'Well,' said Fulton, 'we're due.'
'How long do you think you'll be working on this?' asked Maggie Dobbs. 'I mean, it's been a while and the…' She stopped, embarrassed.
They were in the Dobbs kitchen sharing a cup of coffee as usual, before Marlene went off to do research and Maggie did whatever she had planned with the children. Marlene regarded her closely. 'Um, is something wrong, Maggie?'
'No, I just meant… well, I just wanted to know when you'll be finished.'
This was so lame a request, and so obviously a cover for a deeper distress, that Marlene hardly knew how to respond. She decided to take it at face value, and answered, 'Well, that depends on what you want me to do. I could write up what I've got so far, and work on developing an index to the various commentaries on the case. That should make it easy on whoever does the actual writing. I've got the beginnings of a descriptive index to the films, and I could finish that. The real problem, though, is Gaiilov.' Marlene explained who Gaiilov was.
'But how do you know he's even still alive?' asked Maggie.
'I don't. But that's the only big source I haven't explored. So I'm looking for him, trying to follow up any traces he might have left.' Marlene didn't mention that she had set Harry Bello on just this task. He was down at the Library of Congress now, doing searches, to see whether anyone, anywhere, had mentioned the name of Armand Dimitrievitch Gaiilov in any newspaper or magazine or phone book during the last twenty-five years. The reason Marlene didn't mention it was because it was a hopeless task, and because she did not want to spook the already desperately nervous woman with the information that she had allowed another stranger into the Dobbses' business.
'Aside from that,' Marlene continued, 'I plan to visit your mother-in-law again, and I guess I'd like to go out to Texas and see Harley Blaine.'
'Is that necessary?'
'Yes, I think it is. You'd have to spring for the airfare and expenses, of course.'
'Oh, God! This is so complicated now. When we started, I just thought… I don't know-organizing the things we had, the story. I didn't expect all this investigation. It's like having the police in the house, like we did some crime.'
'Okay, I'll stop,' said Marlene agreeably.
'You will?'
'Of course. It's no skin off my ass if you never find out whether sterling Dick Dobbs sold his country to the Reds or not.'
'But he didn't!' cried Maggie in horror. Inanely, her glance darted around the room, as if she were checking to see if anyone had overheard this blasphemy.
'Yeah, so you say, and I believe you're right. But I talked to Viktor Reltzin the other day, and he swears he thought Jerome Weinberg wasn't lying. And why should he lie at this late date, a lonely old Russian gent? He's got no horse in the race: the Reds killed his whole family, so he's sure as shit not protecting a Soviet secret.'
'But it's impossible!'
'No, it's only hard to believe, which is not quite the same thing. That's why we need to talk to Gaiilov. Everyone else with direct knowledge of the affair has already weighed in, pro or con, or died. We can make a fair case for Richard's innocence, true; but a fair case isn't going to be good enough. We need fresh meat.'
Maggie wished this disturbing woman had never come into her life. She wished the great Dobbs case were still a pile of dusty papers and films into which she might dip from time to time after Hank had needled her. He really hadn't needled her that often anyway. Now she had Marlene needling her too. She felt an absurd urge to run back and lose herself in the aisles of her greenhouse. Suppressing it, ashamed of these thoughts, she swallowed hard and said, 'I'll talk to Hank.'
The following day, Marlene awoke to the smell of coffee and the sound of domestic clatter in the kitchen. She pulled on a kimono and went to investigate. Her daughter was instructing Harry Bello on the preparation of the royal toast.
'You have to make the jelly even,' said Lucy.
'Good morning,' said Marlene. 'What's going on?'
'There's coffee,' said Harry.
'Okay, even,' said Harry, as he finished coating the two squares of crustless toast with a millimetric layer of perfect purple. 'Is that it?'
'No,' said Lucy, 'now you have to make them into triangoos.'
The triangoos were cut. Lucy nodded in approval and tossed one of the pieces to Sweetie.
Marlene said, 'Lucy, go watch cartoons. And take the dog. And eat your breakfast yourself, understand?'
The child trotted off with the beast and soon the little apartment was filled with the sounds of cute characters killing one another.
Marlene poured herself a cup of coffee and took a welcome swallow. 'This is nice of you, Harry. Did she get you up?'
'Nah. I don't sleep. I enjoy it.'
'She's a monster. Triangoos, my ass!' Marlene laughed. They sat down across the battered table.
'So, Harry, any bright ideas?'
'No. The guy's gone. I couldn't even find his name, from the time when the Dobbs trial was big news. It's all this 'Mr. X' crap in the papers from back then. He's not in any phone directory. He doesn't run a business, not under Gaiilov anyway. He's got no credit. He doesn't have a gas card. He's got no criminal record. I'm thinking they covered him.'
'What, like witness protection?'
Harry nodded.
'Yeah, well,' said Marlene, 'that's it then. Fun while it lasted.'
'So, did he?' asked Harry.
'Dobbs? Nah, what it was, I think they just squeezed this pisher Weinberg, waved the chair at him-this was just about when they toasted the Rosenbergs-and told him they'd let him cop if he gave them Mr. Big and he just pulled Dobbs's name out of a hat. The guy just doesn't say 'spy' to me. I mean, why the hell should he? He had money up the ying-yang, a wife, a kid, a good war record. He was planning on going into politics, for crying out loud! He was golden.'
'There were those guys in England. Same story.'
Marlene stared at him. It always surprised her when Harry Bello proved to be other than a mobile machine for solving crimes in the greater metropolitan New York area. 'You mean Burgess and McLean. And Philby. Right, but they were commies from the beginning. Way back in college.'
'And he wasn't. Dobbs.'
Marlene shook her head, but then realized with some surprise that she knew relatively little about Richard Dobbs's early life. Some films from college days, some anecdotes from family and friends, but nothing that gave her a picture of the man's formative years. Of course, she had focused on the events and circumstances surrounding the spy case. On the other hand…
'The widow,' said Harry, and Marlene laughed.
'Harry, stop doing that!'
'What?'
'Reading my mind. As a matter of fact, I was going to see the Widow Dobbs anyway. I could do it today, except… Maggie Dobbs has been acting a little, I don't know, not exactly hostile but like she'd be just as happy if I was involved in a fatal accident. Something's scaring her.'
'You.'
'Me?' Marlene fluttered her eyelashes fetchingly. 'Little me?'
'Yeah,' said Harry. 'You scare me, and I got a gun.'
'Hmm, maybe you're right,' Marlene agreed after a moment's thought. 'I'm probably not the most suitable companion for a proper Washington matron. Of course, Lucy's going to miss playing with Laura-for about six minutes. They're heartless at this age, and now she has the dog too. It's going to create a jam in the short run, though. I can't exactly take her to Mrs. Dobbs…'
'No problem,' said Harry, which was what he always said when Marlene asked him to watch Lucy.
