Blaine. I don’t want to worry her. Is Mrs. Forsyth there in town?”
“Why, yes. I saw her on the street just this afternoon.”
”Has she been around the station, or the studio?”
“Why, no-o. She hasn’t been to either one.”
“But you are positive she’s in town?”
“Oh, yes. Unless she left tonight. But why?”
“I can’t go into it now,” I said. “But here’s what I want you to do. Under no circumstances, is she to get into the station, or the studio. If she tries to force her way in, or sneak in, call the police. If necessary, hire Pinkertons.”
“But—I don’t understand.”
“I can’t explain now. But I’ll be there by Tuesday afternoon, and in the meantime don’t let her get past you. G’bye.”
I drove to Hollywood, found a place to park near the Cameo shortly before ten-fifteen, and waited. Justine arrived in a taxi about ten minutes later, and went inside. I lit a cigarette and remained where I was for another forty minutes, watching the doorway to be sure she didn’t leave. She’d have had two or three drinks by now, and she’d be smoldering.
I went in. It was very dimly lighted, a small place with a precious aspect about it and a Hammond organ that fortunately wasn’t being played at the moment. There were six or eight customers. She was at a small table about halfway back, grimly watching the door. She had a new permanent, and was wearing a dark blue dress and white mesh gloves, and the overnight case was on the floor beside her.
“Well! You finally got here,” she said, as I sat down. “I was just about to go back.”
“Sorry I was late, cutie,” I said. “Couldn’t get away.”
The casual manner and the “cutie” didn’t improve her feelings any, but she was trying to get them under control. It would be poor policy to blast the goose just as it was about to produce the golden egg.
”It’s all right,” she said with an effort.
“Well, I wound up the deal.” I stuck a cigarette in the holder and lit it. “I guess our trip’s off, baby.”
“Yeah. I can start home in the morning—”
The bartender and several customers turned and stared.
“Hey,” I said soothingly, “take it easy, Marian.”
She slammed her drink down. “And will you, for Chrissakes, stop calling me Marian! I’m sick of it!”
“All right, all right, I’m sorry, honey—” I looked around uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean it. Let’s have a drink.”
I motioned for the bartender, who hadn’t missed a word of it, and ordered two Martinis. It took several minutes to cool her off. “We had another pair of drinks, and decided to go somewhere else. I could see her eye the car appraisingly, though she said nothing. We drove over to the beach to another bar. I was acting a little drunk now, and tried to paw her in the parking lot. She shoved me away.
“Le’s ginna back,” I said.
“Oh, shut up!”
We went inside and had two more drinks. I noticed she was leaving most of hers now.
“Why don’t we go on to the motel?” she asked. “We can have some drinks there.”
I bought a bottle of Scotch from the bartender. He didn’t want to sell it to me but I persuaded him with an extra five dollars. We drove to the motel. It was after midnight now, and most of the units were dark. I turned the car and backed it into the carport between the units. I was staggering a little, and as I was fumbling the door open I dropped her bag. It clattered on the step.
“Be careful!” she said angrily.
Inside, I switched on a light, put the Scotch and the bag on the dresser, and started to paw her again. “Wait a minute, can’t you?” she snapped. She slipped off the dress and put it on a hanger in the closet, and took off her shoes. They were blue, with very high heels. I broke the seal on the bottle, and poured two water tumblers half- full.
“Live it up, kid,” I said, handing her one.
“I’m goin’ to put a little water in mine,” she said, and went into the bathroom. She closed the door. I quietly unsnapped the overnight case and opened it. She had other shoes, all right. I grabbed out a pair of her nylons, and a pair of pants, shoved them under the mattress on the bed, and closed the bag. When she came out I could tell by the color of her drink she’d poured most of it out before she added the water.
“S down the ol’ hatch,” I said, weaving a little, and gulped part of mine. The shoes were lying on the carpet near the corner of the bed. “Howz bout a kiss?” I said, and stepped toward her. I landed on them, and heard one of the heels snap. So did she.
“Now look what you’ve done, you stupid idiot!” she lashed out. “Of all the clumsy, big-mouthed apes!”
I weaved, fixed her with a glassy stare, and contemptuously kicked the shoes under the bed. Hauling out the wallet, I fumbled a fifty out of it and threw it on the bed. “Go buy self ‘nother pair. But don’ heave your weight ‘round. I could buy you for cat food.”
I tried to stuff the wallet back into my pocket. It fell to the floor. I reached down for it, and fell over. She stared at me with contempt. I got up, tossed the wallet on the dresser, and went into the bathroom. Turning on the water in the basin, I made a retching sound, and washed my face. When I came out, she was smiling.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “It was my fault, for leavin’ ’em there. Here, let me pour you another little drink.”
“Sgood idea,” I replied. “Pologize. Din mean word of it.” I drank part of the whisky, dropped the glass on the rug, and collapsed on the bed. “Lie down few mince. Feel better.”
She stretched out beside me, and stroked my face with her hand. “There, there, honey. Ju-u-st relax. You just had a little too much.”
I closed my eyes. We lay perfectly still for about ten minutes, and then she said, “Honey?”
“Ummmff?” I muttered, and stirred a little.
She waited another twenty minutes before she tried again. I went on breathing heavily, and made no reply. After a few more minutes she moved cautiously away from me, and got up. I heard the rustle of the dress as she put it back on, and the careful unsnapping of the bag to get the other pair of shoes. I had to listen carefully to hear the door open, but there was a faint click as it closed.
I slid off the bed, parted the curtains at the front window just a fraction of an inch, and peered out. There was no one in sight except her. All the units across the way were dark, and the woman who ran the place had long since gone to bed. She reached the entrance, turned left, toward the center of town, and disappeared.
She should know enough not to take a cab all the way to Miami and at this time in the morning, so she’d probably head for the bus station. She knew I had her address, and the chances were she wouldn’t stop this side of California. With a married man she could tough it out and play the percentages, but she should be pretty sure by now that I was single. I’d cried enough about what the tax people did to me because of it.
I went over to the dresser. She’d left the wallet. Removing the identification had been superfluous, but it was a precaution I had to take. Chapman was going to be all over the front pages in a few hours, and having his identification turn up somewhere in a garbage can would have been disastrous.
Twelve
I replaced all the identification and the cards in the wallet, and looked at my watch. It was one forty-five. Taking two water tumblers out in the bathroom, I rinsed them and rubbed them with a towel to remove prints. It didn’t really matter—the maid would replace them with two fresh ones, wrapped in waxed paper as these had been.
