for.”
We ordered more drinks and made ourselves comfortable. “What have you been doing all this time?” he asked, once we were settled.
“I’m living at Santa Monica now with my wife,” I said. “You know, I’ve never thanked you enough for letting me have your lodge for a honeymoon.”
He grinned. “That’s all right, Nick,” he said. “I’m glad I had it to lend you. Why live so far away? I guess I’d like to meet that wife of yours.”
- “Well, what are you doing? Why not come on over for a week or so? We’d be glad to have you with us.”
He shook his head regretfully. “I can’t, I’m afraid. I’ve got commitments right now.”
I smiled. “They’re still falling for you, Colonel?” I said.
He nodded. “I guess I haven’t much to worry about,” he said.
I glanced at the clock. “I’ve got almost two hours before I pull out,” I said. “How about having lunch with me?”
He slid off the stool. “Sure, I’d be glad to.”
Now that I had met up with him again, a sudden curiosity to file off the rough ends of the Spencer business seized me. When we got seated in a quiet little restaurant not far from the station and had given our order, I got the conversation round to the angle I wanted it to go.
“Colonel,” I said. “You remember the Mackenzie Fabrics trial?”
He Looked at me, and nodded. I wasn’t sure, but I fancied he looked a little taken aback. “Yes, I remember it—caused quite a sensation.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I was in that business right up to my neck.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. I’d like to tell you about it, because I think you could finish the tale off for me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know a thing about it,” he protested.
“Wait a minute, Colonel,” I said. “Maybe I can jog your memory.”
I took him carefully through the whole story, and he sat there, his lunch forgotten. When I had finished with the death of Blondie, and how Mardi and I had quietly slipped away to Santa Monica, he sat back and gently blew his cheeks out. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “That’s some yam. I can’t see where I come in, for all that.”
This is where it was going to be a little tricky. “You remember when the newspaper boys had you bottled up at the lodge with a girl friend, Colonel?” I said.
He frowned. “Now I don’t want to go into that,” he said abruptly.
“The girl friend was the woman on the telephone,” I told him quietly. “I want to know who she was.”
He shook his head. “You’ve made a mistake.”
“I’m givin’ you this straight. I heard her voice, and that was enough for me. I’d know that voice anywhere.”
“I can’t discuss this any further, Nick. I’m sorry.”
I said, “Listen, Colonel. I’ve got a right to know. That dame might have caused me a lotta grief. The trial’s over, and the whole thing’s washed up. You know me well enough to know that I won’t use any information you give me. It’s just that it is an unsatisfactory ending— not knowing.”
He sat brooding. “I guess maybe you have a right,” he said with a little smile. “I wouldn’t tell it to any other man, but you’ve done a lot for me.”
He was just saving his conscience, but that didn’t worry me.
“Thank you, Colonel; it’ll go no further.”
He hummed and hawed a bit, then said, “I don’t know who she was—that’s the truth. She came out to see me, representing a fellow named Lee Curtis. This fellow was associated with the Mackenzie Fabrics Co. and I had just put in for a bundle of their stock. This girl was authorised by Curtis to make me an offer for them. She was a devilish pretty woman, and I asked her to stay to dinner while we discussed the matter. I was curious to know why Curtis, who was the secretary of the place, should want to get hold of such a large block.”
“How much was it?” I asked.
Kennedy shrugged. “I forget now, I think it was about ten thousand dollars—something like that. Anyway, we had dinner. All the time, she refused to give me her name, but kept on selling me the idea of parting with the stock. She had some story which didn’t convince me, but in the end I decided to negotiate. Curtis was offering a high percentage on the stock, and I thought it might be worth while.”
“You mean, you don’t know who she was?” I said, disappointed.
“No—I don’t. The rest of the story doesn’t reflect to my glory, but you may as well have it. Once the business part was over, and she gave me Curtis’s cheque, I thought we might get a little more friendly. I did tell you that she was a remarkably pretty woman?”
I nodded a little grimly. “Yeah—you mentioned it.”
“Well, she got a little scared and pulled a gun. I was never so astonished in my life. I tried to take the damn thing away from her, and it went off. The rest of the story you know.”
I sat back. “Well, that don’t get me very far,” I said. “I was hoping to tie that dame down.”
Kennedy glanced at the clock. “You’ll have to be on the move or you’ll lose your train.”
I beckoned the waiter for the bill. Kennedy said hastily, “I’ll pay that.”
I shook my head. “I’ve just sold a book, Colonel. I guess it’s a nice experience to buy a guy, with all the dough you’ve got, a lunch.”
Kennedy laughed. “I’m glad you’ve settled down, Nick. But you’re not to hide yourself away. You must bring your wife up to town.”
I took out my wallet and found a ten-dollar bill which I gave to the waiter. A photo of Mardi was amongst my papers, and I flipped it across to Kennedy. “That’s my wife, Kennedy—you’ll think she’s a grand girl when you meet her.”
I took the change from the waiter and gave him a buck for himself. Then I turned to see what Kennedy was making of Mardi. He was sitting staring at me, his face a little white and his eyes like granite.
I said, “What’s wrong?”
He said in a hard voice, “What’s the idea, Mason?”
I stared at him. “You gone screwy, Colonel?”
He tapped Mardi’s photograph. “If you knew about this girl, why ask me?”
I sat for a full minute, staring at him. Then I said, “That’s my wife, Colonel—I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at.”
“That’s the woman Curtis sent to me to negotiate the stock I was telling you about.”
I pushed back my chair. “You’ve made a mistake,” I said unsteadily. “That’s Mardi—my wife.”
He picked up the photograph and looked at it carefully. All the time he was doing that, my heart was beating against my ribs like a pile-driver. Then he looked up. “Who was your wife before she married you, Nick?” he said.
With the sudden horrible feeling of things crumbling, I said, “She was Spencer’s secretary.”
Kennedy pushed the photograph across the table towards me. “It fits, doesn’t it?” he said quietly. “There’s no doubt about it, Nick.”
. I just sat there in a heap. Kennedy wasn’t the kind of a guy who made mistakes. I said unevenly, “But this is crazy.”
He got to his feet. “Suppose we leave it, Nick? I’ve got to run along. I’ll be seeing you.” He put his hand on my shoulder for a moment, then walked out of the restaurant. I picked up the photograph and put it in my wallet. I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to think. I got up, pushing the chair away from me with the back of my legs and walked over to the hat rack. I put my hat and coat on slowly. The waiters were looking at me curiously, but I didn’t care about them; then I went outside into the street.
The train to Santa Monica was already in the station and I got a seat. I settled myself and looked out of the window. My eyes didn’t see anything, and although it was a hot day I felt cold.
The train began to glide out of the station, taking me back to Santa Monica—and to something I was frightened to face.
