, but not now.
So I got off the Stem and went east where the people talked different and dressed different and were my kind of people. They didn't have dough and they didn't have flash, but behind their eyes was the knowledge of the city and the way it thought and ran. They were people who were afraid of the monster that grew up around them and
