RAYMONDCHANDLER

FAREWELL,MYLOVELY

VINTAGECRlME/BLACKLIZARD

VINTAGEBOOKS

ADIVISIONOFRANDOMHOUSE,INC.

NEWYORK

CONTENTS

TitlePage

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

THIRTY-NINE

FORTY

FORTY-ONE

AbouttheAuthor

OtherBooksByRaymondChandler

Copyright

ONE

ItwasoneofthemixedblocksoveronCentralAvenue,theblocksthatarenotyetallNegro.Ihadjustcomeoutofathree-chairbarbershopwhereanagencythoughtareliefbarbernamedDimitriosAleidismightbeworking.Itwasasmallmatter.Hiswifesaidshewaswillingtospendalittlemoneytohavehimcomehome.

Ineverfoundhim,butMrs.Aleidisneverpaidmeanymoneyeither.

Itwasawarmday,almosttheendofMarch,andIstoodoutsidethebarbershoplookingupatthejuttingneonsignofasecondfloordineanddiceemporiumcalledFlorian's.Amanwaslookingupatthesigntoo.Hewaslookingupatthedustywindowswithasortofecstaticfixityofexpression,likeahunkyimmigrantcatchinghisfirstsightoftheStatueofLiberty.Hewasabigmanbutnotmorethansixfeetfiveinchestallandnotwiderthanabeertruck.Hewasabouttenfeetawayfromme.Hisarmshunglooseathissidesandaforgottencigarsmokedbehindhisenormousfingers.

SlimquietNegroespassedupanddownthestreetandstaredathimwithdartingsideglances.Hewasworthlookingat.Heworeashaggyborsalinohat,aroughgraysportscoatwithwhitegolfballsonitforbuttons,abrownshirt,ayellowtie,pleatedgrayflannelslacksandalligatorshoeswithwhiteexplosionsonthetoes.Fromhisouterbreastpocketcascadedashowhandkerchiefofthesamebrilliantyellowashistie.Therewereacoupleofcoloredfeatherstuckedintothebandofhishat,buthedidn’treallyneedthem.EvenonCentralAvenue,notthequietestdressedstreetintheworld,helookedaboutasinconspicuousasatarantulaonasliceofangelfood.

Hisskinwaspaleandheneededashave.Hewouldalwaysneedashave.Hehadcurlyblackhairandheavyeyebrowsthatalmostmetoverhisthicknose.Hisearsweresmallandneatforamanofthatsizeandhiseyeshadashineclosetotearsthatgrayeyesoftenseemtohave.Hestoodlikeastatue,andafteralongtimehesmiled.

Hemovedslowlyacrossthesidewalktothedoubleswingingdoorswhichshutoffthestairstothesecondfloor.Hepushedthemopen,castacoolexpressionlessglanceupanddownthestreet,and

movedinside.Ifhehadbeenasmallermanandmorequietlydressed,Imighthavethoughthewasgoingtopullastick-up.Butnotinthoseclothes,andnotwiththathat,andthatframe.

Thedoorsswungbackoutwardsandalmostsettledtoastop.Beforetheyhadentirelystoppedmovingtheyopenedagain,violently,outwards.Somethingsailedacrossthesidewalkandlandedinthegutterbetweentwoparkedcars.Itlandedonitshandsandkneesandmadeahighkeeningnoiselikeacorneredrat.Itgotupslowly,retrievedahatandsteppedbackontothesidewalk.Itwasathin,narrow-shoulderedbrownyouthinalilaccoloredsuitandacarnation.Ithadslickblackhair.Itkeptitsmouthopenandwhinedforamoment.Peoplestaredatitvaguely.Thenitsettleditshatjauntily,sidledovertothewallandwalkedsilentlysplay-footedoffalongtheblock.

Silence.Trafficresumed.Iwalkedalongtothedoubledoorsandstoodinfrontofthem.Theyweremotionlessnow.Itwasn’tanyofmybusiness.SoIpushedthemopenandlookedin.

AhandIcouldhavesatincameoutofthedimnessandtookholdofmyshoulderandsquashedittoapulp.Thenthehandmovedmethroughthedoorsandcasuallyliftedmeupastep.Thelargefacelookedatme.Adeepsoftvoicesaidtome,quietly:

“Smokesinhere,huh?Tiethatforme,pal.”

Itwasdarkinthere.Itwasquiet.Fromupabovecamevaguesoundsofhumanity,butwewerealoneonthestairs.Thebigmanstaredatmesolemnlyandwentonwreckingmyshoulderwithhishand.

“Adinge,”hesaid.“Ijustthrownhimout.Youseenmethrowhimout?”

Heletgoofmyshoulder.Thebonedidn’tseemtobebroken,butthearmwasnumb.

“It’sthatkindofaplace,”Isaid,rubbingmyshoulder.“Whatdidyouexpect?”

“Don’tsaythat,pal,”thebigmanpurredsoftly,likefourtigersafterdinner.“Velmausedtoworkhere.LittleVelma.”

Hereachedformyshoulderagain.Itriedtododgehimbuthewasasfastasacat.Hebegantochewmymusclesupsomemorewithhisironfingers.

“Yeah,”hesaid.“LittleVelma.Iain’tseenherineightyears.Yousaythishereisadingejoint?”

Icroakedthatitwas.

Heliftedmeuptwomoresteps.Iwrenchedmyselflooseandtriedforalittleelbowroom.Iwasn’twearingagun.LookingforDimitriosAleidishadn’tseemedtorequireit.Idoubtedifitwoulddomeanygood.Thebigmanwouldprobablytakeitawayfrommeandeatit.

“Goonupandseeforyourself,”Isaid,tryingtokeeptheagonyoutofmyvoice.

Heletgoofmeagain.Helookedatmewithasortofsadnessinhisgrayeyes.“I’mfeelin’good,”hesaid.“Iwouldn’twantanybodytofusswithme.Let’syouandmegoonupandmaybenibbleacouple.”

“Theywon’tserveyou.Itoldyouit’sacoloredjoint.”

“Iain’tseenVelmaineightyears,”hesaidinhisdeepsadvoice.“EightlongyearssinceIsaidgood-by.Sheain’twrotetomeinsix.Butshe’llhaveareason.Sheusedtoworkhere.Cuteshewas.Let’syouandmegoonup,huh?”

“Allright,”Iyelled.“I’llgoupwithyou.Justlayoffcarryingme.Letmewalk.I’mfine.I’mallgrownup.Igotothebathroomaloneandeverything.Justdon’tcarryme.

“LittleVelmausedtoworkhere,”hesaidgently.Hewasn’tlisteningtome.

Wewentonupthestairs.Heletmewalk.Myshoulderached.Thebackofmyneckwaswet.

TWO

Twomoreswingdoorsclosedofftheheadofthestairsfromwhateverwasbeyond.Thebigmanpushedthemopenlightlywithhisthumbsandwewentintotheroom.Itwasalongnarrowroom,notveryclean,notverybright,notverycheerful.InthecorneragroupofNegroeschantedandchatteredintheconeoflightoveracraptable.Therewasabaragainsttherighthandwall.Therestoftheroomwasmostlysmallroundtables.Therewereafewcustomers,menandwomen,allNegroes.

Thechantingatthecraptablestoppeddeadandthelightoveritjerkedout.Therewasasuddensilenceasheavyasawater-loggedboat.Eyeslookedatus,chestnutcoloredeyes,setinfacesthatrangedfromgraytodeepblack.Headsturnedslowlyandtheeyesinthemglistenedandstaredinthedeadaliensilenceofanotherrace.

Alarge,thick-neckedNegrowasleaningagainsttheendofthebarwithpinkgartersonhisshirtsleevesandpinkandwhitesuspenderscrossinghisbroadback.Hehadbouncerwrittenalloverhim.Heputhisliftedfootdownslowlyandturnedslowlyandstaredatus,spreadinghisfeetgentlyandmovingabroadtonguealonghislips.Hehadabatteredfacethatlookedasifithadbeenhitbyeverythingbutthebucketofadragline.Itwasscarred,flattened,thickened,checkered,andwelted.Itwasafacethathadnothingtofear.Everythinghadbeendonetoitthatanybodycouldthinkof.

Theshortcrinkledhairhadatouchofgray.Oneearhadlostthelobe.

TheNegrowasheavyandwide.Hehadbigheavylegsandtheylookedalittlebowed,whichisunusualinaNegro.Hemovedhistonguesomemoreandsmiledandmovedhisbody.Hecametowardsusinaloosefighter ’scrouch.Thebigmanwaitedforhimsilently.

TheNegrowiththepinkgartersonhisarmsputamassivebrownhandagainstthebigman’schest.Largeasitwas,thehandlookedlikeastud.Thebigmandidn’tmove.Thebouncersmiledgently.

“Nowhitefolks,brother.Jes’fo’thecoloredpeople.I’sesorry.”

Thebigmanmovedhissmallsadgrayeyesandlookedaroundtheroom.Hischeeksflushedalittle.“Shinebox,”hesaidangrily,underhisbreath.Heraisedhisvoice.“Where’sVelmaat?”heaskedthebouncer.

Thebouncerdidn’tquitelaugh.Hestudiedthebigman’sclothes,hisbrownshirtandyellowtie,hisroughgraycoatandthewhitegolfballsonit.Hemovedhisthickheadarounddelicatelyandstudiedallthisfromvariousangles.Helookeddownatthealligatorshoes.Hechuckledlightly.Heseemedamused.Ifeltalittlesorryforhim.Hespokesoftlyagain.

“Velma,yousays?NoVelmaheah,brother.Nohooch,nogals,nonothing.Jes’thescram,whiteboy,jes’thescram.”

“Velmausedtoworkhere,”thebigmansaid.Hespokealmostdreamily,asifhewasallbyhimself,outinthewoods,pickingjohnny-jump-ups.Igotmyhandkerchiefoutandwipedthebackofmyneckagain.

Thebouncerlaughedsuddenly.“Shuah,”hesaid,throwingaquicklookbackoverhisshoulderathispublic.“Velmausedtoworkheah.ButVelmadon’tworkheahnomo’.Shedonereti’ed.Haw,haw.”

“Kindoftakeyourgoddamnedmittoffmyshirt,”thebigmansaid.

Thebouncerfrowned.Hewasnotusedtobeingtalkedtolikethat.Hetookhishandofftheshirtanddoubleditintoafistaboutthesizeandcolorofalargeeggplant.Hehadhisjob,hisreputationfortoughness,hispublicesteemtoconsider.Heconsideredthemforasecondandmadeamistake.Heswungthefistveryhardandshortwithasuddenoutwardjerkoftheelbowandhitthebigmanonthesideofthejaw.Asoftsighwentaroundtheroom.

Itwasagoodpunch.Theshoulderdroppedandthebodyswungbehindit.Therewasalotofweightinthatpunchandthemanwholandedithadhadplentyofpractice.Thebigmandidn’tmovehisheadmorethananinch.Hedidn’ttrytoblockthepunch.Hetookit,shookhimselflightly,madeaquietsoundinhisthroatandtookholdofthebouncerbythethroat.

Thebouncertriedtokneehiminthegroin.Thebigmanturnedhimintheairandslidhisgaudyshoesapartonthescalylinoleumthatcoveredthefloor.Hebentthebouncerbackwardsandshiftedhisrighthandtothebouncer ’sbelt.Thebeltbrokelikeapieceofbutcher ’sstring.Thebigmanputhisenormoushandsflatagainstthebouncer ’sspineandheaved.Hethrewhimclearacrosstheroom,spinningandstaggeringandflailingwithhisarms.Threemenjumpedoutoftheway.ThebouncerwentoverwithatableandsmackedintothebaseboardwithacrashthatmusthavebeenheardinDenver.Hislegstwitched.Thenhelaystill.

“Someguys,”thebigmansaid,“hasgotwrongideasaboutwhentogettough.”Heturnedtome.“Yeah,”hesaid.“Let’syouandmenibbleone.”

Wewentovertothebar.Thecustomers,byonesandtwosandthrees,becamequietshadowsthatdriftedsoundlessacrossthefloor,soundlessthroughthedoorsattheheadofthestairs.Soundlessasshadowsonthegrass.Theydidn’tevenletthedoorsswing.

Weleanedagainstthebar.“Whiskeysour,”thebigmansaid.“Callyours.”

“Whiskeysour,”Isaid.

Wehadwhiskeysours.

Thebigmanlickedhiswhiskeysourimpassivelydownthesideofthethicksquatglass.Hestaredsolemnlyatthebarman,athin,worried-lookingNegroinawhitecoatwhomovedasifhisfeethurthim.

“YouknowwhereVelmais?”

“Velma,yousays?”thebarmanwhined.“Iain’tseenher’roundheahlately.Notrightlately,nossuh.”

“Howlongyoubeenhere?”

“Let’ssee,”thebarmanputhistoweldownandwrinkledhisforeheadandstartedtocountonhisfingers.“’Bouttenmonths,Ireckon.’Boutayeah.’Bout—”

“Makeyourmindup,”thebigmansaid.

ThebarmangoggledandhisAdam’sapplefloppedaroundlikeaheadlesschicken.

“Howlong’sthiscoopbeenadingejoint?”thebigmandemandedgruffly.

“Sayswhich?”

Thebigmanmadeafistintowhichhiswhiskeysourglassmeltedalmostoutofsight.

“Fiveyearsanyway,”Isaid.“Thisfellowwouldn’tknowanythingaboutawhitegirlnamedVelma.Nobodyherewould.”

ThebigmanlookedatmeasifIhadjusthatchedout.Hiswhiskeysourhadn’tseemedtoimprovehistemper.

“Whothehellaskedyoutostickyourfacein?”heaskedme.

Ismiled.Imadeitabigwarmfriendlysmile.“I’mthefellowthatcameinwithyou.Remember?”

Hegrinnedbackthen,aflatwhitegrinwithoutmeaning.“Whiskeysour,”hetoldthebarman.“Shakethemfleasoutayourpants.Service.”

Thebarmanscuttledaround,rollingthewhitesofhiseyes.Iputmybackagainstthebarandlookedattheroom.Itwasnowempty,saveforthebarman,thebigmanandmyself,andthebouncercrushedoveragainstthewall.Thebouncerwasmoving.Hewasmovingslowlyasifwithgreatpainandeffort.Hewascrawlingsoftlyalongthebaseboardlikeaflywithonewing.Hewasmovingbehindthetables,wearily,amansuddenlyold,suddenlydisillusioned.Iwatchedhimmove.Thebarmanputdowntwomorewhiskeysours.Iturnedtothebar.Thebigmanglancedcasuallyoverat

thecrawlingbouncerandthenpaidnofurtherattentiontohim.

“Thereain’tnothingleftofthejoint,”hecomplained.“Theywasalittlestageandbandandcutelittleroomswhereaguycouldhavefun.Velmadidsomewarbling.Aredheadshewas.Cuteaslacepants.Wewastoofbeenmarriedwhentheyhungtheframeonme.”

Itookmysecondwhiskeysour.Iwasbeginningtohaveenoughoftheadventure.“Whatframe?”Iasked.

“WhereyoufigureIbeenthemeightyearsIsaidabout?”

“Catchingbutterflies.”

Heproddedhischestwithaforefingerlikeabanana.“Inthecaboose.Malloyisthename.TheycallmeMooseMalloy,onaccountofI’mlarge.TheGreatBendbankjob.Fortygrand.Solojob.Ain’tthatsomething?”

“Yougoingtospenditnow?”

Hegavemeasharplook.Therewasanoisebehindus.Thebouncerwasonhisfeetagain,weavingalittle.Hehadhishandontheknobofadarkdooroverbehindthecraptable.Hegotthedooropen,halffellthrough.Thedoorclatteredshut.Alockclicked.

“Where’sthatgo?”MooseMalloydemanded.

Thebarman’seyesfloatedinhishead,focusedwithdifficultyonthedoorthroughwhichthebouncerhadstumbled.

“Tha—tha’sMistahMontgomery’soffice,suh.He’stheboss.He’sgothisofficebackthere.”

“Hemightknow,”thebigmansaid.Hedrankhisdrinkatagulp.“Hebetternotcrackwiseneither.Twomoreofthesame.”

Hecrossedtheroomslowly,lightfooted,withoutacareintheworld.Hisenormousbackhidthedoor.Itwaslocked.Heshookitandapieceofthepanelflewofftooneside.Hewentthroughandshutthedoorbehindhim.

Therewassilence.Ilookedatthebarman.Thebarmanlookedatme.Hiseyesbecamethoughtful.Hepolishedthecounterandsighedandleaneddownwithhisrightarm.

Ireachedacrossthecounterandtookholdofthearm.Itwasthin,brittle.Ihelditandsmiledathim.

“Whatyougotdownthere,bo?”

Helickedhislips.Heleanedonmyarm,andsaidnothing.Graynessinvadedhisshiningface.

“Thisguyistough,”Isaid.“Andhe’sliabletogomean.Drinksdothattohim.He’slookingforagirlheusedtoknow.Thisplaceusedtobeawhiteestablishment.Gettheidea?”

Thebarmanlickedhislips.

“He’sbeenawayalongtime,”Isaid.“Eightyears.Hedoesn’tseemtorealizehowlongthatis,althoughI’dexpecthimtothinkitalifetime.Hethinksthepeoplehereshouldknowwherehisgirlis.Gettheidea?”

Thebarmansaidslowly:“Ithoughtyouwaswithhim.”

“Icouldn’thelpmyself.Heaskedmeaquestiondownbelowandthendraggedmeup.Ineversawhimbefore.ButIdidn’tfeellikebeingthrownoveranyhouses.Whatyougotdownthere?”

“Gotmeasawed-off,”thebarmansaid.

“Tsk.That’sillegal,”Iwhispered.“Listen,youandIaretogether.Gotanythingelse?”

“Gotmeagat,”thebarmansaid.“Inacigarbox.Leggomyarm.”

“That’sfine,”Isaid.“Nowmovealongabit.Easynow.Sideways.Thisisn’tthetimetopulltheartillery.”

“Saysyou,”thebarmansneered,puttinghistiredweightagainstmyarm.“Says—”

Hestopped.Hiseyesrolled.Hisheadjerked.

Therewasadullflatsoundatthebackoftheplace,behindthecloseddoorbeyondthecraptable.Itmighthavebeenaslammeddoor.Ididn’tthinkitwas.Thebarmandidn’tthinksoeither.

Thebarmanfroze.Hismouthdrooled.Ilistened.Noothersound.Istartedquicklyfortheendofthecounter.Ihadlistenedtoolong.

ThedooratthebackopenedwithabangandMooseMalloycamethroughitwithasmoothheavylungeandstoppeddead,hisfeetplantedandawidepalegrinonhisface.

AColtArmy.45lookedlikeatoypistolinhishand.

“Don’tnobodytrytofancypants,”hesaidcozily.“Freezethemittsonthebar.”

ThebarmanandIputourhandsonthebar.

MooseMalloylookedtheroomoverwitharakingglance.Hisgrinwastaut,nailedon.Heshiftedhisfeetandmovedsilentlyacrosstheroom.Helookedlikeamanwhocouldtakeabanksingle-handed—eveninthoseclothes.

Hecametothebar.“Riseup,nigger,”hesaidsoftly.Thebarmanputhishandshighintheair.Thebigmansteppedtomybackandprowledmeovercarefullywithhislefthand.Hisbreathwashotonmyneck.Itwentaway.

“MisterMontgomerydidn’tknowwhereVelmawasneither,”hesaid.“Hetriedtotellme—withthis.”Hishardhandpattedthegun.Iturnedslowlyandlookedathim.“Yeah,”hesaid.“You’llknow

me.Youain’tforgettingme,pal.Justtellthemjohnsnottogetcarelessisall.”Hewaggledthegun.“Wellsolong,punks.Igottacatchastreetcar.”

Hestartedtowardstheheadofthestairs.

“Youdidn’tpayforthedrinks,”Isaid.

Hestoppedandlookedatmecarefully.

“Maybeyougotsomethingthere,”hesaid,“butIwouldn’tsqueezeittoohard.”

Hemovedon,slippedthroughthedoubledoors,andhisstepssoundedremotelygoingdownthestairs.

Thebarmanstooped.Ijumpedaroundbehindthecounterandjostledhimoutoftheway.Asawed-offshotgunlayunderatowelonashelfunderthebar.Besideitwasacigarbox.Inthecigarboxwasa.38automatic.Itookbothofthem.Thebarmanpressedbackagainstthetierofglassesbehindthebar.

Iwentbackaroundtheendofthebarandacrosstheroomtothegapingdoorbehindthecraptable.Therewasahallwaybehindit,L-shaped,almostlightless.Thebouncerlaysprawledonitsfloorunconscious,withaknifeinhishand.Ileaneddownandpulledtheknifelooseandthrewitdownabackstairway.Thebouncerbreathedstertorouslyandhishandwaslimp.

Isteppedoverhimandopenedadoormarked“Office”inflakedblackpaint.

Therewasasmallscarreddeskclosetoapartlyboarded-upwindow.Thetorsoofamanwasboltuprightinthechair.Thechairhadahighbackwhichjustreachedtothenapeoftheman’sneck.Hisheadwasfoldedbackoverthehighbackofthechairsothathisnosepointedattheboarded-upwindow.Justfolded,likeahandkerchieforahinge.

Adrawerofthedeskwasopenattheman’sright.Insideitwasanewspaperwithasmearofoilinthemiddle.Thegunwouldhavecomefromthere.Ithadprobablyseemedlikeagoodideaatthetime,butthepositionofMr.Montgomery’sheadprovedthattheideahadbeenwrong.

Therewasatelephoneonthedesk.Ilaidthesawed-offshotgundownandwentovertolockthedoorbeforeIcalledthepolice.IfeltsaferthatwayandMr.Montgomerydidn’tseemtomind.

Whentheprowlcarboysstampedupthestairs,thebouncerandthebarmanhaddisappearedandIhadtheplacetomyself.

THREE

AmannamedNultygotthecase,alean-jawedsourpusswithlongyellowhandswhichhekeptfoldedoverhiskneecapsmostofthetimehetalkedtome.Hewasadetective-lieutenantattachedtothe77thStreetDivisionandwetalkedinabareroomwithtwosmalldesksagainstoppositewallsandroomtomovebetweenthem,iftwopeopledidn’ttryitatonce.Dirtybrownlinoleumcoveredthefloorandthesmellofoldcigarbuttshungintheair.Nulty’sshirtwasfrayedandhiscoatsleeveshadbeenturnedinatthecuffs.Helookedpoorenoughtobehonest,buthedidn’tlooklikeamanwhocoulddealwithMooseMalloy.

Helithalfofacigarandthrewthematchonthefloor,wherealotofcompanywaswaitingforit.Hisvoicesaidbitterly:

“Shines.Anothershinekilling.That’swhatIrateaftereighteenyearsinthisman’spolicedepartment.Nopix,nospace,notevenfourlinesinthewant-adsection.”

Ididn’tsayanything.Hepickedmycardupandreaditagainandthrewitdown.

“PhilipMarlowe,PrivateInvestigator.Oneofthoseguys,huh?Jesus,youlooktoughenough.Whatwasyoudoingallthattime?”

“Allwhattime?”

“AllthetimethisMalloywastwistingtheneckofthissmoke.”

“Oh,thathappenedinanotherroom,”Isaid.“Malloyhadn’tpromisedmehewasgoingtobreakanybody’sneck.”

“Rideme,”Nultysaidbitterly.“Okey,goaheadandrideme.Everybodyelsedoes.What’sanotheronematter?PooroldNulty.Let’sgoonupandthrowacoupleofniftiesathim.Alwaysgoodforalaugh,Nultyis.”

“I’mnottryingtorideanybody,”Isaid.“That’sthewayithappened—inanotherroom.”

“Oh,sure,”Nultysaidthroughafanofrankcigarsmoke.“Iwasdownthereandsaw,didn’tI?Don’tyoupacknorod?”

“Notonthatkindofajob.”

“Whatkindofajob?”

“Iwaslookingforabarberwhohadrunawayfromhiswife.Shethoughthecouldbepersuadedtocomehome.”

“Youmeanadinge?”

“No,aGreek.”

“Okey,”Nultysaidandspitintohiswastebasket.“Okey.Youmetthebigguyhow?”

“Itoldyoualready.Ijusthappenedtobethere.HethrewaNegrooutofthedoorsofFlorian’sandIunwiselypokedmyheadintoseewhatwashappening.Sohetookmeupstairs.”

“Youmeanhestuckyouup?”

“No,hedidn’thavethegunthen.Atleast,hedidn’tshowone.HetookthegunawayfromMontgomery,probably.Hejustpickedmeup.I’mkindofcutesometimes.”

“Iwouldn’tknow,”Nultysaid.“Youseemtopickupawfuleasy.”

“Allright,”Isaid.“Whyargue?I’veseentheguyandyouhaven’t.Hecouldwearyouormeforawatchcharm.Ididn’tknowhehadkilledanybodyuntilafterheleft.Iheardashot,butIgottheideasomebodyhadgotscaredandshotatMalloyandthenMalloytookthegunawayfromwhoeverdidit.”

“Andwhywouldyougetanidealikethat?”Nultyaskedalmostsuavely.“Heusedaguntotakethatbank,didn’the?”

“Considerthekindofclotheshewaswearing.Hedidn’tgotheretokillanybody;notdressedlikethat.HewenttheretolookforthisgirlnamedVelmathathadbeenhisgirlbeforehewaspinchedforthebankjob.SheworkedthereatFlorian’sorwhateverplacewastherewhenitwasstillawhitejoint.Hewaspinchedthere.You’llgethimallright.”

“Sure,”Nultysaid.“Withthatsizeandthemclothes.Easy.”

“Hemighthaveanothersuit,”Isaid.“Andacarandahideoutandmoneyandfriends.Butyou’llgethim.”

Nultyspitinthewastebasketagain.“I’llgethim,”hesaid,“aboutthetimeIgetmythirdsetofteeth.Howmanyguysisputonit?One.Listen,youknowwhy?Nospace.OnetimetherewasfivesmokescarvedHarlemsunsetsoneachotherdownonEastEighty-four.Oneofthemwascold

already.Therewasbloodonthefurniture,bloodonthewalls,bloodevenontheceiling.IgodownandoutsidethehouseaguythatworksontheChronicle,anewshawk,iscomingofftheporchandgettingintohiscar.Hemakesafaceatusandsays,‘Aw,hell,shines,’andgetsinhisheapandgoesaway.Don’tevengointhehouse.”

“Maybehe’saparolebreaker,”Isaid.“You’dgetsomeco-operationonthat.Butpickhimupniceorhe’llknockoffabraceofprowliesforyou.Thenyou’llgetspace.”

“AndIwouldn’thavethecasenomoreneither,”Nultysneered.

Thephonerangonhisdesk.Helistenedtoitandsmiledsorrowfully.Hehungupandscribbledonapadandtherewasafaintgleaminhiseyes,alightfarbackinadustycorridor.

“Hell,theygothim.ThatwasRecords.Gothisprints,mugandeverything.Jesus,that’salittlesomethinganyway.”Hereadfromhispad.“Jesus,thisisaman.Sixfiveandone-half,twohundredsixty-fourpounds,withouthisnecktie.Jesus,that’saboy.Well,thehellwithhim.Theygothimontheairnow.Probablyattheendofthehotcarlist.Ain’tnothingtodobutjustwait.”Hethrewhiscigarintoaspittoon.

“Trylookingforthegirl,”Isaid.“Velma.Malloywillbelookingforher.That’swhatstarteditall.TryVelma.”

“Youtryher,”Nultysaid.“Iain’tbeeninajoyhouseintwentyyears.”

Istoodup.“Okey,”Isaid,andstartedforthedoor.

“Hey,waitaminute,”Nultysaid.“Iwasonlykidding.Youain’tawfulbusy,areyou?”

Irolledacigarettearoundinmyfingersandlookedathimandwaitedbythedoor.

“Imeanyougottimetosortoftakeaganderaroundforthisdame.That’sagoodideayouhadthere.Youmightpicksomethingup.Youcanworkunderglass.”

“What’sinitforme?”

Hespreadhisyellowhandssadly.Hissmilewasascunningasabrokenmousetrap.“Youbeeninjamswithusboysbefore.Don’ttellmeno.Ihearddifferent.Nexttimeitain’tdoingyouanyharmtohaveapal.”

“Whatgoodisitgoingtodome?”

“Listen,”Nultyurged.“I’mjustaquietguy.Butanyguyinthedepartmentcandoyoualotofgood.”

“Isthisforlove—orareyoupayinganythinginmoney?”

“Nomoney,”Nultysaid,andwrinkledhissadyellownose.“ButI’mneedingalittlecreditbad.Sincethelastshake-up,thingsisreallytough.Iwouldn’tforgetit,pal.Notever.”

Ilookedatmywatch.“Okey,ifIthinkofanything,it’syours.Andwhenyougetthemug,I’llidentifyitforyou.Afterlunch.”WeshookhandsandIwentdownthemud-coloredhallandstairwaytothefrontofthebuildingandmycar.

ItwastwohourssinceMooseMalloyhadleftFlorian’swiththeArmyColtinhishand.Iatelunchatadrugstore,boughtapintofbourbon,anddroveeastwardtoCentralAvenueandnorthonCentralagain.ThehunchIhadwasasvagueastheheatwavesthatdancedabovethesidewalk.

Nothingmadeitmybusinessexceptcuriosity.Butstrictlyspeaking,Ihadn’thadanybusinessinamonth.Evenano-chargejobwasachange.

FOUR

Florian’swasclosedup,ofcourse.Anobviousplainclothesmansatinfrontofitinacar,readingapaperwithoneeye.Ididn’tknowwhytheybothered.NobodythereknewanythingaboutMooseMalloy.Thebouncerandthebarmanhadnotbeenfound.Nobodyontheblockknewanythingaboutthem,fortalkingpurposes.

IdrovepastslowlyandparkedaroundthecornerandsatlookingataNegrohotelwhichwasdiagonallyacrosstheblockfromFlorian’sandbeyondthenearestintersection.ItwascalledtheHotelSansSouci.Igotoutandwalkedbackacrosstheintersectionandwentintoit.Tworowsofhardemptychairsstaredateachotheracrossastripoftanfibercarpet.Adeskwasbackinthedimnessandbehindthedeskabaldheadedmanhadhiseyesshutandhissoftbrownhandsclaspedpeacefullyonthedeskinfrontofhim.Hedozed,orappearedto.HeworeanAscottiethatlookedasifithadbeentiedabouttheyear1880.Thegreenstoneinhisstickpinwasnotquiteaslargeasanapple.Hislargeloosechinwasfoldeddowngentlyonthetie,andhisfoldedhandswerepeacefulandclean,withmanicurednails,andgrayhalfmoonsinthepurpleofthenails.

Ametalembossedsignathiselbowsaid:“ThisHotelisUndertheProtectionofTheInternationalConsolidatedAgencies,Ltd.Inc.”

WhenthepeacefulbrownmanopenedoneeyeatmethoughtfullyIpointedatthesign.

“H.P.D.mancheckingup.Anytroublehere?”

H.P.D.meansHotelProtectiveDepartment,whichisthedepartmentofalargeagencythatlooksaftercheckbouncersandpeoplewhomoveoutbythebackstairsleavingunpaidbillsandsecond-handsuitcasesfullofbricks.

“Trouble,brother,”theclerksaidinahighsonorousvoice,“issomethingweisfreshoutof.”Heloweredhisvoicefourorfivenotchesandadded:“Whatwasthenameagain?”

“Marlowe.PhilipMarlowe—”

“Anicename,brother.Cleanandcheerful.You’relookingrightwelltoday.”Heloweredhisvoiceagain.“Butyouain’tnoH.P.D.man.Ain’tseenoneinyears.”Heunfoldedhishandsandpointedlanguidlyatthesign.“Iacquiredthatsecond-hand,brother,justfortheeffect.”

“Okey,”Isaid.Ileanedonthecounterandstartedtospinahalfdollaronthebare,scarredwoodofthecounter.

“HeardwhathappenedoveratFlorian’sthismorning?”

“Brother,Iforgit.”Bothhiseyeswereopennowandhewaswatchingthebluroflightmadebythespinningcoin.

“Thebossgotbumpedoff,”Isaid.“MannamedMontgomery.Somebodybrokehisneck.”

“MaytheLawdreceivehissoul,brother.”Downwentthevoiceagain.“Cop?”

“Private—onaconfidentiallay.AndIknowamanwhocankeepthingsconfidentialwhenIseeone.”

Hestudiedme,thenclosedhiseyesandthought.Hereopenedthemcautiouslyandstaredatthespinningcoin.Hecouldn’tresistlookingatit.

“Whodoneit?”heaskedsoftly.“WhofixedSam?”

“Atoughguyoutofthejailhousegotsorebecauseitwasn’tawhitejoint.Itusedtobe,itseems.Maybeyouremember?”

Hesaidnothing.Thecoinfelloverwithalightringingwhirrandlaystill.

“Callyourplay,”Isaid.“I’llreadyouachapteroftheBibleorbuyyouadrink.Saywhich.”

“Brother,IkindofliketoreadmyBibleintheseclusionofmyfamily.”Hiseyeswerebright,toadlike,steady.

“Maybeyou’vejusthadlunch,”Isaid.

“Lunch,”hesaid,“issomethingamanofmyshapeanddispositionaimstodowithout.”Downwentthevoice.“Come’roundthisheresideofthedesk.”

Iwentaroundanddrewtheflatpintofbondedbourbonoutofmypocketandputitontheshelf.Iwentbacktothefrontofthedesk.Hebentoverandexaminedit.Helookedsatisfied.

“Brother,thisdon’tbuyyounothingatall,”hesaid.“ButIispleasedtotakealightsnifterinyourcompany.”

Heopenedthebottle,puttwosmallglassesonthedeskandquietlypouredeachfulltothebrim.Heliftedone,sniffeditcarefully,andpoureditdownhisthroatwithhislittlefingerlifted.

Hetastedit,thoughtaboutit,noddedandsaid:“Thiscomeoutofthecorrectbottle,brother.InwhatmannercanIbeofservicetoyou?Thereain’tacrackinthesidewalk’roundhereIdon’tknowbyitsfirstname.Yessuh,thisliquorhasbeenkeepin’therightcompany.”Herefilledhisglass.

ItoldhimwhathadhappenedatFlorian’sandwhy.Hestaredatmesolemnlyandshookhisbaldhead.

“AnicequietplaceSamruntoo,”hesaid.“Ain’tnobodybeenknifedthereinamonth.”

“WhenFlorian’swasawhitejointsomesixoreightyearsagoorless,whatwasthenameofit?”

“Electricsignscomekindofhigh,brother.”

Inodded.“Ithoughtitmighthavehadthesamename.Malloywouldprobablyhavesaidsomethingifthenamehadbeenchanged.Butwhoranit?”

“I’mamitesurprisedatyou,brother.ThenameofthatporesinnerwasFlorian.MikeFlorian—”

“AndwhathappenedtoMikeFlorian?”

TheNegrospreadhisgentlebrownhands.Hisvoicewassonorousandsad.“Daid,brother.GatheredtotheLawd.Nineteenhundredandthirty-four,maybethirty-five.Iain’tpreciseonthat.Awastedlife,brother,andacaseofpickledkidneys,Iheardsay.Theungodlymandropslikeapolledsteer,brother,butmercywaitsforhimupyonder.”Hisvoicewentdowntothebusinesslevel.“DamnifIknowwhy.”

“Whodidheleavebehindhim?Pouranotherdrink.”

Hecorkedthebottlefirmlyandpusheditacrossthecounter.“Twoisall,brother—beforesundown.Ithankyou.Yourmethodofapproachissoothin’toaman’sdignity...Leftawidow.NameofJessie.”

“Whathappenedtoher?”

“Thepursuitofknowledge,brother,istheaskin’ofmanyquestions.Iain’theard.Trythephonebook.”

Therewasaboothinthedarkcornerofthelobby.Iwentoverandshutthedoorfarenoughtoputthelighton.Ilookedupthenameinthechainedandbatteredbook.NoFlorianinitatall.Iwentbacktothedesk.

“Nosoap,”Isaid.

TheNegrobentregretfullyandheavedacitydirectoryupontopofthedeskandpushedittowardsme.Heclosedhiseyes.Hewasgettingbored.TherewasaJessieFlorian,Widow,inthebook.Shelivedat1644West54thPlace.IwonderedwhatIhadbeenusingforbrainsallmylife.

Iwrotetheaddressdownonapieceofpaperandpushedthedirectorybackacrossthedesk.TheNegroputitbackwherehehadfoundit,shookhandswithme,thenfoldedhishandsonthedesk

exactlywheretheyhadbeenwhenIcamein.Hiseyesdroopedslowlyandheappearedtofallasleep.

Theincidentforhimwasover.HalfwaytothedoorIshotaglancebackathim.Hiseyeswereclosedandhebreathedsoftlyandregularly,blowingalittlewithhislipsattheendofeachbreath.Hisbaldheadshone.

IwentoutoftheHotelSansSouciandcrossedthestreettomycar.Itlookedtooeasy.Itlookedmuchtooeasy.

FIVE

1644West54thPlacewasadried-outbrownhousewithadried-outbrownlawninfrontofit.Therewasalargebarepatcharoundatough-lookingpalmtree.Ontheporchstoodonelonelywoodenrocker,andtheafternoonbreezemadetheunprunedshootsoflastyear ’spoinsettiastap-tapagainstthecrackedstuccowall.Alineofstiffyellowishhalf-washedclothesjitteredonarustywireinthesideyard.

Idroveonaquarterblock,parkedmycaracrossthestreetandwalkedback.

Thebelldidn’tworksoIrappedonthewoodenmarginofthescreendoor.SlowstepsshuffledandthedooropenedandIwaslookingintodimnessatablowsywomanwhowasblowinghernoseassheopenedthedoor.Herfacewasgrayandpuffy.Shehadweedyhairofthatvaguecolorwhichisneitherbrownnorblond,thathasn’tenoughlifeinittobeginger,andisn’tcleanenoughtobegray.Herbodywasthickinashapelessoutingflannelbathrobemanymoonspastcoloranddesign.Itwasjustsomethingaroundherbody.Hertoeswerelargeandobviousinapairofman’sslippersofscuffedbrownleather.

Isaid:“Mrs.Florian?Mrs.JessieFlorian?”

“Uh-huh,”thevoicedraggeditselfoutofherthroatlikeasickmangettingoutofbed.

“YouaretheMrs.FlorianwhosehusbandonceranaplaceofentertainmentonCentralAvenue?MikeFlorian?”

Shethumbedawickofhairpastherlargeear.Hereyesglitteredwithsurprise.Herheavycloggedvoicesaid:

“Wha-what?Mygoodnesssakesalive.Mike’sbeengonethesefiveyears.Whodidyousayyouwas?”

Thescreendoorwasstillshutandhooked.

“I’madetective,”Isaid.“I’dlikealittleinformation.”

Shestaredatmealongdrearyminute.Thenwitheffortsheunhookedthedoorandturnedawayfromit.

“Comeoninthen.Iain’thadtimetogetcleanedupyet,”shewhined.“Cops,huh?”

Isteppedthroughthedoorandhookedthescreenagain.Alargehandsomecabinetradiodronedtotheleftofthedoorinthecorneroftheroom.Itwastheonlydecentpieceoffurnituretheplacehad.Itlookedbrandnew.Everythingelsewasjunk—dirtyoverstuffedpieces,awoodenrockerthatmatchedtheoneontheporch,asquarearchintoadiningroomwithastainedtable,fingermarksallovertheswingdoortothekitchenbeyond.Acoupleoffrayedlampswithoncegaudyshadesthatwerenowasgayassuperannuatedstreetwalkers.

Thewomansatdownintherockerandfloppedherslippersandlookedatme.Ilookedattheradioandsatdownontheendofadavenport.Shesawmelookingatit.Abogusheartiness,asweakasaChinaman’stea,movedintoherfaceandvoice.“Allthecomp’nyIgot,”shesaid.Thenshetittered.“Mikeain’tdonenothingnew,hashe?Idon’tgetcopscallingonmemuch.”

Hertittercontainedaloosealcoholicovertone.Ileanedbackagainstsomethinghard,feltforitandbroughtupanemptyquartginbottle.Thewomantitteredagain.

“Ajokethatwas,”shesaid.“ButIhopetoChristthey’senoughcheapblondeswhereheis.Henevergotenoughofthemhere.”

“Iwasthinkingmoreaboutaredhead,”Isaid.

“Iguesshecoulduseafewofthemtoo.”Hereyes,itseemedtome,werenotsovaguenow.“Idon’tcalltomind.Anyspecialredhead?”

“Yes.AgirlnamedVelma.Idon’tknowwhatlastnamesheusedexceptthatitwouldn’tbeherrealone.I’mtryingtotraceherforherfolks.YourplaceonCentralisacoloredplacenow,althoughtheyhaven’tchangedthename,andofcoursethepeoplethereneverheardofher.SoIthoughtofyou.”

“Herfolkstakentheirtimegettingaroundtoit—lookingforher,”thewomansaidthoughtfully.

“There’salittlemoneyinvolved.Notmuch.Iguesstheyhavetogetherinordertotouchit.Moneysharpensthememory.”

“Sodoesliquor,”thewomansaid.“Kindofhottoday,ain’tit?Yousaidyouwasacopperthough.”Cunningeyes,steadyattentiveface.Thefeetintheman’sslippersdidn’tmove.

Iheldupthedeadsoldierandshookit.ThenIthrewittoonesideandreachedbackonmyhipforthepintofbondbourbontheNegrohotelclerkandIhadbarelytapped.Ihelditoutonmyknee.Thewoman’seyesbecamefixedinanincredulousstare.Thensuspicionclimbedalloverherface,likeakitten,butnotsoplayfully.

“Youain’tnocopper,”shesaidsoftly.“Nocoppereverboughtadrinkofthatstuff.What’sthegag,mister?”

Sheblewhernoseagain,ononeofthedirtiesthandkerchiefsIeversaw.Hereyesstayedonthebottle.Suspicionfoughtwiththirst,andthirstwaswinning.Italwaysdoes.

“ThisVelmawasanentertainer,asinger.Youwouldn’tknowher?Idon’tsupposeyouwenttheremuch.”

Seaweedcoloredeyesstayedonthebottle.Acoatedtonguecoiledonherlips.

“Man,that’sliquor,”shesighed.“Idon’tgiveadamnwhoyouare.Justholditcareful,mister.Thisain’tnotimetodropanything.”

Shegotupandwaddledoutoftheroomandcamebackwithtwothicksmearedglasses.

“Nofixin’s.Justwhatyoubroughtisall,”shesaid.

Ipouredheraslugthatwouldhavemademefloatoverawall.Shereachedforithungrilyandputitdownherthroatlikeanaspirintabletandlookedatthebottle.Ipouredheranotherandasmalleroneforme.Shetookitovertoherrocker.Hereyeshadturnedtwoshadesbrowneralready.

“Man,thisstuffdiespainlesswithme,”shesaidandsatdown.“Itneverknowswhathitit.Whatwaswetalkin’about?”

“AredhairedgirlnamedVelmawhousedtoworkinyourplaceonCentralAvenue.”

“Yeah.”Sheusedherseconddrink.Iwentoverandstoodthebottleonanendbesideher.Shereachedforit.“Yeah.Whoyousayyouwas?”

Itookoutacardandgaveittoher.Shereaditwithhertongueandlips,droppeditonatablebesideherandsetheremptyglassonit.

“Oh,aprivateguy.Youain’tsaidthat,mister.”Shewaggledafingeratmewithgayreproach.“Butyourliquorsaysyou’reanallrightguyatthat.Here’stocrime.”Shepouredathirddrinkforherselfanddrankitdown.

Isatdownandrolledacigarettearoundinmyfingersandwaited.Sheeitherknewsomethingorshedidn’t.Ifsheknewsomething,sheeitherwouldtellmeorshewouldn’t.Itwasthatsimple.

“Cutelittleredhead,”shesaidslowlyandthickly.“Yeah,Irememberher.Songanddance.Nicelegsandgenerouswith’em.Shewentoffsomewheres.HowwouldIknowwhatthemtrampsdo?”

“Well,Ididn’treallythinkyouwouldknow,”Isaid.“Butitwasnaturaltocomeandaskyou,Mrs.Florian.Helpyourselftothewhiskey—Icouldrunoutformorewhenweneedit.”

“Youain’tdrinkin’,”shesaidsuddenly.

Iputmyhandaroundmyglassandswallowedwhatwasinitslowlyenoughtomakeitseemmore

thanitwas.

“Where’sherfolksat?”sheaskedsuddenly.

“Whatdoesthatmatter?”

“Okey,”shesneered.“Allcopsisthesame.Okey,handsome.Aguythatbuysmeadrinkisapal.”ShereachedforthebottleandsetupNumber4.“Ishouldn’toughttobarberwithyou.ButwhenIlikeaguy,theceilingsthelimit.”Shesimpered.Shewasascuteasawashtub.“Holdontoyourchairanddon’tsteponnosnakes,”shesaid.“Igotmeanidea.”

Shegotupoutoftherocker,sneezed,almostlostthebathrobe,slappeditbackagainstherstomachandstaredatmecoldly.

“Nopeekin’,”shesaid,andwentoutoftheroomagain,hittingthedoorframewithhershoulder.

Iheardherfumblingstepsgoingintothebackpartofthehouse.

Thepoinsettiashootstap-tappeddullyagainstthefrontwall.Theclotheslinecreakedvaguelyatthesideofthehouse.Theicecreampeddlerwentbyringinghisbell.Thebignewhandsomeradiointhecornerwhisperedofdancingandlovewithadeepsoftthrobbingnotelikethecatchinatorchsinger ’svoice.

Thenfromthebackofthehousetherewerevarioustypesofcrashingsounds.Achairseemedtofalloverbackwards,abureaudrawerwaspulledouttoofarandcrashedtothefloor,therewasfumblingandthuddingandmutteredthicklanguage.Thentheslowclickofalockandthesqueakofatrunktopgoingup.Morefumblingandbanging.Atraylandedonthefloor.Igotupfromthedavenportandsneakedintothediningroomandfromthatintoashorthall.Ilookedaroundtheedgeofanopendoor.

Shewasinthereswayinginfrontofthetrunk,makinggrabsatwhatwasinit,andthenthrowingherhairbackoverherforeheadwithanger.Shewasdrunkerthanshethought.Sheleaneddownandsteadiedherselfonthetrunkandcoughedandsighed.Thenshewentdownonherthickkneesandplungedbothhandsintothetrunkandgroped.

Theycameupholdingsomethingunsteadily.Athickpackagetiedwithfadedpinktape.Slowly,clumsily,sheundidthetape.Sheslippedanenvelopeoutofthepackageandleaneddownagaintothrusttheenvelopeoutofsightintotheright-handsideofthetrunk.Sheretiedthetapewithfumblingfingers.

IsneakedbackthewayIhadcomeandsatdownonthedavenport.Breathingstertorousnoises,thewomancamebackintothelivingroomandstoodswayinginthedoorwaywiththetape-tiedpackage.

Shegrinnedatmetriumphantly,tossedthepackageanditfellsomewherenearmyfeet.Shewaddledbacktotherockerandsatdownandreachedforthewhiskey.

Ipickedthepackageofftheflooranduntiedthefadedpinktape.

“Look’emover,”thewomangrunted.“Photos.Newspaperstills.Notthatthemtrampsevergotinnonewspapersexceptbywayofthepoliceblotter.Peoplefromthejointtheyare.They’reallthebastardleftme—themandhisoldclothes.”

Ileafedthroughthebunchofshinyphotographsofmenandwomeninprofessionalposes.Themenhadsharpfoxyfacesandracetrackclothesoreccentricclownlikemakeup.Hoofersandcomicsfromthefillingstationcircuit.NotmanyofthemwouldevergetwestofMainStreet.Youwouldfindthemintanktownvaudevilleacts,cleanedup,ordowninthecheapburlesquehouses,asdirtyasthelawallowedandonceinawhilejustenoughdirtierforaraidandanoisypolicecourttrial,andthenbackintheirshowsagain,grinning,sadisticallyfilthyandasrankasthesmellofstalesweat.ThewomenhadgoodlegsanddisplayedtheirinsidecurvesmorethanWillHayswouldhaveliked.Buttheirfaceswereasthreadbareasabookkeeper ’sofficecoat.Blondes,brunettes,largecowlikeeyeswithapeasantdullnessinthem.Smallsharpeyeswithurchingreedinthem.Oneortwoofthefacesobviouslyvicious.Oneortwoofthemmighthavehadredhair.Youcouldn’ttellfromthephotographs.Ilookedthemovercasually,withoutinterestandtiedthetapeagain.

“Iwouldn’tknowanyofthese,”Isaid.“WhyamIlookingatthem?”

Sheleeredoverthebottleherrighthandwasgrapplingwithunsteadily.“Ain’tyoulookingforVelma?”

“Issheoneofthese?”

Thickcunningplayedonherface,hadnofunthereandwentsomewhereelse.“Ain’tyougotaphotoofher—fromherfolks?”

“No.”

Thattroubledher.Everygirlhasaphotosomewhere,ifit’sonlyinshortdresseswithabowinherhair.Ishouldhavehadit.

“Iain’tbeginnin’tolikeyouagain,”thewomansaidalmostquietly.

Istoodupwithmyglassandwentoverandputitdownbesidehersontheendtable.

“Pourmeadrinkbeforeyoukillthebottle.”

ShereachedfortheglassandIturnedandwalkedswiftlythroughthesquarearchintothediningroom,intothehall,intotheclutteredbedroomwiththeopentrunkandthespilledtray.Avoiceshoutedbehindme.Iplungedaheaddownintotherightsideofthetrunk,feltanenvelopeandbroughtitupswiftly.

ShewasoutofherchairwhenIgotbacktothelivingroom,butshehadonlytakentwoorthreesteps.Hereyeshadapeculiarglassiness.Amurderousglassiness.

“Sitdown,”Isnarledatherdeliberately.“You’renotdealingwithasimple-mindedluglikeMooseMalloythistime.”

Itwasashotmoreorlessinthedark,anditdidn’thitanything.Sheblinkedtwiceandtriedtolift

hernosewithherupperlip.Somedirtyteethshowedinarabbitleer.

“Moose?TheMoose?Whatabouthim?”shegulped.

“He’sloose,”Isaid.“Outofjail.He’swandering,withaforty-fiveguninhishand.HekilledaniggeroveronCentralthismorningbecausehewouldn’ttellhimwhereVelmawas.Nowhe’slookingforthefinkthatturnedhimupeightyearsago.”

Awhitelooksmearedthewoman’sface.Shepushedthebottleagainstherlipsandgurgledatit.Someofthewhiskeyrandownherchin.

“Andthecopsarelookingforhim,”shesaidandlaughed.“Cops.Yah!”

Alovelyoldwoman.Ilikedbeingwithher.Ilikedgettingherdrunkformyownsordidpurposes.Iwasaswellguy.Ienjoyedbeingme.Youfindalmostanythingunderyourhandinmybusiness,butIwasbeginningtobealittlesickatmystomach.

Iopenedtheenvelopemyhandwasclutchinganddrewoutaglazedstill.Itwasliketheothersbutitwasdifferent,muchnicer.ThegirlworeaPierrotcostumefromthewaistup.Underthewhiteconicalhatwithablackpompononthetop,herfluffedouthairhadadarktingethatmighthavebeenred.Thefacewasinprofilebutthevisibleeyeseemedtohavegaietyinit.Iwouldn’tsaythefacewaslovelyandunspoiled,I’mnotthatgoodatfaces.Butitwaspretty.Peoplehadbeennicetothatface,orniceenoughfortheircircle.Yetitwasaveryordinaryfaceanditsprettinesswasstrictlyassemblyline.Youwouldseeadozenfaceslikeitonacityblockinthenoonhour.

Belowthewaistthephotowasmostlylegsandverynicelegsatthat.Itwassignedacrossthelowerright-handcorner:“Alwaysyours—VelmaValento.”

IhelditupinfrontoftheFlorianwoman,outofherreach.Shelungedbutcameshort.

“Whyhideit?”Iasked.

Shemadenosoundexceptthickbreathing.Islippedthephotobackintotheenvelopeandtheenvelopeintomypocket.

“Whyhideit?”Iaskedagain.“Whatmakesitdifferentfromtheothers?Whereisshe?”

“She’sdead,”thewomansaid.“Shewasagoodkid,butshe’sdead,copper.Beatit.”

Thetawnymangledbrowsworkedupanddown.Herhandopenedandthewhiskeybottleslidtothecarpetandbegantogurgle.Ibenttopickitup.Shetriedtokickmeintheface.Isteppedawayfromher.

“Andthatstilldoesn’tsaywhyyouhidit,”Itoldher.“Whendidshedie?How?”

“Iamapoorsickoldwoman,”shegrunted.“Getawayfromme,yousonofabitch.”

Istoodtherelookingather,notsayinganything,notthinkingofanythingparticulartosay.Isteppedovertohersideafteramomentandputtheflatbottle,nowalmostempty,onthetableather

side.

Shewasstaringdownatthecarpet.Theradiodronedpleasantlyinthecorner.Acarwentbyoutside.Aflybuzzedinawindow.Afteralongtimeshemovedonelipovertheotherandspoketothefloor,ameaninglessjumbleofwordsfromwhichnothingemerged.Thenshelaughedandthrewherheadbackanddrooled.Thenherrighthandreachedforthebottleanditrattledagainstherteethasshedrainedit.Whenitwasemptyshehelditupandshookitandthrewitatme.Itwentoffinthecornersomewhere,skiddingalongthecarpetandbringingupwithathudagainstthebaseboard.

Sheleeredatmeoncemore,thenhereyesclosedandshebegantosnore.

Itmighthavebeenanact,butIdidn’tcare.SuddenlyIhadenoughofthescene,toomuchofit,fartoomuchofit.

Ipickedmyhatoffthedavenportandwentovertothedoorandopeneditandwentoutpastthescreen.Theradiostilldronedinthecornerandthewomanstillsnoredgentlyinherchair.IthrewaquicklookbackatherbeforeIclosedthedoor,thenshutit,openeditagainsilentlyandlookedagain.

Hereyeswerestillshutbutsomethinggleamedbelowthelids.Iwentdownthesteps,alongthecrackedwalktothestreet.

Inthenexthouseawindowcurtainwasdrawnasideandanarrowintentfacewasclosetotheglass,peering,anoldwoman’sfacewithwhitehairandasharpnose.

OldNoseycheckingupontheneighbors.There’salwaysatleastonelikehertotheblock.Iwavedahandather.Thecurtainfell.

Iwentbacktomycarandgotintoitanddrovebacktothe77thStreetDivision,andclimbedupstairstoNulty’ssmellylittlecubbyholeofanofficeonthesecondfloor.

SIX

Nultydidn’tseemtohavemoved.Hesatinhischairinthesameattitudeofsourpatience.ButthereweretwomorecigarstubsinhisashtrayandtheBoorwasalittlethickerinburntmatches.

IsatdownatthevacantdeskandNultyturnedoveraphotothatwaslyingfacedownonhisdeskandhandedittome.Itwasapolicemug,frontandprofile,withafingerprintclassificationunderneath.ItwasMalloyallright,takeninastronglight,andlookingasifhehadnomoreeyebrowsthanaFrenchroll.

“That’stheboy.”Ipasseditback.

“WegotawirefromOregonStatepenonhim,”Nultysaid.“Alltimeservedexcepthiscopper.Thingslookbetter.Wegothimcornered.AprowlcarwastalkingtoaconductortheendoftheSeventhStreetline.Theconductormentionedaguythatsize,lookinglikethat.HegotoffThirdandAlexandria.Whathe’lldoisbreakintosomebighousewherethefolksareaway.Lotsof’emthere,old-fashionedplacestoofardowntownnowandhardtorent.He’llbreakinoneandwegothimbottled.Whatyoubeendoing?”

“Washewearingafancyhatandwhitegolfballsonhisjacket?”

Nultyfrownedandtwistedhishandsonhiskneecaps.“No,abluesuit.Maybebrown.”

“Sureitwasn’tasarong?”

“Huh?Ohyeah,funny.Remindmetolaughonmydayoff.”

Isaid:“Thatwasn’ttheMoose.Hewouldn’trideastreetcar.Hehadmoney.Lookattheclotheshewaswearing.Hecouldn’twearstocksizes.Theymusthavebeenmadetoorder.”

“Okey,rideme,”Nultyscowled.“Whatyoubeendoing?”

“Whatyououghttohavedone.ThisplacecalledFlorian’swasunderthesamenamewhenitwasawhitenighttrap.ItalkedtoaNegrohotelmanwhoknowstheneighborhood.Thesignwasexpensivesotheshinesjustwentonusingitwhentheytookover.Theman’snamewasMikeFlorian.He’sdeadsomeyears,buthiswidowisstillaround.Shelivesat1644West54thPlace.HernameisJessieFlorian.She’snotinthephonebook,butsheisinthecitydirectory.”

“Well,whatdoIdo—dateherup?”Nultyasked.

“Ididitforyou.Itookinapintofbourbonwithme.She’sacharmingmiddle-agedladywithafacelikeabucketofmudandifshehaswashedherhairsinceCoolidge’ssecondterm,I’lleatmysparetire,rimandall.”

“Skipthewisecracks,”Nultysaid.

“IaskedMrs.FlorianaboutVelma.Youremember,Mr.Nulty,theredheadnamedVelmathatMooseMalloywaslookingfor?I’mnottiringyou,amI,Mr.Nulty?”

“Whatyousoreabout?”

“Youwouldn’tunderstand.Mrs.Floriansaidshedidn’trememberVelma.Herhomeisveryshabbyexceptforanewradio,worthseventyoreightydollars.”

“Youain’ttoldmewhythat’ssomethingIshouldstartscreamingabout.”

“Mrs.Florian—Jessietome—saidherhusbandlefthernothingbuthisoldclothesandabunchofstillsofthegangwhoworkedathisjointfromtimetotime.Ipliedherwithliquorandsheisagirlwhowilltakeadrinkifshehastoknockyoudowntogetthebottle.Afterthethirdorfourthshewentintohermodestbedroomandthrewthingsaroundanddugthebunchofstillsoutofthebottomofanoldtrunk.ButIwaswatchingherwithoutherknowingitandsheslippedoneoutofthepacketandhidit.SoafterawhileIsnuckinthereandgrabbedit.”

IreachedintomypocketandlaidthePierrotgirlonhisdesk.Helifteditandstaredatitandhislipsquirkedatthecorners.

“Cute,”hesaid.“Cuteenough.Icouldofusedapieceofthatonce.Haw,haw.VelmaValento,huh?Whathappenedtothisdoll?”

“Mrs.Floriansaysshedied—butthathardlyexplainswhyshehidthephoto.”

“Itdon’tdoatthat.Whydidshehideit?”

“Shewouldn’ttellme.Intheend,afterItoldherabouttheMoosebeingout,sheseemedtotakeadisliketome.Thatseemsimpossible,doesn’tit?”

“Goon,”Nultysaid.

“That’sall.I’vetoldyouthefactsandgivenyoutheexhibit.Ifyoucan’tgetsomewhereonthisset-up,nothingIcouldsaywouldhelp.”

“WherewouldIget?It’sstillashinekilling.Wait’llwegettheMoose.Hell,it’seightyearssincehesawthegirlunlessshevisitedhiminthepen.”

“Allright,”Isaid.“Butdon’tforgethe’slookingforherandhe’samanwhowouldbeardown.Bytheway,hewasinforabankjob.Thatmeansareward.Whogotit?”

“Idon’tknow,”Nultysaid.“MaybeIcouldfindout.Why?”

“Somebodyturnedhimup.Maybeheknowswho.Thatwouldbeanotherjobhewouldgivetimeto.”Istoodup.“Well,good-byandgoodluck.”

“Youwalkingoutonme?”

Iwentovertothedoor.“Ihavetogohomeandtakeabathandgarglemythroatandgetmynailsmanicured.”

“Youain’tsick,areyou?”

“Justdirty,”Isaid.“Very,verydirty.”

“Well,what’syourhurry?Sitdownaminute.”Heleanedbackandhookedhisthumbsinhisvest,whichmadehimlookalittlemorelikeacop,butdidn’tmakehimlookanymoremagnetic.

“Nohurry,”Isaid.“Nohurryatall.There’snothingmoreIcando.ApparentlythisVelmaisdead,ifMrs.Florianistellingthetruth—andIdon’tatthemomentknowofanyreasonwhysheshouldlieaboutit.ThatwasallIwasinterestedin.”

“Yeah,”Nultysaidsuspiciously—fromforceofhabit.

“AndyouhaveMooseMalloyallsewedupanyway,andthat’sthat.SoI’lljustrunonhomenowandgoaboutthebusinessoftryingtoearnaliving.”

“WemightmissoutontheMoose,”Nultysaid.“Guysgetawayonceinawhile.Evenbigguys.”Hiseyesweresuspiciousalso,insofarastheycontainedanyexpressionatall.“Howmuchsheslipyou?”

“What?”

“Howmuchthisoldladyslipyoutolayoff?”

“Layoffwhat?”

“Whateveritisyou’relayin’offfromnowon.”Hemovedhisthumbsfromhisarmholesandplacedthemtogetherinfrontofhisvestandpushedthemagainsteachother.Hesmiled.

“Oh,forChrist’ssake,”Isaid,andwentoutoftheoffice,leavinghismouthopen.

WhenIwasaboutayardfromthedoor,Iwentbackandopeneditagainquietlyandlookedin.Hewassittinginthesameposition,pushinghisthumbsateachother.Buthewasn’tsmilinganymore.He

lookedworried.Hismouthwasstillopen.

Hedidn’tmoveorlookup.Ididn’tknowwhetherheheardmeornot.Ishutthedooragainandwentaway.

SEVEN

TheyhadRembrandtonthecalendarthatyear,arathersmearyself-portraitduetoimperfectlyregisteredcolorplate.Itshowedhimholdingasmearedpalettewithadirtythumbandwearingatam-o’-shanterwhichwasn’tanytoocleaneither.Hisotherhandheldabrushpoisedintheair,asifhemightbegoingtodoalittleworkafterawhile,ifsomebodymadeadownpayment.Hisfacewasaging,saggy,fullofthedisgustoflifeandthethickeningeffectsofliquor.ButithadahardcheerfulnessthatIliked,andtheeyeswereasbrightasdropsofdew.

Iwaslookingathimacrossmyofficedeskataboutfour-thirtywhenthephonerangandIheardacool,superciliousvoicethatsoundedasifitthoughtitwasprettygood.Itsaiddrawlingly,afterIhadanswered:

“YouarePhilipMarlowe,aprivatedetective?”

“Check.”

“Oh—youmean,yes.Youhavebeenrecommendedtomeasamanwhocanbetrustedtokeephismouthshut.Ishouldlikeyoutocometomyhouseatseveno’clockthisevening.Wecandiscussamatter.MynameisLindsayMarriottandIliveat4212CabrilloStreet,MontemarVista.Doyouknowwherethatis?”

“IknowwhereMontemarVistais,Mr.Marriott.”

“Yes.Well,CabrilloStreetisratherhardtofind.Thestreetsdownherearealllaidoutinapatternofinterestingbutintricatecurves.Ishouldsuggestthatyouwalkupthestepsfromthesidewalkcafe.Ifyoudothat,Cabrilloisthethirdstreetyoucometoandmyhouseistheonlyoneontheblock.Atseventhen?”

“Whatisthenatureoftheemployment,Mr.Marriott?”

“Ishouldprefernottodiscussthatoverthephone.”

“Can’tyougivemesomeidea?MontemarVistaisquiteadistance.”

“Ishallbegladtopayyourexpenses,ifwedon’tagree.Areyouparticularaboutthenatureoftheemployment?”

“Notaslongasit’slegitimate.”

Thevoicegrewicicles.“Ishouldnothavecalledyou,ifitwerenot.”

AHarvardboy.Niceuseofthesubjunctivemood.Theendofmyfootitched,butmybankaccountwasstilltryingtocrawlunderaduck.Iputhoneyintomyvoiceandsaid:“Manythanksforcallingme,Mr.Marriott.I’llbethere.”

Hehungupandthatwasthat.IthoughtMr.Rembrandthadafaintsneeronhisface.Igottheofficebottleoutofthedeepdrawerofthedeskandtookashortdrink.ThattookthesneeroutofMr.Rembrandtinahurry.

Awedgeofsunlightslippedovertheedgeofthedeskandfellnoiselesslytothecarpet.Trafficlightsbongbongedoutsideontheboulevard,interurbancarspoundedby,atypewriterclackedmonotonouslyinthelawyer ’sofficebeyondthepartywall.Ihadfilledandlitapipewhenthetelephonerangagain.

ItwasNultythistime.Hisvoicesoundedfullofbakedpotato.“Well,IguessIain’tquitebrightatthat,”hesaid,whenheknewwhohewastalkingto.“Imissone.MalloywenttoseethatFloriandame.”

Iheldthephonetightenoughtocrackit.Myupperlipsuddenlyfeltalittlecold.“Goon.Ithoughtyouhadhimcornered.”

“Wassomeotherguy.Malloyain’taroundthereatall.Wegetacallfromsomeoldwindow-peekeronWestFifty-four.TwoguyswastoseetheFloriandame.Numberoneparkedtheothersideofthestreetandactedkindofcagey.Lookedthedumpovergoodbeforehewentin.Wasinaboutanhour.Sixfeet,darkhair,mediumheavybuilt.Comeoutquiet.”

“Hehadliquoronhisbreathtoo,”Isaid.

“Oh,sure.Thatwasyou,wasn’tit?Well,NumbertwowastheMoose.Guyinloudclothesasbigasahouse.Hecomeinacartoobuttheoldladydon’tgetthelicense,can’treadthenumberthatfaroff.Thiswasaboutahourafteryouwasthere,shesays.Hegoesinfastandisinaboutfiveminutesonly.Justbeforehegetsbackinhiscarhetakesabiggatoutandspinsthechamber.Iguessthat’swhattheoldladysawhedone.That’swhyshecallsup.Shedon’thearnoshotsthough,insidethehouse.”

“Thatmusthavebeenabigdisappointment,”Isaid.

“Yeah.Anifty.Remindmetolaughonmydayoff.Theoldladymissesonetoo.Theprowlboysgodownthereanddon’tgetnoansweronthedoor,sotheywalkin,thefrontdoornotbeinglocked.

Nobody’sdeadonthefloor.Nobody’shome.TheFloriandamehasskippedout.Sotheystopbynextdoorandtelltheoldladyandshe’ssoreasaboilonaccountofshedidn’tseetheFloriandamegoout.Sotheyreportbackandgoonaboutthejob.Soaboutanhour,maybehourandahalfafterthat,theoldladyphonesinagainandsaysMrs.Florianishomeagain.SotheygivethecalltomeandIaskherwhatmakesthatimportantandshehangsupinmyface.”

Nultypausedtocollectalittlebreathandwaitformycomments.Ididn’thaveany.Afteramomenthewentongrumbling.

“Whatyoumakeofit?”

“Nothingmuch.TheMoosewouldbelikelytogobythere,ofcourse.HemusthaveknownMrs.Florianprettywell.Naturallyhewouldn’tstickaroundverylong.HewouldbeafraidthelawmightbewisetoMrs.Florian.”

“WhatIfigure,”Nultysaidcalmly.“MaybeIshouldgooverandseeher—kindoffindoutwhereshewentto.”

“That’sagoodidea,”Isaid.“Ifyoucangetsomebodytoliftyououtofyourchair.”

“Huh?Oh,anothernifty.Itdon’tmakealotofdifferenceanymorenowthough.IguessIwon’tbother.”

“Allright,”Isaid.“Let’shaveitwhateveritis.”

Hechuckled.“WegotMalloyalllinedup.Wereallygothimthistime.WemakehimatGirard,headednorthinarentedhack.Hegassedupthereandtheservicestationkidrecognizedhimfromthedescriptionwebroadcastawhileback.HesaideverythingjibedexceptMalloyhadchangedtoadarksuit.Wegotcountyandstatelawonit.IfhegoesonnorthwegethimattheVenturaline,andifheslidesovertotheRidgeRoute,hehadtostopatCastaicforhischeckticket.Ifhedon’tstop,theyphoneaheadandblocktheroad.Wedon’twantnocopsshotup,ifwecanhelpit.Thatsoundgood?”

“Itsoundsallright,”Isaid.“IfitreallyisMalloy,andifhedoesexactlywhatyouexpecthimtodo.”

Nultyclearedhisthroatcarefully.“Yeah.Whatyoudoingonit—justincase?”

“Nothing.WhyshouldIbedoinganythingonit?”

“YougotalongprettygoodwiththatFloriandame.Maybeshewouldhavesomemoreideas.”

“Allyouneedtofindoutisafullbottle,”Isaid.

“Youhandledherrealnice.Maybeyououghttokindofspendalittlemoretimeonher.”

“Ithoughtthiswasapolicejob.”

“Ohsure.Wasyourideaaboutthegirlthough.”

“Thatseemstobeout—unlesstheFlorianislyingaboutit.”

“Dameslieaboutanything—justforpractice,”Nultysaidgrimly.

“Youain’trealbusy,huh?”

“I’vegotajobtodo.ItcameinsinceIsawyou.AjobwhereIgetpaid.I’msorry.”

“Walkingout,huh?”

“Iwouldn’tputitthatway.Ijusthavetoworktoearnaliving.”

“Okey,pal.Ifthat’sthewayyoufeelaboutit,okey.”

“Idon’tfeelanywayaboutit,”Ialmostyelled.“Ijustdon’thavetimetostoogeforyouoranyothercop.”

“Okey,getsore,”Nultysaid,andhungup.

Iheldthedeadphoneandsnarledintoit:“Seventeenhundredandfiftycopsinthistownandtheywantmetodotheirlegworkforthem.”

Idroppedthephoneintoitscradleandtookanotherdrinkfromtheofficebottle.

AfterawhileIwentdowntothelobbyofthebuildingtobuyaneveningpaper.Nultywasrightinonethingatleast.TheMontgomerykillinghadn’tevenmadethewant-adsectionsofar.

Ilefttheofficeagainintimeforanearlydinner.

EIGHT

IgotdowntoMontemarVistaasthelightbegantofade,buttherewasstillafinesparkleonthewaterandthesurfwasbreakingfaroutinlongsmoothcurves.Agroupofpelicanswasflyingbomberformationjustunderthecreaminglipofthewaves.AlonelyyachtwastakingintowardtheyachtharboratBayCity.BeyonditthehugeemptinessofthePacificwaspurple-gray.

MontemarVistawasafewdozenhousesofvarioussizesandshapeshangingbytheirteethandeyebrowstoaspurofmountainandlookingasifagoodsneezewoulddropthemdownamongtheboxlunchesonthebeach.

Abovethebeachthehighwayranunderawideconcretearchwhichwasinfactapedestrianbridge.FromtheinnerendofthisaBightofconcretestepswithathickgalvanizedhandrailononesideranstraightasarulerupthesideofthemountain.Beyondthearchthesidewalkcafemyclienthadspokenof,wasbrightandcheerfulinside,buttheiron-leggedtile-toppedtablesoutsideunderthestripedawningwereemptysaveforasingledarkwomaninslackswhosmokedandstaredmoodilyouttosea,withabottleofbeerinfrontofher.Afoxterrierwasusingoneoftheironchairsforalamppost.ShechidedthedogabsentlyasIdrovepastandgavethesidewalkcafemybusinesstotheextentofusingitsparkingspace.

Iwalkedbackthroughthearchandstartedupthesteps.Itwasanicewalkifyoulikedgrunting.ThereweretwohundredandeightystepsuptoCabrilloStreet.Theyweredriftedoverwithwindblownsandandthehandrailwasascoldandwetasatoad’sbelly.

WhenIreachedthetopthesparklehadgonefromthewaterandaseagullwithabrokentrailinglegwastwistingagainsttheoffseabreeze.Isatdownonthedampcoldtopstepandshookthesandoutofmyshoesandwaitedformypulsetocomedownintothelowhundreds.WhenIwasbreathingmoreorlessnormallyagainIshookmyshirtloosefrommybackandwentalongtothelightedhousewhichwastheonlyonewithinyellingdistanceofthesteps.

Itwasanicelittlehousewithasalt-tarnishedspiralofstaircasegoinguptothefrontdoorandan

imitationcoachlampforaporchlight.Thegaragewasunderneathandtooneside.Itsdoorwasliftedupandrolledbackandthelightoftheporchlampshoneobliquelyonahugeblackbattleshipofacarwithchromiumtrimmings,acoyotetailtiedtotheWingedVictoryontheradiatorcapandengravedinitialswheretheemblemshouldbe.Thecarhadaright-handdriveandlookedasifhadcostmorethanthehouse.

Iwentupthespiralsteps,lookedforabell,andusedaknockerintheshapeofatiger ’shead.Itsclatterwasswallowedintheearlyeveningfog.Iheardnostepsinthehouse.Mydampshirtfeltlikeanicepackonmyback.Thedooropenedsilently,andIwaslookingatatallblondmaninawhiteflannelsuitwithavioletsatinscarfaroundhisneck.

Therewasacornflowerinthelapelofhiswhitecoatandhispaleblueeyeslookedfadedoutbycomparison.Thevioletscarfwaslooseenoughtoshowthatheworenotieandthathehadathick,softbrownneck,liketheneckofastrongwoman.Hisfeatureswerealittleontheheavyside,buthandsome,hehadaninchmoreofheightthanIhad,whichmadehimsixfeetone.Hisblondhairwasarranged,byartornature,inthreepreciseblondledgeswhichremindedmeofsteps,sothatIdidn’tlikethem.Iwouldn’thavelikedthemanyway.Apartfromallthishehadthegeneralappearanceofaladwhowouldwearawhiteflannelsuitwithavioletscarfaroundhisneckandacornflowerinhislapel.

Heclearedhisthroatlightlyandlookedpastmyshoulderatthedarkeningsea.Hiscoolsuperciliousvoicesaid:“Yes?”

“Seveno’clock,”Isaid.“Onthedot.”

“Ohyes.Letmesee,yournameis—”Hepausedandfrownedintheeffortofmemory.Theeffectwasasphonyasthepedigreeofausedcar.Ilethimworkatitforaminute,thenIsaid:

“PhilipMarlowe.Thesameasitwasthisafternoon.”

Hegavemeaquickdartingfrown,asifperhapssomethingoughttobedoneaboutthat.Thenhesteppedbackandsaidcoldly:

“Ahyes.Quiteso.Comein,Marlowe.Myhouseboyisawaythisevening.”

Heopenedthedoorwidewithafingertip,asthoughopeningthedoorhimselfdirtiedhimalittle.

Iwentinpasthimandsmelledperfume.Heclosedthedoor.Theentranceputusonalowbalconywithametalrailingthatranaroundthreesidesofabigstudiolivingroom.Thefourthsidecontainedabigfireplaceandtwodoors.Afirewascracklinginthefireplace.Thebalconywaslinedwithbookshelvesandtherewerepiecesofglazedmetalliclookingbitsofsculptureonpedestals.

Wewentdownthreestepstothemainpartofthelivingroom.Thecarpetalmosttickledmyankles.Therewasaconcertgrandpiano,closeddown.Ononecornerofitstoodatallsilvervaseonastripofpeach-coloredvelvet,andasingleyellowroseinthevase.Therewasplentyofnicesoftfurniture,agreatmanyfloorcushions,somewithgoldentasselsandsomejustnaked.Itwasaniceroom,ifyoudidn’tgetrough.Therewasawidedamaskcovereddivaninashadowycorner,likeacastingcouch.Itwasthekindofroomwherepeoplesitwiththeirfeetintheirlapsandsipabsinthe

throughlumpsofsugarandtalkwithhighaffectedvoicesandsometimesjustsqueak.Itwasaroomwhereanythingcouldhappenexceptwork.

Mr.LindsayMarriottarrangedhimselfinthecurveofthegrandpiano,leanedovertosniffattheyellowrose,thenopenedaFrenchenamelcigarettecaseandlitalongbrowncigarettewithagoldtip.IsatdownonapinkchairandhopedIwouldn’tleaveamarkonit.IlitaCamel,blewsmokethroughmynoseandlookedatapieceofblackshinymetalonastand.Itshowedafull,smoothcurvewithashallowfoldinitandtwoprotuberancesonthecurve.Istaredatit.Marriottsawmestaringatit.

“Aninterestingbit,”hesaidnegligently.“Ipickeditupjusttheotherday.AstaDial’sSpiritofDawn.”

“IthoughtitwasKlopstein’sTwoWartsonaFanny,”Isaid.

Mr.LindsayMarriott’sfacelookedasifhehadswallowedabee.Hesmootheditoutwithaneffort.

“Youhaveasomewhatpeculiarsenseofhumor,”hesaid.

“Notpeculiar,”Isaid.“Justuninhibited.”

“Yes,”hesaidverycoldly.“Yes—ofcourse.I’venodoubt...Well,whatIwishedtoseeyouaboutis,asamatteroffact,averyslightmatterindeed.Hardlyworthbringingyoudownherefor.Iammeetingacoupleofmentonightandpayingthemsomemoney.IthoughtImightaswellhavesomeonewithme.Youcarryagun?”

“Attimes.Yes,”Isaid.Ilookedatthedimpleinhisbroad,fleshychin.Youcouldhavelostamarbleinit.

“Ishan’twantyoutocarrythat.Nothingofthatsortatall.Thisisapurelybusinesstransaction.”

“Ihardlyevershootanybody,”Isaid.“Amatterofblackmail?”

Hefrowned.“Certainlynot.I’mnotinthehabitofgivingpeoplegroundsforblackmail.”

“Ithappenstothenicestpeople.Imightsayparticularlytothenicestpeople.”

Hewavedhiscigarette.Hisaquamarineeyeshadafaintlythoughtfulexpression,buthislipssmiled.Thekindofsmilethatgoeswithasilknoose.

Heblewsomemoresmokeandtiltedhisheadback.Thisaccentuatedthesoftfirmlinesofhisthroat.Hiseyescamedownslowlyandstudiedme.

“I’mmeetingthesemen—mostprobably—inaratherlonelyplace.Idon’tknowwhereyet.Iexpectacallgivingmetheparticulars.Ihavetobereadytoleaveatonce.Itwon’tbeveryfarawayfromhere.That’stheunderstanding.“

“You’vebeenmakingthisdealsometime?”

“Threeorfourdays,asamatteroffact.”

“Youleftyourbodyguardproblemuntilprettylate.”

Hethoughtthatover.Hesnickedsomedarkashfromhiscigarette.“That’strue.Ihadsomedifficultymakingmymindup.Itwouldbebetterformetogoalone,althoughnothinghasbeensaiddefinitelyaboutmyhavingsomeonewithme.OntheotherhandI’mnotmuchofahero.”

“Theyknowyoubysight,ofcourse?”

“I—I’mnotsure.Ishallbecarryingalargeamountofmoneyanditisnotmymoney.I’mactingforafriend.Ishouldn’tfeeljustifiedinlettingitoutofmypossession,ofcourse.”

Isnubbedoutmycigaretteandleanedbackinthepinkchairandtwiddledmythumbs.“Howmuchmoney—andwhatfor?”

“Well,really—”itwasafairlynicesmilenow,butIstilldidn’tlikeit.

“Ican’tgointothat.”

“Youjustwantmetogoalongandholdyourhat?”

Hishandjerkedagainandsomeashfelloffonhiswhitecuff.Heshookitoffandstareddownattheplacewhereithadbeen.

“I’mafraidIdon’tlikeyourmanner,”hesaid,usingtheedgeofhisvoice.

“I’vehadcomplaintsaboutit,”Isaid.“Butnothingseemstodoanygood.Let’slookatthisjobalittle.Youwantabodyguard,buthecan’twearagun.Youwantahelper,butheisn’tsupposedtoknowwhathe’ssupposedtodo.Youwantmetoriskmyneckwithoutknowingwhyorwhatfororwhattheriskis.Whatareyouofferingforallthis?”

“Ihadn’treallygotaroundtothinkingaboutit.”Hischeekboneswereduskyred.

“Doyousupposeyoucouldgetaroundtothinkingaboutit?”

Heleanedforwardgracefullyandsmiledbetweenhisteeth.“Howwouldyoulikeaswiftpunchonthenose?”

Igrinnedandstoodupandputmyhaton.Istartedacrossthecarpettowardsthefrontdoor,butnotveryfast.

Hisvoicesnappedatmyback.“I’mofferingyouahundreddollarsforafewhoursofyourtime.Ifthatisn’tenough,sayso.There’snorisk.Somejewelsweretakenfromafriendofmineinaholdup—andI’mbuyingthemback.Sitdownanddon’tbesotouchy.”

Iwentbacktothepinkchairandsatdownagain.

“Allright,”Isaid.“Let’shearaboutit.”

Westaredateachotherforalloftenseconds.“HaveyoueverheardofFeiTsuijade?”heaskedslowly,andlitanotherofhisdarkcigarettes.

“No.”

“It’stheonlyreallyvaluablekind.Otherkindsarevaluabletosomeextentforthematerial,butchieflyfortheworkmanshiponthem.FeiTsuiisvaluableinitself.Allknowndepositswereexhaustedhundredsofyearsago.Afriendofmineownsanecklaceofsixtybeadsofaboutsixcaratseach,intricatelycarved.Worthyeightyorninetythousanddollars.TheChinesegovernmenthasaveryslightlylargeronevaluedatahundredandtwenty-fivethousand.Myfriend’snecklacewastakeninaholdupafewnightsago.Iwaspresent,butquitehelpless.IhaddrivenmyfriendtoaneveningpartyandlatertotheTrocaderoandwewereonourwaybacktoherhomefromthere.Acarbrushedtheleftfrontfenderandstopped,asIthought,toapologize.Insteadofthatitwasaveryquickandveryneatholdup.Eitherthreeorfourmen,Ireallysawonlytwo,butI’msureanotherstayedinthecarbehindthewheel,andIthoughtIsawaglimpseofstillafourthattherearwindow.Myfriendwaswearingthejadenecklace.Theytookthatandtworingsandabracelet.Theonewhoseemedtobetheleaderlookedthethingsoverwithoutanyapparenthurryunderasmallflashlight.Thenhehandedoneoftheringsbackandsaidthatwouldgiveusanideawhatkindofpeopleweweredealingwithandtowaitforaphonecallbeforereportingtothepoliceortheinsurancecompany.Soweobeyedtheirinstructions.There’splentyofthatsortofthinggoingon,ofcourse.Youkeeptheaffairtoyourselfandpayransom,oryouneverseeyourjewelsagain.Ifthey’refullyinsured,perhapsyoudon’tmind,butiftheyhappentoberarepieces,youwouldratherpayransom.”

Inodded.“Andthisjadenecklaceissomethingthatcan’tbepickedupeveryday.”

Heslidafingeralongthepolishedsurfaceofthepianowithadreamyexpression,asiftouchingsmooththingspleasedhim.

“Verymuchso.It’sirreplaceable.Sheshouldn’thavewornitout—ever.Butshe’sarecklesssortofwoman.Theotherthingsweregoodbutordinary.”

“Uh-huh.Howmuchareyoupaying?”

“Eightthousanddollars.It’sdirtcheap.Butifmyfriendcouldn’tgetanotherlikeit,thesethugscouldn’tveryeasilydisposeofiteither.It’sprobablyknowntoeveryoneinthetrade,alloverthecountry.”

“Thisfriendofyours—doesshehaveaname?”

“I’dprefernottomentionitatthemoment.”

“Whatarethearrangements?”

Helookedatmealonghispaleeyes.Ithoughtheseemedabitscared,butIdidn’tknowhimverywell.Maybeitwasahangover.Thehandthatheldthedarkcigarettecouldn’tkeepstill.

“Wehavebeennegotiatingbytelephoneforseveraldays—throughme.Everythingissettledexceptthetimeandplaceofmeeting.Itistobesometimetonight.Ishallpresentlybegettingacallto

tellmeofthat.Itwillnotbeveryfaraway,theysay,andImustbepreparedtoleaveatonce.Isupposethatissothatnoplantcouldbearranged.Withthepolice,Imean.”

“Uh-huh.Isthemoneymarked?Isupposeitismoney?”

“Currency,ofcourse.Twenty-dollarbills.No,whyshoulditbemarked?”

“Itcanbedonesothatittakesblacklighttodetectit.Noreason—exceptthatthecopsliketobreakupthesegangs—iftheycangetanyco-operation.Someofthemoneymightturnuponsomeladwitharecord.”

Hewrinkledhisbrowthoughtfully.“I’mafraidIdon’tknowwhatblacklightis.”

“Ultra-violet.Itmakescertainmetallicinksglisteninthedark.Icouldgetitdoneforyou.”

“I’mafraidthereisn’ttimeforthatnow,”hesaidshortly.

“That’soneofthethingsthatworriesme.”

“Why?”

“Whyyouonlycalledmethisafternoon.Whyyoupickedonme.Whotoldyouaboutme?”

Helaughed.Hislaughwasratherboyish,butnotaveryyoungboy.“Well,asamatteroffactI’llhavetoconfessImerelypickedyournameatrandomoutofthephonebook.YouseeIhadn’tintendedtohaveanyonegowithme.ThenthisafternoonIgottothinkingwhynot.”

Ilitanotherofmysquashedcigarettesandwatchedhisthroatmuscles.“What’stheplan?”

Hespreadhishands.“SimplytogowhereIamtold,handoverthepackageofmoney,andreceivebackthejadenecklace.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Youseemfondofthatexpression.”

“Whatexpression?”

“Uh-huh.”

“WherewillIbe—inthebackofthecar?”

“Isupposeso.It’sabigcar.Youcouldeasilyhideinthebackofit.”

“Listen,”Isaidslowly.“Youplantogooutwithmehiddeninyourcartoadestinationyouaretogetoverthephonesometimetonight.Youwillhaveeightgrandincurrencyonyouandwiththatyouaresupposedtobuybackajadenecklaceworthtenortwelvetimesthatmuch.Whatyouwillprobablygetwillbeapackageyouwon’tbeallowedtoopen—providingyougetanythingatall.It’sjustaslikelytheywillsimplytakeyourmoney,countitoverinsomeotherplace,andmailyouthenecklace,

iftheyfeelbighearted.There’snothingtopreventthemdouble-crossingyou.CertainlynothingIcoulddowouldstopthem.Theseareheistguys.They’retough.Theymightevenknockyouonthehead—nothard—justenoughtodelayyouwhiletheygoontheirway.”

“Well,asamatteroffact,I’malittleafraidofsomethinglikethat,”hesaidquietly,andhiseyestwitched.“Isupposethat’sreallywhyIwantedsomebodywithme.”

“Didtheyputaflashonyouwhentheypulledthestickup?”

Heshookhishead,no.

“Nomatter.They’vehadadozenchancestolookyouoversince.Theyprobablyknewallaboutyoubeforethatanyway.Thesejobsarecased.They’recasedthewayadentistcasesyourtoothforagoldinlay.Yougooutwiththisdamemuch?”

“Well—notinfrequently,”hesaidstiffly.

“Married?”

“Lookhere,”hesnapped.“Supposeweleavetheladyoutofthisentirely.”

“Okey,”Isaid.“ButthemoreIknowthefewercupsIbreak.Ioughttowalkawayfromthisjob,Marriott.Ireallyought.Iftheboyswanttoplayball,youdon’tneedme.Iftheydon’twanttoplayball,Ican’tdoanythingaboutit.”

“AllIwantisyourcompany,”hesaidquickly.

Ishruggedandspreadmyhands.“Okey—butIdrivethecarandcarrythemoney—andyoudothehidingintheback.We’reaboutthesameheight.Ifthere’sanyquestion,we’lljusttellthemthetruth.Nothingtolosebyit.”

“No.”Hebithislip.

“I’mgettingahundreddollarsfordoingnothing.Ifanybodygetsconked,itoughttobeme.”

Hefrownedandshookhishead,butafterquitealongtimehisfaceclearedslowlyandhesmiled.

“Verywell,”hesaidslowly.“Idon’tsupposeitmattersmuch.We’llbetogether.Wouldyoucareforaspotofbrandy?”

“Uh-huh.Andyoumightbringmemyhundredbucks.Iliketofeelmoney.”

Hemovedawaylikeadancer,hisbodyalmostmotionlessfromthewaistup.

Thephonerangashewasonhiswayout.Itwasinalittlealcoveoffthelivingroomproper,cutintothebalcony.Itwasn’tthecallwewerethinkingaboutthough.Hesoundedtooaffectionate.

HedancedbackafterawhilewithabottleofFive-StarMartellandfivenicecrisptwenty-dollarbills.Thatmadeitaniceevening—sofar.

NINE

Thehousewasverystill.Farofftherewasasoundwhichmighthavebeenbeatingsurforcarszoomingalongahighway,orwindinpinetrees.Itwasthesea,ofcourse,breakingfardownbelow.Isatthereandlistenedtoitandthoughtlong,carefulthoughts.

Thephonerangfourtimeswithinthenexthourandahalf.Thebigonecameateightminutespastten.Marriotttalkedbriefly,inaverylowvoice,cradledtheinstrumentwithoutasoundandstoodupwithasortofhushedmovement.Hisfacelookeddrawn.Hehadchangedtodarkclothesnow.Hewalkedsilentlybackintotheroomandpouredhimselfastiffdrinkinabrandyglass.Hehelditagainstthelightamomentwithaqueerunhappysmile,swirleditoncequicklyandtiltedhisheadbacktopouritdownhisthroat.

“Well—we’reallset,Marlowe.Ready?”

“That’sallI’vebeenallevening.Wheredowego?”

“AplacecalledPurissimaCanyon.”

“Ineverheardofit.”

“I’llgetamap.”Hegotoneandspreaditoutquicklyandthelightblinkedinhisbrassyhairashebentoverit.Thenhepointedwithhisfinger.TheplacewasoneofthemanycanyonsoffthefoothillboulevardthatturnsintotownfromthecoasthighwaynorthofBayCity.Ihadavagueideawhereitwas,butnomore.ItseemedtobeattheendofastreetcalledCaminodelaCosta.

“Itwillbenotmorethantwelveminutesfromhere,”Marriottsaidquickly.“We’dbettergetmoving.Weonlyhavetwentyminutestoplaywith.”

Hehandedmealightcoloredovercoatwhichmademeafinetarget.Itfittedprettywell.Iworemyownhat.Ihadagunundermyarm,butIhadn’ttoldhimaboutthat.

WhileIputthecoaton,hewentontalkinginalightnervousvoiceanddancingonhishandsthethickmanilaenvelopewiththeeightgrandinit.

“PurissimaCanyonhasasortoflevelshelfattheinnerendofit,theysay.Thisiswalledofffromtheroadbyawhitefenceoffour-by-fours,butyoucanjustsqueezeby.Adirtroadwindsdownintoalittlehollowandwearetowaittherewithoutlights.Therearenohousesaround.”

“We?”

“Well,Imean‘I’—theoretically.”

“Oh.”

HehandedmethemanilaenvelopeandIopeneditupandlookedatwhatwasinside.Itwasmoneyallright,ahugewadofcurrency.Ididn’tcountit.Isnappedtherubberaroundagainandstuffedthepacketdowninsidemyovercoat.Italmostcavedinarib.

WewenttothedoorandMarriottswitchedoffallthelights.Heopenedthefrontdoorcautiouslyandpeeredoutatthefoggyair.Wewentoutanddownthesalt-tarnishedspiralstairwaytothestreetlevelandthegarage.

Itwasalittlefoggy,thewayitalwaysisdownthereatnight.Ihadtostartupthewindshieldwiperforawhile.

Thebigforeigncardroveitself,butIheldthewheelforthesakeofappearances.

Fortwominuteswefigure-eightedbackandforthacrossthefaceofthemountainandthenpoppedoutrightbesidethesidewalkcafe.IcouldunderstandnowwhyMariotthadtoldmetowalkupthesteps.Icouldhavedrivenaboutinthosecurving,twistingstreetsforhourswithoutmakinganymoreyardagethananangleworminabaitcan.

Onthehighwaythelightsofthestreamingcarsmadeanalmostsolidbeaminbothdirections.Thebigcorn-popperswererollingnorthgrowlingastheywentandfestoonedalloverwithgreenandyellowoverhanglights.Threeminutesofthatandweturnedinland,byabigservicestation,andwoundalongtheflankofthefoothills.Itgotquiet.Therewaslonelinessandthesmellofkelpandthesmellofwildsagefromthehills.Ayellowwindowhunghereandthere,allbyitself,likethelastorange.Carspassed,sprayingthepavementwithcoldwhitelight,thengrowledoffintothedarknessagain.Wispsoffogchasedthestarsdownthesky.

Marriottleanedforwardfromthedarkrearseatandsaid:

“ThoselightsofftotherightaretheBelvedereBeachClub.ThenextcanyonisLasPulgasandthenextafterthatPurissima.Weturnrightatthetopofthesecondrise.”Hisvoicewashushedandtaut.

Igruntedandkeptondriving.“Keepyourheaddown,”Isaidovermyshoulder.“Wemaybewatchedalltheway.ThiscarsticksoutlikespatsatanIowapicnic.Couldbetheboysdon’tlikeyourbeingtwins.”

Wewentdownintoahollowattheinwardendofacanyonandthenuponthehighgroundandafteralittlewhiledownagainandupagain.ThenMarriott’stightvoicesaidinmyear:

“Nextstreetontheright.Thehousewiththesquareturret.Turnbesidethat.”

“Youdidn’thelpthempickthisplaceout,didyou?”

“Hardly,”hesaid,andlaughedgrimly.“Ijusthappentoknowthesecanyonsprettywell.”

Iswungthecartotherightpastabigcornerhousewithasquarewhiteturrettoppedwithroundtiles.Theheadlightssprayedforaninstantonastreetsignthatread:CaminodelaCosta.Wesliddownabroadavenuelinedwithunfinishedelectroliersandweed-grownsidewalks.Somerealtor ’sdreamhadturnedintoahangoverthere.Cricketschirpedandbullfrogswhoopedinthedarknessbehindtheovergrownsidewalks.Marriott’scarwasthatsilent.

Therewasahousetoablock,thenahousetotwoblocks,thennohousesatall.Avaguewindowortwowasstilllighted,butthepeoplearoundthereseemedtogotobedwiththechickens.Thenthepavedavenueendedabruptlyinadirtroadpackedashardasconcreteindryweather.Thedirtroadnarrowedanddroppedslowlydownhillbetweenwallsofbrush.ThelightsoftheBelvedereBeachClubhungintheairtotherightandfaraheadtherewasagleamofmovingwater.Theacridsmellofthesagefilledthenight.Thenawhite-paintedbarrierloomedacrossthedirtroadandMarriottspokeatmyshoulderagain.

“Idon’tthinkyoucangetpastit,”hesaid.“Thespacedoesn’tlookwideenough.”

Icutthenoiselessmotor,dimmedthelightsandsatthere,listening.Nothing.Iswitchedthelightsoffaltogetherandgotoutofthecar.Thecricketsstoppedchirping.ForalittlewhilethesilencewassocompletethatIcouldhearthesoundoftiresonthehighwayatthebottomofthecliffs,amileaway.Thenonebyonethecricketsstartedupagainuntilthenightwasfullofthem.

“Sittight.I’mgoingdownthereandhavealook-see,”Iwhisperedintothebackofthecar.

Itouchedthegunbuttinsidemycoatandwalkedforward.Therewasmoreroombetweenthebrushandtheendofthewhitebarrierthantherehadseemedtobefromthecar.Someonehadhackedthebrushawayandtherewerecarmarksinthedirt.Probablykidsgoingdowntheretoneckonwarmnights.Iwentonpastthebarrier.Theroaddroppedandcurved.Belowwasdarknessandavaguefar-offsea-sound.Andthelightsofcarsonthehighway.Iwenton.Theroadendedinashallowbowlentirelysurroundedbybrush.Itwasempty.ThereseemedtobenowayintoitbutthewayIhadcome.Istoodthereinthesilenceandlistened.

Minutepassedslowlyafterminute,butIkeptonwaitingforsomenewsound.Nonecame.Iseemedtohavethathollowentirelytomyself.

Ilookedacrosstothelightedbeachclub.Fromitsupperwindowsamanwithagoodnightglasscouldprobablycoverthisspotfairlywell.Hecouldseeacarcomeandgo,seewhogotoutofit,whethertherewasagroupofmenorjustone.Sittinginadarkroomwithagoodnightglassyoucanseealotmoredetailthanyouwouldthinkpossible.

Iturnedtogobackupthehill.Fromthebaseofabushacricketchirpedloudenoughtomakemejump.Iwentonuparoundthecurveandpastthewhitebarricade.Stillnothing.Theblackcarstooddimlyshiningagainstagraynesswhichwasneitherdarknessnorlight.Iwentovertoitandputafootontherunningboardbesidethedriver ’sseat.

“Lookslikeatryout,”Isaidundermybreath,butloudenoughforMarriotttohearmefromthebackofthecar.“Justtoseeifyouobeyorders.”

Therewasavaguemovementbehindbuthedidn’tanswer.Iwentontryingtoseesomethingbesidesbushes.

Whoeveritwashadaniceeasyshotatthebackofmyhead.AfterwardsIthoughtImighthaveheardtheswishofasap.Maybeyoualwaysthinkthat—afterwards.

TEN

“Fourminutes,”thevoicesaid.“Five,possiblysix.Theymusthavemovedquickandquiet.Hedidn’tevenletoutayell.”

Iopenedmyeyesandlookedfuzzilyatacoldstar.Iwaslyingonmyback.Ifeltsick.

Thevoicesaid:“Itcouldhavebeenalittlelonger.Maybeeveneightminutesaltogether.Theymusthavebeeninthebrush,rightwherethecarstopped.Theguyscaredeasily.Theymusthavethrownasmalllightinhisfaceandhepassedout—justfrompanic.Thepansy.”

Therewassilence.Igotupononeknee.Painsshotfromthebackofmyheadcleartomyankles.

“Thenoneofthemgotintothecar,”thevoicesaid,“andwaitedforyoutocomeback.Theothershidagain.Theymusthavefiguredhewouldbeafraidtocomealone.Orsomethinginhisvoicemadethemsuspicious,whentheytalkedtohimonthephone.”

Ibalancedmyselfwoozilyontheflatofmyhands,listening.

“Yeah,thatwasabouthowitwas,”thevoicesaid.

Itwasmyvoice.Iwastalkingtomyself,comingoutofit.Iwastryingtofigurethethingoutsubconsciously.

“Shutup,youdimwit,”Isaid,andstoppedtalkingtomyself.

Faroffthepurlofmotors,nearerthechirpofcrickets,thepeculiarlongdrawnee-ee-eeoftreefrogs.Ididn’tthinkIwasgoingtolikethosesoundsanymore.

Iliftedahandoffthegroundandtriedtoshakethestickysageoozeoffit,thenrubbeditonthesideofmycoat.Nicework,forahundreddollars.Thehandjumpedattheinsidepocketoftheovercoat.Nomanilaenvelope,naturally.Thehandjumpedinsidemyownsuitcoat.Mywalletwas

stillthere.Iwonderedifmyhundredwasstillinit.Probablynot.Somethingfeltheavyagainstmyleftribs.Thegunintheshoulderholster.

Thatwasanicetouch.Theyleftmemygun.Anicetouchofsomethingorother—likeclosingaman’seyesafteryouknifehim.

Ifeltthebackofmyhead.Myhatwasstillon.Itookitoff,notwithoutdiscomfortandfelttheheadunderneath.Goodoldhead,I’dhaditalongtime.Itwasalittlesoftnow,alittlepulpy,andmorethanalittletender.Butaprettylightsappingatthat.Thehathadhelped.Icouldstillusethehead.Icoulduseitanotheryearanyway.

IputmyrighthandbackonthegroundandtooktheleftoffandswivelleditarounduntilIcouldseemywatch.Theilluminateddialshowed10.56,asnearlyasIcouldfocusonit.

Thecallhadcomeat10.08.Marriotthadtalkedmaybetwominutes.Anotherfourhadgotusoutofthehouse.Timepassesveryslowlywhenyouareactuallydoingsomething.Imean,youcangothroughalotofmovementsinveryfewminutes.IsthatwhatImean?WhatthehelldoIcarewhatImean?Okey,bettermenthanmehavemeantless.Okey,whatImeanis,thatwouldbe10.15,say.Theplacewasabouttwelveminutesaway.10.27.Igetout,walkdowninthehollow,spendatthemosteightminutesfoolingaroundandcomeonbackuptogetmyheadtreated.10.35.Givemeaminutetofalldownandhitthegroundwithmyface.ThereasonIhititwithmyface,Igotmychinscraped.Ithurts.Itfeelsscraped.ThatwayIknowit’sscraped.No,Ican’tseeit.Idon’thavetoseeit.It’smychinandIknowwhetherit’sscrapedornot.Maybeyouwanttomakesomethingofit.Okey,shutupandletmethink.Whatwith?...

Thewatchshowed10.56p.m.ThatmeantIhadbeenoutfortwentyminutes.

Twentyminutes’sleep.Justanicedoze.InthattimeIhadmuffedajobandlosteightthousanddollars.Well,whynot?Intwentyminutesyoucansinkabattleship,downthreeorfourplanes,holdadoubleexecution.Youcandie,getmarried,getfiredandfindanewjob,haveatoothpulled,haveyourtonsilsout.Intwentyminutesyoucanevengetupinthemorning.Youcangetaglassofwateratanightclub—maybe.

Twentyminutes’sleep.That’salongtime.Especiallyonacoldnight,outintheopen.Ibegantoshiver.

Iwasstillonmyknees.Thesmellofthesagewasbeginningtobotherme.Thestickyoozefromwhichwildbeesgettheirhoney.Honeywassweet,muchtoosweet.Mystomachtookawhirl.Iclampedmyteethtightandjustmanagedtokeepitdownmythroat.Coldsweatstoodoutinlumpsonmyforehead,butIshiveredjustthesame.Igotupononefoot,thenonbothfeet,straightenedup,wobblingalittle.Ifeltlikeanamputatedleg.

Iturnedslowly.Thecarwasgone.Thedirtroadstretchedempty,backuptheshallowhilltowardsthepavedstreet,theendofCaminodelaCosta.Totheleftthebarrierofwhite-paintedfour-by-foursstoodoutagainstthedarkness.BeyondthelowwallofbrushthepaleglowintheskywouldbethelightsofBayCity.AndoverfarthertotherightandnearbywerethelightsoftheBelvedereClub.

Iwentoverwherethecarhadstoodandgotafountainpenflashunclippedfrommypocketand

pokedthelittlelightdownattheground.Thesoilwasredloam,veryhardindryweather,buttheweatherwasnotbonedry.Therewasalittlefogintheair,andenoughofthemoisturehadsettledonthesurfaceofthegroundtoshowwherethecarhadstood.Icouldsee,veryfaint,thetreadmarksoftheheavyten-plyVoguetires.Iputthelightonthemandbentoverandthepainmademyheaddizzy.Istartedtofollowthetracks.Theywentstraightaheadforadozenfeet,thenswungovertotheleft.Theydidn’tturn.Theywenttowardsthegapattheleft-handendofthewhitebarricade.ThenIlostthem.

Iwentovertothebarricadeandshonethelittlelightonthebrush.Fresh-brokentwigs.Iwentthroughthegap,ondownthecurvingroad.Thegroundwasstillsofterhere.Moremarksoftheheavytires.Iwentondown,roundedthecurveandwasattheedgeofthehollowclosedinbybrush.

Itwasthereallright,thechromiumandglossypaintshiningalittleeveninthedark,andtheredreflectorglassofthetail-lightsshiningbackatthepencilflash.Itwasthere,silent,lightless,allthedoorsshut.Iwenttowardsitslowly,grittingmyteethateverystep.Iopenedoneofthereardoorsandputthebeamoftheflashinside.Empty.Thefrontwasemptytoo.Theignitionwasoff.Thekeyhunginthelockonathinchain.Notornupholstery,noscarredglass,noblood,nobodies.Everythingneatandorderly.Ishutthedoorsandcircledthecarslowly,lookingforasignandnotfindingany.

Asoundfrozeme.

Amotorthrobbedabovetherimofthebrush.Ididn’tjumpmorethanafoot.Theflashinmyhandwentout.Agunslidintomyhandallbyitself.Thenheadlightbeamstilteduptowardsthesky,thentilteddownagain.Themotorsoundedlikeasmallcar.Ithadthatcontentedsoundthatcomeswithmoistureintheair.

Thelightstilteddownstillmoreandgotbrighter.Acarwascomingdownthecurveofthedirtroad.Itcametwo-thirdsofthewayandthenstopped.Aspotlightclickedonandswungouttotheside,heldthereforalongmoment,wentoutagain.Thecarcamedownthehill.IslippedthegunoutofmypocketandcrouchedbehindthemotorofMarriott’scar.

Asmallcoupeofnoparticularshapeorcolorslidintothehollowandturnedsothatitsheadlightsrakedthesedanfromoneendtotheother.Igotmyheaddowninahurry.Thelightssweptabovemelikeasword.Thecoupestopped.Themotordied.Theheadlightsdied.Silence.Thenadooropenedandalightfoottouchedtheground.Moresilence.Eventhecricketsweresilent.Thenabeamoflightcutthedarknesslowdown,paralleltothegroundandonlyafewinchesaboveit.Thebeamswept,andtherewasnowayIcouldgetmyanklesoutofitquicklyenough.Thebeamstoppedonmyfeet.Silence.Thebeamcameupandrakedthetopofthehoodagain.

Thenalaugh.Itwasagirl’slaugh.Strained,tautasamandolinwire.Astrangesoundinthatplace.Thewhitebeamshotunderthecaragainandsettledonmyfeet.

Thevoicesaid,notquiteshrilly:“Allright,you.Comeoutoftherewithyourhandsupandverydamnedempty.You’recovered.”

Ididn’tmove.

Thelightwaveredalittle,asthoughthehandthathelditwavered.Itsweptslowlyalongthehood

oncemore.Thevoicestabbedatmeagain.

“Listen,stranger.I’mholdingatenshotautomatic.Icanshootstraight.Bothyourfeetarevulnerable.Whatdoyoubid?”

“Putitup—orI’llblowitoutofyourhand!”Isnarled.Myvoicesoundedlikesomebodytearingslatsoffachickencoop.

“Oh—ahard-boiledgentleman.”Therewasaquaverinthevoice,anicelittlequaver.Thenithardenedagain.“Comingout?I’llcountthree.LookattheoddsI’mgivingyou—twelvefatcylinders,maybesixteen.Butyourfeetwillhurt.Andanklebonestakeyearsandyearstogetwellandsometimestheyneverdoreally—”

Istraightenedupslowlyandlookedintothebeamoftheflashlight.

“ItalktoomuchwhenI’mscaredtoo,”Isaid.

“Don’t—don’tmoveanotherinch!Whoareyou?”

Imovedaroundthefrontofthecartowardsher.WhenIwassixfeetfromtheslimdarkfigurebehindtheflashIstopped.Theflashglaredatmesteadily.

“Youstayrightthere,”thegirlsnappedangrily,afterIhadstopped.“Whoareyou?”

“Let’sseeyourgun.”

Shehelditforwardintothelight.Itwaspointedatmystomach.Itwasalittlegun,itlookedlikeasmallColtvestpocketautomatic.

“Oh,that,”Isaid.“Thattoy.Itdoesn’teitherholdtenshots.Itholdssix.It’sjustalittlebittygun,abutterflygun.Theyshootbutterflieswiththem.Shameonyoufortellingadeliberatelielikethat.”

“Areyoucrazy?”

“Me?I’vebeensappedbyaholdupman.Imightbealittlegoofy.”

“Isthat—isthatyourcar?”

“No.”

“Whoareyou?”

“Whatwereyoulookingatbacktherewithyourspotlight?”

“Igetit.Youasktheanswers.He-manstuff.Iwaslookingataman.”

“Doeshehaveblondhairinwaves?”

“Notnow,”shesaidquietly.“Hemighthavehad—once.”

Thatjarredme.SomehowIhadn’texpectedit.“Ididn’tseehim,”Isaidlamely.“Iwasfollowingthetiremarkswithaflashlightdownthehill.Ishebadlyhurt?”Iwentanothersteptowardsher.Thelittlegunjumpedatmeandtheflashheldsteady.

“Takeiteasy,”shesaidquietly.“Veryeasy.Yourfriendisdead.”

Ididn’tsayanythingforamoment.ThenIsaid:“Allright,let’sgolookathim.”

“Let’sstandrighthereandnotmoveandyoutellmewhoyouareandwhathappened.”Thevoicewascrisp.Itwasnotafraid.Itmeantwhatitsaid.

“Marlowe.PhilipMarlowe.Aninvestigator.Private.”

“That’swhoyouare—ifit’strue.Proveit.”

“I’mgoingtotakemywalletout.”

“Idon’tthinkso.Justleaveyourhandswheretheyhappentobe.We’llskiptheproofforthetimebeing.What’syourstory?”

“Thismanmaynotbedead.”

“He’sdeadallright.Withhisbrainsonhisface.Thestory,mister.Makeitfast.”

“AsIsaid—hemaynotbedead.We’llgolookathim.”Imovedonefootforward.

“MoveandI’lldrillyou!”shesnapped.

Imovedtheotherfootforward.Theflashjumpedaboutalittle.Ithinkshetookastepback.

“Youtakesomeawfulchances,mister,”shesaidquietly.“Allright,goonaheadandI’llfollow.Youlooklikeasickman.Ifithadn’tbeenforthat—”

“You’dhaveshotme.I’vebeensapped.Italwaysmakesmealittledarkundertheeyes.”

“Anicesenseofhumor—likeamorgueattendant,”shealmostwailed.

Iturnedawayfromthelightandimmediatelyitshoneonthegroundinfrontofme.Iwalkedpastthelittlecoupe,anordinarylittlecar,cleanandshinyunderthemistystarlight.Iwenton,upthedirtroad,aroundthecurve.Thestepswereclosebehindmeandtheflashlightguidedme.Therewasnosoundanywherenowexceptourstepsandthegirl’sbreathing.Ididn’thearmine.

ELEVEN

HalfwayuptheslopeIlookedofftotherightandsawhisfoot.Sheswungthelight.ThenIsawallofhim.IoughttohaveseenhimasIcamedown,butIhadbeenbentover,peeringatthegroundwiththefountainpenflash,tryingtoreadtiremarksbyalightthesizeofaquarter.

“Givemetheflash,”Isaidandreachedback.

Sheputitintomyhand,withoutaword.Iwentdownonaknee.Thegroundfeltcoldanddampthroughthecloth.

Helaysmearedtotheground,onhisback,atthebaseofabush,inthatbag-of-clothespositionthatalwaysmeansthesamething.HisfacewasafaceIhadneverseenbefore.Hishairwasdarkwithblood,thebeautifulblondledgesweretangledwithbloodandsomethickgrayishooze,likeprimevalslime.

Thegirlbehindmebreathedhard,butshedidn’tspeak.Iheldthelightonhisface.Hehadbeenbeatentoapulp,Oneofhishandswasflungoutinafrozengesture,thefingerscurled.Hisovercoatwashalftwistedunderhim,asthoughhehadrolledashefell.Hislegswerecrossed.Therewasatrickleasblackasdirtyoilatthecornerofhismouth.

“Holdtheflashonhim,”Isaid,passingitbacktoher.“Ifitdoesn’tmakeyousick.”

Shetookitandhelditwithoutaword,assteadyasanoldhomicideveteran.Igotmyfountainpenflashoutagainandstartedtogothroughhispockets,tryingnottomovehim.

“Youshouldn’tdothat,”shesaidtensely.“Youshouldn’ttouchhimuntilthepolicecome.”

“That’sright,”Isaid.“AndtheprowlcarboysarenotsupposedtotouchhimuntiltheK-carmencomeandthey’renotsupposedtotouchhimuntilthecoroner ’sexaminerseeshimandthephotographershavephotographedhimandthefingerprintmanhastakenhisprints.Anddoyouknow

howlongallthatisliabletotakeouthere?Acoupleofhours.”

“Allright,”shesaid.“Isupposeyou’realwaysright.Iguessyoumustbethatkindofperson.Somebodymusthavehatedhimtosmashhisheadinlikethat.”

“Idon’tsupposeitwaspersonal,”Igrowled.“Somepeoplejustliketosmashheads.”

“SeeingthatIdon’tknowwhatit’sallabout,Icouldn’tguess,”shesaidtartly.

Iwentthroughhisclothes.Hehadloosesilverandbillsinonetrouserpocket,atooledleatherkeycaseintheother,alsoasmallknife.Hislefthippocketyieldedasmallbillfoldwithmorecurrency,insurancecards,adriver ’slicense,acoupleofreceipts.Inhiscoatloosematchfolders,agoldpencilclippedtoapocket,twothincambrichandkerchiefsasfineandwhiteasdrypowderedsnow.ThentheenamelcigarettecasefromwhichIhadseenhimtakehisbrowngold-tippedcigarettes.TheywereSouthAmerican,fromMontevideo.AndintheotherinsidepocketasecondcigarettecaseIhadn’tseenbefore.Itwasmadeofembroideredsilk,adragononeachside,aframeofimitationtortoise-shellsothinitwashardlythereatall.ItickledthecatchopenandlookedinatthreeoversizedRussiancigarettesunderthebandofelastic.Ipinchedone.Theyfeltoldanddryandloose.Theyhadhollowmouthpieces.

“Hesmokedtheothers,”Isaidovermyshoulder.“Thesemusthavebeenforaladyfriend.Hewouldbealadwhowouldhavealotofladyfriends.”

Thegirlwasbentover,breathingonmynecknow.“Didn’tyouknowhim?”

“Ionlymethimtonight.Hehiredmeforabodyguard.”

“Somebodyguard.”

Ididn’tsayanythingtothat.

“I’msorry,”shealmostwhispered.“OfcourseIdon’tknowthecircumstances.Doyousupposethosecouldbejujus?CanIlook?”

Ipassedtheembroideredcasebacktoher.

“Iknewaguyoncewhosmokedjujus,”shesaid.“Threehighballsandthreesticksofteaandittookapipewrenchtogethimoffthechandelier.”

“Holdthelightsteady.”

Therewasarustlingpause.Thenshespokeagain.

“I’msorry.”ShehandedthecasedownagainandIslippeditbackinhispocket.Thatseemedtobeall.Allitprovedwasthathehadn’tbeencleanedout.

Istoodupandtookmywalletout.Thefivetwentieswerestillinit.

“High-classboys,”Isaid.“Theyonlytookthelargemoney.”

Theflashwasdroopingtotheground.Iputmywalletawayagain,clippedmyownsmallflashtomypocketandreachedsuddenlyforthelittlegunshewasstillholdinginthesamehandwiththeflashlight.Shedroppedtheflashlight,butIgotthegun.ShesteppedbackquicklyandIreacheddownforthelight.Iputitonherfaceforamoment,thensnappeditoff.

“Youdidn’thavetoberough,”shesaid,puttingherhandsdownintothepocketsofalongroughcoatwithflaringshoulders.“Ididn’tthinkyoukilledhim.”

Ilikedthecoolquietofhervoice.Ilikedhernerve.Westoodinthedarkness,facetoface,notsayinganythingforamoment.Icouldseethebrushandlightinthesky.

Iputthelightonherfaceandsheblinked.Itwasasmallneatvibrantfacewithlargeeyes.Afacewithboneundertheskin,finedrawnlikeaCremonaviolin.Averyniceface.

“Yourhair ’sred,”Isaid.“YoulookIrish.”

“Andmyname’sRiordan.Sowhat?Putthatlightout.It’snotred,it’sauburn.”

Iputitout.“What’syourfirstname?”

“Anne.Anddon’tcallmeAnnie.”

“Whatareyoudoingaroundhere?”

“SometimesatnightIgoriding.Justrestless.Ilivealone.I’manorphan.Iknowallthisneighborhoodlikeabook.Ijusthappenedtoberidingalongandnoticedalightflickeringdowninthehollow.Itseemedalittlecoldforyounglove.Andtheydon’tuselights,dothey?”

“Ineverdid.Youtakesomeawfulchances,MissRiordan.”

“IthinkIsaidthesameaboutyou.Ihadagun.Iwasn’tafraid.There’snolawagainstgoingdownthere.”

“Uh-huh.Onlythelawofselfpreservation.Here.It’snotmynighttobeclever.Isupposeyouhaveapermitforthegun.”Ihelditouttoher,buttfirst.

Shetookitandtuckeditdownintoherpocket.“Strangehowcuriouspeoplecanbe,isn’tit?Iwritealittle.Featurearticles.”

“Anymoneyinit?”

“Verydamnedlittle.Whatwereyoulookingfor—inhispockets?”

“Nothinginparticular.I’magreatguytosnooparound.Wehadeightthousanddollarstobuybacksomestolenjewelryforalady.Wegothijacked.WhytheykilledhimIdon’tknow.Hedidn’tstrikemeasafellowwhowouldputupmuchofafight.AndIdidn’thearafight.Iwasdowninthehollowwhenhewasjumped.Hewasinthecar,upabove.Weweresupposedtodrivedownintothehollowbuttheredidn’tseemtoberoomforthecarwithoutscratchingitup.SoIwentdownthereonfootandwhileIwasdowntheretheymusthavestuckhimup.Thenoneofthemgotintothecarand

dry-gulchedme.Ithoughthewasstillinthecar,ofcourse.”

“Thatdoesn’tmakeyousoterriblydumb,”shesaid.

“Therewassomethingwrongwiththejobfromthestart.Icouldfeelit.ButIneededthemoney.NowIhavetogotothecopsandeatdirt.WillyoudrivemetoMontemarVista?Ileftmycarthere.Helivedthere.”

“Sure.Butshouldn’tsomebodystaywithhim?Youcouldtakemycar—orIcouldgocallthecops.”

Ilookedatthedialofmywatch.Thefaintlyglowinghandssaidthatitwasgettingtowardsmidnight.

“No.”

“Whynot?”

“Idon’tknowwhynot.Ijustfeelitthatway.I’llplayitalone.”

Shesaidnothing.Wewentbackdownthehillandgotintoherlittlecarandshestarteditandjockeyeditaroundwithoutlightsanddroveitbackupthehillandeaseditpastthebarrier.Ablockawayshesprangthelightson.

Myheadached.Wedidn’tspeakuntilwecamelevelwiththefirsthouseonthepavedpartofthestreet.Thenshesaid:

“Youneedadrink.Whynotgobacktomyhouseandhaveone?Youcanphonethelawfromthere.TheyhavetocomefromWestLosAngelesanyway.There’snothingupherebutafirestation.”

“Justkeepongoingdowntothecoast.I’llplayitsolo.”

“Butwhy?I’mnotafraidofthem.Mystorymighthelpyou.”

“Idon’twantanyhelp.I’vegottothink.Iwanttobebymyselfforawhile.”

“I—okey,”shesaid.

Shemadeavaguesoundinherthroatandturnedontotheboulevard.WecametotheservicestationatthecoasthighwayandturnednorthtoMontemarVistaandthesidewalkcafethere.Itwaslituplikealuxuryliner.ThegirlpulledoverontotheshoulderandIgotoutandstoodholdingthedoor.

Ifumbledacardoutofmywalletandpasseditintoher.“Somedayyoumayneedastrongback,”Isaid.“Letmeknow.Butdon’tcallmeifit’sbrainwork.”

Shetappedthecardonthewheelandsaidslowly:“You’llfindmeintheBayCityphonebook.819Twenty-fifthStreet.Comearoundandpinaputtymedalonmeformindingmyownbusiness.Ithinkyou’restillwoozyfromthatcrackonthehead.”

SheswunghercarswiftlyaroundonthehighwayandIwatcheditstwintail-lightsfadeintothedark.

Iwalkedpastthearchandthesidewalkcafeintotheparkingspaceandgotintomycar.AbarwasrightinfrontofmeandIwasshakingagain.ButitseemedsmartertowalkintotheWestLosAngelespolicestationthewayIdidtwentyminuteslater,ascoldasafrogandasgreenasthebackofanewdollarbill.

TWELVE

Itwasanhourandahalflater.Thebodyhadbeentakenaway,thegroundgoneover,andIhadtoldmystorythreeorfourtimes.Wesat,fourofus,inthedaycaptain’sroomattheWestLosAngelesstation.ThebuildingwasquietexceptforadrunkinacellwhokeptgivingtheAustralianbushcallwhilehewaitedtogodowntownforsunrisecourt.

AhardwhitelightinsideaglassreflectorshonedownontheflattoppedtableonwhichwerespreadthethingsthathadcomefromLindsayMarriott’spockets,thingsnowthatseemedasdeadandhomelessastheirowner.ThemanacrossthetablefrommewasnamedRandallandhewasfromCentralHomicideinLosAngeles.Hewasathinquietmanoffiftywithsmoothcreamygrayhair,coldeyes,adistantmanner.Heworeadarkredtiewithblackspotsonitandthespotskeptdancinginfrontofmyeyes.Behindhim,beyondtheconeoflighttwobeefymenloungedlikebodyguards,eachofthemwatchingoneofmyears.

Ifumbledacigarettearoundinmyfingersandlititanddidn’tlikethetasteofit.Isatwatchingitburnbetweenmyfingers.Ifeltabouteightyyearsoldandslippingfast.

Randallsaidcoldly:“Theofteneryoutellthisstorythesillieritsounds.ThismanMarriotthadbeennegotiatingfordays,nodoubt,aboutthispayoffandthenjustafewhoursbeforethefinalmeetinghecallsupaperfectstrangerandhireshimtogowithhimasabodyguard.”

“Notexactlyasabodyguard,”Isaid.“Ididn’teventellhimIhadagun.Justforcompany.”

“Wheredidhehearofyou?”

“Firsthesaidamutualfriend.Thenthathejustpickedmynameoutofthebook.”Randallpokedgentlyamongthestuffonthetableanddetachedawhitecardwithanairoftouchingsomethingnotquiteclean.Hepusheditalongthewood.

“Hehadyourcard.Yourbusinesscard.”

Iglancedatthecard.Ithadcomeoutofhisbillfold,togetherwithanumberofothercardsIhadn’tbotheredtoexaminebackthereinthehollowofPurissimaCanyon.Itwasoneofmycardsallright.Itlookedratherdirtyatthat,foramanlikeMarriott.Therewasaroundsmearacrossonecorner.

“Sure,”Isaid.“IhandthoseoutwheneverIgetachance.Naturally.”

“Marriottletyoucarrythemoney,”Randallsaid.“Eightthousanddollars.Hewasratheratrustingsoul.”

Idrewonmycigaretteandblewthesmoketowardstheceiling.Thelighthurtmyeyes.Thebackofmyheadached.

“Idon’thavetheeightthousanddollars,”Isaid.“Sorry.”

“No.Youwouldn’tbehere,ifyouhadthemoney.Orwouldyou?”Therewasacoldsneeronhisfacenow,butitlookedartificial.

“I’ddoalotforeightthousanddollars,”Isaid.“ButifIwantedtokillamanwithasap,I’donlyhithimtwiceatthemost—onthebackofthehead.”

Henoddedslightly.Oneofthedicksbehindhimspitintothewastebasket.

“That’soneofthepuzzlingfeatures.Itlookslikeanamateurjob,butofcourseitmightbemeanttolooklikeanamateurjob.ThemoneywasnotMarriott’s,wasit?”

“Idon’tknow.Igottheimpressionnot,butthatwasjustanimpression.Hewouldn’ttellmewhotheladyinthecasewas.”

“Wedon’tknowanythingaboutMarriott—yet,”Randallsaidslowly.“Isupposeit’satleastpossiblehemeanttostealtheeightthousandhimself.”

“Huh?”Ifeltsurprised.Iprobablylookedsurprised.NothingchangedinRandall’ssmoothface.

“Didyoucountthemoney?”

“Ofcoursenot.Hejustgavemeapackage.Therewasmoneyinitanditlookedlikealot.Hesaiditwaseightgrand.WhywouldhewanttostealitfrommewhenhealreadyhaditbeforeIcameonthescene?”

Randalllookedatacorneroftheceilinganddrewhismouthdownatthecorners.Heshrugged.

“Gobackabit,”hesaid.“SomebodyhadstuckupMarriottandaladyandtakenthisjadenecklaceandstuffandhadlaterofferedtosellitbackforwhatseemslikeaprettysmallamount,inviewofitssupposedvalue.Marriottwastohandlethepayoff.Hethoughtofhandlingitaloneandwedon’tknowwhethertheotherpartiesmadeapointofthatorwhetheritwasmentioned.Usuallyincaseslikethattheyareratherfussy.ButMarriottevidentlydecideditwasallrighttohaveyoualong.Bothofyoufiguredyouweredealingwithanorganizedgangandthattheywouldplayballwithinthelimitsoftheirtrade.Marriottwasscared.Thatwouldbenaturalenough.Hewantedcompany.Youwerethe

company.Butyouareacompletestrangertohim,justanameonacardhandedtohimbysomeunknownparty,saidbyhimtobeamutualfriend.ThenatthelastminuteMarriottdecidestohaveyoucarrythemoneyanddothetalkingwhilehehidesinthecar.Yousaythatwasyouridea,buthemayhavebeenhopingyouwouldsuggestit,andifyoudidn’tsuggestit,hewouldhavehadtheideahimself.”

“Hedidn’tliketheideaatfirst,”Isaid.

Randallshruggedagain.“Hepretendednottoliketheidea—buthegavein.Sofinallyhegetsacallandoffyougototheplacehedescribes.AllthisiscomingfromMarriott.Noneofitisknowntoyouindependently.Whenyougetthere,thereseemstobenobodyabout.Youaresupposedtodrivedownintothathollow,butitdoesn’tlooktoberoomenoughforthebigcar.Itwasn’t,asamatteroffact,becausethecarwasprettybadlyscratchedontheleftside.Soyougetoutandwalkdownintothehollow,seeandhearnothing,waitafewminutes,comebacktothecarandthensomebodyinthecarsocksyouonthebackofthehead.NowsupposeMarriottwantedthatmoneyandwantedtomakeyouthefallguy—wouldn’thehaveactedjustthewayhedid?”

“It’saswelltheory,”Isaid.“Marriottsockedme,tookthemoney,thenhegotsorryandbeathisbrainsout,afterfirstburyingthemoneyunderabush.”

Randalllookedatmewoodenly.“Hehadanaccompliceofcourse.Bothofyouweresupposedtobeknockedout,andtheaccomplicewouldbeatitwiththemoney.Onlytheaccomplicedouble-crossedMarriottbykillinghim.Hedidn’thavetokillyoubecauseyoudidn’tknowhim.”

Ilookedathimwithadmirationandgroundoutmycigarettestubinawoodentraythathadoncehadaglasslininginitbuthadn’tanymore.

“Itfitsthefacts—sofarasweknowthem,”Randallsaidcalmly.“It’snosillierthananyothertheorywecouldthinkupatthemoment.”

“Itdoesn’tfitonefact—thatIwassockedfromthecar,doesit?ThatwouldmakemesuspectMarriottofhavingsockedme—otherthingsbeingequal.AlthoughIdidn’tsuspecthimafterhewaskilled.”

“Thewayyouweresockedfitsbestofall,”Randallsaid.“Youdidn’ttellMarriottyouhadagun,buthemayhaveseenthebulgeunderyourarmoratleastsuspectedyouhadagun.Inthatcasehewouldwanttohityouwhenyoususpectednothing.Andyouwouldn’tsuspectanythingfromthebackofthecar.”

“Okey,”Isaid.“Youwin.It’sagoodtheory,alwayssupposingthemoneywasnotMarriott’sandthathewantedtostealitandthathehadanaccomplice.SohisplanisthatwebothwakeupwithbumpsonourheadsandthemoneyisgoneandwesaysosorryandIgohomeandforgetallaboutit.Isthathowitends?Imeanisthathowheexpectedittoend?Ithadtolookgoodtohimtoo,didn’tit?”

Randallsmiledwryly.“Idon’tlikeitmyself.Iwasjusttryingitout.Itfitsthefacts—asfarasIknowthem,whichisnotfar.”

“Wedon’tknowenoughtoevenstarttheorizing,”Isaid.“Whynotassumehewastellingthetruth

andthatheperhapsrecognizedoneofthestick-upmen?”

“Yousayyouheardnostruggle,nocry?”

“No.Buthecouldhavebeengrabbedquickly,bythethroat.Orhecouldhavebeentooscaredtocryoutwhentheyjumpedhim.Saytheywerewatchingfromthebushesandsawmegodownthehill.Iwentsomedistance,youknow.Agoodhundredfeet.TheygoovertolookintothecarandseeMarriott.Somebodysticksaguninhisfaceandmakeshimgetout—quietly.Thenhe’ssappeddown.Butsomethinghesays,orsomewayhelooks,makesthemthinkhehasrecognizedsomebody.”

“Inthedark?”

“Yes,”Isaid.“Itmusthavebeensomethinglikethat.Somevoicesstayinyourmind.Eveninthedarkpeoplearerecognized.”

Randallshookhishead.“Ifthiswasanorganizedgangofjewelthieves,theywouldn’tkillwithoutalotofprovocation.”Hestoppedsuddenlyandhiseyesgotaglazedlook.Heclosedhismouthveryslowly,verytight.Hehadanidea.“Hijack,”hesaid.

Inodded.“Ithinkthat’sanidea.”

“There’sanotherthing,”hesaid.“Howdidyougethere?”

“Idrovemycar.”

“Wherewasyourcar?”

“DownatMontemarVista,intheparkinglotbythesidewalkcafe.”

Helookedatmeverythoughtfully.Thetwodicksbehindhimlookedatmesuspiciously.Thedrunkinthecellstriedtoyodel,buthisvoicecrackedandthatdiscouragedhim.Hebegantocry.

“Iwalkedbacktothehighway,”Isaid.“Iflaggedacar.Agirlwasdrivingitalone.Shestoppedandtookmedown.”

“Somegirl,”Randallsaid.“Itwaslateatnight,onalonelyroad,andshestopped.”

“Yeah.Someofthemwilldothat.Ididn’tgettoknowher,butsheseemednice.”Istaredatthem,knowingtheydidn’tbelievemeandwonderingwhyIwaslyingaboutit.

“Itwasasmallcar,”Isaid.“AChevvycoupe.Ididn’tgetthelicensenumber.”

“Haw,hedidn’tgetthelicensenumber,”oneofthedickssaidandspatintothewastebasketagain.

Randallleanedforwardandstaredatmecarefully.“Ifyou’reholdinganythingbackwiththeideaofworkingonthiscaseyourselftomakeyourselfalittlepublicity,I’dforgetit,Marlowe.Idon’tlikeallthepointsinyourstoryandI’mgoingtogiveyouthenighttothinkitover.TomorrowI’llprobablyaskyouforaswornstatement.Inthemeantimeletmegiveyouatip.Thisisamurderandapolicejobandwewouldn’twantyourhelp,evenifitwasgood.Allwewantfromyouisfacts.Get

me?”

“Sure.CanIgohomenow?Idon’tfeelanytoowell.”

“Youcangohomenow.”Hiseyeswereicy.

Igotupandstartedtowardsthedoorinadeadsilence.WhenIhadgonefourstepsRandallclearedhisthroatandsaidcarelessly:

“Oh,onesmallpoint.DidyounoticewhatkindofcigarettesMarriottsmoked?’Iturned.“Yes.Brownones.SouthAmerican,inaFrenchenamelcase.”

Heleanedforwardandpushedtheembroideredsilkcaseoutofthepileofjunkonthetableandthenpulledittowardshim.

“Everseethisonebefore?”

“Sure.Iwasjustlookingatit.”

“Imean,earlierthisevening.”

“IbelieveIdid,”Isaid.“Lyingaroundsomewhere.Why?”

“Youdidn’tsearchthebody?”

“Okey,”Isaid.“Yes,Ilookedthroughhispockets.Thatwasinoneofthem.I’msorry.Justprofessionalcuriosity.Ididn’tdisturbanything.Afterallhewasmyclient.”

Randalltookholdoftheembroideredcasewithbothhandsandopenedit.Hesatlookingintoit.Itwasempty.Thethreecigarettesweregone.

Ibithardonmyteethandkeptthetiredlookonmyface.Itwasnoteasy.

“Didyouseehimsmokeacigaretteoutofthis?”

“No.”

Randallnoddedcoolly.“It’semptyasyousee.Butitwasinhispocketjustthesame.There’salittledustinit.I’mgoingtohaveitexaminedunderamicroscope.I’mnotsure,butIhaveanideait’smarihuana.”

Isaid:“Ifhehadanyofthose,Ishouldthinkhewouldhavesmokedacoupletonight.Heneededsomethingtocheerhimup.”

Randallclosedthecasecarefullyandpusheditaway.

“That’sall,”hesaid.“Andkeepyournoseclean.”

Iwentout.

Thefoghadclearedoffoutsideandthestarswereasbrightasartificialstarsofchromiumonaskyofblackvelvet.Idrovefast.Ineededadrinkbadlyandthebarswereclosed.

THIRTEEN

Igotupatnine,drankthreecupsofblackcoffee,bathedthebackofmyheadwithice-waterandreadthetwomorningpapersthathadbeenthrownagainsttheapartmentdoor.TherewasaparagraphandabitaboutMooseMalloy,inPartII,butNultydidn’tgethisnamementioned.TherewasnothingaboutLindsayMarriott,unlessitwasonthesocietypage.

Idressedandatetwosoft-boiledeggsanddrankafourthcupofcoffeeandlookedmyselfoverinthemirror.Istilllookedalittleshadowyundertheeyes.Ihadthedooropentoleavewhenthephonerang.

ItwasNulty.Hesoundedmean.

“Marlowe?”

“Yeah.Didyougethim?”

“Ohsure.Wegothim.”Hestoppedtosnarl.“OntheVenturaline,likeIsaid.Boy,didwehavefun!Sixfootsix,builtlikeacofferdam,onhiswaytoFriscotoseetheFair.Hehadfivequartsofhoochinthefrontseatoftherentcar,andhewasdrinkingoutofanotheroneasherodealong,doingaquietseventy.Allwehadtogoupagainsthimwithwastwocountycopswithgunsandblackjacks.”

HepausedandIturnedoverafewwittysayingsinmymind,butnoneofthemseemedamusingatthemoment.Nultywenton:

“Sohedoneexerciseswiththecopsandwhentheywastiredenoughtogotosleep,hepulledonesideofftheircar,threwtheradiointotheditch,openedafreshbottleofhooch,andwenttosleephisself.Afterawhiletheboyssnappedoutofitandbouncedblackjacksoffhisheadforabouttenminutesbeforehenoticedit.Whenhebegantogetsoretheygothandcuffsonhim.Itwaseasy.Wegothimintheiceboxnow,drunkdriving,drunkinauto,assaultingpoliceofficerinperformanceofduty,twocounts,maliciousdamagetoofficialproperty,attemptedescapefromcustody,assaultless

thanmayhem,disturbingthepeace,andparkingonastatehighway.Fun,ain’tit?”

“What’sthegag?”Iasked.“Youdidn’ttellmeallthatjusttogloat.”

“Itwasthewrongguy,”Nultysaidsavagely.“ThisbirdisnamedStoyanoffskyandhelivesinHemetandhejustgotthroughworkingasasandhogontheSanJacktunnel.Gotawifeandfourkids.Boy,isshesore.WhatyoudoingonMalloy?”

“Nothing.Ihaveaheadache.”

“Anytimeyougetalittlefreetime—”

“Idon’tthinkso,”Isaid.“Thanksjustthesame.Whenistheinquestontheniggercomingup?”

“Whybother?”Nultysneered,andhungup.

IdrovedowntoHollywoodBoulevardandputmycarintheparkingspacebesidethebuildingandrodeuptomyfloor.IopenedthedoorofthelittlereceptionroomwhichIalwaysleftunlocked,incaseIhadaclientandtheclientwantedtowait.

MissAnneRiordanlookedupfromamagazineandsmiledatme.

Shewaswearingatobaccobrownsuitwithahighneckedwhitesweaterinsideit.Herhairbydaylightwaspureauburnandonitsheworeahatwithacrownthesizeofawhiskeyglassandabrimyoucouldhavewrappedtheweek’slaundryin.Sheworeitatanangleofapproximatelyforty-fivedegrees,sothattheedgeofthebrimjustmissedhershoulder.Inspiteofthatitlookedsmart.Perhapsbecauseofthat.

Shewasabouttwenty-eightyearsold.Shehadarathernarrowforeheadofmoreheightthanisconsideredelegant.Hernosewassmallandinquisitive,herupperlipashadetoolongandhermouthmorethanashadetoowide.Hereyesweregray-bluewithflecksofgoldinthem.Shehadanicesmile.Shelookedasifshehadsleptwell.Itwasaniceface,afaceyougettolike.Pretty,butnotsoprettythatyouwouldhavetowearbrassknuckleseverytimeyoutookitout.

“Ididn’tknowjustwhatyourofficehourswere,”shesaid.“SoIwaited.Igatherthatyoursecretaryisnotheretoday.”

“Idon’thaveasecretary.”

Iwentacrossandunlockedtheinnerdoor,thenswitchedonthebuzzerthatrangontheouterdoor.“Let’sgointomyprivatethinkingparlor.”

Shepassedinfrontofmewithavaguescentofverydrysandalwoodandstoodlookingatthefivegreenfilingcases,theshabbyrust-redrug,thehalf-dustedfurniture,andthenottoocleannetcurtains.

“Ishouldthinkyouwouldwantsomebodytoanswerthephone,”shesaid.“Andonceinawhiletosendyourcurtainstothecleaners.”

“I’llsendthemoutcomeSt.Swithin’sDay.Haveachair.Imightmissafewunimportantjobs.Andalotoflegart.Isavemoney.”

“Isee,”shesaiddemurely,andplacedalargesuedebagcarefullyonthecorneroftheglass-toppeddesk.Sheleanedbackandtookoneofmycigarettes.Iburnedmyfingerwithapapermatchlightingitforher.

Sheblewafanofsmokeandsmiledthroughit.Niceteeth,ratherlarge.“Youprobablydidn’texpecttoseemeagainsosoon.Howisyourhead?”

“Poorly.No,Ididn’t.”

“Werethepolicenicetoyou?”

“Aboutthewaytheyalwaysare.”

“I’mnotkeepingyoufromanythingimportant,amI?”

“No.”

“AllthesameIdon’tthinkyou’reverypleasedtoseeme.”

Ifilledapipeandreachedforthepacketofpapermatches.Ilitthepipecarefully.Shewatchedthatwithapproval.Pipesmokersweresolidmen.Shewasgoingtobedisappointedinme.

“Itriedtoleaveyououtofit,”Isaid.“Idon’tknowwhyexactly.It’snobusinessofmineanymoreanyhow.Iatemydirtlastnightandbangedmyselftosleepwithabottleandnowit’sapolicecase:I’vebeenwarnedtoleaveitalone.”

“Thereasonyouleftmeoutofit,”shesaidcalmly,“wasthatyoudidn’tthinkthepolicewouldbelievejustmereidlecuriositytookmedownintothathollowlastnight.TheywouldsuspectsomeguiltyreasonandhammeratmeuntilIwasawreck.”

“HowdoyouknowIdidn’tthinkthesamething?”

“Copsarejustpeople,”shesaidirrelevantly.

“Theystartoutthatway,I’veheard.”

“Oh—cynicalthismorning.”Shelookedaroundtheofficewithanidlebutrakingglance.“Doyoudoprettywellinhere?Imeanfinancially?Imean,doyoumakealotofmoney—withthiskindoffurniture?”

Igrunted.

“OrshouldItrymindingmyownbusinessandnotaskingimpertinentquestions?”

“Woulditwork,ifyoutriedit?”

“Nowwe’rebothdoingit.Tellme,whydidyoucoverupformelastnight?WasitonaccountofIhavereddishhairandabeautifulfigure?”

Ididn’tsayanything.

“Let’strythisone,”shesaidcheerfully.“Wouldyouliketoknowwhothatjadenecklacebelongedto?”

Icouldfeelmyfacegettingstiff.IthoughthardbutIcouldn’trememberforsure.AndthensuddenlyIcould.Ihadn’tsaidawordtoheraboutajadenecklace.

Ireachedforthematchesandrelitmypipe.“Notverymuch,”Isaid.“Why?”

“BecauseIknow.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Whatdoyoudowhenyougetrealtalkative—wiggleyourtoes?”

“Allright,”Igrowled.“Youcameheretotellme.Goaheadandtellme.”

HerblueeyeswidenedandforamomentIthoughttheylookedalittlemoist.Shetookherlowerlipbetweenherteethandhelditthatwaywhileshestareddownatthedesk.Thensheshruggedandletgoofherlipandsmiledatmecandidly.

“OhIknowI’mjustadamnedinquisitivewench.Butthere’sastrainofbloodhoundinme.Myfatherwasacop.HisnamewasCliffRiordanandhewaspolicechiefofBayCityforsevenyears.Isupposethat’swhat’sthematter.”

“Iseemtoremember.Whathappenedtohim?”

“Hewasfired.Itbrokehisheart.AmobofgamblersheadedbyamannamedLairdBrunetteelectedthemselvesamayor.SotheyputDadinchargeoftheBureauofRecordsandIdentification,whichinBayCityisaboutthesizeofatea-bag.SoDadquitandpotteredaroundforacoupleofyearsandthendied.AndMotherdiedsoonafterhim.SoI’vebeenalonefortwoyears.”

“I’msorry,”Isaid.

Shegroundouthercigarette.Ithadnolipstickonit.“TheonlyreasonI’mboringyouwiththisisthatitmakesiteasyformetogetalongwithpolicemen.IsupposeIoughttohavetoldyoulastnight.SothismorningIfoundoutwhohadchargeofthecaseandwenttoseehim.Hewasalittlesoreatyouatfirst.”

“That’sallright,”Isaid.“IfIhadtoldhimthetruthonallpoints,hestillwouldn’thavebelievedme.Allhewilldoischewoneofmyearsoff.”

Shelookedhurt.Igotupandopenedtheotherwindow.Thenoiseofthetrafficfromtheboulevardcameininwaves,likenausea.Ifeltlousy.Iopenedthedeepdrawerofthedeskandgottheofficebottleoutandpouredmyselfadrink.

MissRiordanwatchedmewithdisapproval.Iwasnolongerasolidman.Shedidn’tsayanything.Idrankthedrinkandputthebottleawayagainandsatdown.

“Youdidn’toffermeone,”shesaidcoolly.

“Sorry.It’sonlyeleveno’clockorless.Ididn’tthinkyoulookedthetype.”

Hereyescrinkledatthecorners.“Isthatacompliment?”

“Inmycircle,yes.”

Shethoughtthatover.Itdidn’tmeananythingtoher.Itdidn’tmeananythingtomeeitherwhenIthoughtitover.Butthedrinkmademefeelalotbetter.

Sheleanedforwardandscrapedherglovesslowlyacrosstheglassofthedesk.“Youwouldn’twanttohireanassistant,wouldyou?Notifitonlycostyouakindwordnowandthen?”

“No.”

Shenodded.“Ithoughtprobablyyouwouldn’t.I’dbetterjustgiveyoumyinformationandgoonhome.”

Ididn’tsayanything.Ilitmypipeagain.Itmakesyoulookthoughtfulwhenyouarenotthinking.

“Firstofall,itoccurredtomethatajadenecklacelikethatwouldbeamuseumpieceandwouldbewellknown,”shesaid.

Iheldthematchintheair,stillburningandwatchingtheflamecrawlclosetomyfingers.ThenIblewitoutsoftlyanddroppeditinthetrayandsaid:

“Ididn’tsayanythingtoyouaboutajadenecklace.”

“No,butLieutenantRandalldid.”

“Somebodyoughttosewbuttonsonhisface.”

“Heknewmyfather.Ipromisednottotell.”

“You’retellingme.”

“Youknewalready,silly.”

Herhandsuddenlyflewupasifitwasgoingtoflytohermouth,butitonlyrosehalfwayandthenfellbackslowlyandhereyeswidened.Itwasagoodact,butIknewsomethingelseaboutherthatspoiledit.

“Youdidknow,didn’tyou?’Shebreathedthewords,hushedly.

“Ithoughtitwasdiamonds.Abracelet,apairofearrings,apendant,threerings,oneoftherings

withemeraldstoo.”

“Notfunny,”shesaid.“Notevenfast.”

“FeiTsuijade.Veryrare.Carvedbeadsaboutsixcaratsapiece,sixtyofthem.Wortheightythousanddollars.”

“Youhavesuchnicebrowneyes,”shesaid.“Andyouthinkyou’retough.”

“Well,whodoesitbelongtoandhowdidyoufindout?”

“Ifoundoutverysimply.Ithoughtthebestjewelerintownwouldprobablyknow,soIwentandaskedthemanagerofBlock’s.ItoldhimIwasawriterandwantedtodoanarticleonrarejade—youknowtheline.”

“Sohebelievedyourredhairandyourbeautifulfigure.”

Sheflushedcleartothetemples.“Well,hetoldmeanyway.ItbelongstoarichladywholivesinBayCity,inanestateonthecanyon.Mrs.LewinLockridgeGrayle.Herhusbandisaninvestmentbankerorsomething,enormouslyrich,worthabouttwentymillion.HeusedtoownaradiostationinBeverlyHills,StationKFDK,andMrs.Grayleusedtoworkthere.Hemarriedherfiveyearsago.She’saravishingblonde.Mr.Grayleiselderly,liverish,stayshomeandtakescalomelwhileMrs.Graylegoesplacesandhasagoodtime.”

“ThismanagerofBlock’s,”Isaid.“He’safellowthatgetsaround.”

“Oh,Ididn’tgetallthatfromhim,silly.Justaboutthenecklace.TherestIgotfromGiddyGertieArbogast.”

Ireachedintothedeepdrawerandbroughttheofficebottleupagain.

“You’renotgoingtoturnouttobeoneofthosedrunkendetectives,areyou?”sheaskedanxiously.

“Whynot?Theyalwayssolvetheircasesandtheyneverevensweat.Getonwiththestory.”

“GiddyGertieisthesocietyeditoroftheChronicle.I’veknownhimforyears.HeweighstwohundredandwearsaHitlermustache.HegotouthismorguefileontheGrayles.Look.”

Shereachedintoherbagandslidaphotographacrossthedesk,afive-by-threeglazedstill.

Itwasablonde.Ablondetomakeabishopkickaholeinastainedglasswindow.Shewaswearingstreetclothesthatlookedblackandwhite,andahattomatchandshewasalittlehaughty,butnottoomuch.Whateveryouneeded,whereveryouhappenedtobe—shehadit.Aboutthirtyyearsold.

Ipouredafastdrinkandburnedmythroatgettingitdown.“Takeitaway,”Isaid.“I’llstartjumping.”

“Why,Igotitforyou.You’llwanttoseeher,won’tyou?”

Ilookedatitagain.ThenIsliditundertheblotter.“Howabouttonightateleven?”

“Listen,thisisn’tjustabunchofgaglines,Mr.Marlowe.Icalledherup.She’llseeyou.Onbusiness.”

“Itmaystartoutthatway.”

Shemadeanimpatientgesture,soIstoppedfoolingaroundandgotmybattle-scarredfrownbackonmyface.“Whatwillsheseemeabout?”

“Hernecklace,ofcourse.Itwaslikethis.Icalledherupandhadalotoftroublegettingtotalktoher,ofcourse,butfinallyIdid.ThenIgaveherthesonganddanceIhadgiventhenicemanatBlock’sanditdidn’ttake.Shesoundedasifshehadahangover.Shesaidsomethingabouttalkingtohersecretary,butImanagedtokeepheronthephoneandaskherifitwastrueshehadaFeiTsuijadenecklace.Afterawhileshesaid,yes.IaskedifImightseeit.Shesaid,whatfor?Isaidmypieceoveragainanditdidn’ttakeanybetterthanthefirsttime.Icouldhearheryawningandbawlingsomebodyoutsidethemouthpieceforputtingmeon.ThenIsaidIwasworkingforPhilipMarlowe.Shesaid‘Sowhat?’Justlikethat.”

“Incredible.Butallthesocietydamestalkliketrampsnowadays.”

“Iwouldn’tknow,”MissRiordansaidsweetly.“Probablysomeofthemaretramps.SoIaskedherifshehadaphonewithnoextensionandshesaidwhatbusinesswasitofmine.Butthefunnythingwasshehadn’thunguponme.”

“Shehadthejadeonhermindandshedidn’tknowwhatyouwereleadingupto.AndshemayhaveheardfromRandallalready.”

MissRiordanshookherhead.“No.Icalledhimlaterandhedidn’tknowwhoownedthenecklaceuntilItoldhim.HewasquitesurprisedthatIhadfoundout.”

“He’llgetusedtoyou,”Isaid.“He’llprobablyhaveto.Whatthen?”

“SoIsaidtoMrs.Grayle:‘You’dstilllikeitback,wouldn’tyou?’Justlikethat.Ididn’tknowanyotherwaytosayit.Ihadtosaysomethingthatwouldjarherabit.Itdid.Shegavemeanothernumberinahurry.AndIcalledthatandIsaidI’dliketoseeher.Sheseemedsurprised.SoIhadtotellherthestory.Shedidn’tlikeit.Butshehadbeenwonderingwhyshehadn’theardfromMarriott.Iguessshethoughthehadgonesouthwiththemoneyorsomething.SoI’mtoseeherattwoo’clock.ThenI’lltellheraboutyouandhowniceanddiscreetyouareandhowyouwouldbeagoodmantohelphergetitback,ifthere’sanychanceandsoon.She’salreadyinterested.”

Ididn’tsayanything.Ijuststaredather.Shelookedhurt.“What’sthematter?DidIdoright?”

“Can’tyougetitthroughyourheadthatthisisapolicecasenowandthatI’vebeenwarnedtostayoffit?”

“Mrs.Graylehasaperfectrighttoemployyou,ifshewantsto.”

“Todowhat?”

Shesnappedandunsnappedherbagimpatiently.“Oh,mygoodness—awomanlikethat—withherlooks—can’tyousee—”Shestoppedandbitherlip.“WhatkindofmanwasMarriott?”

“Ihardlyknewhim.Ithoughthewasabitofapansy.Ididn’tlikehimverywell.”

“Washeamanwhowouldbeattractivetowomen?”

“Somewomen.Otherswouldwanttospit.”

“Well,itlooksasifhemighthavebeenattractivetoMrs.Grayle.Shewentoutwithhim.”

“Sheprobablygoesoutwithahundredmen.There’sverylittlechancetogetthenecklacenow.”

“Why?”

Igotupandwalkedtotheendoftheofficeandslappedthewallwiththeflatofmyhand,hard.Theclackingtypewriterontheothersidestoppedforamoment,andthenwenton.IlookeddownthroughtheopenwindowintotheshaftbetweenmybuildingandtheMansionHouseHotel.Thecoffeeshopsmellwasstrongenoughtobuildagarageon.Iwentbacktomydesk,droppedthebottleofwhiskeybackintothedrawer,shutthedrawerandsatdownagain.Ilitmypipefortheeighthorninthtimeandlookedcarefullyacrossthehalf-dustedglasstoMissRiordan’sgraveandhonestlittleface.

Youcouldgettolikethatfacealot.Glamouredupblondeswereadimeadozen,butthatwasafacethatwouldwear.Ismiledatit.

“Listen,Anne.KillingMarriottwasadumbmistake.Thegangbehindthisholdupwouldneverpullanythinglikethat.Whatmusthavehappenedwasthatsomegowed-upruntheytookalongforagun-holderlosthishead.Marriottmadeafalsemoveandsomepunkbeathimdownanditwasdonesoquicklynothingcouldbedonetopreventit.Hereisanorganizedmobwithinsideinformationonjewelsandthemovementsofthewomenthatwearthem.Theyaskmoderatereturnsandtheywouldplayball.Butherealsoisabackalleymurderthatdoesn’tfitatall.Myideaisthatwhoeverdiditisadeadmanhoursago,withweightsonhisankles,deepinthePacificOcean.Andeitherthejadewentdownwithhimorelsetheyhavesomeideaofitsrealvalueandtheyhavecacheditawayinaplacewhereitwillstayforalongtime—maybeforyearsbeforetheydarebringitoutagain.Or,ifthegangisbigenough,itmayshowupontheothersideoftheworld.Theeightthousandtheyaskedseemsprettylowiftheyreallyknowthevalueofthejade.Butitwouldbehardtosell.I’msureofonething.Theynevermeanttomurderanybody.”

AnneRiordanwaslisteningtomewithherlipsslightlypartedandaraptexpressiononherface,asifshewaslookingattheDalaiLhama.

Sheclosedhermouthslowlyandnoddedonce.“You’rewonderful,”shesaidsoftly.“Butyou’renuts.”

Shestoodupandgatheredherbagtoher.“Willyougotoseeherorwon’tyou?”

“Randallcan’tstopme—ifitcomesfromher.”

“Allright.I’mgoingtoseeanothersocietyeditorandgetsomemoredopeontheGraylesifIcan.Aboutherlovelife.Shewouldhaveone,wouldn’tshe?”

Thefaceframedinauburnhairwaswistful.

“Whohasn’t?“Isneered.

“Ineverhad.Notreally.”

Ireachedupandshutmymouthwithmyhand.Shegavemeasharplookandmovedtowardsthedoor.

“You’veforgottensomething,”Isaid.

Shestoppedandturned.“What?”Shelookedalloverthetopofthedesk.

“Youknowdamnwellwhat.”

Shecamebacktothedeskandleanedacrossitearnestly.“WhywouldtheykillthemanthatkilledMarriott,iftheydon’tgoinformurder?”

“Becausehewouldbethetypethatwouldgetpickedupsometimeandwouldtalk—whentheytookhisdopeawayfromhim.Imeantheywouldn’tkillacustomer.”

“Whatmakesyousosurethekillertookdope?”

“I’mnotsure.Ijustsaidthat.Mostpunksdo.”

“Oh.”Shestraightenedupandnoddedandsmiled.“Iguessyoumeanthese,”shesaidandreachedquicklyintoherbagandlaidasmalltissuebagpackageonthedesk.

Ireachedforit,pulledarubberbandoffitcarefullyandopenedupthepaper.OnitlaythreelongthickRussiancigaretteswithpapermouthpieces.Ilookedatheranddidn’tsayanything.

“IknowIshouldn’thavetakenthem,”shesaidalmostbreathlessly.“ButIknewtheywerejujus.TheyusuallycomeinplainpapersbutlatelyaroundBayCitytheyhavebeenputtingthemoutlikethis.I’veseenseveral.Ithoughtitwaskindofmeanforthepoormantobefounddeadwithmarihuanacigarettesinhispocket.”

“Yououghttohavetakenthecasetoo,”Isaidquietly.“Therewasdustinit.Anditbeingemptywassuspicious.”

“Icouldn’t—withyouthere.I—Ialmostwentbackanddid.ButIdidn’tquitehavethecourage.Diditgetyouinwrong?”

“No,”Ilied.“Whyshouldit?”

“I’mgladofthat,”shesaidwistfully.

“Whydidn’tyouthrowthemaway?”

Shethoughtaboutit,herbagclutchedtoherside,herwide-brimmedabsurdhattiltedsothatithidoneeye.“IguessitmustbebecauseI’macop’sdaughter,”shesaidatlast.“Youjustdon’tthrowawayevidence.”Hersmilewasfrailandguiltyandhercheekswereflushed.Ishrugged.

“Well—”thewordhungintheair,likesmokeinaclosedroom.Herlipsstayedpartedaftersayingit.Iletithang.Theflushonherfacedeepened.

“I’mhorriblysorry.Ishouldn’thavedoneit.”

Ipassedthattoo.

Shewentveryquicklytothedoorandout.

FOURTEEN

IpokedatoneofthelongRussiancigaretteswithafinger,thenlaidtheminaneatrow,sidebysideandsqueakedmychair.Youjustdon’tthrowawayevidence.Sotheywereevidence.Evidenceofwhat?Thatamanoccasionallysmokedastickoftea,amanwholookedasifanytouchoftheexoticwouldappealtohim.Ontheotherhandlotsoftoughguyssmokedmarihuana,alsolotsofbandmusiciansandhighschoolkids,andnicegirlswhohadgivenuptrying.Americanhasheesh.Aweedthatwouldgrowanywhere.Unlawfultocultivatenow.ThatmeantalotinacountryasbigastheU.S.A.

Isatthereandpuffedmypipeandlistenedtotheclackingtypewriterbehindthewallofmyofficeandthebong-bongofthetrafficlightschangingonHollywoodBoulevardandspringrustlingintheair,likeapaperbagblowingalongaconcretesidewalk.

Theywereprettybigcigarettes,butalotofRussiansare,andmarihuanaisacoarseleaf.Indianhemp.Americanhasheesh.Evidence.God,whathatsthewomenwear.Myheadached.Nuts.

Igotmypenknifeoutandopenedthesmallsharpblade,theoneIdidn’tcleanmypipewith,andreachedforoneofthem.That’swhatapolicechemistwoulddo.Slitonedownthemiddleandexaminethestuffunderamicroscope,tostartwith.Theremightjusthappentobesomethingunusualaboutit.Notverylikely,butwhatthehell,hewaspaidbythemonth.

Islitonedownthemiddle.Themouthpiecepartwasprettytoughtoslit.Okey,Iwasatoughguy,Islititanyway.Seeifyoucanstopme.

Outofthemouthpieceshinysegmentsofrolledthincardboardpartlystraightenedthemselvesandhadprintingonthem.Isatupstraightandpawedforthem.Itriedtospreadthemoutonthedeskinorder,buttheyslidaroundonthedesk.Igrabbedanotherofthecigarettesandsquintedinsidethemouthpiece.ThenIwenttoworkwiththebladeofthepocketknifeinadifferentway.Ipinchedthecigarettedowntotheplacewherethemouthpiecesbegan.Thepaperwasthinalltheway,youcouldfeelthegrainofwhatwasunderneath.SoIcutthemouthpieceoffcarefullyandthenstillmore

carefullycutthroughthemouthpiecelongways,butonlyjustenough.Itopenedoutandtherewasanothercardunderneath,rolledup,nottouchedthistime.

Ispreaditoutfondly.Itwasaman’scallingcard.Thinpaleivory,justoffwhite.Engravedonthatweredelicatelyshadedwords.InthelowerlefthandcorneraStillwoodHeightstelephonenumber.Inthelowerrighthandcornerthelegend,“ByAppointmentOnly.”Inthemiddle,alittlelarger,butstilldiscreet:“JulesAmthor.”Below,alittlesmaller:“PsychicConsultant.”

Itookholdofthethirdcigarette.Thistime,withalotofdifficulty,Iteasedthecardoutwithoutcuttinganything.Itwasthesame.Iputitbackwhereithadbeen.

Ilookedatmywatch,putmypipeinanashtray,andthenhadtolookatmywatchagaintoseewhattimeitwas.Irolledthetwocutcigarettesandthecutcardinpartofthetissuepaper,theonethatwascompletewithcardinsideinanotherpartofthetissuepaperandlockedbothlittlepackagesawayinmydesk.

Isatlookingatthecard.JulesAmthor,PsychicConsultant,ByAppointmentOnly,StillwoodHeightsphonenumber,noaddress.Threelikethatrolledinsidethreesticksoftea,inaChineseorJapanesesilkcigarettecasewithanimitationtortoise-shellframe,atradearticlethatmighthavecostthirty-fivetoseventy-fivecentsinanyOrientalstore,HooeyPhooeySing—LongSingTung,thatkindofplace,whereanice-manneredJaphissesatyou,laughingheartilywhenyousaythattheMoonofArabiaincensesmellslikethegirlsinFriscoSadie’sbackparlor.

Andallthisinthepocketofamanwhowasverydead,andwhohadanotherandgenuinelyexpensivecigarettecasecontainingcigaretteswhichheactuallysmoked.

Hemusthaveforgottenit.Itdidn’tmakesense.Perhapsithadn’tbelongedtohimatall.Perhapshehadpickeditupinahotellobby.Forgottenhehaditonhim.Forgottentoturnitin.JulesAmthor,PsychicConsultant.

ThephonerangandIanswereditabsently.Thevoicehadthecoolhardnessofacopwhothinksheisgood.ItwasRandall.Hedidn’tbark.Hewastheicytype.

“Soyoudidn’tknowwhothatgirlwaslastnight?Andshepickedyouupontheboulevardandyouwalkedovertothere.Nicelying,Marlowe.”

“Maybeyouhaveadaughterandyouwouldn’tlikenewscameramenjumpingoutofbushesandpoppingflashbulbsinherface.”

“Youliedtome.”

“Itwasapleasure.”

Hewassilentamoment,asifdecidingsomething.“We’llletthatpass,”hesaid.“I’veseenher.Shecameinandtoldmeherstory.She’sthedaughterofamanIknewandrespected,asithappens.”

“Shetoldyou,”Isaid,“andyoutoldher.”

“Itoldheralittle,”hesaidcoldly.“Forareason.I’mcallingyouforthesamereason.This

investigationisgoingtobeundercover.Wehaveachancetobreakthisjewelgangandwe’regoingtodoit.”

“Oh,it’sagangmurderthismorning.Okey.”

“Bytheway,thatwasmarihuanadustinthatfunnycigarettecase—theonewiththedragonsonit.Sureyoudidn’tseehimsmokeoneoutofit?”

“Quitesure.Inmypresencehesmokedonlytheothers.Buthewasn’tinmypresenceallthetime.”

“Isee.Well,that’sall.RememberwhatItoldyoulastnight.Don’ttrygettingideasaboutthiscase.Allwewantfromyouissilence.Otherwise—”

Hepaused.Iyawnedintothemouthpiece.

“Iheardthat,”hesnapped.“PerhapsyouthinkI’mnotinapositiontomakethatstick.Iam.Onefalsemoveoutofyouandyou’llbelockedupasamaterialwitness.”

“Youmeanthepapersarenottogetthecase?”

“They’llgetthemurder—buttheywon’tknowwhat’sbehindit.”

“Neitherdoyou,”Isaid.

“I’vewarnedyoutwicenow,”hesaid.“Thethirdtimeisout.”

“You’redoingalotoftalking,”Isaid,“foraguythatholdscards.”

Igotthephonehunginmyfaceforthat.Okey,thehellwithhim,lethimworkatit.

Iwalkedaroundtheofficealittletocooloff,boughtmyselfashortdrink,lookedatmywatchagainanddidn’tseewhattimeitwas,andsatdownatthedeskoncemore.

JulesAmthor,PsychicConsultant.ConsultationsbyAppointmentOnly.Givehimenoughtimeandpayhimenoughmoneyandhe’llcureanythingfromajadedhusbandtoagrasshopperplague.Hewouldbeanexpertinfrustratedloveaffairs,womenwhosleptaloneanddidn’tlikeit,wanderingboysandgirlswhodidn’twritehome,sellthepropertynoworholditforanotheryear,willthisparthurtmewithmypublicormakemeseemmoreversatile?Menwouldsneakinonhimtoo,bigstrongguysthatroaredlikelionsaroundtheirofficesandwereallcoldmushundertheirvests.Butmostlyitwouldbewomen,fatwomenthatpantedandthinwomenthatburned,oldwomenthatdreamedandyoungwomenthatthoughttheymighthaveElectracomplexes,womenofallsizes,shapesandages,butwithonethingincommon—money.NoThursdaysattheCountyHospitalforMr.JulesAmthor.Cashonthelineforhim.Richbitcheswhohadtobedunnedfortheirmilkbillswouldpayhimrightnow.

Afakelooartist,ahooplaspreader,andaladwhohadhiscardrolledupinsidesticksoftea,foundonadeadman.

Thiswasgoingtobegood.IreachedforthephoneandaskedtheO-operatorfortheStillwoodHeightsnumber.

FIFTEEN

Awoman’svoiceanswered,adry,husky-soundingforeignvoice:“’Allo.”

“MayItalktoMr.Amthor?”

“Ahno.Iregret.Iamver-rysor-ry.Amthorneverspeaksuponthetelephone.Iamheessecretary.WeelItakethemessage?”

“What’stheaddressoutthere?Iwanttoseehim.”

“Ah,youweeshtoconsultAmthorprofessionally?Heweelbever-rypleased.Butheeesver-rybeesy.Whenyouweeshtoseehim?”

“Rightaway.Sometimetoday.”

“Ah,”thevoiceregretted,“thatcannotbe.Thenextweekper ’aps.Iweellookatthebook.”

“Look,”Isaid,“nevermindthebook.You’avethepencil?”

“ButcertainlyI’avethepencil.I—”

“Takethisdown.MynameisPhilipMarlowe.Myaddressis615CahuengaBuilding,Hollywood.That’sonHollywoodBoulevardnearIvar.MyphonenumberisGlenview7537.”Ispelledthehardonesandwaited.

“Yes,MeesterMarlowe.I’avethat.”

“IwanttoseeMr.AmthoraboutamannamedMarriott.”Ispelledthattoo.“Itisveryurgent.Itisamatteroflifeanddeath.Iwanttoseehimfast.F-a-s-t—fast.Sudden,inotherwords.AmIclear?”

“Youtalkver-rystrange,”theforeignvoicesaid.

“No.”Itookholdofthephonestandardandshookit.“Ifeelfine.Ialwaystalklikethat.Thisisaveryqueerbusiness.Mr.Amthorwillpositivelywanttoseeme.I’maprivatedetective.ButIdon’twanttogotothepoliceuntilI’veseenhim.”

“Ah,”thevoicegotascoolasacafeteriadinner.“Youareofthepolice,no?”

“Listen,”Isaid.“Iamofthepolice,no.Iamaprivatedetective.Confidential.Butitisveryurgentjustthesame.Youcallmeback,no?You’avethetelephonenumber,yes?”

“Si.I’avethetelephonenumber.MeesterMarriott—heeessick?”

“Well,he’snotupandaround,”Isaid.“Soyouknowhim?”

“Butno.Yousayamatteroflifeanddeath.Amthorhecuremanypeople—”

“Thisisonetimeheflops,”Isaid.“I’llbewaitingforacall.”

Ihungupandlungedfortheofficebottle.IfeltasifIhadbeenthroughameatgrinder.Tenminutespassed.Thephonerang.Thevoicesaid:

“Amthorheweelseeyouatsixo’clock.”

“That’sfine.What’stheaddress?”

“Heweelsendacar.”

“Ihaveacarofmyown.Justgiveme—”

“Heweelsendacar,”thevoicesaidcoldly,andthephoneclickedinmyear.

Ilookedatmywatchoncemore.Itwasmorethantimeforlunch.Mystomachburnedfromthelastdrink.Iwasn’thungry.Ilitacigarette.Ittastedlikeaplumber ’shandkerchief.InoddedacrosstheofficeatMr.Rembrandt,thenIreachedformyhatandwentout.Iwashalfwaytotheelevatorbeforethethoughthitme.Ithitmewithoutanyreasonorsense,likeadroppedbrick.IstoppedandleanedagainstthemarbledwallandpushedmyhataroundonmyheadandsuddenlyIlaughed.

Agirlpassingmeonthewayfromtheelevatorsbacktoherworkturnedandgavemeoneofthoselookswhicharesupposedtomakeyourspinefeellikearuninastocking.Iwavedmyhandatherandwentbacktomyofficeandgrabbedthephone.IcalledupamanIknewwhoworkedontheLotBooksofatitlecompany.“Canyoufindapropertybytheaddressalone?”Iaskedhim.

“Sure.Wehaveacross-index.Whatisit?”

“1644West54thPlace.I’dliketoknowalittlesomethingabouttheconditionofthetitle.”

“I’dbettercallyouback.What’sthatnumber?”

Hecalledbackinaboutthreeminutes.

“Getyourpencilout,”hesaid.“It’sLot8ofBlock11ofCaraday’sAdditiontotheMaplewoodTractNumber4.Theownerofrecord,subjecttocertainthings,isJessiePierceFlorian,widow.”

“Yeah.Whatthings?”

“Secondhalftaxes,twoten-yearstreetimprovementbonds,onestormdrainassessmentbondalsotenyear,noneofthesedelinquent,alsoafirsttrustdeedof$2600.”

“Youmeanoneofthosethingswheretheycansellyououtontenminutes’notice?”

“Notquitethatquick,butalotquickerthanamortgage.There’snothingunusualaboutitexcepttheamount.It’shighforthatneighborhood,unlessit’sanewhouse.”

“It’saveryoldhouseandinbadrepair,”Isaid.“I’dsayfifteenhundredwouldbuytheplace.”

“Thenit’sdistinctlyunusual,becausetherefinancingwasdoneonlyfouryearsago.”

“Okey,whoholdsit?Someinvestmentcompany?”

“No.Anindividual.MannamedLindsayMarriott,asingleman.Okey?”

IforgetwhatIsaidtohimorwhatthanksImade.Theyprobablysoundedlikewords.Isatthere,juststaringatthewall.

Mystomachsuddenlyfeltfine.Iwashungry.IwentdowntotheMansionHouseCoffeeShopandatelunchandgotmycaroutoftheparkinglotnexttomybuilding.

Idrovesouthandeast,towardsWest54thPlace.Ididn’tcarryanyliquorwithmethistime.

SIXTEEN

Theblocklookedjustasithadlookedthedaybefore.Thestreetwasemptyexceptforanicetruck,twoFordsindriveways,andaswirlofdustgoingaroundacorner.IdroveslowlypastNo.1644andparkedfartheralongandstudiedthehousesoneithersideofmine.Iwalkedbackandstoppedinfrontofit,lookingatthetoughpalmtreeandthedrabunwateredscrapoflawn.Thehouseseemedempty,butprobablywasn’t.Itjusthadthatlook.Thelonelyrockeronthefrontporchstoodjustwhereithadstoodyesterday.Therewasathrow-awaypaperonthewalk.IpickeditupandslappeditagainstmylegandthenIsawthecurtainmovenextdoor,inthenearfrontwindow.

OldNoseyagain.Iyawnedandtiltedmyhatdown.Asharpnosealmostflatteneditselfagainsttheinsideoftheglass.Whitehairaboveit,andeyesthatwerejusteyesfromwhereIstood.Istrolledalongthesidewalkandtheeyeswatchedme.Iturnedintowardsherhouse.Iclimbedthewoodenstepsandrangthebell.

Thedoorsnappedopenasifithadbeenonaspring.Shewasatalloldbirdwithachinlikearabbit.Seenfromclosehereyeswereassharpaslightsonstillwater.Itookmyhatoff.

“AreyoutheladywhocalledthepoliceaboutMrs.Florian?”Shestaredatmecoollyandmissednothingaboutme,probablynoteventhemoleonmyrightshoulderblade.

“Iain’tsayin’Iam,youngman,andIain’tsayin’Iain’t.Whoareyou?”Itwasahightwangyvoice,madefortalkingoveraneightpartyline.

“I’madetective.”

“Land’ssakes.Whydidn’tyousayso?What’sshedonenow?Iain’tseenathingandIain’tmissedaminute.Henrydoneallthegoin’tothestoreforme.Ain’tbeenasoundoutofthere.”

Shesnappedthescreendoorunhookedanddrewmein.Thehallsmelledoffurnitureoil.Ithadalotofdarkfurniturethathadoncebeeningoodstyle.Stuffwithinlaidpanelsandscollopsatthe

corners.Wewentintoafrontroomthathadcottonlaceantimacassarspinnedoneverythingyoucouldstickapininto.

“Say,didn’tIseeyoubefore?”sheaskedsuddenly,anoteofsuspicioncrawlingaroundinhervoice.“SureenoughIdid.Youwasthemanthat—”

“That’sright.AndI’mstilladetective.Who’sHenry?”

“Oh,he’sjustalittlecoloredboythatdoeserrandsforme.Well,whatyouwant,youngman?”Shepattedacleanredandwhiteapronandgavemethebeadyeye.Sheclickedherstoreteethacoupleoftimesforpractice.

“DidtheofficerscomehereyesterdayaftertheywenttoMrs.Florian’shouse?”

“Whatofficers?”

“Theuniformedofficers,”Isaidpatiently.

“Yes,theywashereaminute.Theydidn’tknownothing.”

“Describethebigmantome—theonethathadagunandmadeyoucallup.”

Shedescribedhimwithcompleteaccuracy.ItwasMalloyallright.

“Whatkindofcardidhedrive?”

“Alittlecar.Hecouldn’thardlygetintoit.”

“That’sallyoucansay?Thisman’samurderer!”

Hermouthgaped,buthereyeswerepleased.“Land’ssakes,IwishIcouldtellyou,youngman.ButIneverknewmuchaboutcars.Murder,eh?Folksain’tsafeaminuteinthistown.WhenIcomeheretwenty-twoyearsagowedidn’tlockourdoorshardly.Nowit’sgangstersandcrookedpoliceandpoliticiansfightin’eachotherwithmachineguns,soI’veheard.Scandalousiswhatitis,youngman.”

“Yeah.WhatdoyouknowaboutMrs.Florian?”

Thesmallmouthpuckered.“Sheain’tneighborly.Playsherradioloudlatenights.Sings.Shedon’ttalktoanybody.”Sheleanedforwardalittle.“I’mnotpositive,butmyopinionisshedrinksliquor.”

“Shehavemanyvisitors?”

“Shedon’thavenovisitorsatall.”

“You’dknow,ofcourse,Mrs.—”

“Mrs.Morrison.Land’ssakes,yes.WhatelsehaveIgottodobutlookoutofthewindows?”

“Ibetit’sfun.Mrs.Florianhaslivedherealongtime?”

“Abouttenyears,Ireckon.Hadahusbandonce.Lookedlikeabadonetome.Hedied.”Shepausedandthought.“Iguesshediednatural,”sheadded.“Ineverhearddifferent.”

“Lefthermoney?”

Hereyesrecededandherchinfollowedthem.Shesniffedhard.“Youbeendrinkin’liquor,”shesaidcoldly.

“Ijusthadatoothout.Thedentistgaveittome.”

“Idon’tholdwithit.”

“It’sbadstuff,exceptformedicine,”Isaid.

“Idon’tholdwithitformedicineneither.”

“Ithinkyou’reright,”Isaid.“Didheleavehermoney?Herhusband?”

“Iwouldn’tknow.”Hermouthwasthesizeofapruneandassmooth.Ihadlostout.

“Hasanybodyatallbeentheresincetheofficers?”

“Ain’tseen.”

“Thankyouverymuch,Mrs.Morrison.Iwon’ttroubleyouanymorenow.You’vebeenverykindandhelpful.”

Iwalkedoutoftheroomandopenedthedoor.Shefollowedmeandclearedherthroatandclickedherteethacouplemoretimes.“WhatnumbershouldIcall?”sheasked,relentingalittle.

“University4-5000.AskforLieutenantNulty.Whatdoessheliveon—relief?”

“Thisain’tareliefneighborhood,”shesaidcoldly.

“IbetthatsidepiecewastheadmirationofSiouxFallsonce,”Isaid,gazingatacarvedsideboardthatwasinthehallbecausethediningroomwastoosmallforit.Ithadcurvedends,thincarvedlegs,wasinlaidallover,andhadapaintedbasketoffruitonthefront.

“MasonCity,”shesaidsoftly.“Yessir,wehadanicehomeonce,meandGeorge.Besttherewas.”

Iopenedthescreendoorandsteppedthroughitandthankedheragain.Shewassmilingnow.Hersmilewasassharpashereyes.

“Getsaregisteredletterfirstofeverymonth,”shesaidsuddenly.

Iturnedandwaited.Sheleanedtowardsme.“Iseethemailmangouptothedoorandgethertosign.Firstdayofeverymonth.Dressesupthenandgoesout.Don’tcomehometillallhours.Sings

halfthenight.TimesIcouldhavecalledthepoliceitwassoloud.”

Ipattedthethinmaliciousarm.

“You’reoneinathousand,Mrs.Morrison,”Isaid.Iputmyhaton,tippedittoherandleft.HalfwaydownthewalkIthoughtofsomethingandswungback.Shewasstillstandinginsidethescreendoor,withthehousedooropenbehindher.Iwentbackuponthesteps.

“Tomorrow’sthefirst,”Isaid.“FirstofApril.AprilFool’sDay.Besuretonoticewhethershegetsherregisteredletter,willyou,Mrs.Morrison?”

Theeyesgleamedatme.Shebegantolaugh—ahigh-pitchedoldwoman’slaugh.“AprilFool’sDay,”shetittered.“Maybeshewon’tgetit.”

Ileftherlaughing.Thesoundwaslikeahenhavinghiccups.

SEVENTEEN

Nobodyansweredmyringorknocknextdoor.Itriedagain.Thescreendoorwasn’thooked.Itriedthehousedoor.Itwasunlocked.Isteppedinside.

Nothingwaschanged,noteventhesmellofgin.Therewerestillnobodiesonthefloor.AdirtyglassstoodonthesmalltablebesidethechairwhereMrs.Florianhadsatyesterday.Theradiowasturnedoff.Iwentovertothedavenportandfeltdownbehindthecushions.Thesamedeadsoldierandanotheronewithhimnow.

Icalledout.Noanswer.ThenIthoughtIheardalongslowunhappybreathingthatwashalfgroaning.Iwentthroughthearchandsneakedintothelittlehallway.Thebedroomdoorwaspartlyopenandthegroaningsoundcamefrombehindit.Istuckmyheadinandlooked.

Mrs.Florianwasinbed.Shewaslyingflatonherbackwithacottoncomforterpulleduptoherchin.Oneofthelittlefluffballsonthecomforterwasalmostinhermouth.Herlongyellowfacewasslack,halfdead.Herdirtyhairstraggledonthepillow.Hereyesopenedslowlyandatmewithnoexpression.Theroomhadasickeningsmellofsleep,liquoranddirtyclothes.Asixty-ninecentalarmclocktickedonthepeelinggray-whitepaintofthebureau.Ittickedloudenoughtoshakethewalls.Aboveitamirrorshowedadistortedviewofthewoman’sface.Thetrunkfromwhichshehadtakenthephotoswasstillopen.

Isaid:“Goodafternoon,Mrs.Florian.Areyousick?”

Sheworkedherlipstogetherslowly,rubbedoneovertheother,thenslidatongueoutandmoistenedthemandworkedherjaws.Hervoicecamefromhermouthsoundinglikeaworn-outphonographrecord.Hereyesshowedrecognitionnow,butnotpleasure.

“Yougethim?”

“TheMoose?”

“Sure.”

“Notyet.Soon,Ihope.”

Shescrewedhereyesupandthensnappedthemopenasiftryingtogetridofafilmoverthem.

“Yououghttokeepyourhouselockedup,”Isaid.“Hemightcomeback.”

“YouthinkI’mscaredoftheMoose,huh?”

“YouactedlikeitwhenIwastalkingtoyouyesterday.”

Shethoughtaboutthat.Thinkingwaswearywork.“Gotanyliquor?”

“No,Ididn’tbringanytoday,Mrs.Florian.Iwasalittlelowoncash.”

“Gin’scheap.Ithits.”

“Imightgooutforsomeinalittlewhile.Soyou’renotafraidofMalloy?”

“WhywouldIbe?”

“Okey,you’renot.Whatareyouafraidof?”

Lightsnappedintohereyes,heldforamoment,andfadedoutagain.“Awbeatit.Youcoppersgivemeanacheinthefanny.”

Isaidnothing.Ileanedagainstthedoorframeandputacigaretteinmymouthandtriedtojerkitupfarenoughtohitmynosewithit.Thisisharderthanitlooks.

“Coppers,”shesaidslowly,asiftalkingtoherself,“willnevercatchthatboy.He’sgoodandhe’sgotdoughandhe’sgotfriends.You’rewastingyourtime,copper.”

“Justtheroutine,”Isaid.“Itwaspracticallyaself-defenseanyway.Wherewouldhebe?”

Shesnickeredandwipedhermouthonthecottoncomforter.

“Soapnow,”shesaid.“Softstuff.Copper-smart.Youguysstillthinkitgetsyousomething.”

“IlikedtheMoose,”Isaid.

Interestflickeredinhereyes.“Youknownhim?”

“Iwaswithhimyesterday—whenhekilledtheniggeroveronCentral.”

Sheopenedhermouthwideandlaughedherheadoffwithoutmakinganymoresoundthanyouwouldmakecrackingabreadstick.Tearsranoutofhereyesanddownherface.

“Abigstrongguy,”Isaid.“Soft-heartedinspotstoo.WantedhisVelmaprettybad.”

Theeyesveiled.“Thoughtitwasherfolkswaslookingforher,”shesaidsoftly.

“Theyare.Butshe’sdead,yousaid.Nothingthere.Wheredidshedie?”

“Dalhart,Texas.Gotacoldandwenttothechestandoffshewent.”

“Youwerethere?”

“Hell,no.Ijustheard.”

“Oh.Whotoldyou,Mrs.Florian?”

“Somehoofer.Iforgetthenamerightnow.Maybeagoodstiffdrinkmighthelpsome.IfeellikeDeathValley.”

“Andyoulooklikeadeadmule,”Ithought,butdidn’tsayitoutloud.“There’sjustonemorething,”Isaid,“thenI’llmayberunoutforsomegin.Ilookedupthetitletoyourhouse,Idon’tknowjustwhy.”

Shewasrigidunderthebedclothes,likeawoodenwoman.Evenhereyelidswerefrozenhalfdownoverthecloggedirisofhereyes.Herbreathstilled.

“There’saratherlargetrustdeedonit,”Isaid.“Consideringthelowvalueofpropertyaroundhere.It’sheldbyamannamedLindsayMarriott.”

Hereyesblinkedrapidly,butnothingelsemoved.Shestared.

“Iusedtoworkforhim,”shesaidatlast.“Iusedtobeaservantinhisfamily.Hekindoftakescareofmealittle.”

Itooktheunlightedcigaretteoutofmymouthandlookedatitaimlesslyandstuckitbackin.

“Yesterdayafternoon,afewhoursafterIsawyou,Mr.Marriottcalledmeupatmyoffice.Heofferedmeajob.”

“Whatkindofjob?”Hervoicecroakednow,badly.

Ishrugged.“Ican’ttellyouthat.Confidential.Iwenttoseehimlastnight.”

“You’reacleversonofabitch,”shesaidthicklyandmovedahandunderthebedclothes.

Istaredatherandsaidnothing.

“Copper-smart,”shesneered.

Iranahandupanddownthedoorframe.Itfeltslimy.Justtouchingitmademewanttotakeabath.

“Well,that’sall,”Isaidsmoothly.“Iwasjustwonderinghowcome.Mightbenothingatall.Justa

coincidence.Itjustlookedasifitmightmeansomething.”

“Copper-smart,”shesaidemptily.“Notarealcopperatthat.Justacheapshamus.”

“Isupposeso,”Isaid.“Well,good-by,Mrs.Florian.Bytheway,Idon’tthinkyou’llgetaregisteredlettertomorrowmorning.”

Shethrewthebedclothesasideandjerkeduprightwithhereyesblazing.Somethingglitteredinherrighthand.Asmallrevolver,aBanker ’sSpecial.Itwasoldandworn,butlookedbusiness-like.

“Tellit,”shesnarled.“Tellitfast.”

Ilookedatthegunandthegunlookedatme.Nottoosteadily.Thehandbehinditbegantoshake,buttheeyesstillblazed.Salivabubbledatthecornersofhermouth.

“YouandIcouldworktogether,”Isaid.

Thegunandherjawdroppedatthesametime.Iwasinchesfromthedoor.Whilethegunwasstilldropping,Islidthroughitandbeyondtheopening.

“Thinkitover,”Icalledback.

Therewasnosound,nosoundofanykind.

Iwentfastbackthroughthehallanddiningroomandoutofthehouse.MybackfeltqueerasIwentdownthewalk.Themusclescrawled.

Nothinghappened.Iwentalongthestreetandgotintomycaranddroveawayfromthere.

ThelastdayofMarchandhotenoughforsummer.IfeltliketakingmycoatoffasIdrove.Infrontofthe77thStreetStation,twoprowlcarmenwerescowlingatabentfrontfender.Iwentinthroughtheswingdoorsandfoundauniformedlieutenantbehindtherailinglookingoverthechargesheet.IaskedhimifNultywasupstairs.Hesaidhethoughthewas,wasIafriendofhis.Isaidyes.Hesaidokey,goonup,soIwentupthewornstairsandalongthecorridorandknockedatthedoor.ThevoiceyelledandIwentin.

Hewaspickinghisteeth,sittinginonechairwithhisfeetontheother.Hewaslookingathisleftthumb,holdingitupinfrontofhiseyesandatarm’slength.Thethumblookedallrighttome,butNulty’sstarewasgloomy,asifhethoughtitwouldn’tgetwell.

Heloweredittohisthighandswunghisfeettothefloorandlookedatmeinsteadofathisthumb.Heworeadarkgraysuitandamangledcigarendwaswaitingonthedeskforhimtogetthroughwiththetoothpick.Iturnedthefeltseatcoverthatlayontheotherchairwithitsstrapsnotfastenedtoanything,satdown,andputacigaretteinmyface.

“You,”Nultysaid,andlookedathistoothpick,toseeifitwaschewedenough.

“Anyluck?”

“Malloy?Iain’tonitanymore.”

“Whois?”

”Nobodyain’t.Why?Theguy’slammed.Wegothimontheteletypeandtheygotreadersout.Hell,he’llbeinMexicolonggone.”

“Well,allhedidwaskillaNegro,”Isaid.“Iguessthat’sonlyamisdemeanor.”

“Youstillinterested?Ithoughtyouwasworkin’?”Hispaleeyesmoveddamplyovermyface.

“Ihadajoblastnight,butitdidn’tlast.HaveyoustillgotthatPierrotphoto?”

Hereachedaroundandpawedunderhisblotter.Hehelditout.Itstilllookedpretty.Istaredattheface.

“Thisisreallymine,”Isaid.“Ifyoudon’tneeditforthefile,I’dliketokeepit.”

“Shouldbeinthefile,Iguess,”Nultysaid.“Iforgotaboutit.Okey,keepitunderyourhat.Ipassedthefilein.”

Iputthephotoinmybreastpocketandstoodup.“Well,Iguessthat’sall,”Isaid,alittletooairily.

“Ismellsomething,”Nultysaidcoldly.

Ilookedatthepieceofropeontheedgeofhisdesk.Hiseyesfollowedmylook.Hethrewthetoothpickonthefloorandstuckthechewedcigarinhismouth.

“Notthiseither,”hesaid.

“It’savaguehunch.Ifitgrowsmoresolid,Iwon’tforgetyou.”

“Thingsistough.Ineedabreak,pal.”

“Amanwhoworksashardasyoudeservesone,”Isaid.

Hestruckamatchonhisthumbnail,lookedpleasedbecauseitcaughtthefirsttime,andstartedinhalingsmokefromthecigar.

“I’mlaughing,”Nultysaidsadly,asIwentout.

Thehallwasquiet,thewholebuildingwasquiet.Downinfronttheprowlcarmenwerestilllookingattheirbentfender.IdrovebacktoHollywood.

ThephonewasringingasIsteppedintotheoffice.Ileaneddownoverthedeskandsaid,“Yes?”

“AmIaddressingMr.PhilipMarlowe?”

“Yes,thisisMarlowe.”

“ThisisMrs.Grayle’sresidence.Mrs.LewinLockridgeGrayle.Mrs.Graylewouldliketoseeyouhereassoonasconvenient.”

“Where?”

“TheaddressisNumber862AsterDrive,inBayCity.MayIsayyouwillarrivewithinthehour?”

“AreyouMr.Grayle?”

“Certainlynot,sir.Iamthebutler.”

“That’smeyouhearringingthedoorbell,”Isaid.

EIGHTEEN

Itwasclosetotheoceanandyoucouldfeeltheoceanintheairbutyoucouldn’tseewaterfromthefrontoftheplace.AsterDrivehadalongsmoothcurvethereandthehousesontheinlandsidewerejustnicehouses,butonthecanyonsidetheyweregreatsilentestates,withtwelvefootwallsandwrought-irongatesandornamentalhedges;andinside,ifyoucouldgetinside,aspecialbrandofsunshine,veryquiet,putupinnoise-proofcontainersjustfortheupperclasses.

AmaninadarkblueRussiantunicandshinyblackputteesandflaringbreechesstoodinthehalf-opengates.Hewasadark,good-lookinglad,withplentyofshouldersandshinysmoothhairandthepeakonhisrakishcapmadeasoftshadowoverhiseyes.Hehadacigaretteinthecornerofhismouthandheheldhisheadtiltedalittle,asifhelikedtokeepthesmokeoutofhisnose.Onehandhadasmoothblackgauntletonitandtheotherwasbare.Therewasaheavyringonhisthirdfinger.

Therewasnonumberinsight,butthisshouldbe862.Istoppedmycarandleanedoutandaskedhim.Ittookhimalongtimetoanswer.Hehadtolookmeoververycarefully.AlsothecarIwasdriving.Hecameovertomeandashecamehecarelesslydroppedhisunglovedhandtowardshiship.Itwasthekindofcarelessnessthatwasmeanttobenoticed.

Hestoppedacoupleoffeetawayfrommycarandlookedmeoveragain.

“I’mlookingfortheGrayleresidence,”Isaid.

“Thisisit.Nobodyin.”

“I’mexpected.”

Henodded.Hiseyesgleamedlikewater.“Name?”

“PhilipMarlowe.”

“Waitthere.”Hestrolled,withouthurry,overtothegatesandunlockedanirondoorsetintooneofthemassivepillars.Therewasatelephoneinside.Hespokebrieflyintoit,snappedthedoorshut,andcamebacktome.

“Youhavesomeidentification?”

Ilethimlookatthelicenseonthesteeringpost.“Thatdoesn’tproveanything,”hesaid.“HowdoIknowit’syourcar?”

Ipulledthekeyoutoftheignitionandthrewthedooropenandgotout.Thatputmeaboutafootfromhim.Hehadnicebreath.HaigandHaigatleast.

“You’vebeenatthesideboyagain,”Isaid.

Hesmiled.Hiseyesmeasuredme.Isaid:

“Listen,I’lltalktothebutleroverthatphoneandhe’llknowmyvoice.WillthatpassmeinordoIhavetorideonyourback?”

“Ijustworkhere,”hesaidsoftly.“IfIdidn’t—”helettheresthangintheair,andkeptonsmiling.

“You’reanicelad,”Isaidandpattedhisshoulder.“DartmouthorDannemora?”

“Christ,”hesaid.“Whydidn’tyousayyouwereacop?”

Webothgrinned.HewavedhishandandIwentinthroughthehalf-opengate.Thedrivecurvedandtallmoldedhedgesofdarkgreencompletelyscreeneditfromthestreetandfromthehouse.ThroughagreengateIsawaJapgardeneratworkweedingahugelawn.HewaspullingapieceofweedoutofthevastvelvetexpanseandsneeringatitthewayJapgardenersdo.ThenthetallhedgeclosedinagainandIdidn’tseeanythingmoreforahundredfeet.Thenthehedgeendedinawidecircleinwhichhalfadozencarswereparked.

Oneofthemwasasmallcoupe.Therewereacoupleofverynicetwo-toneBuicksofthelatestmodel,goodenoughtogoforthemailin.Therewasablacklimousine,withdullnickellouvresandhubcapsthesizeofbicyclewheels.Therewasalongsportphaetonwiththetopdown.Ashortverywideall-weatherconcretedrivewayledfromthesetothesideentranceofthehouse.

Offtotheleft,beyondtheparkingspacetherewasasunkengardenwithafountainateachofthefourcorners.Theentrancewasbarredbyawrought-irongatewithaflyingCupidinthemiddle.Therewerebustsonlightpillarsandastoneseatwithcrouchinggriffinsateachend.Therewasanoblongpoolwithstonewaterliliesinitandabigstonebullfrogsittingononeoftheleaves.Stillfartherarosecolonnadeledtoathinglikeanaltar,hedgedinatbothsides,yetnotsocompletelybutthatthesunlayinanarabesquealongthestepsofthealtar.Andfarovertothelefttherewasawildgarden,notverylarge,withasundialinthecornernearanangleofwallthatwasbuilttolooklikearuin.Andtherewereflowers.Therewereamillionflowers.

Thehouseitselfwasnotsomuch.ItwassmallerthanBuckinghamPalace,rathergrayforCalifornia,andprobablyhadfewerwindowsthantheChryslerBuilding.

Isneakedovertothesideentranceandpressedabellandsomewhereasetofchimesmadeadeepmellowsoundlikechurchbells.

Amaninastripedvestandgiltbuttonsopenedthedoor,bowed,tookmyhatandwasthroughfortheday.Behindhimindimness,amaninstripedknife-edgepantsandablackcoatandwingcollarwithgraystripedtieleanedhisgrayheadforwardabouthalfaninchandsaid:“Mr.Marlowe?Ifyouwillcomethisway,please—”

Wewentdownahall.Itwasaveryquiethall.Notaflybuzzedinit.ThefloorwascoveredwithOrientalrugsandtherewerepaintingsalongthewalls.Weturnedacornerandtherewasmorehall.AFrenchwindowshowedagleamofbluewaterfaroffandIrememberedalmostwithashockthatwewerenearthePacificOceanandthatthishousewasontheedgeofoneofthecanyons.

ThebutlerreachedadoorandopeneditagainstvoicesandstoodasideandIwentin.Itwasaniceroomwithlargechesterfieldsandloungingchairsdoneinpaleyellowleatherarrangedaroundafireplaceinfrontofwhich,ontheglossybutnotslipperyfloor,layarugasthinassilkandasoldasAesop’saunt.Ajetofflowersglistenedinacorner,anotheronalowtable,thewallswereofdullpaintedparchment,therewascomfort,space,coziness,adashoftheverymodernandadashoftheveryold,andthreepeoplesittinginasuddensilencewatchingmecrossthefloor.

OneofthemwasAnneRiordan,lookingjustasIhadseenherlast,exceptthatshewasholdingaglassofamberfluidinherhand.Onewasatallthinsad-facedmanwithastonychinanddeepeyesandnocolorinhisfacebutanunhealthyyellow.Hewasagoodsixty,orratherabadsixty.Heworeadarkbusinesssuit,aredcarnation,andlookedsubdued.

Thethirdwastheblonde.Shewasdressedtogoout,inapalegreenishblue.Ididn’tpaymuchattentiontoherclothes.Theywerewhattheguydesignedforherandshewouldgototherightman.Theeffectwastomakeherlookveryyoungandtomakeherlapislazulieyeslookveryblue.Herhairwasofthegoldofoldpaintingsandhadbeenfussedwithjustenoughbutnottoomuch.Shehadafullsetofcurveswhichnobodyhadbeenabletoimproveon.Thedresswasratherplainexceptforaclaspofdiamondsatthethroat.Herhandswerenotsmall,buttheyhadshape,andthenailsweretheusualjarringnote—almostmagenta.Shewasgivingmeoneofhersmiles.Shelookedasifshesmiledeasily,buthereyeshadastilllook,asiftheythoughtslowlyandcarefully.Andhermouthwassensual.

“Soniceofyoutocome,”shesaid.“Thisismyhusband.MixMr.Marloweadrink,honey.”

Mr.Grayleshookhandswithme.Hishandwascoldandalittlemoist.Hiseyesweresad.HemixedaScotchandsodaandhandedittome.

Thenhesatdowninacornerandwassilent.IdrankhalfofthedrinkandgrinnedatMissRiordan.Shelookedatmewithasortofabsentexpression,asifshehadanotherclue.

“Doyouthinkyoucandoanythingforus?”theblondeaskedslowly,lookingdownintoherglass.“Ifyouthinkyoucan,I’dbedelighted.Butthelossisrathersmallcomparedwithhavinganymorefusswithgangstersandawfulpeople.”

“Idon’tknowverymuchaboutitreally,”Isaid.

“Oh,Ihopeyoucan.”ShegavemeasmileIcouldfeelinmyhippocket.

Idranktheotherhalfofmydrink.Ibegantofeelrested.Mrs.Graylerangabellsetintothearmoftheleatherchesterfieldandafootmancamein.Shehalfpointedtothetray.Helookedaroundandmixedtwodrinks.MissRiordanwasstillplayingcutewiththesameoneandapparentlyMr.Grayledidn’tdrink.Thefootmanwentout.

Mrs.GrayleandIheldourglasses.Mrs.Graylecrossedherlegs,alittlecarelessly.

“Idon’tknowwhetherIcandoanything,”Isaid.“Idoubtit.Whatistheretogoon?”

“I’msureyoucan.”Shegavemeanothersmile.“HowfardidLinMarriotttakeyouintohisconfidence?”

ShelookedsidewaysatMissRiordan.MissRiordanjustcouldn’tcatchthelook.Shekeptrightonsitting.Shelookedsidewaystheotherway.Mrs.Graylelookedatherhusband.“Doyouhavetobotherwiththis,honey?”

Mr.Graylestoodupandsaidhewasverygladtohavemetmeandthathewouldgoandliedownforawhile.Hedidn’tfeelverywell.HehopedIwouldexcusehim.HewassopoliteIwantedtocarryhimoutoftheroomjusttoshowmyappreciation.

Heleft.Heclosedthedoorsoftly,asifhewasafraidtowakeasleeper.Mrs.Graylelookedatthedoorforamomentandthenputthesmilebackonherfaceandlookedatme.

“MissRiordanisinyourcompleteconfidence,ofcourse.”

“Nobody’sinmycompleteconfidence,Mrs.Grayle.Shehappenstoknowaboutthiscase—whatthereistoknow.”

“Yes.”Shedrankasiportwo,thenfinishedherglassataswallowandsetitaside.

“Tohellwiththispolitedrinking,”shesaidsuddenly.“Let’sgettogetheronthis.You’reaverygood-lookingmantobeinyoursortofracket.”

“It’sasmellybusiness,”Isaid.

“Ididn’tquitemeanthat.Isthereanymoneyinit—oristhatimpertinent?”

“There’snotmuchmoneyinit.There’salotofgrief.Butthere’salotoffuntoo.Andthere’salwaysachanceofabigcase.”

“Howdoesonegettobeaprivatedetective?Youdon’tmindmysizingyouupalittle?Andpushthattableoverhere,willyou?SoIcanreachthedrinks.”

Igotupandpushedthehugesilvertrayonastandacrosstheglossyfloortoherside.Shemadetwomoredrinks.Istillhadhalfofmysecond.

“Mostofusareex-cops,”Isaid.“IworkedfortheD.A.forawhile.Igotfired.”

Shesmilednicely.“Notforincompetence,I’msure.”

“No,fortalkingback.Haveyouhadanymorephonecalls?”

“Well—”ShelookedatAnneRiordan.Shewaited.Herlooksaidthings.

AnneRiordanstoodup.Shecarriedherglass,stillfull,overtothetrayandsetitdown.“Youprobablywon’trunshort,”shesaid.“Butifyoudo—andthanksverymuchfortalkingtome,Mrs.Grayle.Iwon’tuseanything.Youhavemywordforit.”

“Heavens,you’renotleaving,”Mrs.Graylesaidwithasmile.

AnneRiordantookherlowerlipbetweenherteethandhelditthereforamomentasifmakinguphermindwhethertobiteitoffandspititoutorleaveitonawhilelonger.

“Sorry,afraidI’llhaveto.Idon’tworkforMr.Marlowe,youknow.Justafriend.Good-by,Mrs.Grayle.”

Theblondegleamedather.“Ihopeyou’lldropinagainsoon.Anytime.”Shepressedthebelltwice.Thatgotthebutler.Heheldthedooropen.

MissRiordanwentoutquicklyandthedoorclosed.Forquiteawhileafteritclosed,Mrs.Graylestaredatitwithafaintsmile.“It’smuchbetterthisway,don’tyouthink?”shesaidafteranintervalofsilence.Inodded.“You’reprobablywonderinghowsheknowssomuchifshe’sjustafriend,”Isaid.“She’sacuriouslittlegirl.Someofitshedugoutherself,likewhoyouwereandwhoownedthejadenecklace.Someofitjusthappened.ShecamebylastnighttothatdellwhereMarriottwaskilled.Shewasoutriding.Shehappenedtoseealightandcamedownthere.”

“Oh.”Mrs.Grayleliftedaglassquicklyandmadeaface.“It’shorribletothinkof.PoorLin.Hewasratheraheel.Mostofone’sfriendsare.Buttodielikethatisawful.”Sheshuddered.Hereyesgotlargeanddark.

“Soit’sallrightaboutMissRiordan.Shewon’ttalk.Herfatherwaschiefofpolicehereforalongtime,”Isaid.

“Yes.Soshetoldme.You’renotdrinking.”

“I’mdoingwhatIcalldrinking.”

“YouandIshouldgetalong.DidLin—Mr.Marriott—tellyouhowtheholduphappened?”

“BetweenhereandtheTrocaderosomewhere.Hedidn’tsayexactly.Threeorfourmen.”

Shenoddedhergoldengleaminghead.“Yes.Youknowtherewassomethingratherfunnyaboutthatholdup.Theygavemebackoneofmyrings,ratheraniceone,too.”

“Hetoldmethat.”

“ThenagainIhardlyeverworethejade.Afterall,it’samuseumpiece,probablynotmanylikeit

intheworld,averyraretypeofjade.Yettheysnappedatit.Iwouldn’texpectthemtothinkithadanyvaluemuch,wouldyou?”

“They’dknowyouwouldn’twearitotherwise.Whoknewaboutitsvalue?”

Shethought.Itwasnicetowatchherthinking.Shestillhadherlegscrossed,andstillcarelessly.

“Allsortsofpeople,Isuppose.”

“Buttheydidn’tknowyouwouldbewearingitthatnight?Whoknewthat?”

Sheshruggedherpaleblueshoulders.Itriedtokeepmyeyeswheretheybelonged.“Mymaid.Butshe’shadahundredchances.AndItrusther—”

“Why?”

“Idon’tknow.Ijusttrustsomepeople.Itrustyou.”

“DidyoutrustMarriott?”

Herfacegotalittlehard.Hereyesalittlewatchful.“Notinsomethings.Inothers,yes.Therearedegrees.”Shehadanicewayoftalking,cool,half-cynical,andyetnothard-boiled.Sheroundedherwordswell.

“Allright—besidesthemaid.Thechauffeur?”

Sheshookherhead,no.“Lindrovemethatnight,inhisowncar.Idon’tthinkGeorgewasaroundatall.Wasn’titThursday?”

“Iwasn’tthere.Marriottsaidfourorfivedaysbeforeintellingmeaboutit.Thursdaywouldhavebeenanevenweekfromlastnight.”

“Well,itwasThursday.”Shereachedformyglassandherfingerstouchedminealittle,andweresofttothetouch.“GeorgegetsThursdayeveningoff.That’stheusualday,youknow.”Shepouredafatslugofmellow-lookingScotchintomyglassandsquirtedinsomefizz-water.Itwasthekindofliquoryouthinkyoucandrinkforever,andallyoudoisgetreckless.Shegaveherselfthesametreatment.

“Lintoldyoumyname?”sheaskedsoftly,theeyesstillwatchful.

“Hewascarefulnotto.”

“Thenheprobablymisledyoualittleaboutthetime.Let’sseewhatwehave.Maidandchauffeurout.Outofconsiderationasaccomplices,Imean.”

“They’renotoutbyme.”

“Well,atleastI’mtrying,”shelaughed.“Thenthere’sNewton,thebutler.Hemighthaveseenitonmyneckthatnight.ButithangsdownratherlowandIwaswearingawhitefoxeveningwrap;no,I

don’tthinkhecouldhaveseenit.”

“Ibetyoulookedadream,”Isaid.

“You’renotgettingalittletight,areyou?”

“I’vebeenknowntobesoberer.”

Sheputherheadbackandwentoffintoapealoflaughter.Ihaveonlyknownfourwomeninmylifewhocoulddothatandstilllookbeautiful.Shewasoneofthem.

“Newtonisokey,”Isaid.“Histypedon’trunwithhoodlums.That’sjustguessing,though.Howaboutthefootman?”

Shethoughtandremembered,thenshookherhead.“Hedidn’tseeme.”

“Anybodyaskyoutowearthejade?”

Hereyesinstantlygotmoreguarded.“You’renotfoolingmeadamnbit,”shesaid.

Shereachedformyglasstorefillit.Iletherhaveit,eventhoughitstillhadaninchtogo.Istudiedthelovelylinesofherneck.

WhenshehadfilledtheglassesandwewereplayingwiththemagainIsaid,“Let’sgettherecordstraightandthenI’lltellyousomething.Describetheevening.”

Shelookedatherwristwatch,drawingafulllengthsleevebacktodoit.“Ioughttobe—”

“Lethimwait.”

Hereyesflashedatthat.Ilikedthemthatway.“There’ssuchathingasbeingjustalittletoofrank,”shesaid.

“Notinmybusiness.Describetheevening.Orhavemethrownoutonmyear.Oneortheother.Makeyourlovelymindup.”

“You’dbettersitoverherebesideme.”

“I’vebeenthinkingthatalongtime,”Isaid.“Eversinceyoucrossedyourlegs,tobeexact.”

Shepulledherdressdown.“Thesedamnthingsarealwaysuparoundyourneck.”

Isatbesideherontheyellowleatherchesterfield.“Aren’tyouaprettyfastworker?”sheaskedquietly.

Ididn’tanswerher.

“Doyoudomuchofthissortofthing?”sheaskedwithasidelonglook.

“Practicallynone.I’maTibetanmonk,inmysparetime.”

“Onlyyoudon’thaveanysparetime.”

“Let’sfocus,”Isaid.“Let’sgetwhat’sleftofourminds—ormine—ontheproblem.Howmuchareyougoingtopayme?”

“Oh,that’stheproblem.Ithoughtyouweregoingtogetmynecklaceback.Ortryto.”

“Ihavetoworkinmyownway.Thisway.”Itookalongdrinkanditnearlystoodmeonmyhead.Iswallowedalittleair.

“Andinvestigateamurder,”Isaid.

“Thathasnothingtodowithit.Imeanthat’sapoliceaffair,isn’tit?”

“Yeah—onlythepoorguypaidmeahundredbuckstotakecareofhim—andIdidn’t.Makesmefeelguilty.Makesmewanttocry.ShallIcry?”

“Haveadrink.”ShepouredussomemoreScotch.Itdidn’tseemtoaffectheranymorethanwateraffectsBoulderDam.

“Well,wherehavewegotto?”Isaid,tryingtoholdmyglasssothatthewhiskeywouldstayinsideit.“Nomaid,nochauffeur,nobutler,nofootman.We’llbedoingourownlaundrynext.Howdidtheholduphappen?YourversionmighthaveafewdetailsMarriottdidn’tgiveme.”

Sheleanedforwardandcuppedherchininherhand.Shelookedseriouswithoutlookingsilly-serious.

“WewenttoapartyinBrentwoodHeights.ThenLinsuggestedwerunovertotheTrocforafewdrinksandafewdances.Sowedid.TheyweredoingsomeworkonSunsetanditwasverydusty.SocomingbackLindroppeddowntoSantaMonica.ThattookuspastashabbylookinghotelcalledtheHotelIndio,whichIhappenedtonoticeforsomesillymeaninglessreason.Acrossthestreetfromitwasabeerjointandacarwasparkedinfrontofthat.”

“Onlyonecar—infrontofabeerjoint?”

“Yes.Onlyone.Itwasaverydingyplace.Well,thiscarstartedupandfollowedusandofcourseIthoughtnothingofthateither.Therewasnoreasonto.ThenbeforewegottowhereSantaMonicaturnsintoArguelloBoulevard,Linsaid,‘Let’sgoovertheotherroad’andturnedupsomecurvingresidentialstreet.Thenallofasuddenacarrushedbyusandgrazedthefenderandthenpulledovertostop.Amaninanovercoatandscarfandhatlowonhisfacecamebacktoapologize.Itwasawhitescarfbunchedoutanditdrewmyeyes.ItwasaboutallIreallysawofhimexceptthathewastallandthin.Assoonashegotclose—andIrememberedafterwardsthathedidn’twalkinourheadlightsatall—”

“That’snatural.Nobodylikestolookintoheadlights.Haveadrink.Mytreatthistime.”

Shewasleaningforward,herfineeyebrows—notdaubsofpaint—drawntogetherinafrownofthought.Imadetwodrinks.Shewenton:

“AssoonashegotclosetothesidewhereLinwassittinghejerkedthescarfupoverhisnoseandagunwasshiningatus.‘Stickup,’hesaid.‘Beveryquietandeverythingwillbejake.’Thenanothermancameoverontheotherside.”

“InBeverlyHills,”Isaid,“thebestpolicedfoursquaremilesinCalifornia.”

Sheshrugged.“Ithappenedjustthesame.Theyaskedformyjewelryandbag.Themanwiththescarfdid.Theoneonmysideneverspokeatall.IpassedthethingsacrossLinandthemangavemebackmybagandonering.Hesaidtoholdoffcallingthepoliceandinsurancepeopleforawhile.Theywouldmakeusanicesmootheasydeal.Hesaidtheyfounditeasiertoworkonastraightpercentage.Heseemedtohaveallthetimeintheworld.Hesaidtheycouldworkthroughtheinsurancepeople,iftheyhadto,butthatmeantcuttinginashyster,andtheypreferrednotto.Hesoundedlikeamanwithsomeeducation.”

“ItmighthavebeenDressed-UpEddie,”Isaid.“OnlyhegotbumpedoffinChicago.”

Sheshrugged.Wehadadrink.Shewenton.

“ThentheyleftandwewenthomeandItoldLintokeepquietaboutit.ThenextdayIgotacall.Wehavetwophones,onewithextensionsandoneinmybedroomwithnoextensions.Thecallwasonthis.It’snotlisted,ofcourse.”

Inodded.“Theycanbuythenumberforafewdollars.It’sdoneallthetime.Somemoviepeoplehavetochangetheirnumberseverymonth.”

Wehadadrink.

“ItoldthemancallingtotakeitupwithLinandhewouldrepresentmeandiftheywerenottoounreasonable,wemightdeal.Hesaidokey,andfromthenonIguesstheyjuststalledlongenoughtowatchusalittle.Finally,asyouknow,weagreedoneightthousanddollarsandsoforth.”

“Couldyourecognizeanyofthem?”

“Ofcoursenot.”

“Randallknowallthis?”

“Ofcourse.Dowehavetotalkaboutitanymore?Itboresme.”Shegavemethelovelysmile.

“Didhemakeanycomment?”

Sheyawned.“Probably.Iforget.”

Isatwithmyemptyglassinmyhandandthought.Shetookitawayfrommeandstartedtofillitagain.

Itooktherefilledglassoutofherhandandtransferredittomyleftandtookholdofherlefthandwithmyright.Itfeltsmoothandsoftandwarmandcomforting.Itsqueezedmine.Themusclesinitwerestrong.Shewasawellbuiltwoman,andnopaperflower.

“Ithinkhehadanidea,”shesaid.“Buthedidn’tsaywhatitwas.”

“Anybodywouldhaveanideaoutofallthat,”Isaid.

Sheturnedherheadslowlyandlookedatme.Thenshenodded.“Youcan’tmissit,canyou?”

“Howlonghaveyouknownhim?”

“Oh,years.Heusedtobeanannounceratthestationmyhusbandowned.KFDK.That’swhereImethim.That’swhereImetmyhusbandtoo.”

“Iknewthat.ButMarriottlivedasifhehadmoney.Notriches,butcomfortablemoney.”

“Hecameintosomeandquitradiobusiness.”

“Doyouknowforafacthecameintomoney—orwasthatjustsomethinghesaid?”

Sheshrugged.Shesqueezedmyhand.

“Oritmaynothavebeenverymuchmoneyandhemayhavegonethroughitprettyfast.”Isqueezedherhandback.“Didheborrowfromyou?”

“You’realittleold-fashioned,aren’tyou?”ShelookeddownatthehandIwasholding.

“I’mstillworking.AndyourScotchissogooditkeepsmehalf-sober.NotthatI’dhavetobedrunk—”

“Yes.”Shedrewherhandoutofmineandrubbedit.“Youmusthavequiteaclutch—inyoursparetime.LinMarriottwasahigh-classblackmailer,ofcourse.That’sobvious.Helivedonwomen.”

“Hehadsomethingonyou?”

“ShouldItellyou?”

“Itprobablywouldn’tbewise.”

Shelaughed.“Iwill,anyhow.Igotalittletightathishouseonceandpassedout.Iseldomdo.Hetooksomephotosofme—withmyclothesuptomyneck.”

“Thedirtydog,”Isaid.“Haveyougotanyofthemhandy?”

Sheslappedmywrist.Shesaidsoftly:

“What’syourname?”

“Phil.What’syours?”

“Helen.Kissme.”

ShefellsoftlyacrossmylapandIbentdownoverherfaceandbegantobrowseonit.She

workedhereyelashesandmadebutterflykissesonmycheeks.WhenIgottohermouthitwashalf-openandburningandhertonguewasadartingsnakebetweenherteeth.

ThedooropenedandMr.Graylesteppedquietlyintotheroom.Iwasholdingheranddidn’thaveachancetoletgo.Iliftedmyfaceandlookedathim.IfeltascoldasFinnegan’sfeet,thedaytheyburiedhim.

Theblondeinmyarmsdidn’tmove,didn’tevencloseherlips.Shehadahalf-dreamy,half-sarcasticexpressiononherface.

Mr.Grayleclearedhisthroatslightlyandsaid:“Ibegyourpardon,I’msure,”andwentquietlyoutoftheroom.Therewasaninfinitesadnessinhiseyes.

Ipushedherawayandstoodupandgotmyhandkerchiefoutandmoppedmyface.

ShelayasIhadlefther,halfsidewaysalongthedavenport,theskinshowinginageneroussweepaboveonestocking.

“Whowasthat?”sheaskedthickly.

“Mr.Grayle.”

“Forgethim.”

IwentawayfromherandsatdowninthechairIhadsatinwhenIfirstcameintotheroom.

Afteramomentshestraightenedherselfoutandsatupandlookedatmesteadily.

“It’sallright.Heunderstands.Whatthehellcanheexpect?”

“Iguessheknows.”

“Well,Itellyouit’sallright.Isn’tthatenough?He’sasickman.Whatthehell—”

“Don’tgoshrillonme.Idon’tlikeshrillwomen.”

Sheopenedabaglyingbesideherandtookoutasmallhandkerchiefandwipedherlips,thenlookedatherfaceinthemirror.

“Iguessyou’reright,”shesaid.“JusttoomuchScotch.TonightattheBelvedereClub.Teno’clock.”Shewasn’tlookingatme.Herbreathwasfast.

“Isthatagoodplace?”

“LairdBrunetteownsit.Iknowhimprettywell.”

“Right,”Isaid.Iwasstillcold.Ifeltnasty,asifIhadpickedapoorman’spocket.

Shegotalipstickoutandtouchedherlipsverylightlyandthenlookedatmealonghereyes.She

tossedthemirror.Icaughtitandlookedatmyface.Iworkedatitwithmyhandkerchiefandstooduptogiveherbackthemirror.

Shewasleaningback,showingallherthroat,lookingatmelazilydownhereyes.

“What’sthematter?”

“Nothing.Teno’clockattheBelvedereClub.Don’tbetoomagnificent.AllIhaveisadinnersuit.Inthebar?”

Shenodded,hereyesstilllazy.

Iwentacrosstheroomandout,withoutlookingback.Thefootmanmetmeinthehallandgavememyhat,lookingliketheGreatStoneFace.

NINETEEN

Iwalkeddownthecurvingdrivewayandlostmyselfintheshadowofthetalltrimmedhedgesandcametothegates.Anothermanwasholdingthefortnow,ahuskyinplainclothes,anobviousbodyguard.Heletmeoutwithanod.

Ahorntooted.MissRiordan’scoupewasdrawnupbehindmycar.Iwentoverthereandlookedinather.Shelookedcoolandsarcastic.

Shesattherewithherhandsonthewheel,glovedandslim.Shesmiled.

“Iwaited.Isupposeitwasnoneofmybusiness.Whatdidyouthinkofher?”

“Ibetshesnapsameangarter.”

“Doyoualwayshavetosaythingslikethat?”Sheflushedbitterly.“SometimesIhatemen.Oldmen,youngmen,footballplayers,operatenors,smartmillionaires,beautifulmenwhoaregigolosandalmost-heelswhoare—privatedetectives.”

Igrinnedathersadly.“IknowItalktoosmart.It’sintheairnowadays.Whotoldyouhewasagigolo?”

“Who?”

“Don’tbeobtuse.Marriott.”

“Oh,itwasacinchguess.I’msorry.Idon’tmeantobenasty.Iguessyoucansnaphergarteranytimeyouwantto,withoutmuchofastruggle.Butthere’sonethingyoucanbesureof—you’realatecomertotheshow.”

Thewidecurvingstreetdozedpeacefullyinthesun.Abeautifullypaintedpaneltruckslidnoiselesslytoastopbeforeahouseacrossthestreet,thenbackedalittleandwentupthedrivewaytoa

sideentrance.Onthesideofthepaneltruckwaspaintedthelegend:“BayCityInfantService.”

AnneRiordanleanedtowardsme,hergray-blueeyeshurtandclouded.Herslightlytoolongupperlippoutedandthenpressedbackagainstherteeth.Shemadeasharplittlesoundwithherbreath.

“Probablyyou’dlikemetomindmyownbusiness,isthatit?Andnothaveideasyoudon’thavefirst.IthoughtIwashelpingalittle.”

“Idon’tneedanyhelp.Thepolicedon’twantanyfromme.There’snothingIcandoforMrs.Grayle.Shehasayarnaboutabeerparlorwhereacarstartedfromandfollowedthem,butwhatdoesthatamountto?ItwasacrummydiveonSantaMonica.Thiswasahigh-classmob.TherewassomebodyinitthatcouldeventellFeiTsuijadewhenhesawit.”

“Ifhewasn’ttippedoff.”

“There’sthattoo,”Isaid,andfumbledacigaretteoutofapackage.“Eitherwaythere’snothingformeinit.”

“Notevenaboutpsychics?”

Istaredratherblankly.“Psychics?”

“MyGod,”shesaidsoftly.“AndIthoughtyouwereadetective.”

“There’sahushonpartofthis,”Isaid.“I’vegottowatchmystep.ThisGraylepacksalotofdoughinhispants.Andlawiswhereyoubuyitinthistown.Lookatthefunnywaythecopsareacting.Nobuild-up,nonewspaperhandout,nochancefortheinnocentstrangertostepinwiththetriflingcluethatturnsouttobeallimportant.Nothingbutsilenceandwarningstometolayoff.Idon’tlikeitatall.”

“Yougotmostofthelipstickoff,”AnneRiordansaid.“Imentionedpsychics.Well,good-by.Itwasnicetoknowyou—inaway.”

Shepressedherstarterbuttonandjammedhergearsinandwasgoneinaswirlofdust.

Iwatchedhergo.WhenshewasgoneIlookedacrossthestreet.ThemanfromthepaneltruckthatsaidBayCityInfantServicecameoutofthesidedoorofthehousedressedinauniformsowhiteandstiffandgleamingthatitmademefeelcleanjusttolookatit.Hewascarryingacartonofsomesort.Hegotintohispaneltruckanddroveaway.

Ifiguredhehadjustchangedadiaper.

Igotintomyowncarandlookedatmywatchbeforestartingup.Itwasalmostfive.

TheScotch,asgoodenoughScotchwill,stayedwithmeallthewaybacktoHollywood.Itooktheredlightsastheycame.

“There’sanicelittlegirl,”Itoldmyselfoutloud,inthecar,“foraguythat’sinterestedinanicelittlegirl.”Nobodysaidanything.“ButI’mnot,”Isaid.Nobodysaidanythingtothateither.“Ten

o’clockattheBelvedereClub,”Isaid.Somebodysaid:“Phooey.”

Itsoundedlikemyvoice.

ItwasaquartertosixwhenIreachedmyofficeagain.Thebuildingwasveryquiet.Thetypewriterbeyondthepartywallwasstilled.Ilitapipeandsatdowntowait.

TWENTY

TheIndiansmelled.HesmelledclearacrossthelittlereceptionroomwhenthebuzzersoundedandIopenedthedoorbetweentoseewhoitwas.Hestoodjustinsidethecorridordoorlookingasifhehadbeencastinbronze.Hewasabigmanfromthewaistupandhehadabigchest.Helookedlikeabum.

Heworeabrownsuitofwhichthecoatwastoosmallforhisshouldersandhistrouserswereprobablyalittletightatthewaist.Hishatwasatleasttwosizestoosmallandhadbeenperspiredinfreelybysomebodyitfittedbetterthanitfittedhim.Heworeitaboutwhereahousewearsawindvane.Hiscollarhadthesnugfitofahorse-collarandwasofaboutthesameshadeofdirtybrown.Atiedangledoutsidehisbuttonedjacket,ablacktiewhichhadbeentiedwithapairofpliersinaknotthesizeofapea.Aroundhisbareandmagnificentthroat,abovethedirtycollar,heworeawidepieceofblackribbon,likeanoldwomantryingtofreshenupherneck.

Hehadabigflatfaceandahighbridgedfleshynosethatlookedashardastheprowofacruiser.Hehadlidlesseyes,droopingjowls,theshouldersofablacksmithandtheshortandapparentlyawkwardlegsofachimpanzee.Ifoundoutlaterthattheywereonlyshort.

Ifhehadbeencleanedupalittleanddressedinawhitenightgown,hewouldhavelookedlikeaverywickedRomansenator.

Hissmellwastheearthysmellofprimitiveman,andnottheslimydirtofcities.

“Huh,”hesaid.“Comequick.Comenow.”

Ibackedintomyofficeandwiggledmyfingerathimandhefollowedmemakingasmuchnoiseasaflymakeswalkingonthewall.Isatdownbehindmydeskandsqueakedmyswivelchairprofessionallyandpointedtothecustomer ’schairontheotherside.Hedidn’tsitdown.Hissmallblackeyeswerehostile.

“Comewhere?”Isaid.

“Huh.MeSecondPlanting.MeHollywoodIndian.”

“Haveachair,Mr.Planting.”

Hesnortedandhisnostrilsgotverywide.Theyhadbeenwideenoughformouseholestostartwith.

“NameSecondPlanting.NamenoMisterPlanting.”

“WhatcanIdoforyou?”

Heliftedhisvoiceandbegantointoneinadeep-chestedsonorousboom.“Hesaycomequick.Greatwhitefathersaycomequick.Hesaymebringyouinfierychariot.Hesay—”

“Yeah.CutoutthepigLatin,”Isaid.“I’mnoschool-marmatthesnakedances.”

“Nuts,”theIndiansaid.

Wesneeredateachotheracrossthedeskforamoment.HesneeredbetterthanIdid.Thenheremovedhishatwithmassivedisgustandturneditupsidedown.Herolledafingeraroundunderthesweatband.Thatturnedthesweatbandupintoview,andithadnotbeenmisnamed.Heremovedapaperclipfromtheedgeandthrewafoldoftissuepaperonthedesk.Hepointedatitangrily,withawell-chewedfingernail.Hislankhairhadashelfaroundit,highup,fromthetoo-tighthat.

Iunfoldedthepieceoftissuepaperandfoundacardinside.Thecardwasnonewstome.TherehadbeenthreeexactlylikeitinthemouthpiecesofthreeRussian-appearingcigarettes.

Iplayedwithmypipe,staredattheIndianandtriedtoridehimwithmystare.Helookedasnervousasabrickwall.

“Okey,whatdoeshewant?”

“Hewantyoucomequick.Comenow.Comeinfiery—”

“Nuts,”Isaid.

TheIndianlikedthat.Heclosedhismouthslowlyandwinkedaneyesolemnlyandthenalmostgrinned.

“Alsoitwillcosthimahundredbucksasaretainer,”Iadded,tryingtolookasifthatwasanickel.

“Huh?”Suspiciousagain.SticktobasicEnglish.

“Hundreddollars,”Isaid.“Ironmen.Fish.Buckstothenumberofonehundred.Menomoney,menocome.Savvy?”Ibegantocountahundredwithbothhands.

“Huh.Bigshot,”theIndiansneered.

Heworkedunderhisgreasyhatbandandthrewanotherfoldoftissuepaperonthedesk.Itookitandunwoundit.Itcontainedabrandnewhundreddollarbill.

TheIndianputhishatbackonhisheadwithoutbotheringtotuckthehatbandbackinplace.Itlookedonlyslightlymorecomicthatway.Isatstaringatthehundreddollarbill,withmymouthopen.

“Psychicisright,”Isaidatlast.“AguythatsmartI’mafraidof.”

“Notgotallday,”theIndianremarked,conversationally.

IopenedmydeskandtookoutaColt.38automaticofthetypeknownasSuperMatch.Ihadn’twornittovisitMrs.LewinLockridgeGrayle.Istrippedmycoatoffandstrappedtheleatherharnessonandtuckedtheautomaticdowninsideitandstrappedthelowerstrapandputmycoatbackonagain.

ThismeantasmuchtotheIndianasifIhadscratchedmyneck.

“Gottumcar,”hesaid.“Bigcar.”

“Idon’tlikebigcarsanymore,”Isaid.“Igottumowncar.”

“Youcomemycar,”theIndiansaidthreateningly.

“Icomeyourcar,”Isaid.

Ilockedthedeskandofficeup,switchedthebuzzeroffandwentout,leavingthereceptionroomdoorunlockedasusual.

Wewentalongthehallanddownintheelevator.TheIndiansmelled.Eventheelevatoroperatornoticedit.

TWENTY-ONE

ThecarwasadarkbIueseven-passengersedan,aPackardofthelatestmodel,custom-built.Itwasthekindofcaryouwearyourropepearlsin.Itwasparkedbyafire-hydrantandadarkforeign-lookingchauffeurwithafaceofcarvedwoodwasbehindthewheel.Theinteriorwasupholsteredinquiltedgraychenille.TheIndianputmeintheback.SittingtherealoneIfeltlikeahigh-classcorpse,laidoutbyanundertakerwithalotofgoodtaste.

TheIndiangotinbesidethechauffeurandthecarturnedinthemiddleoftheblockandacopacrossthestreetsaid:“Hey,”weakly,asifhedidn’tmeanit,andthenbentdownquicklytotiehisshoe.

Wewentwest,droppedovertoSunsetandslidfastandnoiselessalongthat.TheIndiansatmotionlessbesidethechauffeur.Anoccasionalwhiffofhispersonalitydriftedbacktome.Thedriverlookedasifhewashalfasleepbuthepassedthefastboysintheconvertiblesedansasthoughtheywerebeingtowed.Theyturnedonallthegreenlightsforhim.Somedriversarelikethat.Henevermissedone.

WecurvedthroughthebrightmileortwooftheStrip,pasttheantiqueshopswithfamousscreennamesonthem,pastthewindowsfullofpointlaceandancientpewter,pastthegleamingnewnightclubswithfamouschefsandequallyfamousgamblingrooms,runbypolishedgraduatesofthePurpleGang,pasttheGeorgian-Colonialvogue,nowoldhat,pastthehandsomemodernisticbuildingsinwhichtheHollywoodflesh-peddlersneverstoptalkingmoney,pastadrive-inlunchwhichsomehowdidn’tbelong,eventhoughthegirlsworewhitesilkblousesanddrummajorettes’shakosandnothingbelowthehipsbutglazedkidHessianboots.PastallthisanddownawidesmoothcurvetothebridlepathofBeverlyHillsandlightstothesouth,allcolorsofthespectrumandcrystalclearinaneveningwithoutfog,pasttheshadowedmansionsuponthehillstothenorth,pastBeverlyHillsaltogetherandupintothetwistingfoothillboulevardandthesuddencoolduskandthedriftofwindfromthesea.

Ithadbeenawarmafternoon,buttheheatwasgone.Wewhippedpastadistantclusteroflighted

buildingsandanendlessseriesoflightedmansions,nottooclosetotheroad.Wedippeddowntoskirtahugegreenpolofieldwithanotherequallyhugepracticefieldbesideit,soaredagaintothetopofahillandswungmountainwardupasteephillroadofcleanconcretethatpassedorangegroves,somerichman’spetbecausethisisnotorangecountry,andthenlittlebylittlethelightedwindowsofthemillionaires’homesweregoneandtheroadnarrowedandthiswasStillwoodHeights.

Thesmellofsagedriftedupfromacanyonandmademethinkofadeadmanandamoonlesssky.Stragglystuccohousesweremoldedflattothesideofthehill,likebas-reliefs.Thentherewerenomorehouses,justthestilldarkfoothillswithanearlystarortwoabovethem,andtheconcreteribbonofroadandasheerdropononesideintoatangleofscruboakandmanzanitawheresometimesyoucanhearthecallofthequailsifyoustopandkeepstillandwait.Ontheothersideoftheroadwasarawclaybankattheedgeofwhichafewunbeatablewildflowershungonlikenaughtychildrenthatwon’tgotobed.

Thentheroadtwistedintoahairpinturnandthebigtiresscratchedoverloosestones,andthecartorelesssoundlesslyupalongdrivewaylinedwiththewildgeraniums.Atthetopofthis,faintlylighted,lonelyasalighthouse,stoodaneyrie,aneagle’snest,anangularbuildingofstuccoandglassbrick,rawandmodernisticandyetnotuglyandaltogetheraswellplaceforapsychicconsultanttohangouthisshingle.Nobodywouldbeabletohearanyscreams.

Thecarturnedbesidethehouseandalightflickedonoverablackdoorsetintotheheavywall.TheIndianclimbedoutgruntingandopenedthereardoorofthecar.Thechauffeurlitacigarettewithanelectriclighterandaharshsmelloftobaccocamebacktomesoftlyintheevening.Igotout.

Wewentovertotheblackdoor.Itopenedofitself,slowly,almostwithmenace.Beyonditanarrowhallwayprobedbackintothehouse.Lightglowedfromtheglassbrickwalls.

TheIndiangrowled.“Huh.Yougoin,bigshot.”

“Afteryou,Mr.Planting.”

Hescowledandwentinandthedoorclosedafterusassilentlyandmysteriouslyasithadopened.AttheendofthenarrowhallwaywesqueezedintoalittleelevatorandtheIndianclosedthedoorandpressedabutton.Werosesoftly,withoutsound.SuchsmellingastheIndianhaddonebeforewasamooncastshadowtowhathewasdoingnow.

Theelevatorstopped,thedooropened.TherewaslightandIsteppedoutintoaturretroomwherethedaywasstilltryingtoberemembered.Therewerewindowsallaroundit.Farofftheseaflickered.Darknessprowledslowlyonthehills.Therewerepaneledwallswheretherewerenowindows,andrugsonthefloorwiththesoftcolorsofoldPersians,andtherewasareceptiondeskthatlookedasifithadbeenmadeofcarvingsstolenfromanancientchurch.Andbehindthedeskawomansatandsmiledatme,adrytightwitheredsmilethatwouldturntopowderifyoutouchedit.

Shehadsleekcoiledhairandadark,thin,wastedAsiaticface.Therewereheavycoloredstonesinherearsandheavyringsonherfingers,includingamoonstoneandanemeraldinasilversettingthatmayhavebeenarealemeraldbutsomehowmanagedtolookasphonyasadimestoreslavebracelet.Andherhandsweredryanddarkandnotyoungandnotfitforrings.

Shespoke.Thevoicewasfamiliar.“Ah,MeesterMarlowe,soverrygoodofyoutocome.Amthorheweelbesoverrypleased.”

IlaidthehundreddollarbilltheIndianhadgivenmedownonthedesk.Ilookedbehindme.TheIndianhadgonedownagainintheelevator.

“Sorry.Itwasanicethought,butIcan’ttakethis.”

“Amthorhe—heweeshtoemployyou,isitnot?”Shesmiledagain.Herlipsrustledliketissuepaper.

“I’dhavetofindoutwhatthejobisfirst.”

Shenoddedandgotupslowlyfrombehindthedesk.Sheswishedbeforemeinatightdressthatfittedherlikeamermaid’sskinandshowedthatshehadagoodfigureifyoulikethemfoursizesbiggerbelowthewaist.

“Iweelconductyou,”shesaid.

Shepressedabuttoninthepanelingandadoorslidopennoiselessly.Therewasamilkyglowbeyondit.IlookedbackathersmilebeforeIwentthrough.ItwasolderthanEgyptnow.Thedoorslidsilentlyshutbehindme.

Therewasnobodyintheroom.

Itwasoctagonal,drapedinblackvelvetfromfloortoceiling,withahighremoteblackceilingthatmayhavebeenofvelvettoo.Inthemiddleofacoalblacklustrelessrugstoodanoctagonalwhitetable,justlargeenoughfortwopairsofelbowsandinthemiddleofitamilkwhiteglobeonablackstand.Thelightcamefromthis.How,Icouldn’tsee.Oneithersideofthetabletherewasawhiteoctagonalstoolwhichwasasmallereditionofthetable.Overagainstonewalltherewasonemoresuchstool.Therewerenowindows.Therewasnothingelseintheroom,nothingatall.Onthewallstherewasnotevenalightfixture.Iftherewereotherdoors,Ididn’tseethem.IlookedbackattheonebywhichIhadcomein.Icouldn’tseethateither.

Istoodthereforperhapsfifteensecondswiththefaintobscurefeelingofbeingwatched.Therewasprobablyapeepholesomewhere,butIcouldn’tspotit.Igaveuptrying.Ilistenedtomybreath.TheroomwassostillthatIcouldhearitgoingthroughmynose,softly,likelittlecurtainsrustling.

Thenaninvisibledooronthefarsideoftheroomslidopenandamansteppedthroughandthedoorclosedbehindhim.ThemanwalkedstraighttothetablewithhisheaddownandsatononeoftheoctagonalstoolsandmadeasweepingmotionwithoneofthemostbeautifulhandsIhaveeverseen.

“Pleasebeseated.Oppositeme.Donotsmokeanddonotfidget.Trytorelax,completely.NowhowmayIserveyou?”

Isatdown,gotacigaretteintomymouthandrolleditalongmylipswithoutlightingit.Ilookedhimover.Hewasthin,tallandstraightasasteelrod.HehadthepalestfinestwhitehairIeversaw.Itcouldhavebeenstrainedthroughsilkgauze.Hisskinwasasfreshasarosepetal.Hemighthavebeenthirty-fiveorsixty-five.Hewasageless.Hishairwasbrushedstraightbackfromasgoodaprofileas

Barrymoreeverhad.Hiseyebrowswerecoalblack,likethewallsandceilingandfloor.Hiseyesweredeep,fartoodeep.Theywerethedepthlessdruggedeyesofthesomnambulist.TheywerelikeawellIreadaboutonce.Itwasninehundredyearsold,inanoldcastle.Youcoulddropastoneintoitandwait.Youcouldlistenandwaitandthenyouwouldgiveupwaitingandlaughandthenjustasyouwerereadytoturnawayafaint,minutesplashwouldcomebackuptoyoufromthebottomofthatwell,sotiny,soremotethatyoucouldhardlybelieveawelllikethatpossible.

Hiseyesweredeeplikethat.Andtheywerealsoeyeswithoutexpression,withoutsoul,eyesthatcouldwatchlionstearamantopiecesandneverchange,thatcouldwatchamanimpaledandscreaminginthehotsunwithhiseyelidscutoff.

Heworeadouble-breastedblackbusinesssuitthathadbeencutbyanartist.Hestaredvaguelyatmyfingers.

“Pleasedonotfidget,”hesaid.“Itbreaksthewaves,disturbsmyconcentration.”

“Itmakestheicemelt,thebutterrunandthecatsquawk,”Isaid.

Hesmiledthefaintestsmileintheworld.“Youdidn’tcomeheretobeimpertinent,I’msure.”

“YouseemtoforgetwhyIdidcome.Bytheway,Igavethathundreddollarbillbacktoyoursecretary.Icame,asyoumayrecall,aboutsomecigarettes.Russiancigarettesfilledwithmarihuana.Withyourcardrolledinthehollowmouthpieces.”

“Youwishtofindoutwhythathappened?”

“Yeah.Ioughttobepayingyouthehundreddollars.”

“Thatwillnotbenecessary.Theanswerissimple.TherearethingsIdonotknow.Thisisoneofthem.”

ForamomentIalmostbelievedhim.Hisfacewasassmoothasanangel’swing.

“Thenwhysendmeahundreddollars—andatoughIndianthatstinks—andacar?Bytheway,doestheIndianhavetostink?Ifhe’sworkingforyou,couldn’tyousortofgethimtotakeabath?”

“Heisanaturalmedium.Theyarerare—likediamonds,andlikediamonds,aresometimesfoundindirtyplaces.Iunderstandyouareaprivatedetective?”

“Yes.”

“Ithinkyouareaverystupidperson.Youlookstupid.Youareinastupidbusiness.Andyoucamehereonastupidmission.”

“Igetit,”Isaid.“I’mstupid.Itsankinafterawhile.”

“AndIthinkIneednotdetainyouanylonger.”

“You’renotdetainingme,”Isaid.“I’mdetainingyou.Iwanttoknowwhythosecardswerein

thosecigarettes.”

Heshruggedthesmallestshrugthatcouldbeshrugged.“Mycardsareavailabletoanybody.Idonotgivemyfriendsmarihuanacigarettes.Yourquestionremainsstupid.”

“Iwonderifthiswouldbrightenitupany.ThecigaretteswereinacheapChineseorJapanesecaseofimitationtortoiseshell.Everseeanythinglikethat?”

“No.NotthatIrecall.”

“Icanbrightenitupalittlemore.ThecasewasinthepocketofamannamedLindsayMarriott.Everhearofhim?”

Hethought.“Yes.Itriedatonetimetotreathimforcamerashyness.Hewastryingtogetintopictures.Itwasawasteoftime.Picturesdidnotwanthim.”

“Icanguessthat,”Isaid.“HewouldphotographlikeIsadoraDuncan.I’vestillgotthebigoneleft.WhydidyousendmetheC-note?”

“MydearMr.Marlowe,”hesaidcoldly,“Iamnofool.Iaminaverysensitiveprofession.Iamaquack.ThatistosayIdothingswhichthedoctorsintheirsmallfrightenedselfishguildcannotaccomplish.Iamindangeratalltimes—frompeoplelikeyou.Imerelywishtoestimatethedangerbeforedealingwithit.”

“Prettytrivialinmycase,huh?”

“Ithardlyexists,”hesaidpolitelyandmadeapeculiarmotionwithhislefthandwhichmademyeyesjumpatit.Thenheputitdownveryslowlyonthewhitetableandlookedatit.Thenheraisedhisdepthlesseyesagainandfoldedhisarms.

“Yourhearing—”

“Ismellitnow,”Isaid.“Iwasn’tthinkingofhim.”

Iturnedmyheadtotheleft.TheIndianwassittingonthethirdwhitestoolagainsttheblackvelvet.

Hehadsomekindofawhitesmockonhimoverhisotherclothes.Hewassittingwithoutamovement,hiseyesclosed,hisheadbentforwardalittle,asifhehadbeenasleepforanhour.Hisdarkstrongfacewasfullofshadows.

IlookedbackatAmthor.Hewassmilinghisminutesmile.

“Ibetthatmakesthedowagersshedtheirfalseteeth,”Isaid.“Whatdoeshedoforrealmoney—sitonyourkneeandsingFrenchsongs?”

Hemadeanimpatientgesture.“Gettothepoint,please.”

“LastnightMarriotthiredmetogowithhimonanexpeditionthatinvolvedpayingsomemoneytosomecrooksataspottheypicked.Igotknockedonthehead.WhenIcameoutofitMarriotthad

beenmurdered.”

NothingchangedmuchinAmthor ’sface.Hedidn’tscreamorrunupthewalls.Butforhimthereactionwassharp.Heunfoldedhisarmsandrefoldedthemtheotherway.Hismouthlookedgrim.ThenhesatlikeastonelionoutsidethePublicLibrary.

“Thecigaretteswerefoundonhim,”Isaid.

Helookedatmecoolly.“Butnotbythepolice,Itakeit.Sincethepolicehavenotbeenhere.”

“Correct.”

“Thehundreddollars,”hesaidverysoftly,“washardlyenough.”

“Thatdependswhatyouexpecttobuywithit.”

“Youhavethesecigaretteswithyou?”

“Oneofthem.Buttheydon’tproveanything.Asyousaid,anybodycouldgetyourcards.I’mjustwonderingwhytheywerewheretheywere.Anyideas?”

“HowwelldidyouknowMr.Marriott?”heaskedsoftly.

“Notatall.ButIhadideasabouthim.Theyweresoobvioustheystuckout.”

Amthortappedlightlyonthewhitetable.TheIndianstillsleptwithhischinonhishugechest,hisheavy-liddedeyestightshut.

“Bytheway,didyouevermeetaMrs.Grayle,awealthyladywholivesinBayCity?”

Henoddedabsently.“Yes,Itreatedhercentersofspeech.Shehadaveryslightimpediment.”

“Youdidasweetjobonher,”Isaid.“ShetalksasgoodasIdonow.”

Thatfailedtoamusehim.Hestilltappedonthetable.Ilistenedtothetaps.SomethingaboutthemIdidn’tlike.Theysoundedlikeacode.Hestopped,foldedhisarmsagainandleanedbackagainsttheair.

“WhatIlikeaboutthisjobeverybodyknowseverybody,”Isaid.“Mrs.GrayleknewMarriotttoo.”

“Howdidyoufindthatout?”heaskedslowly.

Ididn’tsayanything.

“Youwillhavetotellthepolice—aboutthosecigarettes,”hesaid.

Ishrugged.

“YouarewonderingwhyIdonothaveyouthrownout,”Amthorsaidpleasantly.“Second

Plantingcouldbreakyournecklikeacelerystalk.Iamwonderingmyself.Youseemtohavesomesortoftheory.BlackmailIdonotpay.Itbuysnothing—andIhavemanyfriends.Butnaturallytherearecertainelementswhichwouldliketoshowmeinabadlight.Psychiatrists,sexspecialists,neurologists,nastylittlemenwithrubberhammersandshelvesloadedwiththeliteratureofaberrations.Andofcoursetheyareall—doctors.WhileIamstilla—quack.Whatisyourtheory?”

Itriedtostarehimdown,butitcouldn’tbedone.Ifeltmyselflickingmylips.

Heshruggedlightly.“Ican’tblameyouforwantingtokeepittoyourself.ThisisamatterthatImustgivethoughtto.PerhapsyouareamuchmoreintelligentmanthanIthought.Ialsomakemistakes.Inthemeantime—”Heleanedforwardandputahandoneachsideofthemilkyglobe.

“IthinkMarriottwasablackmailerofwomen,”Isaid.“Andfingermanforajewelmob.Butwhotoldhimwhatwomentocultivate—sothathewouldknowtheircomingsandgoings,getintimatewiththem,makelovetothem,makethemloadupwiththeiceandtakethemout,andthensliptoaphoneandtelltheboyswheretooperate?”

“That,”Amthorsaidcarefully,“isyourpictureofMarriott—andofme.Iamslightlydisgusted.”

Ileanedforwarduntilmyfacewasnotmorethanafootfromhis.“You’reinaracket.Dressitupallyoupleaseandit’sstillaracket.Anditwasn’tjustthecards,Amthor.Asyousay,anybodycouldgetthose.Itwasn’tthemarihuana.Youwouldn’tbeinacheaplinelikethat—notwithyourchances.Butonthebackofeachcardthereisablankspace.Andonblankspaces,orevenonwrittenones,thereissometimesinvisiblewriting.”

Hesmiledbleakly,butIhardlysawit.Hishandsmovedoverthemilkybowl.

Thelightwentout.TheroomwasasblackasCarryNation’sbonnet.

TWENTY-TWO

Ikickedmystoolbackandstoodupandjerkedthegunoutoftheholsterundermyarm.Butitwasnogood.MycoatwasbuttonedandIwastooslow.I’dhavebeentooslowanyway,ifitcametoshootinganybody.

Therewasasoundlessrushofairandanearthysmell.InthecompletedarknesstheIndianhitmefrombehindandpinnedmyarmstomysides.Hestartedtoliftme.Icouldhavegotthegunoutstillandfannedtheroomwithblindshots,butIwasalongwayfromfriends.Itdidn’tseemasiftherewasanypointinit.

Iletgoofthegunandtookholdofhiswrists.Theyweregreasyandhardtohold.TheIndianbreathedgutturallyandsetmedownwithajarthatliftedthetopofmyhead.Hehadmywristsnow,insteadofmehavinghis.Hetwistedthembehindmefastandakneelikeacornerstonewentintomyback.Hebentme.Icanbebent.I’mnottheCityHall.Hebentme.

Itriedtoyell,fornoreasonatall.Breathpantedinmythroatandcouldn’tgetout.TheIndianthrewmesidewaysandgotabodyscissorsonmeasIfell.Hehadmeinabarrel.Hishandswenttomyneck.SometimesIwakeupinthenight.IfeelthemthereandIsmellthesmellofhim.Ifeelthebreathfightingandlosingandthegreasyfingersdiggingin.ThenIgetupandtakeadrinkandturntheradioon.

Iwasjustaboutgonewhenthelightflaredonagain,bloodred,onaccountofthebloodinmyeyeballsandatthebackofthem.Afacefloatedaroundandahandpawedmedelicately,buttheotherhandsstayedonmythroat.

Avoicesaidsoftly,“Lethimbreathe—alittle.”

Thefingersslackened.Iwrenchedloosefromthem.Somethingthatglintedhitmeonthesideofthejaw.

Thevoicesaidsoftly:“Gethimonhisfeet.”

TheIndiangotmeonmyfeet.Hepulledmebackagainstthewall,holdingmebybothtwistedwrists.

“Amateur,”thevoicesaidsoftlyandtheshinythingthatwasashardandbitterasdeathhitmeagain,acrosstheface.Somethingwarmtrickled.Ilickedatitandtastedironandsalt.

Ahandexploredmywallet.Ahandexploredallmypockets.Thecigaretteintissuepapercameoutandwasunwrapped.Itwentsomewhereinthehazethatwasinfrontofme.

“Therewerethreecigarettes?”thevoicesaidgently,andtheshiningthinghitmyjawagain.

“Three,”Igulped.

“Justwheredidyousaytheotherswere?”

“Inmydesk—attheoffice.”

Theshinythinghitmeagain.“Youareprobablylying—butIcanfindout.”Keysshonewithfunnylittleredlightsinfrontofme.Thevoicesaid:“Chokehimalittlemore.”

Theironfingerswentintomythroat.Iwasstrainedbackagainsthim,againstthesmellofhimandthehardmusclesofhisstomach.Ireachedupandtookoneofhisfingersandtriedtotwistit.

Thevoicesaidsoftly:“Amazing.He’slearning.”

Theglintingthingswayedthroughtheairagain.Itsmackedmyjaw,thethingthathadoncebeenmyjaw.

“Lethimgo.He’stame,”thevoicesaid.

TheheavystrongarmsdroppedawayandIswayedforwardandtookastepandsteadiedmyself.Amthorstoodsmilingveryslightly,almostdreamilyinfrontofme.Heheldmyguninhisdelicate,lovelyhand.Hehelditpointedatmychest.

“Icouldteachyou,”hesaidinhissoftvoice.“Buttowhatpurpose?Adirtylittlemaninadirtylittleworld.Onespotofbrightnessonyouandyouwouldstillbethat.Isitnotso?”Hesmiled,sobeautifully.

IswungathissmilewitheverythingIhadleft.

Itwasn’tsobadconsidering.Hereeledandbloodcameoutofbothhisnostrils.Thenhecaughthimselfandstraightenedupandliftedthegunagain.

“Sitdown,mychild,”hesaidsoftly.“Ihavevisitorscoming.Iamsogladyouhitme.Ithelpsagreatdeal.”

Ifeltforthewhitestoolandsatdownandputmyheaddownonthewhitetablebesidethemilky

globewhichwasnowshiningagainsoftly.Istaredatitsideways,myfaceonthetable.Thelightfascinatedme.Nicelight,nicesoftlight.

Behindmeandaroundmetherewasnothingbutsilence.

IthinkIwenttosleep,justlikethat,withabloodyfaceonthetable,andathinbeautifuldevilwithmyguninhishandwatchingmeandsmiling.

TWENTY-THREE

“Allright,”thebigonesaid.“Youcanquitstallingnow.”

Iopenedmyeyesandsatup.

“Outintheotherroom,pally.”

Istoodup,stilldreamy.Wewentsomewhere,throughadoor.ThenIsawwhereitwas—thereceptionroomwiththewindowsallaround.Itwasblackdarknowoutside.

Thewomanwiththewrongringssatatherdesk.Amanstoodbesideher.

“Sithere,pally.”

Hepushedmedown.Itwasanicechair,straightbutcomfortablebutIwasn’tinthemoodforit.Thewomanbehindthedeskhadanotebookopenandwasreadingoutloudfromit.Ashortelderlymanwithadeadpanexpressionandagraymustachewaslisteningtoher.

Amthorwasstandingbyawindow,withhisbacktotheroom,lookingoutattheplacidlineoftheocean,faroff,beyondthepierlights,beyondtheworld.Helookedatitasifhelovedit.Hehalfturnedhisheadtolookatmeonce,andIcouldseethatthebloodhadbeenwashedoffhisface,buthisnosewasn’tthenoseIhadfirstmet,notbytwosizes.Thatmademegrin,crackedlipsandall.

“Yougotfun,pally?”

Ilookedatwhatmadethesound,whatwasinfrontofmeandwhathadhelpedmegetwhereIwas.Hewasawindblownblossomofsometwohundredpoundswithfreckledteethandthemellowvoiceofacircusbarker.Hewastough,fastandheateredmeat.Nobodycouldpushhimaround.Hewasthekindofcopwhospitsonhisblackjackeverynightinsteadofsayinghisprayers.Buthehadhumorouseyes.

Hestoodinfrontofmesplay-legged,holdingmyopenwalletinhishand,makingscratchesontheleatherwithhisrightthumbnail,asifhejustlikedtospoilthings.Littlethings,iftheywereallhehad.Butprobablyfaceswouldgivehimmorefun.

“Peeper,huh,pally?Fromthebigbadburg,huh?Littlespotofblackmail,huh?”

Hishatwasonthebackofhishead.Hehaddustybrownhairdarkenedbysweatonhisforehead.Hishumorouseyeswerefleckedwithredveins.

Mythroatfeltasthoughithadbeenthroughamangle.Ireachedupandfeltit.ThatIndian.Hehadfingerslikepiecesoftoolsteel.

Thedarkwomanstoppedreadingoutofhernotebookandclosedit.Theelderlysmallishmanwiththegraymustachenoddedandcameovertostandbehindtheonewhowastalkingtome.

“Cops?”Iasked,rubbingmychin.

“Whatdoyouthink,pally?”

Policeman’shumor.Thesmallonehadacastinoneeye,anditlookedhalfblind.

“NotL.A.,”Isaid,lookingathim.“ThateyewouldretirehiminLosAngeles.”

Thebigmanhandedmemywallet.Ilookedthroughit.Ihadallthemoneystill.Allthecards.Ithadeverythingthatbelongedinit.Iwassurprised.

“Saysomething,pally,”thebigonesaid.“Somethingthatwouldmakeusgetfondofyou.”

“Givemebackmygun.”

Heleanedforwardalittleandthought.Icouldseehimthinking.Ithurthiscorns.“Oh,youwantyourgun,pally?”Helookedsidewaysattheonewiththegraymustache.“Hewantshisgun,”hetoldhim.Helookedatmeagain.“Andwhatwouldyouwantyourgunfor,pally?”

“IwanttoshootanIndian.”

“Oh,youwanttoshootanIndian,pally.”

“Yeah—justoneIndian,pop.”

Helookedattheonewiththemustacheagain.“Thisguyisverytough,”hetoldhim.“HewantstoshootanIndian.”

“Listen,Hemingway,don’trepeateverythingIsay,”Isaid.

“Ithinktheguyisnuts,”thebigonesaid.“HejustcalledmeHemingway.Doyouthinkheisnuts?”

Theonewiththemustachebitacigarandsaidnothing.Thetallbeautifulmanatthewindow

turnedslowlyandsaidsoftly:“Ithinkpossiblyheisalittleunbalanced.”

“Ican’tthinkofanyreasonwhyheshouldcallmeHemingway,”thebigonesaid.“Mynameain’tHemingway.”

Theoldermansaid:“Ididn’tseeagun.”

TheylookedatAmthor.Amthorsaid:“It’sinside.Ihaveit.I’llgiveittoyou,Mr.Blane.”

Thebigmanleaneddownfromhishipsandbenthiskneesalittleandbreathedinmyface.“WhatfordidyoucallmeHemingway,pally?”

“Thereareladiespresent.”

Hestraightenedupagain.“Yousee.”Helookedattheonewiththemustache.Theonewiththemustachenoddedandthenturnedandwalkedaway,acrosstheroom.Theslidingdooropened.HewentinandAmthorfollowedhim.

Therewassilence.Thedarkwomanlookeddownatthetopofherdeskandfrowned.Thebigmanlookedatmyrighteyebrowandslowlyshookhisheadfromsidetoside,wonderingly.

Thedooropenedagainandthemanwiththemustachecameback.Hepickedahatupfromsomewhereandhandedittome.Hetookmygunoutofhispocketandhandedittome.Iknewbytheweightitwasempty.Ituckeditundermyarmandstoodup.

Thebigmansaid:“Let’sgo,pally.Awayfromhere.Ithinkmaybealittleairwillhelpyoutogetstraightenedout.”

“Okey,Hemingway.”

“He’sdoingthatagain,”thebigmansaidsadly.“CallingmeHemingwayonaccountofthereareladiespresent.Wouldyouthinkthatwouldbesomekindofdirtycrackinhisbook?”

Themanwiththemustachesaid,“Hurryup.”

Thebigmantookmebythearmandwewentovertothelittleelevator.Itcameup.Wegotintoit.

TWENTY-FOUR

Atthebottomoftheshaftwegotoutandwalkedalongthenarrowhallwayandoutoftheblackdoor.Itwascrispclearairoutside,highenoughtobeabovethedriftoffoggysprayfromtheocean.Ibreatheddeeply.

Thebigmanstillhadholdofmyarm.Therewasacarstandingthere,aplaindarksedan,withprivateplates.

Thebigmanopenedthefrontdoorandcomplained:“Itain’treallyuptoyourclass,pally.Butalittleairwillsetyouupfine.Wouldthatbeallrightwithyou?Wewouldn’twanttodoanythingthatyouwouldn’tlikeustodo,pally.”

“Where’stheIndian?”

Heshookhisheadalittleandpushedmeintothecar.Igotintotherightsideofthefrontseat.“Oh,yeah,theIndian,”hesaid.“Yougottoshoothimwithabowandarrow.That’sthelaw.Wegothiminthebackofthecar.”

Ilookedinthebackofthecar.Itwasempty.

“Hell,heain’tthere,”thebigonesaid.“Somebodymustofglommedhimoff.Youcan’tleavenothinginaunlockedcaranymore.”

“Hurryup,”themanwiththemustachesaid,andgotintothebackseat.Hemingwaywentaroundandpushedhishardstomachbehindthewheel.Hestartedthecar.Weturnedanddriftedoffdownthedrivewaylinedwithwildgeraniums.Acoldwindliftedoffthesea.Thestarsweretoofaroff.Theysaidnothing.

Wereachedthebottomofthedriveandturnedoutontotheconcretemountainroadanddriftedwithouthastealongthat.

“Howcomeyoudon’thaveacarwithyou,pally?”

“Amthorsentforme.”

“Whywouldthatbe,pally?”

“Itmusthavebeenhewantedtoseeme.”

“Thisguyisgood,”Hemingwaysaid.“Hefiguresthingsout.”Hespitoutofthesideofthecarandmadeaturnnicelyandletthecarrideitsmotordownthehill.“Hesaysyoucalledhimuponthephoneandtriedtoputthebiteonhim.Sohefigureshebetterhavealook-seewhatkindofguyheisdoingbusinesswith—ifheisdoingbusiness.Sohesendshisowncar.”

“OnaccountofheknowsheisgoingtocallsomecopsheknowsandIwon’tneedminetogethomewith,”Isaid.“Okey,Hemingway.”

“Yeah,thatagain.Okey.WellhehasadictaphoneunderhistableandhissecretarytakesitalldownandwhenwecomeshereadsitbacktoMr.Blanehere.”

IturnedandlookedatMr.Blane.Hewassmokingacigar,peacefully,asthoughhehadhisslipperson.Hedidn’tlookatme.

“Likehellshedid,”Isaid.“Morelikelyastockbunchofnotestheyhadallfixedupforacaselikethat.”

“Maybeyouwouldliketotelluswhyyouwantedtoseethisguy,”Hemingwaysuggestedpolitely.

“YoumeanwhileIstillhavepartofmyface?”

“Aw,weain’tthosekindofboysatall,”hesaid,withalargegesture.

“YouknowAmthorprettywell,don’tyou,Hemingway?”

“Mr.Blanekindofknowshim.Me,Ijustdowhattheordersis.”

“WhothehellisMr.Blane?”

“That’sthegentlemaninthebackseat.”

“Andbesidesbeinginthebackseatwhothehellishe?”

“Why,Jesus,everybodyknowsMr.Blane.”

“Allright,”Isaid,suddenlyfeelingveryweary.

Therewasalittlemoresilence,morecurves,morewindingribbonsofconcrete,moredarkness,andmorepain.

Thebigmansaid:“Nowthatweareallbetweenpalsandnoladiespresentwereallydon’tgiveso

muchtimetowhyyouwentbackupthere,butthisHemingwaystuffiswhatreallyhasmedown.”

“Agag,”Isaid.“Anold,oldgag.”

“WhoisthisHemingwaypersonatall?”

“Aguythatkeepssayingthesamethingoverandoveruntilyoubegintobelieveitmustbegood.”

“Thatmusttakeahellofalongtime,”thebigmansaid.“Foraprivatedickyoucertainlyhaveawanderingkindofmind.Areyoustillwearingyourownteeth?”

“Yeah,withafewplugsinthem.”

“Well,youcertainlyhavebeenlucky,pally.”Themaninthebackseatsaid:“Thisisallright.Turnrightatthenext.”

“Check.”

Hemingwayswungthesedanintoanarrowdirtroadthatedgedalongtheflankofamountain.Wedrovealongthataboutamile.Thesmellofthesagebecameoverpowering.

“Here,”themaninthebackseatsaid.

Hemingwaystoppedthecarandsetthebrake.Heleanedacrossmeandopenedthedoor.

“Well,it’snicetohavemetyou,pally.Butdon’tcomeback.Anywaysnotonbusiness.Out.”

“Iwalkhomefromhere?”

Themaninthebackseatsaid:“Hurryup.”

“Yeah,youwalkhomefromhere,pally.Willthatbeallrightwithyou?”

“Sure,itwillgivemetimetothinkafewthingsout.ForinstanceyouboysarenotL.A.cops.Butoneofyouisacop,maybebothofyou.I’dsayyouareBayCitycops.I’mwonderingwhyyouwereoutofyourterritory.”

“Ain’tthatgoingtobekindofhardtoprove,pally?”

“Goodnight,Hemingway.”

Hedidn’tanswer.Neitherofthemspoke.Istartedtogetoutofthecarandputmyfootontherunningboardandleanedforward,stillalittledizzy.

ThemaninthebackseatmadeasuddenflashingmovementthatIsensedratherthansaw.Apoolofdarknessopenedatmyfeetandwasfar,fardeeperthantheblackestnight.

Idivedintoit.Ithadnobottom.

TWENTY-FIVE

Theroomwasfullofsmoke.

Thesmokehungstraightupintheair,inthinlines,straightupanddownlikeacurtainofsmallclearbeads.Twowindowsseemedtobeopeninanendwall,butthesmokedidn’tmove.Ihadneverseentheroombefore.Therewerebarsacrossthewindows.

Iwasdull,withoutthought.IfeltasifIhadsleptforayear.Butthesmokebotheredme.Ilayonmybackandthoughtaboutit.AfteralongtimeItookadeepbreaththathurtmylungs.

Iyelled:“Fire!”

Thatmademelaugh.Ididn’tknowwhatwasfunnyaboutitbutIbegantolaugh.Ilaythereonthebedandlaughed.Ididn’tlikethesoundofthelaugh.Itwasthelaughofanut.

Theoneyellwasenough.Stepsthumpedrapidlyoutsidetheroomandakeywasjammedintoalockandthedoorswungopen.Amanjumpedinsidewaysandshutthedoorafterhim.Hisrighthandreachedtowardhiship.

Hewasashortthickmaninawhitecoat.Hiseyeshadaqueerlook,blackandflat.Therewerebulbsofgrayskinattheoutercornersofthem.

Iturnedmyheadonthehardpillowandyawned.

“Don’tcountthatone,Jack.Itslippedout,”Isaid.

Hestoodtherescowling,hisrighthandhoveringtowardshisrighthip.Greenishmalignantfaceandflatblackeyesandgraywhiteskinandnosethatseemedjustashell.

“Maybeyouwantsomemorestrait-jacket,”hesneered.

“I’mfine,Jack.Justfine.Hadalongnap.Dreamedalittle,Iguess.WhereamI?”

“Whereyoubelong.”

“Seemslikeaniceplace,”Isaid.“Nicepeople,niceatmosphere.IguessI’llhavemeashortnapagain.”

“Betterbejustthat,”hesnarled.

Hewentout.Thedoorshut.Thelockclicked.Thestepsgrowledintonothing.

Hehadn’tdonethesmokeanygood.Itstillhungthereinthemiddleoftheroom,allacrosstheroom.Likeacurtain.Itdidn’tdissolve,didn’tfloatoff,didn’tmove.Therewasairintheroom,andIcouldfeelitonmyface.Butthesmokecouldn’tfeelit.Itwasagraywebwovenbyathousandspiders.Iwonderedhowtheyhadgotthemtoworktogether.

Cottonflannelpajamas.ThekindtheyhaveintheCountyHospital.Nofront,notastitchmorethanisessential.Coarse,roughmaterial.Theneckchafedmythroat.Mythroatwasstillsore.Ibegantorememberthings.Ireachedupandfeltthethroatmuscles.Theywerestillsore.JustoneIndian,pop.Okey,Hemingway.Soyouwanttobeadetective?Earngoodmoney.Nineeasylessons.Weprovidebadge.Forfiftycentsextrawesendyouatruss.

Thethroatfeltsorebutthefingersfeelingitdidn’tfeelanything.Theymightjustaswellhavebeenabunchofbananas.Ilookedatthem.Theylookedlikefingers.Nogood.Mailorderfingers.Theymusthavecomewiththebadgeandthetruss.Andthediploma.

Itwasnight.Theworldoutsidethewindowswasablackworld.Aglassporcelainbowlhungfromthemiddleoftheceilingonthreebrasschains.Therewaslightinit.Ithadlittlecoloredlumpsaroundtheedge,orangeandbluealternately.Istaredatthem.Iwastiredofthesmoke.AsIstaredtheybegantoopenuplikelittleport-holesandheadspoppedout.Tinybeads,butalive,headsliketheheadsofsmalldolls,butalive.TherewasamaninayachtingcapwithaJohnnyWalkernoseandafluffyblondeinapicturehatandathinmanwithacrookedbowtie.Helookedlikeawaiterinabeachtownflytrap.Heopenedhislipsandsneered:“Wouldyoulikeyoursteakrareormedium,sir?”

IclosedmyeyestightandwinkedthemhardandwhenIopenedthemagainitwasjustashamporcelainbowlonthreebrasschains.

Butthesmokestillhungmotionlessinthemovingair.

Itookholdofthecornerofaroughsheetandwipedthesweatoffmyfacewiththenumbfingersthecorrespondenceschoolhadsentmeafterthenineeasylessons,onehalfinadvance,BoxTwoMillionFourHundredandSixtyEightThousandNineHundredandTwentyFour,CedarCity,Iowa.Nuts.Completelynuts.

IsatuponthebedandafterawhileIcouldreachthefloorwithmyfeet.Theywerebareandtheyhadpinsandneedlesinthem.Notionscounterontheleft,madam.Extralargesafetypinsontheright.Thefeetbegantofeelthefloor.Istoodup.Toofarup.Icrouchedover,breathinghardandheldthesideofthebedandavoicethatseemedtocomefromunderthebedsaidoverandoveragain:“You’ve

gotthedt’s...you’vegotthedt’s...you’vegotthedt’s.”

Istartedtowalk,wobblinglikeadrunk.Therewasabottleofwhiskeyonasmallwhiteenameltablebetweenthetwobarredwindows.Itlookedlikeagoodshape.Itlookedabouthalffull.Iwalkedtowardsit.Therearealotofnicepeopleintheworld,inspite.Youcancraboverthemorningpaperandkicktheshinsoftheguyinthenextseatatthemoviesandfeelmeananddiscouragedandsneeratthepoliticians,buttherearealotofnicepeopleintheworldjustthesame.Taketheguythatleftthathalfbottleofwhiskeythere.HehadaheartasbigasoneofMaeWest’ships.

Ireacheditandputbothmyhalf-numbhandsdownonitandhauledituptomymouth,sweatingasifIwasliftingoneendoftheGoldenGateBridge.

Itookalonguntidydrink.Iputthebottledownagain,withinfinitecare.Itriedtolickunderneathmychin.

Thewhiskeyhadafunnytaste.WhileIwasrealizingthatithadafunnytasteIsawawashbowljammedintothecornerofthewall.Imadeit.Ijustmadeit.Ivomited.DizzyDeanneverthrewanythingharder.

Timepassed—anagonyofnauseaandstaggeringanddazednessandclingingtotheedgeofthebowlandmakinganimalsoundsforhelp.

Itpassed.Istaggeredbacktothebedandlaydownonmybackagainandlaytherepanting,watchingthesmoke.Thesmokewasn’tquitesoclear.Notquitesoreal.Maybeitwasjustsomethingbackofmyeyes.Andthenquitesuddenlyitwasn’tthereatallandthelightfromtheporcelainceilingfixtureetchedtheroomsharply.

Isatupagain.Therewasaheavywoodenchairagainstthewallnearthedoor.Therewasanotherdoorbesidesthedoorthemaninthewhitecoathadcomeinat.Aclosetdoor,probably.Itmightevenhavemyclothesinit.Thefloorwascoveredwithgreenandgraylinoleuminsquares.Thewallswerepaintedwhite.Acleanroom.ThebedonwhichIsatwasanarrowironhospitalbed,lowerthantheyusuallyare,andtherewerethickleatherstrapswithbucklesattachedtothesides,aboutwhereaman’swristsandankleswouldbe.

Itwasaswellroom—togetoutof.

Ihadfeelingallovermybodynow,sorenessinmyheadandthroatandinmyarm.Icouldn’trememberaboutthearm.Irolledupthesleeveofthecottonpajamathingandlookedatitfuzzily.Itwascoveredwithpinpricksontheskinallthewayfromtheelbowtotheshoulder.Aroundeachwasasmalldiscoloredpatch,aboutthesizeofaquarter.

Dope.Ihadbeenshotfullofdopetokeepmequiet.Perhapsscopolaminetoo,tomakemetalk.Toomuchdopeforthetime.IwashavingtheFrenchfitscomingoutofit.Somedo,somedon’t.Italldependshowyouareputtogether.Dope.

Thataccountedforthesmokeandthelittleheadsaroundtheedgeoftheceilinglightandthevoicesandthescrewythoughtsandthestrapsandbarsandthenumbfingersandfeet.Thewhiskeywasprobablypartofsomebody’sforty-eight-hourliquorcure.TheyhadjustleftitaroundsothatI

wouldn’tmissanything.

Istoodupandalmosthittheoppositewallwithmystomach.Thatmademeliedownandbreatheverygentlyforquitealongtime.Iwastinglingallovernowandsweating.Icouldfeellittledropsofsweatformonmyforeheadandthenslideslowlyandcarefullydownthesideofmynosetothecornerofmymouth.Mytonguelickedatthemfoolishly.

Isatuponcemoreandplantedmyfeetonthefloorandstoodup.“Okey,Marlowe,”Isaidbetweenmyteeth.“You’reatoughguy.Sixfeetofironman.Onehundredandninetypoundsstrippedandwithyourfacewashed.Hardmusclesandnoglassjaw.Youcantakeit.You’vebeensappeddowntwice,hadyourthroatchokedandbeenbeatenhalfsillyonthejawwithagunbarrel.You’vebeenshotfullofhopandkeptunderituntilyou’reascrazyastwowaltzingmice.Andwhatdoesallthatamountto?Routine.Nowlet’sseeyoudosomethingreallytough,likeputtingyourpantson.”

Ilaydownonthebedagain.

Timepassedagain.Idon’tknowhowlong.Ihadnowatch.Theydon’tmakethatkindoftimeinwatchesanyway.

Isatup.Thiswasgettingtobestale.Istoodupandstartedtowalk.Nofunwalking.Makesyourheartjumplikeanervouscat.Betterliedownandgobacktosleep.Bettertakeiteasyforawhile.You’reinbadshape,pally.Okey,Hemingway,I’mweak.Icouldn’tknockoveraflowervase.Icouldn’tbreakafingernail.

Nothingdoing.I’mwalking.I’mtough.I’mgettingoutofhere.

Ilaydownonthebedagain.

Thefourthtimewasalittlebetter.Igotacrosstheroomandbacktwice.Iwentovertothewashbowlandrinseditoutandleanedonitanddrankwateroutofthepalmofmyhand.Ikeptitdown.Iwaitedalittleanddrankmore.Muchbetter.

Iwalked.Iwalked.Iwalked.

Halfanhourofwalkingandmykneeswereshakingbutmyheadwasclear.Idrankmorewater,alotofwater.IalmostcriedintothebowlwhileIwasdrinkingit.

Iwalkedbacktothebed.Itwasalovelybed.Itwasmadeofroseleaves.Itwasthemostbeautifulbedintheworld.TheyhadgotitfromCaroleLombard.Itwastoosoftforher.Itwasworththerestofmylifetoliedowninitfortwominutes.Beautifulsoftbed,beautifulsleep,beautifuleyesclosingandlashesfallingandthegentlesoundofbreathinganddarknessandrestsunkindeeppillows....

Iwalked.

TheybuiltthePyramidsandgottiredofthemandpulledthemdownandgroundthestoneuptomakeconcreteforBoulderDamandtheybuiltthatandbroughtthewatertotheSunnySouthlandandusedittohaveafloodwith.

Iwalkedallthroughit.Icouldn’tbebothered.

Istoppedwalking.Iwasreadytotalktosomebody.

TWENTY-SIX

Theclosetdoorwaslocked.Theheavychairwastooheavyforme.Itwasmeanttobe.Istrippedthesheetsandpadoffthebedanddraggedthemattresstooneside.Therewasameshspringunderneathfastenedtopandbottombycoilspringsofblackenameledmetalaboutnineincheslong.Iwenttoworkononeofthem.ItwasthehardestworkIeverdid.TenminuteslaterIhadtwobleedingfingersandaloosespring.Iswungit.Ithadanicebalance.Itwasheavy.Ithadawhiptoit.

AndwhenthiswasalldoneIlookedacrossatthewhiskeybottleanditwouldhavedonejustaswell,andIhadforgottenallaboutit.

Idranksomemorewater.Irestedalittle,sittingonthesideofthebaresprings.ThenIwentovertothedoorandputmymouthagainstthehingesideandyelled:

“Fire!Fire!Fire!”

Itwasashortwaitandapleasantone.Hecamerunninghardalongthehallwayoutsideandhiskeyjammedviciouslyintothelockandtwistedhard.

Thedoorjumpedopen.Iwasflatagainstthewallontheopeningside.Hehadthesapoutthistime,anicelittletoolaboutfiveincheslong,coveredwithwovenbrownleather.Hiseyespoppedatthestrippedbedandthenbegantoswingaround.

Igiggledandsockedhim.Ilaidthecoilspringonthesideofhisheadandhestumbledforward.Ifollowedhimdowntohisknees.Ihithimtwicemore.Hemadeamoaningsound.Itookthesapoutofhislimphand.Hewhined.

Iusedmykneeonhisface.Ithurtmyknee.Hedidn’ttellmewhetherithurthisface.WhilehewasstillgroaningIknockedhimcoldwiththesap.

Igotthekeyfromtheoutsideofthedoorandlockeditfromtheinsideandwentthroughhim.He

hadmorekeys.Oneofthemfittedmycloset.Initmyclotheshung.Iwentthroughmypockets.Themoneywasgonefrommywallet.Iwentbacktothemanwiththewhitecoat.Hehadtoomuchmoneyforhisjob.ItookwhatIhadstartedwithandheavedhimontothebedandstrappedhimwristandankleandstuffedhalfayardofsheetintohismouth.Hehadasmashednose.Iwaitedlongenoughtomakesurehecouldbreathethroughit.

Iwassorryforhim.Asimplehardworkinglittleguytryingtoholdhisjobdownandgethisweeklypaycheck.Maybewithawifeandkids.Toobad.Andallhehadtohelphimwasasap.Itdidn’tseemfair.Iputthedopedwhiskeydownwherehecouldreachit,ifhishandshadn’tbeenstrapped.

Ipattedhisshoulder.Ialmostcriedoverhim.

Allmyclothes,evenmygunharnessandgun,butnoshellsinthegun,hunginthecloset.Idressedwithfumblingfingers,yawningagreatdeal.

Themanonthebedrested.Ilefthimthereandlockedhimin.

Outsidewasawidesilenthallwaywiththreecloseddoors.Nosoundscamefrombehindanyofthem.Awinecoloredcarpetcreptdownthemiddleandwasassilentastherestofthehouse.Attheendtherewasajoginthehallandthenanotherhallatrightanglesandtheheadofabigold-fashionedstaircasewithwhiteoakbannisters.Itcurvedgraciouslydownintothedimhallbelow.Twostainedglassinnerdoorsendedthelowerhall.Itwastessellatedandthickrugslayonit.Acrackoflightseepedpasttheedgeofanalmostcloseddoor.Butnosoundatall.

Anoldhouse,builtasoncetheybuiltthemanddon’tbuildthemanymore.Standingprobablyonaquietstreetwitharosearboratthesideandplentyofflowersinfront.GraciousandcoolandquietinthebrightCaliforniasun.Andinsideitwhocares,butdon’tletthemscreamtooloud.

IhadmyfootouttogodownthestairswhenIheardamancough.ThatjerkedmearoundandIsawtherewasahalf-opendooralongtheotherhallwayattheend.Itiptoedalongtherunner.Iwaited,closetothepartlyopendoor,butnotinit.Awedgeoflightlayatmyfeetonthecarpet.Themancoughedagain.Itwasadeepcough,fromadeepchest.Itsoundedpeacefulandatease.Itwasnoneofmybusiness.Mybusinesswastogetoutofthere.Butanymanwhosedoorcouldbeopeninthathouseinterestedme.Hewouldbeamanofposition,worthtippingyourhatto.Isneakedalittleintothewedgeoflight.Anewspaperrustled.

Icouldseepartofaroomanditwasfurnishedlikearoom,notlikeacell.Therewasadarkbureauwithahatonitandsomemagazines.Windowswithlacecurtains,agoodcarpet.

Bedspringscreakedheavily.Abigguy,likehiscough.Ireachedoutfingertipsandpushedthedooraninchortwo.Nothinghappened.Nothingeverwasslowerthanmyheadcraningin.Isawtheroomnow,thebed,andthemanonit,theashtrayheapedwithstubsthatoverflowedontoanighttableandfromthattothecarpet.Adozenmanglednewspapersalloverthebed.Oneoftheminapairofhugehandsbeforeahugeface.Isawthehairabovetheedgeofthegreenpaper.Dark,curly—blackeven—andplentyofit.Alineofwhiteskinunderit.ThepapermovedalittlemoreandIdidn’tbreatheandthemanonthebeddidn’tlookup.

Heneededashave.Hewouldalwaysneedashave.Ihadseenhimbefore,overonCentral

Avenue,inaNegrodivecalledFlorian’s.Ihadseenhiminaoldsuitwithwhitegolfballsonthecoatandawhiskeysourinhishand.AndIhadseenhimwithanArmyColtlookinglikeatoyinhisfist,steppingsoftlythroughabrokendoor.Ihadseensomeofhisworkanditwasthekindofworkthatstaysdone.

Hecoughedagainandrolledhisbuttocksonthebedandyawnedbitterlyandreachedsidewaysforafrayedpackofcigarettesonthenighttable.Oneofthemwentintohismouth.Lightflaredattheendofhisthumb.Smokecameoutofhisnose.

“Ah,”hesaid,andthepaperwentupinfrontofhisfaceagain.

Ilefthimthereandwentbackalongthesidehall.Mr.MooseMalloyseemedtobeinverygoodhands.Iwentbacktothestairsanddown.

Avoicemurmuredbehindthealmostcloseddoor.Iwaitedfortheansweringvoice.None.Itwasatelephoneconversation.Iwentoverclosetothedoorandlistened.Itwasalowvoice,ameremurmur.Nothingcarriedthatmeantanything.Therewasfinallyadryclickingsound.

Silencecontinuedinsidetheroomafterthat.

Thiswasthetimetoleave,togofaraway.SoIpushedthedooropenandsteppedquietlyin.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Itwasanoffice,notsmall,notlarge,withaneatprofessionallook.Aglass-dooredbookcasewithheavybooksinside.Afirstaidcabinetonthewall.Awhiteenamelandglasssterilizingcabinetwithalotofhypodermicneedlesandsyringesinsideitbeingcooked.Awideflatdeskwithablotteronit,abronzepapercutter,apenset,anappointmentbook,verylittleelse,excepttheelbowsofamanwhosatbrooding,withhisfaceinhishands.

BetweenthespreadyellowfingersIsawhairthecolorofwetbrownsand,sosmooththatitappearedtobepaintedonhisskull.Itookthreemorestepsandhiseyesmusthavelookedbeyondthedeskandseenmyshoesmove.Hisheadcameupandhelookedatme.Sunkencolorlesseyesinaparchment-likeface.Heunclaspedhishandsandleanedbackslowlyandlookedatmewithnoexpressionatall.

Thenhespreadhishandswithasortofhelplessbutdisapprovinggestureandwhentheycametorestagain,oneofthemwasveryclosetothecornerofthedesk.

Itooktwostepsmoreandshowedhimtheblackjack.Hisindexandsecondfingerstillmovedtowardsthecornerofthedesk.

“Thebuzzer,”Isaid,“won’tbuyyouanythingtonight.Iputyourtoughboytosleep.”

Hiseyesgotsleepy.“Youhavebeenaverysickman,sir.Averysickman.Ican’trecommendyourbeingupandaboutyet.”

Isaid:“Therighthand.”Isnappedtheblackjackatit.Itcoiledintoitselflikeawoundedsnake.

Iwentaroundthedeskgrinningwithouttherebeinganythingtogrinat.Hehadaguninthedrawerofcourse.Theyalwayshaveaguninthedrawerandtheyalwaysgetittoolate,iftheygetitatall.Itookitout.Itwasa.38automatic,astandardmodelnotasgoodasmine,butIcoulduseitsammunition.Theredidn’tseemtobeanyinthedrawer.Istartedtobreakthemagazineoutofhis.

Hemovedvaguely,hiseyesstillsunkenandsad.

“Maybeyou’vegotanotherbuzzerunderthecarpet,”Isaid.“MaybeitringsintheChief’sofficedownatheadquarters.Don’tuseit.JustforanhourI’maverytoughguy.Anybodycomesinthatdooriswalkingintoacoffin.”

“Thereisnobuzzerunderthecarpet,”hesaid.Hisvoicehadtheslightestpossibleforeignaccent.

Igothismagazineoutandmyemptyoneandchangedthem.Iejectedtheshellthatwasinthechamberofhisgunandletitlie.Ijackedoneupintothechamberofmineandwentbacktotheothersideofthedeskagain.

Therewasaspringlockonthedoor.Ibackedtowardsitandpusheditshutandheardthelockclick.Therewasalsoabolt.Iturnedthat.

Iwentbacktothedeskandsatinachair.Ittookmylastounceofstrength.

“Whiskey,”Isaid.

Hebegantomovehishandsaround.

“Whiskey,”Isaid.

Hewenttothemedicinecabinetandgotaflatbottlewithagreenrevenuestamponitandaglass.

“Twoglasses,”Isaid.“Itriedyourwhiskeyonce.IdamnnearhitCatalinaIslandwithit.”

Hebroughttwosmallglassesandbrokethesealandfilledthetwoglasses.

“Youfirst,”Isaid.

Hesmiledfaintlyandraisedoneoftheglasses.

“Yourhealth,sir—whatremainsofit.”Hedrank.Idrank.Ireachedforthebottleandstooditnearmeandwaitedfortheheattogettomyheart.Myheartbegantopound,butitwasbackupinmychestagain,nothangingonashoelace.

“Ihadanightmare,”Isaid.“Sillyidea.IdreamedIwastiedtoacotandshotfullofdopeandlockedinabarredroom.Igotveryweak.Islept.Ihadnofood.Iwasasickman.Iwasknockedontheheadandbroughtintoaplacewheretheydidthattome.Theytookalotoftrouble.I’mnotthatimportant.”

Hesaidnothing.Hewatchedme.Therewasaremotespeculationinhiseyes,asifhewonderedhowlongIwouldlive.

“Iwokeupandtheroomwasfullofsmoke,”Isaid.“Itwasjustahallucination,irritationoftheopticnerveorwhateveraguylikeyouwouldcallit.InsteadofpinksnakesIhadsmoke.SoIyelledandatoughieinawhitecoatcameinandshowedmeablackjack.Ittookmealongtimetogetreadytotakeitawayfromhim.Igothiskeysandmyclothesandeventookmymoneyoutofhispocket.So

hereIam.Allcured.Whatwereyousaying?”

“Imadenoremark,”hesaid.

“Remarkswantyoutomakethem,”Isaid.“Theyhavetheirtongueshangingoutwaitingtobesaid.Thisthinghere—”Iwavedtheblackjacklightly,“isapersuader.Ihadtoborrowitfromaguy.”

“Pleasegiveittomeatonce,”hesaidwithasmileyouwouldgettolove.Itwasliketheexecutioner ’ssmilewhenhecomestoyourcelltomeasureyouforthedrop.Alittlefriendly,alittlepaternal,andalittlecautiousatthesametime.Youwouldgettoloveitiftherewasanywayyoucouldlivelongenough.

Idroppedtheblackjackintohispalm,hisleftpalm.

“Nowthegun,please,”hesaidsoftly.“Youhavebeenaverysickman,Mr.Marlowe.IthinkIshallhavetoinsistthatyougobacktobed.”

Istaredathim.

“IamDr.Sonderborg,”hesaid,“andIdon’twantany,nonsense.

Helaidtheblackjackdownonthedeskinfrontofhim.Hissmilewasasstiffasafrozenfish.Hislongfingersmademovementslikedyingbutterflies.

“Thegun,please,”hesaidsoftly.“Iadvisestrongly—”

“Whattimeisit,warden?”

Helookedmildlysurprised.Ihadmywristwatchonnow,butithadrundown.

“Itisalmostmidnight.Why?”

“Whatdayisit?”

“Why,mydearsir—Sundayevening,ofcourse.”

Isteadiedmyselfonthedeskandtriedtothinkandheldtheguncloseenoughtohimsothathemighttryandgrabit.

“That’soverforty-eighthours.NowonderIhadfits.Whobroughtmehere?”

Hestaredatmeandhislefthandbegantoedgetowardsthegun.HebelongedtotheWanderingHandSociety.Thegirlswouldhavehadatimewithhim.

“Don’tmakemegettough,“Iwhined.“Don’tmakemelosemybeautifulmannersandmyflawlessEnglish.JusttellmehowIgothere.”

Hehadcourage.Hegrabbedforthegun.Itwasn’twherehegrabbed.Isatbackandputitinmylap.

Hereddenedandgrabbedforthewhiskeyandpouredhimselfanotherdrinkanddowneditfast.Hedrewadeepbreathandshuddered.Hedidn’tlikethetasteofliquor.Dopersneverdo.

“Youwillbearrestedatonce,ifyouleavehere,”hesaidsharply.“Youwereproperlycommittedbyanofficerofthelaw—”

“Officersofthelawcan’tdoit.”

Thatjarredhim,alittle.Hisyellowishfacebegantowork.

“Shakeitupandpourit,”Isaid.“Whoputmeinhere,whyandhow?I’minawildmoodtonight.Iwanttogodanceinthefoam.Ihearthebansheescalling.Ihaven’tshotamaninaweek.Speakout,Dr.Fell.Plucktheantiqueviol,letthesoftmusicfloat.”

“Youaresufferingfromnarcoticpoisoning,”hesaidcoldly.“Youverynearlydied.Ihadtogiveyoudigitalisthreetimes.Youfought,youscreamed,youhadtoberestrained.”Hiswordswerecomingsofasttheywereleap-froggingthemselves.“Ifyouleavemyhospitalinthiscondition,youwillgetintoserioustrouble.”

“Didyousayyouwereadoctor—amedicaldoctor?”

“Certainly.IamDr.Sonderborg,asItoldyou.”

“Youdon’tscreamandfightfromnarcoticpoisoning,doc.Youjustlieinacoma.Tryagain.Andskimit.AllIwantisthecream.Whoputmeinyourprivatefunnyhouse?”

“But—”

“Butmenobuts.I’llmakeasopofyou.I’lldrownyouinabuttofMalmseywine.IwishIhadabuttofMalmseywinemyselftodrownin.Shakespeare.Heknewhisliquortoo.Let’shavealittleofourmedicine.”Ireachedforhisglassandpouredusacouplemore.“Getonwithit,Karloff.”

“Thepoliceputyouinhere.”

“Whatpolice?”

“TheBayCitypolicenaturally.”Hisrestlessyellowfingerstwistedhisglass.“ThisisBayCity.”

“Oh.Didthispolicehaveaname?”

“ASergeantGalbraith,Ibelieve.Notaregularpatrolcarofficer.HeandanotherofficerfoundyouwanderingoutsidethehouseinadazedconditiononFridaynight.Theybroughtyouinbecausethisplacewasclose.Ithoughtyouwereanaddictwhohadtakenanoverdose.ButperhapsIwaswrong.”

“It’sagoodstory.Icouldn’tproveitwrong.Butwhykeepmehere?”

Hespreadhisrestlesshands.“Ihavetoldyouagainandagainthatyouwereaverysickmanandstillare.Whatwouldyouexpectmetodo?”

“Imustoweyousomemoneythen.”

Heshrugged.“Naturally.Twohundreddollars.”

Ipushedmychairbackalittle.“Dirtcheap.Tryandgetit.”

“Ifyouleavehere,”hesaidsharply,“youwillbearrestedatonce.”

Ileanedbackoverthedeskandbreathedinhisface.“Notjustforgoingoutofhere,Karloff.Openthatwallsafe.”

Hestoodupinasmoothlunge.“Thishasgonequitefarenough.”

“Youwon’topenit?”

“Imostcertainlywillnotopenit.”

“ThisisagunI’mholding.”

Hesmiled,narrowlyandbitterly.

“It’sanawfulbigsafe,”Isaid.“Newtoo.Thisisafinegun.Youwon’topenit?”

Nothingchangedinhisface.

“Damnit,”Isaid.“Whenyouhaveaguninyourhand,peoplearesupposedtodoanythingyoutellthemto.Itdoesn’twork,doesit?”

Hesmiled.Hissmileheldasadisticpleasure.Iwasslippingback.Iwasgoingtocollapse.

Istaggeredatthedeskandhewaited,hislipspartedsoftly.

Istoodleaningthereforalongmoment,staringintohiseyes.ThenIgrinned.Thesmilefelloffhisfacelikeasoiledrag.Sweatstoodoutonhisforehead.

“Solong,”Isaid.“Ileaveyoutodirtierhandsthanmine.”

Ibackedtothedoorandopeneditandwentout.

Thefrontdoorswereunlocked.Therewasaroofedporch.Thegardenhummedwithflowers.Therewasawhitepicketfenceandagate.Thehousewasonacorner.Itwasacool,moistnight,nomoon.

ThesignonthecornersaidDescansoStreet.Houseswerelighteddowntheblock.Ilistenedforsirens.Nonecame.TheothersignsaidTwenty-thirdStreet.IplowedovertoTwenty-fifthStreetandstartedtowardstheeight-hundredblock.No.819wasAnneRiordan’snumber.Sanctuary.

IhadwalkedalongtimebeforeIrealizedthatIwasstillholdingtheguninmyhand.AndIhadheardnosirens.

Ikeptonwalking.Theairdidmegood,butthewhiskeywasdying,anditwrithedasitdied.Theblockhadfirtreesalongit,andbrickhouses,andlookedlikeCapitolHillinSeattlemorethanSouthernCalifornia.

TherewasalightstillinNo.819.Ithadawhiteportecochère,verytiny,pressedagainstatallcypresshedge.Therewererosebushesinfrontofthehouse.Iwentupthewalk.IlistenedbeforeIpushedthebell.Stillnosirenswailing.Thebellchimedandafteralittlewhileavoicecroakedthroughoneofthoseelectricalcontraptionsthatletyoutalkwithyourfrontdoorlocked.

“Whatisit,please?”

“Marlowe.”

Maybeherbreathcaught,maybetheelectricalthingjustmadethatsoundbeingshutoff.

ThedooropenedwideandMissAnneRiordanstoodthereinapalegreenslacksuitlookingatme.Hereyeswentwideandscared.Herfaceundertheglareoftheporchlightwassuddenlypale.

“MyGod,”shewailed.“YoulooklikeHamlet’sfather!”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Thelivingroomhadatanfiguredrug,whiteandrosechairs,ablackmarblefireplacewithverytallbrassandirons,highbookcasesbuiltbackintothewalls,androughcreamdrapesagainsttheloweredvenetianblinds.

Therewasnothingwomanishintheroomexceptafulllengthmirrorwithaclearsweepoffloorinfrontofit.

Iwashalf-sittingandhalf-lyinginadeepchairwithmylegsonafootstool.Ihadhadtwocupsofblackcoffee,thenIhadhadadrink,thenIhadhadtwosoft-boiledeggsandasliceoftoastbrokenintothem,thensomemoreblackcoffeewithbrandylacedinit.Ihadhadallthisinthebreakfastroom,butIcouldn’trememberwhatitlookedlikeanymore.Itwastoolongago.

Iwasingoodshapeagain.Iwasalmostsoberandmystomachwasbuntingtowardsthirdbaseinsteadoftryingforthecenterfieldflagpole.

AnneRiordansatoppositeme,leaningforward,herneatchincuppedinherneathand,hereyesdarkandshadowyunderthefluffedoutreddish-brownhair.Therewasapencilstuckthroughherhair.Shelookedworried.Ihadtoldhersomeofit,butnotall.EspeciallyaboutMooseMalloyIhadnottoldher.

“Ithoughtyouweredrunk,”shesaid.“Ithoughtyouhadtobedrunkbeforeyoucametoseeme.Ithoughtyouhadbeenoutwiththatblonde.Ithought—Idon’tknowwhatIthought.”

“Ibetyoudidn’tgetallthiswriting,”Isaid,lookingaround.“Notevenifyougotpaidforwhatyouthoughtyouthought.”

“Andmydaddidn’tgetitgraftingonthecopseither,”shesaid.“Likethatfatslobtheyhaveforchiefofpolicenowadays.”

“It’snoneofmybusiness,”Isaid.

Shesaid:“WehadsomelotsatDelRey.Justsandlotstheysuckeredhimfor.Andtheyturnedouttobeoillots.”

InoddedanddrankoutofthenicecrystalglassIwasholding.Whatwasinithadanicewarmtaste.

“Afellowcouldsettledownhere,”Isaid.“Moverightin.Everythingsetforhim.”

“Ifhewasthatkindoffellow.Andanybodywantedhimto,”shesaid.

“Nobutler,”Isaid.“Thatmakesittough.”

Sheflushed.“Butyou—you’drathergetyourheadbeatentoapulpandyourarmriddledwithdopeneedlesandyourchinusedforabackboardinabasketballgame.Godknowsthere’senoughofit.”

Ididn’tsayanything.Iwastootired.

“Atleast,”shesaid,“youhadthebrainstolookinthosemouthpieces.ThewayyoutalkedoveronAsterDriveIthoughtyouhadmissedthewholething.”

“Thosecardsdon’tmeananything.”

Hereyessnappedatme.“Yousitthereandtellmethatafterthemanhadyoubeatenupbyacoupleofcrookedpolicemenandthrowninatwo-dayliquorcuretoteachyoutomindyourownbusiness?Whythethingstandsoutsofaryoucouldbreakoffayardofitandstillhaveenoughleftforabaseballbat.”

“Ioughttohavesaidthatone,”Isaid.“Justmystyle.Crude.Whatsticksout?”

“Thatthiselegantpsychicpersonisnothingbutahigh-classmobster.Hepickstheprospectsandmilksthemindsandthentellstheroughboystogooutandgetthejewels.”

“Youreallythinkthat?”

Shestaredatme.Ifinishedmyglassandgotmyweaklookonmyfaceagain.Sheignoredit.

“OfcourseIthinkit,”shesaid.“Andsodoyou.”

“Ithinkit’salittlemorecomplicatedthanthat.”

Hersmilewascozyandacidatthesametime.“Ibegyourpardon.Iforgotforthemomentyouwereadetective.Itwouldhavetobecomplicated,wouldn’tit?Isupposethere’sasortofindecencyaboutasimplecase.”

“It’smorecomplicatedthanthat,”Isaid.

“Allright.I’mlistening.”

“Idon’tknow.Ijustthinkso.CanIhaveonemoredrink?”

Shestoodup.“Youknow,you’llhavetotastewatersometime,justforthehellofit.”Shecameoverandtookmyglass.“Thisisgoingtobethelast.”ShewentoutoftheroomandsomewhereicecubestinkledandIclosedmyeyesandlistenedtothesmallunimportantsounds.Ihadnobusinesscominghere.IftheyknewasmuchaboutmeasIsuspected,theymightcomeherelooking.Thatwouldbeamess.

ShecamebackwiththeglassandherfingerscoldfromholdingthecoldglasstouchedmineandIheldthemforamomentandthenletthemgoslowlyasyouletgoofadreamwhenyouwakewiththesuninyourfaceandhavebeeninanenchantedvalley.

Sheflushedandwentbacktoherchairandsatdownandmadealotofbusinessofarrangingherselfinit.

Shelitacigarette,watchingmedrink.

“Amthor ’saprettyruthlesssortoflad,”Isaid.“ButIdon’tsomehowseehimasthebrainguyofajewelmob.PerhapsI’mwrong.IfhewasandhethoughtIhadsomethingonhim,Idon’tthinkI’dhavegotoutofthatdopehospitalalive.Buthe’samanwhohasthingstofear.Hedidn’tgetreallytoughuntilIbegantobabbleaboutinvisiblewriting.”

Shelookedatmeevenly.“Wastheresome?”

Igrinned.“Iftherewas,Ididn’treadit.”

“That’safunnywaytohidenastyremarksaboutaperson,don’tyouthink?Inthemouthpiecesofcigarettes.Supposetheywereneverfound.”

“IthinkthepointisthatMarriottfearedsomethingandthatifanythinghappenedtohim,thecardswouldbefound.Thepolicewouldgooveranythinginhispocketswithafine-toothcomb.That’swhatbothersme.IfAmthor ’sacrook,nothingwouldhavebeenlefttofind.”

“YoumeanifAmthormurderedhim—orhadhimmurdered?ButwhatMarriottknewaboutAmthormaynothavehadanydirectconnectionwiththemurder.”

IleanedbackandpressedmybackintothechairandfinishedmydrinkandmadebelieveIwasthinkingthatover.Inodded.

“Butthejewelrobberyhadaconnectionwiththemurder.Andwe’reassumingAmthorhadaconnectionwiththejewelrobbery.”

Hereyeswerealittlesly.“Ibetyoufeelawful,”shesaid.“Wouldn’tyouliketogotobed?”

“Here?”

Sheflushedtotherootsofherhair.Herchinstuckout.“Thatwastheidea.I’mnotachild.Who

thedevilcareswhatIdoorwhenorhow?”

Iputmyglassasideandstoodup.“Oneofmyraremomentsofdelicacyiscomingoverme,”Isaid.“Willyoudrivemetoataxistand,ifyou’renottootired?”

“Youdamnedsap,”shesaidangrily.“You’vebeenbeatentoapulpandshotfullofGodknowshowmanykindsofnarcoticsandIsupposeallyouneedisanight’ssleeptogetupbrightandearlyandstartoutbeingadetectiveagain.”

“IthoughtI’dsleepalittlelate.”

“Yououghttobeinahospital,youdamnfool!”

Ishuddered.“Listen,”Isaid.“I’mnotveryclearheadedtonightandIdon’tthinkIoughttolingeraroundheretoolong.Ihaven’tathingonanyofthesepeoplethatIcouldprove,buttheyseemtodislikeme.WhateverImightsaywouldbemywordagainstthelaw,andthelawinthistownseemstobeprettyrotten.”

“It’sanicetown,”shesaidsharply,alittlebreathlessly,“Youcan’tjudge—”

“Okey,it’sanicetown.SoisChicago.YoucouldlivetherealongtimeandnotseeaTommygun.Sure,it’sanicetown.It’sprobablynocrookederthanLosAngeles.Butyoucanonlybuyapieceofabigcity.Youcanbuyatownthissizeallcomplete,withtheoriginalboxandtissuepaper.That’sthedifference.Andthatmakesmewantout.”

Shestoodupandpushedherchinatme.“You’llgotobednowandrighthere.Ihaveasparebedroomandyoucanturnrightinand—”

“Promisetolockyourdoor?”

Sheflushedandbitherlip.“SometimesIthinkyou’reaworld-beater,”shesaid,“andsometimesIthinkyou’retheworstheelIevermet.”

“OneithercountwouldyourunmeovertowhereIcangetataxi?”

“You’llstayhere,”shesnapped.“You’renotfit.You’reasickman.”

“I’mnottoosicktohavemybrainpicked,”Isaidnastily.

Sheranoutoftheroomsofastshealmosttrippedoverthetwostepsfromthelivingroomuptothehall.ShecamebackinnothingflatwithalongflannelcoatonoverhersIacksuitandnohatandherreddishhairlookingasmadasherface.Sheopenedasidedoorandthrewitawayfromher,bouncedthroughitandherstepsclatteredonthedriveway.Agaragedoormadeafaintsoundlifting.Acardooropenedandslammedshutagain.ThestartergroundandthemotorcaughtandthelightsflaredpasttheopenFrenchdoorofthelivingroom.

IpickedmyhatoutofachairandswitchedoffacoupleoflampsandsawthattheFrenchdoorhadaYalelock.IlookedbackamomentbeforeIclosedthedoor.Itwasaniceroom.Itwouldbeaniceroomtowearslippersin.

IshutthedoorandthelittlecarslidupbesidemeandIwentaroundbehindittogetin.

Shedrovemeallthewayhome,tight-lipped,angry.Shedrovelikeafury.WhenIgotoutinfrontofmyapartmenthouseshesaidgoodnightinafrostyvoiceandswirledthelittlecarinthemiddleofthestreetandwasgonebeforeIcouldgetmykeysoutofmypocket.

Theylockedthelobbydoorateleven.Iunlockeditandpassedintothealwaysmustylobbyandalongtothestairsandtheelevator.Irodeuptomyfloor.Bleaklightshonealongit.Milkbottlesstoodinfrontofservicedoors.Theredfiredoorloomedattheback.Ithadanopenscreenthatletinalazytrickleofairthatneverquitesweptthecookingsmellout.Iwashomeinasleepingworld,aworldasharmlessasasleepingcat.

Iunlockedthedoorofmyapartmentandwentinandsniffedthesmellofit,juststandingthere,againstthedoorforalittlewhilebeforeIputthelighton.Ahomelysmell,asmellofdustandtobaccosmoke,thesmellofaworldwheremenlive,andkeeponliving.

Iundressedandwenttobed.Ihadnightmaresandwokeoutofthemsweating.ButinthemorningIwasawellmanagain.

TWENTY-NINE

Iwassittingonthesideofmybedinmypajamas,thinkingaboutgettingup,butnotyetcommitted.Ididn’tfeelverywell,butIdidn’tfeelassickasIoughtto,notassickasIwouldfeelifIhadasalariedjob.Myheadhurtandfeltlargeandhotandmytonguewasdryandhadgravelonitandmythroatwasstiffandmyjawwasnotuntender.ButIhadhadworsemornings.

Itwasagraymorningwithhighfog,notyetwarmbutlikelytobe.Iheavedupoffthebedandrubbedthepitofmystomachwhereitwassorefromvomiting.Myleftfootfeltfine.Itdidn’thaveanacheinit.SoIhadtokickthecornerofthebedwithit.

Iwasstillswearingwhentherewasasharptapatthedoor,thekindofbossyknockthatmakesyouwanttoopenthedoortwoinches,emitthesucculentraspberryandslamitagain.

Iopeneditalittlewiderthantwoinches.Detective-LieutenantRandallstoodthere,inabrowngabardinesuit,withaporkpielightweightfeltonhishead,veryneatandcleanandsolemnandwithanastylookinhiseye.

HepushedthedoorlightlyandIsteppedawayfromit.Hecameinandcloseditandlookedaround.“I’vebeenlookingforyoufortwodays,”hesaid.Hedidn’tlookatme.Hiseyesmeasuredtheroom.

“I’vebeensick.”

Hewalkedaroundwithalightspringystep,hiscreamygrayhairshining,hishatunderhisarmnow,hishandsinhispockets.Hewasn’taverybigmanforacop.Hetookonehandoutofhispocketandplacedthehatcarefullyontopofsomemagazines.

“Nothere,”hesaid.

“Inahospital.”

“Whichhospital?”

“Apethospital.”

HejerkedasifIhadslappedhisface.Dullcolorshowedbehindhisskin.

“Alittleearlyintheday,isn’tit—forthatsortofthing?”

Ididn’tsayanything.Ilitacigarette.Itookonedrawonitandsatdownonthebedagain,quickly.

“Nocureforladslikeyou,isthere?”hesaid.“Excepttothrowyouinthesneezer.”

“I’vebeenasickmanandIhaven’thadmymorningcoffee.Youcan’texpectaveryhighgradeofwit.”

“Itoldyounottoworkonthiscase.”

“You’renotGod.You’renotevenJesusChrist.”Itookanotherdragonthecigarette.Somewheredowninsidemefeltraw,butIlikeditalittlebetter.

“You’dbeamazedhowmuchtroubleIcouldmakeyou.”

“Probably.”

“DoyouknowwhyIhaven’tdoneitsofar?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”Hewasleaningoveralittle,sharpasaterrier,withthatstonylookinhiseyestheyallgetsoonerorlater.

“Youcouldn’tfindme.”

Heleanedbackandrockedonhisheels.Hisfaceshonealittle.“Ithoughtyouweregoingtosaysomethingelse,”hesaid.“Andifyousaidit,Iwasgoingtosmackyouonthebutton.”

“Twentymilliondollarswouldn’tscareyou.Butyoumightgetorders.”

Hebreathedhard,withhismouthalittleopen.Veryslowlyhegotapackageofcigarettesoutofhispocketandtorethewrapper.Hisfingersweretremblingalittle.Heputacigarettebetweenhislipsandwentovertomymagazinetableforamatchfolder.Helitthecigarettecarefully,putthematchintheashtrayandnotonthefloor,andinhaled.

“Igaveyousomeadviceoverthetelephonetheotherday,”hesaid.“Thursday.”

“Friday.”

“Yes—Friday.Itdidn’ttake.Icanunderstandwhy.ButIdidn’tknowatthattimeyouhadbeenholdingoutevidence.Iwasjustrecommendingalineofactionthatseemedlikeagoodideainthis

case.”

“Whatevidence?”

Hestaredatmesilently.

“Willyouhavesomecoffee?”Iasked.“Itmightmakeyouhuman.”

“No.”

“Iwill.”Istoodupandstartedforthekitchenette.

“Sitdown,”Randallsnapped.“I’mfarfromthrough.”

Ikeptongoingouttothekitchenette,ransomewaterintothekettleandputitonthestove.Itookadrinkofcoldwaterfromthefaucet,thenanother.Icamebackwithathirdglassinmyhandtostandinthedoorwayandlookathim.Hehadn’tmoved.Theveilofhissmokewasalmostasolidthingtoonesideofhim.Hewaslookingatthefloor.

“WhywasitwrongtogotoMrs.Graylewhenshesentforme?”Iasked.

“Iwasn’ttalkingaboutthat.”

“Yeah,butyouwerejustbefore.”

“Shedidn’tsendforyou.”Hiseyesliftedandhadthestonylookstill.Andtheflushstilldyedhissharpcheekbones.“Youforcedyourselfonherandtalkedaboutscandalandpracticallyblackmailedyourselfintoajob.”

“Funny.AsIrememberit,wedidn’teventalkjob.Ididn’tthinktherewasanythinginherstory.Imean,anythingtogetmyteethinto.Nowheretostart.AndofcourseIsupposedshehadalreadytoldittoyou.”

“Shehad.ThatbeerjointonSantaMonicaisacrookhideout.Butthatdoesn’tmeananything.Icouldn’tgetathingthere.Thehotelacrossthestreetsmellstoo.Nobodywewant.Cheappunks.”

“ShetellyouIforcedmyselfonher?”

Hedroppedhiseyesalittle.“No.”

Igrinned.“Havesomecoffee?”

“No.”

Iwentbackintothekitchenetteandmadethecoffeeandwaitedforittodrip.Randallfollowedmeoutthistimeandstoodinthedoorwayhimself.

“ThisjewelganghasbeenworkinginHollywoodandaroundforagoodtenyearstomyknowledge,”hesaid.“Theywenttoofarthistime.Theykilledaman.IthinkIknowwhy.”

“Well,ifit’sagangjobandyoubreakit,thatwillbethefirstgangmurdersolvedsinceIlivedinthetown.AndIcouldnameanddescribeatleastadozen.”

“It’sniceofyoutosaythat,Marlowe.”

“CorrectmeifI’mwrong.”

“Damnit,”hesaidirritably.“You’renotwrong.Therewereacouplesolvedfortherecord,buttheywerejustrappers.Somepunktookitforthehighpillow.”

“Yeah.Coffee?”

“IfIdrinksome,willyoutalktomedecently,mantoman,withoutwise-cracking?”

“I’lltry.Idon’tpromisetospillallmyideas.”

“Icandowithoutthose,”hesaidacidly.

“That’sanicesuityou’rewearing.”

Theflushdyedhisfaceagain.“Thissuitcosttwentyseven-fifty,”hesnapped.

“OhChrist,asensitivecop,”Isaid,andwentbacktothestove.

“Thatsmellsgood.Howdoyoumakeit?”

Ipoured.“Frenchdrip.Coarsegroundcoffee.Nofilterpapers.”Igotthesugarfromtheclosetandthecreamfromtherefrigerator.Wesatdownonoppositesidesofthenook.

“Wasthatagag,aboutyourbeingsick,inahospital?”

“Nogag.Iranintoalittletrouble—downinBayCity.Theytookmein.Notthecooler,aprivatedopeandliquorcure.”

Hiseyesgotdistant.“BayCity,eh?Youlikeitthehardway,don’tyou,Marlowe?”

“It’snotthatIlikeitthehardway.It’sthatIgetitthatway.Butnothinglikethisbefore.I’vebeensappedtwice,thesecondtimebyapoliceofficeroramanwholookedlikeoneandclaimedtobeone.I’vebeenbeatenwithmyowngunandchokedbyatoughIndian.I’vebeenthrownunconsciousintothisdopehospitalandkepttherelockedupandpartofthetimeprobablystrappeddown.AndIcouldn’tproveanyofit,exceptthatIactuallydohavequiteanicecollectionofbruisesandmyleftarmhasbeenneedledplenty.”

Hestaredhardatthecornerofthetable.“InBayCity,”hesaidslowly.

“Thename’slikeasong.Asonginadirtybathtub.”

“Whatwereyoudoingdownthere?”

“Ididn’tgodownthere.Thesecopstookmeovertheline.IwenttoseeaguyinStillwoodHeights.That’sinL.A.”

“AmannamedJulesAmthor,”hesaidquietly.“Whydidyouswipethosecigarettes?”

Ilookedintomycup.Thedamnedlittlefool.“Itlookedfunny,him—Marriott—havingthatextracase.Withreefersinit.ItseemstheymakethemuplikeRussiancigarettesdowninBayCitywithhollowmouthpiecesandtheRomanoffarmsandeverything.”

HepushedhisemptycupatmeandIrefilledit.Hiseyesweregoingovermyfacelinebyline,corpusclebycorpuscle,likeSherlockHolmeswithhismagnifyingglassorThorndykewithhispocketlens.

“Yououghttohavetoldme,”hesaidbitterly.Hesippedandwipedhislipswithoneofthosefringedthingstheygiveyouinapartmenthousesfornapkins.“Butyoudidn’tswipethem.Thegirltoldme.”

“Awwell,hell,”Isaid.“Aguynevergetstodoanythinginthiscountryanymore.Alwayswomen.”

“Shelikesyou,”Randallsaid,likeapoliteFBImaninamovie,alittlesad,butverymanly.“Heroldmanwasasstraightacopaseverlostajob.Shehadnobusinesstakingthosethings.Shelikesyou.”

“She’sanicegirl.Notmytype.”

“Youdon’tlikethemnice?”Hehadanothercigarettegoing.Thesmokewasbeingfannedawayfromhisfacebyhishand.

“Ilikesmoothshinygirls,hardboiledandloadedwithsin.”

“Theytakeyoutothecleaners,”Randallsaidindifferently.

“Sure.WhereelsehaveIeverbeen?Whatdoyoucallthissession?”

Hesmiledhisfirstsmileoftheday.Heprobablyallowedhimselffour.

“I’mnotgettingmuchoutofyou,”hesaid.

“I’llgiveyouatheory,butyouareprobablywayaheadofmeonit.ThisMarriottwasablackmailerofwomen,becauseMrs.Graylejustabouttoldmeso.Buthewassomethingelse.Hewasthefingermanforthejewelmob.Thesocietyfinger,theboywhowouldcultivatethevictimandsetthestage.Hewouldcultivatewomenhecouldtakeout,gettoknowthemprettywell.TakethisholdupaweekfromThursday.Itsmells.IfMarriotthadn’tbeendrivingthecar,orhadn’ttakenMrs.GrayletotheTrocorhadn’tgonehomethewayhedid,pastthatbeerparlor,theholdupcouldn’thavebeenbroughtoff.”

“Thechauffeurcouldhavebeendriving,”Randallsaidreasonably.“Butthatwouldn’thavechangedthingsmuch.Chauffeursarenotgettingthemselvespushedinthefacewithleadbulletsby

holdupmen—forninetyamonth.Buttherecouldn’tbemanystickupswithMarriottalonewithwomenorthingswouldgettalkedabout.”

“Thewholepointofthiskindofracketisthatthingsarenottalkedabout,”Isaid.“Inconsiderationforthatthestuffissoldbackcheap.”

Randallleanedbackandshookhishead.“You’llhavetodobetterthanthattointerestme.Womentalkaboutanything.ItwouldgetaroundthatthisMarriottwasakindoftrickyguytogooutwith.”

“Itprobablydid.That’swhytheyknockedhimoff.”

Randallstaredatmewoodenly.Hisspoonwasstirringairinanemptycup.Ireachedoverandhewavedthepotaside.“Goonwiththatone,”hesaid.

“Theyusedhimup.Hisusefulnesswasexhausted.Itwasabouttimeforhimtogettalkedaboutalittle,asyousuggest.Butyoudon’tquitinthoseracketsandyoudon’tgetyourtime.Sothislastholdupwasjustthatforhim—thelast.Look,theyreallyaskedverylittleforthejadeconsideringitsvalue.AndMarriotthandledthecontact.ButallthesameMarriottwasscared.Atthelastmomenthethoughthehadbetternotgoalone.Andhefiguredalittletrickthatifanythingdidhappentohim,somethingonhimwouldpointtoaman,amanquiteruthlessandcleverenoughtobethebrainsofthatsortofmob,andamaninanunusualpositiontogetinformationaboutrichwomen.Itwasachildishsortoftrickbutitdidactuallywork.”

Randallshookhishead.“Agangwouldhavestrippedhim,perhapsevenhavetakenthebodyouttoseaanddumpedit.”

“No.Theywantedthejobtolookamateurish.Theywantedtostayinbusiness.Theyprobablyhaveanotherfingerlinedup,”Isaid.

Randallstillshookhishead.“Themanthesecigarettespointedtoisnotthetype.Hehasagoodracketofhisown.I’veinquired.Whatdidyouthinkofhim?”

Hiseyesweretooblank,muchtooblank.Isaid:“Helookedprettydamneddeadlytome.Andthere’snosuchthingastoomuchmoney,isthere?Andafterallhispsychicracketisatemporaryracketforanyoneplace.Hehasavogueandeverybodygoestohimandafterawhilethevoguediesdownandthebusinessislickingitsshoes.Thatis,ifhe’sapsychicandnothingelse.Justlikemoviestars.Givehimfiveyears.Hecouldworkitthatlong.Butgivehimacoupleofwaystousetheinformationhemustgetoutofthesewomenandhe’sgoingtomakeakilling.”

“I’lllookhimupmorethoroughly,”Randallsaidwiththeblanklook.“ButrightnowI’mmoreinterestedinMarriott.Let’sgobackfarther—muchfarther.Tohowyougottoknowhim.”

“Hejustcalledmeup.Pickedmynameoutofthephonebook.Hesaidso,atanyrate.”

“Hehadyourcard.”

Ilookedsurprised.“Sure.I’dforgottenthat.”

“Didyoueverwonderwhyhepickedyourname—ignoringthatmatterofyourshortmemory?”

Istaredathimacrossthetopofmycoffeecup.Iwasbeginningtolikehim.Hehadalotbehindhisvestbesideshisshirt.

“Sothat’swhatyoureallycameupfor?”Isaid.

Henodded.“Therest,youknow,isjusttalk.”Hesmiledpolitelyatmeandwaited.

Ipouredsomemorecoffee.

Randallleanedoversidewaysandlookedalongthecream-coloredsurfaceofthetable.“Alittledust,”hesaidabsently,thenstraightenedupandlookedmeintheeye.“PerhapsIoughttogoatthisinalittledifferentway,”hesaid.“Forinstance,IthinkyourhunchaboutMarriottisprobablyright.There’stwenty-threegrandincurrencyinhissafe-depositbox—whichwehadahellofatimetolocate,bytheway.TherearealsosomeprettyfairbondsandatrustdeedtoapropertyonWestFifty-fourthPlace.”

Hepickedaspoonupandrappeditlightlyontheedgeofhissaucerandsmiled.“Thatinterestyou?”heaskedmildly.“Thenumberwas1644WestFifty-fourthPlace.”

“Yeah,”Isaidthickly.

“Oh,therewasquiteabitofjewelryinMarriott’sboxtoo—prettygoodstuff.ButIdon’tthinkhestoleit.Ithinkitwasverylikelygiventohim.That’soneupforyou.Hewasafraidtosellit—onaccountoftheassociationofthoughtinhisownmind.”

Inodded.“He’dfeelasifitwasstolen.”

“Yes.Nowthattrustdeeddidn’tinterestmeatallatfirst,buthere’showitworks.It’swhatyoufellowsareupagainstinpolicework.Wegetallthehomicideanddoubtfuldeathreportsfromoutlyingdistricts.We’resupposedtoreadthemthesameday.That’sarule,likeyoushouldn’tsearchwithoutawarrantorfriskaguyforagunwithoutreasonablegrounds.Butwebreakrules.Wehaveto.Ididn’tgetaroundtosomeofthereportsuntilthismorning.ThenIreadoneaboutakillingofaNegroonCentral,lastThursday.Byatoughex-concalledMooseMalloy.Andtherewasanidentifyingwitness.Andsinkmyputt,ifyouweren’tthewitness.”

Hesmiled,softly,histhirdsmile.“Likeit?”

“I’mlistening.”

“Thiswasonlythismorning,understand.SoIlookedatthenameofthemanmakingthereportandIknewhim,Nulty.SoIknewthecasewasaflop.Nultyisthekindofguy—well,wereyoueverupatCrestline?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,upnearCrestlinethere’saplacewhereabunchofoldboxcarshavebeenmadeintocabins.Ihaveacabinuptheremyself,butnotaboxcar.Theseboxcarswerebroughtupontrucks,believeitornot,andtheretheystandwithoutanywheels.NowNultyisthekindofguywhowouldmakeaswellbrakemanononeofthoseboxcars.”

“That’snotnice,”Isaid.“Afellowofficer.”

“SoIcalledNultyupandhehemmedandhawedaroundandspitafewtimesandthenhesaidyouhadanideaaboutsomegirlcalledVelmasomethingorotherthatMalloywassweetonalongtimeagoandyouwenttoseethewidowoftheguythatusedtoownthedivewherethekillinghappenedwhenitwasawhitejoint,andwhereMalloyandthegirlbothworkedatthattime.Andheraddresswas1644WestFifty-fourthPlace,theplaceMarriotthadthetrustdeedon.”

“Yes?”

“SoIjustthoughtthatwasenoughcoincidenceforonemorning,”Randallsaid.“AndhereIam.AndsofarI’vebeenprettyniceaboutit.”

“Thetroubleis,”Isaid,“itlookslikemorethanitis.ThisVelmagirlisdead,accordingtoMrs.Florian.Ihaveherphoto.”

Iwentintothelivingroomandreachedintomysuitcoatandmyhandwasinmidairwhenitbegantofeelfunnyandempty.Buttheyhadn’teventakenthephotos.IgotthemoutandtookthemtothekitchenandtossedthePierrotgirldowninfrontofRandall.Hestudieditcarefully.

“NobodyIeversaw,”hesaid.“Thatanotherone?”

“No,thisisanewspaperstillofMrs.Grayle.AnneRiordangotit.”

Helookedatitandnodded.“Fortwentymillion,I’dmarryhermyself.”

“There’ssomethingIoughttotellyou,”Isaid.“LastnightIwassodamnmadIhadcrazyideasaboutgoingdownthereandtryingtobustitalone.ThishospitalisatTwenty-thirdandDescansoinBayCity.It’srunbyamannamedSonderborgwhosayshe’sadoctor.He’srunningacrookhideoutontheside.IsawMooseMalloytherelastnight.Inaroom.”

Randallsatverystill,lookingatme.“Sure?”

“Youcouldn’tmistakehim.He’sabigguy,enormous.Hedoesn’tlooklikeanybodyyoueversaw.”

Hesatlookingatme,withoutmoving.Thenveryslowlyhemovedoutfromunderthetableandstoodup.

“Let’sgoseethisFlorianwoman.”

“HowaboutMalloy?”

Hesatdownagain.“Tellmethewholething,carefully.”

Itoldhim.Helistenedwithouttakinghiseyesoffmyface.Idon’tthinkheevenwinked.Hebreathedwithhismouthslightlyopen.Hisbodydidn’tmove.Hisfingerstappedgentlyontheedgeofthetable.WhenIhadfinishedhesaid:

“ThisDr.Sonderborg—whatdidhelooklike?”

“Likeadoper,andprobablyadopepeddler.”IdescribedhimtoRandallaswellasIcould.

Hewentquietlyintotheotherroomandsatdownatthetelephone.Hedialedhisnumberandspokequietlyforalongtime.Thenhecameback.Ihadjustfinishedmakingmorecoffeeandboilingacoupleofeggsandmakingtwoslicesoftoastandbutteringthem.Isatdowntoeat.

Randallsatdownoppositemeandleanedhischininhishand.“I’mhavingastatenarcoticsmangodowntherewithafakecomplaintandasktolookaround.Hemaygetsomeideas.Hewon’tgetMalloy.Malloywasoutoftheretenminutesafteryouleftlastnight.That’sonethingyoucanbeton.”

“WhynottheBayCitycops?”Iputsaltonmyeggs.

Randallsaidnothing.WhenIlookedupathimhisfacewasredanduncomfortable.

“Foracop,”Isaid,“you’rethemostsensitiveguyIevermet.”

“Hurryupwiththateating.Wehavetogo.”

“Ihavetoshowerandshaveanddressafterthis.”

“Couldn’tyoujustgoinyourpajamas?”heaskedacidly.

“Sothetownisascrookedasallthat?”Isaid.

“It’sLairdBrunette’stown.Theysayheputupthirtygrandtoelectamayor.”

“ThefellowthatownstheBelvedereClub?”

“Andthetwogamblingboats.”

“Butit’sinourcounty,”Isaid.

Helookeddownathisclean,shinyfingernails.

“We’llstopbyyourofficeandgetthoseothertworeefers,”hesaid.“Ifthey’restillthere.”Hesnappedhisfingers.“Ifyou’lllendmeyourkeys,I’lldoitwhileyougetshavedanddressed.”

“We’llgotogether,”Isaid.“Imighthavesomemail.”

Henoddedandafteramomentsatdownandlitanothercigarette.IshavedanddressedandweleftinRandall’scar.

Ihadsomemail,butitwasn’tworthreading.Thetwocutupcigarettesinthedeskdrawerhadnotbeentouched.Theofficehadnolookofhavingbeensearched.

RandalltookthetwoRussiancigarettesandsniffedatthetobaccoandputthemawayinhispocket.

“Hegotonecardfromyou,”hemused.“Therecouldn’thavebeenanythingonthebackofthat,sohedidn’tbotherabouttheothers.IguessAmthorisnotverymuchafraid—justthoughtyouweretryingtopullsomething.Let’sgo.”

THIRTY

OldNoseypokedhernoseaninchoutsidethefrontdoor,sniffedcarefullyasiftheremightbeanearlyvioletblooming,lookedupanddownthestreetwitharakingglance,andnoddedherwhitehead.RandallandItookourhatsoff.InthatneighborhoodthatprobablyrankedyouwithValentino.Sheseemedtorememberme.

“Goodmorning,Mrs.Morrison,”Isaid.“Canwestepinsideaminute?ThisisLieutenantRandallfromHeadquarters.”

“Land’ssakes,I’mallflustered.Igotabigironingtodo,”shesaid.

“Wewon’tkeepyouaminute.”

ShestoodbackfromthedoorandweslippedpastherintoherhallwaywiththesidepiecefromMasonCityorwhereveritwasandfromthatintotheneatlivingroomwiththelacecurtainsatthewindows.Asmellofironingcamefromthebackofthehouse.Sheshutthedoorinbetweenascarefullyasifitwasmadeofshortpiecrust.

Shehadablueandwhiteaprononthismorning.Hereyeswerejustassharpandherchinhadn’tgrownany.

Sheparkedherselfaboutafootfrommeandpushedherfaceforwardandlookedintomyeyes.

“Shedidn’tgetit.”

Ilookedwise.InoddedmyheadandlookedatRandallandRandallnoddedhishead.HewenttoawindowandlookedatthesideofMrs.Florian’shouse.Hecamebacksoftly,holdinghisporkpieunderhisarm,debonairasaFrenchcountinacollegeplay.

“Shedidn’tgetit,”Isaid.

“Nope,shedidn’t.Saturdaywasthefirst.AprilFool’sDay.He!He!”Shestoppedandwasabouttowipehereyeswithherapronwhensheremembereditwasarubberapron.Thatsouredheralittle.Hermouthgottheprunylook.

“Whenthemailmancomebyandhedidn’tgoupherwalksherunoutandcalledtohim.Heshookhisheadandwenton.Shewentbackin.SheslammedthedoorsohardIfiguredawindow’dbreak.Likeshewasmad.”

“Iswan,”Isaid.

OldNoseysaidtoRandallsharply:“Letmeseeyourbadge,youngman.Thisyoungmanhadawhiskeybreathonhimt’otherday.Iain’tneverrightlytrustedhim.”

Randalltookagoldandblueenamelbadgeoutofhispocketandshowedittoher.

“Lookslikerealpoliceallright,”sheadmitted.“Well,ain’tnothinghappenedoverSunday.Shewentoutforliquor.Comebackwithtwosquarebottles.”

“Gin,”Isaid.“Thatjustgivesyouanidea.Nicefolksdon’tdrinkgin.”

“Nicefolksdon’tdrinknoliquoratall,”OldNoseysaidpointedly.

“Yeah,Isaid.“ComeMonday,thatbeingtoday,and”themailmanwentbyagain.Thistimeshewasreallysore.”

“Kindofsmartguesser,ain’tyou,youngman?Can’twaitforfolkstogettheirmouthopenhardly.”

“I’msorry,Mrs.Morrison.Thisisanimportantmattertous—”

“Thishereyoungmandon’tseemtohavenotroublekeepin’hismouthinplace.”

“He’smarried,”Isaid.“He’shadpractice.”

Herfaceturnedashadeofvioletthatremindedme,unpleasantly,ofcyanosis.“GetoutofmyhouseaforeIcallthepolice!”sheshouted.

“Thereisapoliceofficerstandingbeforeyou,madam,”Randallsaidshortly.“Youareinnodanger.”

“That’srightthereis,”sheadmitted.Theviolettintbegantofadefromherface.“Idon’ttaketothisman.”

“Youhavecompany,madam.Mrs.Floriandidn’tgetherregisteredlettertodayeither—isthatit?”

“No.”Hervoicewassharpandshort.Hereyeswerefurtive.Shebegantotalkrapidly,toorapidly.“Peoplewastherelastnight.Ididn’tevenseethem.Folkstookmetothepictureshow.Justaswegotback—no,justaftertheydrivenoff—acarwentawayfromnextdoor.Fastwithoutanylights.Ididn’tseethenumber.”

Shegavemeasharpsidelonglookfromherfurtiveeyes.Iwonderedwhytheywerefurtive.Iwanderedtothewindowandliftedthelacecurtain.Anofficialbluegrayuniformwasnearingthehouse.Themanwearingitworeaheavyleatherbagoverhisshoulderandhadavizoredcap.

Iturnedawayfromthewindow,grinning.

“You’reslipping,”Itoldherrudely.“You’llbeplayingshortstopinaClassCleaguenextyear.”

“That’snotsmart,”Randallsaidcoldly.

“Takealookoutofthewindow.”

Hedidandhisfacehardened.HestoodquitestilllookingatMrs.Morrison.Hewaswaitingforsomething,asoundlikenothingelseonearth.Itcameinamoment.

Itwasthesoundofsomethingbeingpushedintothefrontdoormailslot.Itmighthavebeenahandbill,butitwasn’t.Therewerestepsgoingbackdownthewalk,thenalongthestreet,andRandallwenttothewindowagain.Themailmandidn’tstopatMrs.Florian’shouse.Hewenton,hisblue-graybackevenandcalmundertheheavyleatherpouch.

Randallturnedhisheadandaskedwithdeadlypoliteness:“Howmanymaildeliveriesamorningarethereinthisdistrict,Mrs.Morrison?”

Shetriedtofaceitout.“Justtheone,”shesaidsharply—“onemorningsandoneafternoons,”

Hereyesdartedthiswayandthat.Therabbitchinwastremblingontheedgeofsomething.Herhandsclutchedattherubberfrillthatborderedtheblueandwhiteapron.

“Themorningdeliveryjustwentby,”Randallsaiddreamily.“Registeredmailcomesbytheregularmailman?”

“ShealwaysgotitSpecialDelivery,”theoldvoicecracked.

“Oh.ButonSaturdaysheranoutandspoketothemailmanwhenhedidn’tstopatherhouse.AndyousaidnothingaboutSpecialDelivery.”

Itwasnicetowatchhimworking—onsomebodyelse.

Hermouthopenedwideandherteethhadtheniceshinylookthatcomesfromstandingallnightinaglassofsolution.Thensuddenlyshemadeasquawkingnoiseandthrewtheapronoverherheadandranoutoftheroom.

Hewatchedthedoorthroughwhichshehadgone.Itwasbeyondthearch.Hesmiled.Itwasarathertiredsmile.

“Neat,andnotabitgaudy,”Isaid.“Nexttimeyouplaythetoughpart.Idon’tlikebeingroughwitholdladies—eveniftheyarelyinggossips.”

Hewentonsmiling.“Sameoldstory.”Heshrugged.“Policework.Phooey.Shestartedwithfacts,

assheknewfacts.Buttheydidn’tcomefastenoughorseemexcitingenough.Soshetriedalittlelily-gilding.”

Heturnedandwewentoutintothehall.Afaintnoiseofsobbingcamefromthebackofthehouse.Forsomepatientman,longdead,thathadbeentheweaponoffinaldefeat,probably.Tomeitwasjustanoldwomansobbing,butnothingtobepleasedabout.

Wewentquietlyoutofthehouse,shutthefrontdoorquietlyandmadesurethatthescreendoordidn’tbang.Randallputhishatonandsighed.Thenheshrugged,spreadinghiscoolwell-kepthandsoutfarfromhisbody.Therewasathinsoundofsobbingstillaudible,backinthehouse.

Themailman’sbackwastwohousesdownthestreet.

“Policework,”Randallsaidquietly,underhisbreath,andtwistedhismouth.

Wewalkedacrossthespacetothenexthouse.Mrs.Florianhadn’teventakenthewashin.Itstilljittered,stiffandyellowishonthewirelineinthesideyard.Wewentuponthestepsandrangthebell.Noanswer.Weknocked.Noanswer.

“Itwasunlockedlasttime,”Isaid.

Hetriedthedoor,carefullyscreeningthemovementwithhisbody.Itwaslockedthistime.WewentdownofftheporchandwalkedaroundthehouseonthesideawayfromOldNosey.Thebackporchhadahookedscreen.Randallknockedonthat.Nothinghappened.Hecamebackoffthetwoalmostpaintlesswoodenstepsandwentalongthedisusedandovergrowndrivewayandopenedupawoodengarage.Thedoorscreaked.Thegaragewasfullofnothing.Therewereafewbatteredold-fashionedtrunksnotworthbreakingupforfirewood.Rustedgardeningtools,oldcans,plentyofthose,incartons.Oneachsideofthedoors,intheangleofthewallanicefatblackwidowspidersatinitscasualuntidyweb.Randallpickedupapieceofwoodandkilledthemabsently.Heshutthegarageupagain,walkedbackalongtheweedydrivetothefrontandupthestepsofthehouseontheothersidefromOldNosey.Nobodyansweredhisringorknock.

Hecamebackslowly,lookingacrossthestreetoverhisshoulder.

“Backdoor ’seasiest,”hesaid.“Theoldhennextdoorwon’tdoanythingaboutitnow.She’sdonetoomuchlying.”

Hewentupthetwobackstepsandslidaknifebladeneatlyintothecrackofthedoorandliftedthehook.Thatputusinthescreenporch.Itwasfullofcansandsomeofthecanswerefullofflies.

“Jesus,whatawaytolive!”hesaid.

Thebackdoorwaseasy.Afive-centskeletonkeyturnedthelock.Buttherewasabolt.

“Thisjarsme,”Isaid.“Iguessshe’sbeatit.Shewouldn’tlockuplikethis.She’stoosloppy.”

“Yourhat’solderthanmine,”Randallsaid.Helookedattheglasspanelinthebackdoor.“Lendittometopushtheglassin.Orshallwedoaneatjob?”

“Kickitin.Whocaresaroundhere?”

“Heregoes.”

Hesteppedbackandlungedatthelockwithhislegparalleltothefloor.Somethingcrackedidlyandthedoorgaveafewinches.Weheaveditopenandpickedapieceofjaggedcastmetaloffthelinoleumandlaiditpolitelyonthewoodstonedrainboard,besideaboutnineemptyginbottles.

Fliesbuzzedagainsttheclosedwindowsofthekitchen.Theplacereeked.Randallstoodinthemiddleofthefloor,givingitthecarefuleye.

Thenhewalkedsoftlythroughtheswingdoorwithouttouchingitexceptlowdownwithhistoeandusingthattopushitfarenoughbacksothatitstayedopen.ThelivingroomwasmuchasIhadrememberedit.Theradiowasoff.

“That’saniceradio,”Randallsaid.“Costmoney.Ifit’spaidfor.Here’ssomething.”

Hewentdownononekneeandlookedalongthecarpet.Thenhewenttothesideoftheradioandmovedaloosecordwithhisfoot.Theplugcameintoview.Hebentandstudiedtheknobsontheradiofront.

“Yeah,”hesaid.“Smoothandratherlarge.Prettysmart,that.Youdon’tgetprintsonalightcord,doyou?”

“Shoveitinandseeifit’sturnedon.”

Hereachedaroundandshoveditintothepluginthebaseboard.Thelightwentonatonce.Wewaited.Thethinghummedforawhileandthensuddenlyaheavyvolumeofsoundbegantopouroutofthespeaker.Randalljumpedatthecordandyankeditlooseagain.Thesoundwassnappedoffsharp.

Whenhestraightenedhiseyeswerefulloflight.

Wewentswiftlyintothebedroom.Mrs.JessiePierceFlorianlaydiagonallyacrossthebed,inarumpledcottonhousedress,withherheadclosetooneendofthefootboard.Thecornerpostofthebedwassmeareddarklywithsomethingthefliesliked.

Shehadbeendeadlongenough.

Randalldidn’ttouchher.Hestareddownatherforalongtimeandthenlookedatmewithawolfishbaringofhisteeth.

“Brainsonherface,”hesaid.“Thatseemstobethethemesongofthiscase.Onlythiswasdonewithjustapairofhands.ButJesuswhatapairofhands.Lookattheneckbruises,thespacingofthefingermarks.”

“Youlookatthem,”Isaid.Iturnedaway.“PooroldNulty.It’snotjustashinekillinganymore.”

THRITY-ONE

AshinyblackbugwithapinkheadandpinkspotsonitcrawledslowlyalongthepolishedtopofRandall’sdeskandwavedacoupleoffeelersaround,asiftestingthebreezeforatakeoff.Itwobbledalittleasitcrawled,likeanoldwomancarryingtoomanyparcels.Anamelessdicksatatanotherdeskandkepttalkingintoanold-fashionedhushaphonetelephonemouthpiece,sothathisvoicesoundedlikesomeonewhisperinginatunnel.Hetalkedwithhiseyeshalfclosed,abigscarredhandonthedeskinfrontofhimholdingaburningcigarettebetweentheknucklesofthefirstandsecondfingers.

ThebugreachedtheendofRandall’sdeskandmarchedstraightoffintotheair.Itfellonitsbackonthefloor,wavedafewthinwornlegsintheairfeeblyandthenplayeddead.Nobodycared,soitbeganwavingthelegsagainandfinallystruggledoveronitsface.Ittrundledslowlyoffintoacornertowardsnothing,goingnowhere.

ThepoliceloudspeakerboxonthewallputoutabulletinaboutaholduponSanPedrosouthofForty-fourth.Theholdupwasamiddle-agedmanwearingadarkgraysuitandgrayfelthat.HewaslastseenrunningeastonForty-fourthandthendodgingbetweentwohouses.“Approachcarefully,”theannouncersaid.“Thissuspectisarmedwitha.32caliberrevolverandhasjusthelduptheproprietorofaGreekrestaurantatNumber3966SouthSanPedro.”

Aflatclickandtheannouncerwentofftheairandanotheronecameonandstartedtoreadahotcarlist,inaslowmonotonousvoicethatrepeatedeverythingtwice.

ThedooropenedandRandallcameinwithasheafoflettersizetypewrittensheets.Hewalkedbrisklyacrosstheroomandsatdownacrossthedeskfrommeandpushedsomepapersatme.

“Signfourcopies,”hesaid.

Isignedfourcopies.

Thepinkbugreachedacorneroftheroomandputfeelersoutforagoodspottotakeofffrom.Itseemedalittlediscouraged.Itwentalongthebaseboardtowardsanothercorner.Ilitacigaretteandthedickatthehushaphoneabruptlygotupandwentoutoftheoffice.

Randallleanedbackinhischair,lookingjustthesameasever,justascool,justassmooth,justasreadytobenastyorniceastheoccasionrequired.

“I’mtellingyouafewthings,”hesaid,“justsoyouwon’tgohavinganymorebrainstorms.Justsoyouwon’tgomaster-mindingalloverthelandscapeanymore.JustsomaybeforChrist’ssakeyouwillletthisonelay.”

Iwaited.

“Noprintsinthedump,”hesaid.“YouknowwhichdumpImean.Thecordwasjerkedtoturntheradiooff,butsheturneditupherselfprobably.That’sprettyobvious.Drunkslikeloudradios.Ifyouhaveglovesontodoakillingandyouturnuptheradiotodrownshotsorsomething,youcanturnitoffthesameway.Butthatwasn’tthewayitwasdone.Andthatwoman’sneckisbroken.Shewasdeadbeforetheguystartedtosmackherheadaround.Nowwhydidhestarttosmackherheadaround?”

“I’mjustlistening.”

Randallfrowned.“Heprobablydidn’tknowhe’dbrokenherneck.Hewassoreather,”hesaid.“Deduction.”Hesmiledsourly.

Iblewsomesmokeandwaveditawayfrommyface.

“Well,whywashesoreather?TherewasagrandrewardpaidthetimehewaspickedupatFlorian’sforthebankjobinOregon.Itwaspaidtoashysterwhoisdeadsince,buttheFlorianslikelygotsomeofit.Malloymayhavesuspectedthat.Maybeheactuallyknewit.Andmaybehewasjusttryingtoshakeitoutofher.”

Inodded.Itsoundedworthanod.Randallwenton:

“Hetookholdofherneckjustonceandhisfingersdidn’tslip.Ifwegethim,wemightbeabletoprovebythespacingofthemarksthathishandsdidit.Maybenot.Thedocfiguresithappenedlastnight,fairlyearly.Motionpicturetime,anyway.Sofarwedon’ttieMalloytothehouselastnight,notbyanyneighbors.ButitcertainlylookslikeMalloy.”

“Yeah,”Isaid.“Malloyallright.Heprobablydidn’tmeantokillher,though.He’sjusttoostrong.”

“Thatwon’thelphimany,”Randallsaidgrimly.

“Isupposenot.IjustmakethepointthatMalloydoesnotappeartometobeakillertype.Killifcornered—butnotforpleasureormoney—andnotwomen.”

“Isthatanimportantpoint?”heaskeddryly.

“Maybeyouknowenoughtoknowwhat’simportant.Andwhatisn’t.Idon’t.”

HestaredatmelongenoughforapoliceannouncertohavetimetoputoutanotherbulletinabouttheholdupoftheGreekrestaurantonSouthSanPedro.Thesuspectwasnowincustody.Itturnedoutlaterthathewasafourteen-year-oldMexicanarmedwithawater-pistol.Somuchforeye-witnesses.

Randallwaiteduntiltheannouncerstoppedandwenton:

“Wegotfriendlythismorning.Let’sstaythatway.Gohomeandliedownandhaveagoodrest.Youlookprettypeaked.JustletmeandthepolicedepartmenthandletheMarriottkillingandfindMooseMalloyandsoon.”

“IgotpaidontheMarriottbusiness,”Isaid.“Ifelldownonthejob.Mrs.Graylehashiredme.Whatdoyouwantmetodo—retireandliveonmyfat?”

Hestaredatmeagain.“Iknow.I’mhuman.Theygiveyouguyslicenses,whichmustmeantheyexpectyoutodosomethingwiththembesideshangthemonthewallinyouroffice.Ontheotherhandanyacting-captainwithagrouchcanbreakyou.”

“NotwiththeGraylesbehindme.”

Hestudiedit.HehatedtoadmitIcouldbeevenhalfright.Sohefrownedandtappedhisdesk.

“Justsoweunderstandeachother,”hesaidafterapause.“Ifyoucrabthiscase,you’llbeinajam.Itmaybeajamyoucanwriggleoutofthistime.Idon’tknow.Butlittlebylittleyouwillbuildupabodyofhostilityinthisdepartmentthatwillmakeitdamnhardforyoutodoanywork.”

“Everyprivatedickfacesthateverydayofhislife—unlesshe’sjustadivorceman.”

“Youcan’tworkonmurders.”

“You’vesaidyourpiece.Iheardyousayit.Idon’texpecttogooutandaccomplishthingsabigpolicedepartmentcan’taccomplish.IfIhaveanysmallprivatenotions,theyarejustthat—smallandprivate.”

Heleanedslowlyacrossthedesk.Histhinrestlessfingerstap-tapped,likethepoinsettiashootstappingagainstMrs.JessieFlorian’sfrontwall.Hiscreamygrayhairshone.Hiscoolsteadyeyeswereonmine.

“Let’sgoon,”hesaid.“Withwhatthereistotell.Amthor ’sawayonatrip.Hiswife—andsecretary—doesn’tknoworwon’tsaywhere.TheIndianhasalsodisappeared.Willyousignacomplaintagainstthesepeople?”

“No.Icouldn’tmakeitstick.”

Helookedrelieved.“Thewifesayssheneverheardofyou.AstothesetwoBayCitycops,ifthat’swhattheywere—that’soutofmyhands.I’drathernothavethethinganymorecomplicatedthanitis.OnethingIfeelprettysureof—AmthorhadnothingtodowithMarriott’sdeath.Thecigaretteswithhiscardinthemwerejustaplant.”

“DocSonderborg?”

Hespreadhishands.“Thewholeshebangskipped.MenfromtheD.A.’sofficewentdownthereonthequiet.NocontactwithBayCityatall.Thehouseislockedupandempty.Theygotin,ofcourse.Somehastyattempthadbeenmadetocleanup,butthereareprints—plentyofthem.Itwilltakeaweektoworkoutwhatwehave.There’sawallsafethey’reworkingonnow.Probablyhaddopeinit—andotherthings.MyguessisthatSonderborgwillhavearecord,notlocal,somewhereelse,forabortion,ortreatinggunshotwoundsoralteringfingertipsorforillegaluseofdope.IfitcomesunderFederalstatutes,we’llgetalotofhelp.”

“Hesaidhewasamedicaldoctor,”Isaid.

Randallshrugged.“Mayhavebeenonce.Mayneverhavebeenconvicted.There’saguypracticingmedicinenearPalmSpringsrightnowwhowasindictedasadopepeddlerinHollywoodfiveyearsago.Hewasasguiltyashell—buttheprotectionworked.Hegotoff.Anythingelseworryingyou?”

“WhatdoyouknowaboutBrunette—fortelling?”

“Brunette’sagambler.He’smakingplenty.He’smakingitaneasyway.”

“Allright,”Isaid,andstartedtogetup.“Thatsoundsreasonable.Butitdoesn’tbringusanynearertothisjewelheistgangthatkilledMarriott.”

“Ican’ttellyoueverything,Marlowe.”

“Idon’texpectit,”Isaid.“Bytheway,JessieFloriantoldme—thesecondtimeIsawher—thatshehadbeenaservantinMarriott’sfamilyonce.Thatwaswhyhewassendinghermoney.Anythingtosupportthat?”

“Yes.Lettersinhissafety-depositboxfromherthankinghimandsayingthesamething.”Helookedasifhewasgoingtolosehistemper.“NowwillyouforGod’ssakegohomeandmindyourownbusiness?”

“Niceofhimtotakesuchcareoftheletters,wasn’tit?”

Heliftedhiseyesuntiltheirglancerestedonthetopofmyhead.Thenheloweredthelidsuntilhalftheiriswascovered.Helookedatmelikethatforalongtenseconds.Thenhesmiled.Hewasdoinganawfullotofsmilingthatday.Usingupawholeweek’ssupply.

“Ihaveatheoryaboutthat,”hesaid.“It’scrazy,butit’shumannature.Marriottwasbythecircumstancesofhislifeathreatenedman.Allcrooksaregamblers,moreorless,andallgamblersaresuperstitious—moreorless.IthinkJessieFlorianwasMarriott’sluckypiece.Aslongashetookcareofher,nothingwouldhappentohim.”

Iturnedmyheadandlookedforthepink-headedbug.Hehadtriedtwocornersoftheroomnowandwasmovingoffdisconsolatelytowardsathird.Iwentoverandpickedhimupinmyhandkerchiefandcarriedhimbacktothedesk.

“Look,”Isaid.“Thisroomiseighteenfloorsaboveground.Andthislittlebugclimbsallthewayupherejusttomakeafriend.Me.Myluckypiece.”Ifoldedthebugcarefullyintothesoftpartofthe

handkerchiefandtuckedthehandkerchiefintomypocket.Randallwaspie-eyed.Hismouthmoved,butnothingcameoutofit.

“IwonderwhoseluckypieceMarriottwas,”Isaid.

“Notyours,pal.”Hisvoicewasacid—coldacid.

“Perhapsnotyourseither.”Myvoicewasjustavoice.Iwentoutoftheroomandshutthedoor.

IrodetheexpresselevatordowntotheSpringStreetentranceandwalkedoutonthefrontporchofCityHallanddownsomestepsandovertotheflowerbeds.Iputthepinkbugdowncarefullybehindabush.

Iwondered,inthetaxigoinghome,howlongitwouldtakehimtomaketheHomicideBureauagain.

IgotmycaroutofthegarageatthebackoftheapartmenthouseandatesomelunchinHollywoodbeforeIstarteddowntoBayCity.Itwasabeautifulcoolsunnyafternoondownatthebeach.IleftArguelloBoulevardatThirdStreetanddroveovertotheCityHall.

THIRTY-TWO

Itwasacheaplookingbuildingforsoprosperousatown.ItlookedmorelikesomethingoutoftheBiblebelt.Bumssatunmolestedinalongrowontheretainingwallthatkeptthefrontlawn—nowmostlyBermudagrass—fromfallingintothestreet.Thebuildingwasofthreestoriesandhadanoldbelfryatthetop,andthebellstillhanginginthebelfry.Theyhadprobablyrungitforthevolunteerfirebrigadebackinthegoodoldchaw-and-spitdays.

Thecrackedwalkandthefrontstepsledtoopendoubledoorsinwhichaknotofobviouscityhallfixershungaroundwaitingforsomethingtohappensotheycouldmakesomethingelseoutofit.Theyallhadthewell-fedstomachs,thecarefuleyes,theniceclothesandthereach-me-downmanners.Theygavemeaboutfourinchestogetin.

InsidewasalongdarkhallwaythathadbeenmoppedthedayMcKinleywasinaugurated.AwoodensignpointedoutthepolicedepartmentInformationDesk.Auniformedmandozedbehindapint-sizedPBXsetintotheendofascarredwoodencounter.Aplainclothesmanwithhiscoatoffandhishog’sleglookinglikeafireplugagainsthisribstookoneeyeoffhiseveningpaper,bongedaspittoontenfeetawayfromhim,yawned,andsaidtheChiefsofficewasupstairsattheback.

Thesecondfloorwaslighterandcleaner,butthatdidn’tmeanthatitwascleanandlight.Adoorontheoceanside,almostattheendofthehall,waslettered:JohnWax,ChiefofPolice.Enter.

Insidetherewasalowwoodenrailingandauniformedmanbehinditworkingatypewriterwithtwofingersandonethumb.Hetookmycard,yawned,saidhewouldsee,andmanagedtodraghimselfthroughamahoganydoormarkedJohnWax,ChiefofPolice.Private.Hecamebackandheldthedoorintherailingforme.

Iwentoninandshutthedooroftheinneroffice.Itwascoolandlargeandhadwindowsonthreesides.AstainedwooddeskwassetfarbacklikeMussolini’s,sothatyouhadtowalkacrossanexpanseofbluecarpettogettoit,andwhileyouweredoingthatyouwouldbegettingthebeadyeye.

Iwalkedtothedesk.Atiltedembossedsignonitread:JohnWax,ChiefofPolice.IfiguredImightbeabletorememberthename.Ilookedatthemanbehindthedesk.Nostrawwasstickingtohishair.

Hewasahammered-downheavyweight,withshortpinkhairandapinkscalpglisteningthroughit.Hehadsmall,hungry,heavy-liddedeyes,asrestlessasfleas.Heworeasuitoffawn-coloredflannel,acoffee-coloredshirtandtie,adiamondring,adiamond-studdedlodgepininhislapel,andtherequiredthreestiffpointsofhandkerchiefcomingupalittlemorethantherequiredthreeinchesfromhisoutsidebreastpocket.

Oneofhisplumphandswasholdingmycard.Hereadit,turneditoverandreadtheback,whichwasblank,readthefrontagain,putitdownonhisdeskandlaidonitapaperweightintheshapeofabronzemonkey,asifhewasmakingsurehewouldn’tloseit.

Hepushedapinkpawatme.WhenIgaveitbacktohim,hemotionedtoachair.“Sitdown,Mr.Marlowe.Iseeyouareinourbusinessmoreorless.WhatcanIdoforyou?”

“Alittletrouble,Chief.Youcanstraightenitoutformeinaminute,ifyoucareto.”

“Trouble,”hesaidsoftly.“Alittletrouble.”

Heturnedinhischairandcrossedhisthicklegsandgazedthoughtfullytowardsoneofhispairsofwindows.ThatletmeseehandspunlislesocksandEnglishbroguesthatlookedasiftheyhadbeenpickledinportwine.CountingwhatIcouldn’tseeandnotcountinghiswallethehadhalfagrandonhim.Ifiguredhiswifehadmoney.

“Trouble,”hesaid,stillsoftly,“issomethingourlittlecitydon’tknowmuchabout,Mr.Marlowe.Ourcityissmallbutvery,veryclean.IlookoutofmywesternwindowsandIseethePacificOcean.Nothingcleanerthanthat,isthere?”Hedidn’tmentionthetwogamblingshipsthatwerehulldownonthebrasswavesjustbeyondthethree-milelimit.

NeitherdidI.“That’sright,Chief,”Isaid.

Hethrewhischestacoupleofinchesfarther.“IlookoutofmynorthernwindowsandIseethebusybustleofArguelloBoulevardandthelovelyCaliforniafoothills,andinthenearforegroundoneofthenicestlittlebusinesssectionsamancouldwanttoknow.Ilookoutofmysouthernwindows,whichIamlookingoutofrightnow,andIseethefinestlittleyachtharborintheworld,forasmallyachtharbor.Idon’thavenoeasternwindows,butifIdidhave,Iwouldseearesidentialsectionthatwouldmakeyourmouthwater.No,sir,troubleisathingwedon’thavealotofonhandinourlittletown.”

“IguessIbroughtminewithme,Chief.Someofitatleast.DoyouhaveamanworkingforyounamedGalbraith,aplainclothessergeant?”

“Whyyes,IbelieveIdo,”hesaid,bringinghiseyesaround.“Whatabouthim?”

“Doyouhaveamanworkingforyouthatgoeslikethis?”Idescribedtheotherman,theonewhosaidverylittle,wasshort,hadamustacheandhitmewithablackjack.“Hegoesaroundwith

Galbraith,verylikely.SomebodycalledhimMr.Blane,butthatsoundedlikeaphony.”

“Quiteonthecontrary,”thefatChiefsaidasstifflyasafatmancansayanything.“HeismyChiefofDetectives.CaptainBlane.”

“CouldIseethesetwoguysinyouroffice?”

Hepickedmycardupandreaditagain.Helaiditdown.Hewavedasoftglisteninghand.

“Notwithoutabetterreasonthanyouhavegivenmesofar,”hesaidsuavely.

“Ididn’tthinkIcould,Chief.DoyouhappentoknowofamannamedJulesAmthor?Hecallshimselfapsychicadviser.HelivesatthetopofahillinStillwoodHeights.”

“No.AndStillwoodHeightsisnotinmyterritory,”theChiefsaid.Hiseyesnowweretheeyesofamanwhohasotherthoughts.

“That’swhatmakesitfunny,”Isaid.“Yousee,IwenttocallonMr.Amthorinconnectionwithaclientofmine.Mr.AmthorgottheideaIwasblackmailinghim.Probablyguysinhislineofbusinessgetthatidearathereasily.HehadatoughIndianbodyguardIcouldn’thandle.SotheIndianheldmeandAmthorbeatmeupwithmyowngun.Thenhesentforacoupleofcops.TheyhappenedtobeGalbraithandMr.Blane.Couldthisinterestyouatall?”

ChiefWaxflappedhishandsonhisdesktopverygently.Hefoldedhiseyesalmostshut,butnotquite.Thecoolgleamofhiseyesshonebetweenthethicklidsanditshonestraightatme.Hesatverystill,asiflistening.Thenheopenedhiseyesandsmiled.

“Andwhathappenedthen?”heinquired,politeasabouncerattheStorkClub.

“Theywentthroughme,tookmeawayintheircar,dumpedmeoutonthesideofamountainandsockedmewithasapasIgotout.”

Henodded,asifwhatIhadsaidwasthemostnaturalthingintheworld.“AndthiswasinStillwoodHeights,”hesaidsoftly.

“Yeah.”

“YouknowwhatIthinkyouare?”Heleanedalittleoverthedesk,butnotfar,onaccountofhisstomachbeingintheway.

“Aliar,”Isaid.

“Thedooristhere,”hesaid,pointingtoitwiththelittlefingerofhislefthand.

Ididn’tmove.Ikeptonlookingathim.WhenhestartedtogetmadenoughtopushhisbuzzerIsaid:“Let’snotbothmakethesamemistake.YouthinkI’masmalltimeprivatedicktryingtopushtentimeshisownweight,tryingtomakeachargeagainstapoliceofficerthat,evenifitwastrue,theofficerwouldtakedamngoodcarecouldn’tbeproved.Notatall.I’mnotmakinganycomplaints.Ithinkthemistakewasnatural.IwanttosquaremyselfwithAmthorandIwantyourmanGalbraithto

helpmedoit.MisterBlaneneedn’tbother.Galbraithwillbeenough.AndI’mnotherewithoutbacking.Ihaveimportantpeoplebehindme.”

“Howfarbehind?”theChiefaskedandchuckledwittily.

“Howfaris862AsterDrive,whereMr.MerwinLockridgeGraylelives?”

Hisfacechangedsocompletelythatitwasasifanothermansatinhischair.“Mrs.Graylehappenstobemyclient,”Isaid.

“Lockthedoors,”hesaid.“You’reayoungermanthanIam.Turntheboltknobs.We’llmakeafriendlystartonthisthing.Youhaveanhonestface,Marlowe.”

Igotupandlockedthedoors.WhenIgotbacktothedeskalongthebluecarpet,theChiefhadanicelookingbottleoutandtwoglasses.Hetossedahandfulofcardamomseedsonhisblotterandfilledbothglasses.

Wedrank.Hecrackedafewcardamomseedsandwechewedthemsilently,lookingintoeachother ’seyes.

“Thattastedright,”hesaid.Herefilledtheglasses.Itwasmyturntocrackthecardamomseeds.Heswepttheshellsoffhisblottertothefloorandsmiledandleanedback.

“Nowlet’shaveit,”hesaid.“HasthisjobyouaredoingforMrs.GrayleanythingtodowithAmthor?”

“There’saconnection.BettercheckthatI’mtellingyouthetruth,though.”

“There’sthat,”hesaidandreachedforhisphone.Thenhetookasmallbookoutofhisvestandlookedupanumber.“Campaigncontributors,”hesaidandwinked.“TheMayorisveryinsistentthatallcourtesiesbeextended.Yes,hereitis.”Heputthebookawayanddialed.

HehadthesametroublewiththebutlerthatIhad.Itmadehisearsgetred.Finallyhegother.Hisearsstayedred.Shemusthavebeenprettysharpwithhim.“Shewantstotalktoyou,”hesaidandpushedthephoneacrosshisbroaddesk.

“ThisisPhil,”Isaid,winkingnaughtilyattheChief.

Therewasacoolprovocativelaugh.“Whatareyoudoingwiththatfatslob?”

“There’salittledrinkingbeingdone.”

“Doyouhavetodoitwithhim?”

“Atthemoment,yes.Business.Isaid,isthereanythingnew?IguessyouknowwhatImean.”

“No.Areyouaware,mygoodfellow,thatyoustoodmeupforanhourtheothernight?DidIstrikeyouasthekindofgirlthatletsthatsortsofthinghappentoher?”

“Iranintotrouble.Howabouttonight?”

“Letmesee—tonightis—whatdayoftheweekisitforheaven’ssake?”

“I’dbettercallyou,”Isaid.“Imaynotbeabletomakeit.ThisisFriday.”

“Liar.”Thesofthuskylaughcameagain.“It’sMonday.Sametime,sameplace—andnofoolingthistime?”

“I’dbettercallyou.”

“You’dbetterbethere.”

“Ican’tbesure.Letmecallyou.”

“Hardtoget?Isee.PerhapsI’mafooltobother.”

“Asamatteroffactyouare.”

“Why?”

“I’mapoorman,butIpaymyownway.Andit’snotquiteassoftawayasyouwouldlike.”

“Damnyou,ifyou’renotthere—”

“IsaidI’dcallyou.”

Shesighed.“Allmenarethesame.”

“Soareallwomen—afterthefirstnine.”

Shedamnedmeandhungup.TheChiefseyespoppedsofaroutofhisheadtheylookedasiftheywereonstilts.

Hefilledbothglasseswithashakinghandandpushedoneatme.

“Soit’slikethat,”hesaidverythoughtfully.

“Herhusbanddoesn’tcare,”Isaid,“sodon’tmakeanoteofit.”

Helookedhurtashedrankhisdrink.Hecrackedthecardamomseedsveryslowly,verythoughtfully.Wedranktoeachother ’sbabyblueeyes.RegretfullytheChiefputthebottleandglassesoutofsightandsnappedaswitchonhiscallbox.

“HaveGalbraithcomeup,ifhe’sinthebuilding.Ifnot,tryandgetintouchwithhimforme.”

Igotupandunlockedthedoorsandsatdownagain.Wedidn’twaitlong.Thesidedoorwastappedon,theChiefcalledout,andHemingwaysteppedintotheroom.

HewalkedsolidlyovertothedeskandstoppedattheendofitandlookedatChiefWaxwiththe

properexpressionoftoughhumility.

“MeetMr.PhilipMarlowe,”theChiefsaidgenially.“AprivatedickfromL.A.”

Hemingwayturnedenoughtolookatme.Ifhehadeverseenmebefore,nothinginhisfaceshowedit.HeputahandoutandIputahandoutandhelookedattheChiefagain.

“Mr.Marlowehasarathercuriousstory,”theChiefsaid,cunning,likeRichelieubehindthearras.“AboutamannamedAmthorwhohasaplaceinStillwoodHeights.He’ssomesortofcrystal-gazer.ItseemsMarlowewenttoseehimandyouandBlanehappenedinaboutthesametimeandtherewasanargumentofsomekind.Iforgetthedetails.”Helookedoutofhiswindowswiththeexpressionofamanforgettingdetails.

“Somemistake,”Hemingwaysaid.“Ineversawthismanbefore.”

“Therewasamistake,asamatteroffact,”theChiefsaiddreamily.“Rathertrifling,butstillamistake.Mr.Marlowethinksitofslightimportance.”

Hemingwaylookedatmeagain.Hisfacestilllookedlikeastoneface.

“Infacthe’snoteveninterestedinthemistake,”theChiefdreamedon.“ButheisinterestedingoingtocallonthismanAmthorwholivesinStillwoodHeights.Hewouldlikesomeonewithhim.Ithoughtofyou.Hewouldlikesomeonewhowouldseethathegotasquaredeal.ItseemsthatMr.AmthorhasaverytoughIndianbodyguardandMr.Marloweisalittleinclinedtodoubthisabilitytohandlethesituationwithouthelp.DoyouthinkyoucouldfindoutwherethisAmthorlives?”

“Yeah,”Hemingwaysaid.“ButStillwoodHeightsisovertheline,Chief.Thisjustapersonalfavortoafriendofyours?”

“Youmightputitthatway,”theChiefsaid,lookingathisleftthumb.“Wewouldn’twanttodoanythingnotstrictlylegal,ofcourse.”

“Yeah,”Hemingwaysaid.“No.”Hecoughed.“Whendowego?”

TheChieflookedatmebenevolently.“Nowwouldbeokey,”Isaid.“IfitsuitsMr.Galbraith.”

“IdowhatI’mtold,”Hemingwaysaid.

TheChieflookedhimover,featurebyfeature.Hecombedhimandbrushedhimwithhiseyes.“HowisCaptainBlanetoday?”heinquired,munchingonacardamomseed.

“Badshape.Bustappendix,”Hemingwaysaid.“Prettycritical.”

TheChiefshookhisheadsadly.Thenhegotholdofthearmsofhischairanddraggedhimselftohisfeet.Hepushedapinkpawacrosshisdesk.

“Galbraithwilltakegoodcareofyou,Marlowe.Youcanrelyonthat.”

“Well,you’vecertainlybeenobliging,Chief,”Isaid.“Icertainlydon’tknowhowtothankyou.”

“Pshaw!Nothanksnecessary.Alwaysgladtoobligeafriendofafriend,sotospeak.”Hewinkedatme.Hemingwaystudiedthewinkbuthedidn’tsaywhatheaddeditupto.

Wewentout,withtheChiefspolitemurmursalmostcarryingusdowntheoffice.Thedoorclosed.Hemingwaylookedupanddownthehallandthenhelookedatme.

“Youplayedthatonesmart,baby,”hesaid.“Youmustgotsomethingwewasn’ttoldabout.”

THIRTY-THREE

Thecardriftedquietlyalongaquietstreetofhomes.Archingpeppertreesalmostmetaboveittoformagreentunnel.Thesuntwinkledthroughtheirupperbranchesandtheirnarrowlightleaves.AsignatthecornersaiditwasEighteenthStreet.

HemingwaywasdrivingandIsatbesidehim.Hedroveveryslowly,hisfaceheavywiththought.

“Howmuchyoutellhim?”heasked,makinguphismind.

“ItoldhimyouandBlanewentoverthereandtookmeawayandtossedmeoutofthecarandsockedmeonthebackofthehead.Ididn’ttellhimtherest.”

“NotaboutTwenty-thirdandDescanso,huh?”

“No.”

“Whynot?”

“IthoughtmaybeIcouldgetmoreco-operationfromyouifIdidn’t.”

“That’sathought.YoureallywanttogoovertoStillwoodHeights,orwasthatjustastall?”

“Justastall.WhatIreallywantisforyoutotellmewhyyouputmeinthatfunnyhouseandwhyIwaskeptthere?”

Hemingwaythought.Hethoughtsohardhischeekmusclesmadelittleknotsunderhisgrayishskin.

“ThatBlane,”hesaid.“Thatsawed-offhunkofshinmeat.Ididn’tmeanforhimtosapyou.Ididn’tmeanforyoutowalkhomeneither,notreally.Itwasjustanact,onaccountofwearefriendswiththisswamiguyandwekindofkeeppeoplefrombotheringhim.You’dbesurprisedwhatalotof

peoplewouldtrytobotherhim.”

“Amazed,”Isaid.

Heturnedhishead.Hisgrayeyeswerelumpsofice.Thenhelookedagainthroughthedustywindshieldanddidsomemorethinking.

“Themoldcopsgetsap-hungryonceinawhile,”hesaid.“Theyjustgottocrackahead.Jesus,wasIscared.Youdroppedlikeasackofcement.ItoldBlaneplenty.ThenwerunyouovertoSonderborg’splaceonaccountofitwasalittlecloserandhewasaniceguyandwouldtakecareofyou.”

“DoesAmthorknowyoutookmethere?”

“Hell,no.Itwasouridea.”

“OnaccountofSonderborgissuchaniceguyandhewouldtakecareofme.Andnokickback.NochanceforadoctortobackupacomplaintifImadeone.Notthatacomplaintwouldhavemuchchanceinthissweetlittletown,ifIdidmakeit.”

“Yougoingtogettough?”Hemingwayaskedthoughtfully.

“Notme,”Isaid.“Andforonceinyourlifeneitherareyou.Becauseyourjobishangingbyathread.YoulookedintheChief’seyesandyousawthat.Ididn’tgointherewithoutcredentials,notthistrip.”

“Okey,”Hemingwaysaidandspatoutofthewindow.“Ididn’thaveanyideaofgettingtoughinthefirstplaceexceptjusttheroutinebigmouth.Whatnext?”

“IsBlanereallysick?”

Hemingwaynodded,butsomehowfailedtolooksad.“Sureis.Paininthegutdaybeforeyesterdayanditbustonhimbeforetheycouldgethisappendixout.He’sgotachance—butnottoogood.”

“We’dcertainlyhatetolosehim,”Isaid.“Afellowlikethatisanassettoanypoliceforce.”

Hemingwaychewedthatoneoverandspatitoutofthecarwindow.

“Okey,nextquestion,”hesighed.

“YoutoldmewhyyoutookmetoSonderborg’splace.Youdidn’ttellmewhyhekeptmethereoverforty-eighthours,lockedupandshotfullofdope.”

Hemingwaybrakedthecarsoftlyoverbesidethecurb.Heputhislargehandsonthelowerpartofthewheelsidebysideandgentlyrubbedthethumbstogether.

“Iwouldn’thaveanidea,”hesaidinafar-offvoice.

“IhadpapersonmeshowingIhadaprivatelicense,”Isaid.“Keys,somemoney,acoupleofphotographs.Ifhedidn’tknowyouboysprettywell,hemightthinkthecrackontheheadwasjustagagtogetintohisplaceandlookaround.ButIfigureheknowsyouboystoowellforthat.SoI’mpuzzled.”

“Staypuzzled,pally.It’salotsafer.”

“Soitis,”Isaid.“Butthere’snosatisfactioninit.”

“YougottheL.A.lawbehindyouonthis?”

“Onthiswhat?”

“OnthisthinkingaboutSonderborg.”

“Notexactly.”

“Thatdon’tmeanyesorno.”

“I’mnotthatimportant,”Isaid.“TheL.A.lawcancomeinhereanytimetheyfeellikeit—twothirdsofthemanyway.TheSheriffsboysandtheD.A.’sboys.IhaveafriendintheD.A.’soffice.Iworkedthereonce.HisnameisBernieOhls.He’sChiefInvestigator.”

“Yougiveittohim?”

“No.Ihaven’tspokentohiminamonth.”

“Thinkingaboutgivingittohim?”

“NotifitinterfereswithajobI’mdoing.”

“Privatejob?”

“Yes.”

“Okey,whatisityouwant?”

“What’sSonderborg’srealracket?”

Hemingwaytookhishandsoffthewheelandspatoutofthewindow.“We’reonanicestreethere,ain’twe?Nicehomes,nicegardens,niceclimate.Youhearalotaboutcrookedcops,ordoyou?”

“Onceinawhile,”Isaid.

“Okey,howmanycopsdoyoufindlivingonastreetevenasgoodasthis,withnicelawnsandflowers?I’dknowfourorfive,allvicesquadboys.Theygetallthegravy.Copslikemeliveinitty-bittyframehousesonthewrongsideoftown.WanttoseewhereIlive?”

“Whatwoulditprove?”

“Listen,pally,”thebigmansaidseriously.“Yougotmeonastring,butitcouldbreak.Copsdon’tgocrookedformoney.Notalways,notevenoften.Theygetcaughtinthesystem.Theygetyouwheretheyhaveyoudowhatistoldthemorelse.Andtheguythatsitsbackthereinthenicebigcorneroffice,withthenicesuitandtheniceliquorbreathhethinkschewingonthemseedsmakessmelllikeviolets,onlyitdon’t—heain’tgivingtheorderseither.Yougetme?”

“WhatkindofamanistheMayor?”

“Whatkindofguyisamayoranywhere?Apolitician.Youthinkhegivestheorders?Nuts.Youknowwhat’sthematterwiththiscountry,baby?”

“Toomuchfrozencapital,Iheard.”

“Aguycan’tstayhonestifhewantsto,”Hemingwaysaid.“That’swhat’sthematterwiththiscountry.Hegetschiseledoutofhispantsifhedoes.Yougottaplaythegamedirtyoryoudon’teat.AlotofbastardsthinkallweneedisninetythousandFBImenincleancollarsandbriefcases.Nuts.Thepercentagewouldgetthemjustthewayitdoestherestofus.YouknowwhatIthink?Ithinkwegottamakethislittleworldalloveragain.NowtakeMoralRearmament.Thereyou’vegotsomething.M.R.A.Thereyou’vegotsomething,baby.”

“IfBayCityisasampleofhowitworks,I’lltakeaspirin,“Isaid.

“Youcouldgettoosmart,”Hemingwaysaidsoftly.“Youmightnotthinkit,butitcouldbe.Youcouldgetsosmartyoucouldn’tthinkaboutanythingbutbein’smart.Me,I’mjustadumbcop.Itakeorders.IgotawifeandtwokidsandIdowhatthebigshotssay.Blanecouldtellyouthings.Me,I’mignorant.”

“SureBlanehasappendicitis?Surehedidn’tjustshoothimselfinthestomachformeanness?”

“Don’tbethatway,”Hemingwaycomplainedandslappedhishandsupanddownonthewheel.“Tryandthinkniceaboutpeople.”

“AboutBlane?”

“He’shuman—justliketherestofus,”Hemingwaysaid.“He’sasinner—buthe’shuman.”

“What’sSonderborg’sracket?”

“Okey,Iwasjusttellingyou.MaybeI’mwrong.Ihadyoufiguredforaguythatcouldbesoldaniceidea.”

“Youdon’tknowwhathisracketis,”Isaid.

Hemingwaytookhishandkerchiefoutandwipedhisfacewithit.“Buddy,Ihatetoadmitit,”hesaid.“ButyououghttoknowdamnwellthatifIkneworBlaneknewSonderborghadaracket,eitherwewouldn’tofdumpedyouinthereoryouwouldn’teverhavecomeout,notwalking.I’mtalkingaboutarealbadracket,naturally.Notfluffstuffliketellingoldwomen’sfortunesoutofacrystalball.”

“Idon’tthinkIwasmeanttocomeoutwalking,”Isaid.“There’sadrugcalledscopolamine,truthserum,thatsometimesmakespeopletalkwithouttheirknowingit.It’snotsurefire,anymorethanhypnotismis.Butitsometimesworks.IthinkIwasbeingmilkedintheretofindoutwhatIknew.ButthereareonlythreewaysSonderborgcouldhaveknownthattherewasanythingformetoknowthatmighthurthim.Amthormighthavetoldhim,orMooseMalloymighthavementionedtohimthatIwenttoseeJessieFlorian,orhemighthavethoughtputtingmeintherewasapolicegag.”

Hemingwaystaredatmesadly.“Ican’tevenseeyourdust,”hesaid.“WhothehellisMooseMalloy?”

“AbighunkthatkilledamanoveronCentralAvenueafewdaysago.He’sonyourteletype,ifyoueverreadit.Andyouprobablyhaveareaderofhimbynow.”

“Sowhat?”

“SoSonderborgwashidinghim.Isawhimthere,onabedreadingnewspapers,thenightIsnuckout.”

“How’dyougetout?Wasn’tyoulockedin?”

“Icrockedtheorderlywithabedspring.Iwaslucky.”

“Thisbigguyseeyou?’

“No.”

Hemingwaykickedthecarawayfromthecurbandasolidgrinsettledonhisface.“Let’sgocollect,”hesaid.“Itfigures.Itfiguresswell.Sonderborgwashidinghotboys.Iftheyhaddough,thatis.Hisset-upwasperfectforit.Goodmoney,too.”

Hekickedthecarintomotionandwhirledaroundacorner.

“Hell,Ithoughthesoldreefers,”hesaiddisgustedly.“Withtherightprotectionbehindhim.Buthell,that’sasmalltimeracket.Apeanutgrift.”

“Everhearofthenumbersracket?That’sasmalltimerackettoo—ifyou’rejustlookingatonepieceofit.”

Hemingwayturnedanothercornersharplyandshookhisheavyhead.“Right.Andpinballgamesandbingohousesandhorseparlors.Butaddthemallupandgiveoneguycontrolanditmakessense.”

“Whatguy?”

Hewentwoodenonmeagain.HismouthshuthardandIcouldseehisteethwerebitingateachotherinsideit.WewereonDescansoStreetandgoingeast.Itwasaquietstreeteveninlateafternoon.AswegottowardsTwenty-third,itbecameinsomevaguemannerlessquiet.Twomenwerestudyingapalmtreeasiffiguringouthowtomoveit.AcarwasparkednearDr.Sonderborg’splace,butnothingshowedinit.Halfwaydowntheblockamanwasreadingwatermeters.

Thehousewasacheerfulspotbydaylight.Tearosebegoniasmadeasolidpalemassunderthefrontwindowsandpansiesablurofcoloraroundthebaseofawhiteacaciainbloom.Ascarletclimbingrosewasjustopeningitsbudsonafan-shapedtrellis.Therewasabedofwintersweetpeasandabronze-greenhummingbirdproddinginthemdelicately.Thehouselookedlikethehomeofawell-to-doelderlycouplewholikedtogarden.Thelateafternoonsunonithadahushedandmenacingstillness.

Hemingwayslidslowlypastthehouseandatightlittlesmiletuggedatthecornersofhismouth.Hisnosesniffed.Heturnedthenextcorner,andlookedinhisrearviewmirrorandsteppedupthespeedofthecar.

Afterthreeblockshebrakedatthesideofthestreetagainandturnedtogivemeahardlevelstare.

“L.A.law,”hesaid.“OneoftheguysbythepalmtreeiscalledDonnelly.Iknowhim.Theygotthehousecovered.Soyoudidn’ttellyourpaldowntown,huh?”

“IsaidIdidn’t.”

“TheChief’lllovethis,”Hemingwaysnarled.“Theycomedownhereandraidajointanddon’tevenstopbytosayhello.”

Isaidnothing.

“TheycatchthisMooseMalloy?”

Ishookmyhead.“NotsofarasIknow.”

“Howthehellfardoyouknow,buddy?”heaskedverysoftly.

“Notfarenough.IsthereanyconnectionbetweenAmthorandSonderborg?”

“NotthatIknowof.”

“Whorunsthistown?”

Silence.

“IheardagamblernamedLairdBrunetteputupthirtygrandtoelecttheMayor.IheardheownstheBelvedereClubandboththegamblingshipsoutonthewater,”

“Mightbe,”Hemingwaysaidpolitely.

“WherecanBrunettebefound?”

“Whyaskme,baby?”

“Wherewouldyoumakeforifyoulostyourhideoutinthistown?”

“Mexico.”

Ilaughed.“Okey,willyoudomeabigfavor?”

“Gladto.”

“Drivemebackdowntown.”

HestartedthecarawayfromthecurbandtooleditneatlyalongashadowedstreettowardstheOcean.ThecarreachedtheCityHallandslidaroundintothepoliceparkingzoneandIgotout.

“Comeroundandseemesometime,”Hemingwaysaid.“I’lllikelybecleaningspittoons.”

Heputhisbighandout.“Nohardfeelings?”

“M.R.A.,”Isaidandshookthehand.

Hegrinnedallover.HecalledmebackwhenIstartedtowalkaway.Helookedcarefullyinalldirectionsandleanedhismouthclosetomyear.

“Themgamblingshipsaresupposedtobeoutbeyondcityandstatejurisdiction,”hesaid.“Panamaregistry.Ifitwasmethatwas—”hestoppeddead,andhisbleakeyesbegantoworry.

“Igetit,”Isaid.“Ihadthesamesortofidea.Idon’tknowwhyIbotheredsomuchtogetyoutohaveitwithme.Butitwouldn’twork—notforjustoneman.”

Henodded,andthenhesmiled.“M.R.A.,”hesaid.

THIRTY-FOUR

Ilayonmybackonabedinawaterfronthotelandwaitedforittogetdark.Itwasasmallfrontroomwithahardbedandamattressslightlythickerthanthecottonblanketthatcoveredit.Aspringunderneathmewasbrokenandstuckintotheleftsideofmyback.Ilaythereandletitprodme.

Thereflectionofaredneonlightglaredontheceiling.Whenitmadethewholeroomreditwouldbedarkenoughtogoout.OutsidecarshonkedalongthealleytheycalledtheSpeedway.Feetslitheredonthesidewalksbelowmywindow.Therewasamurmurandmutterofcomingandgoingintheair.Theairthatseepedinthroughtherustedscreenssmelledofstalefryingfat.Faroffavoiceofthekindthatcouldbeheardfaroffwasshouting:“Gethungry,folks.Gethungry.Nicehotdoggieshere.Gethungry.”

Itgotdarker.Ithought;andthoughtinmymindmovedwithakindofsluggishstealthiness,asifitwasbeingwatchedbybitterandsadisticeyes.Ithoughtofdeadeyeslookingatamoonlesssky,withblackbloodatthecornersofthemouthsbeneaththem.Ithoughtofnastyoldwomenbeatentodeathagainstthepostsoftheirdirtybeds.Ithoughtofamanwithbrightblondhairwhowasafraidanddidn’tquiteknowwhathewasafraidof,whowassensitiveenoughtoknowthatsomethingwaswrong,andtoovainortoodulltoguesswhatitwasthatwaswrong.Ithoughtofbeautifulrichwomenwhocouldbehad.Ithoughtofniceslimcuriousgirlswholivedaloneandcouldbehadtoo,inadifferentway.Ithoughtofcops,toughcopsthatcouldbegreasedandyetwerenotbyanymeansallbad,likeHemingway.FatprosperouscopswithChamberofCommercevoices,likeChiefWax.Slim,smartanddeadlycopslikeRandall,whoforalltheirsmartnessanddeadlinesswerenotfreetodoacleanjobinacleanway.IthoughtofsouroldgoatslikeNultywhohadgivenuptrying.IthoughtofIndiansandpsychicsanddopedoctors.

Ithoughtoflotsofthings.Itgotdarker.Theglareoftheredneonsignspreadfartherandfartheracrosstheceiling.Isatuponthebedandputmyfeetonthefloorandrubbedthebackofmyneck.

Igotuponmyfeetandwentovertothebowlinthecornerandthrewcoldwateronmyface.AfteralittlewhileIfeltalittlebetter,butverylittle.Ineededadrink,Ineededalotoflifeinsurance,I

neededavacation,Ineededahomeinthecountry.WhatIhadwasacoat,ahatandagun.Iputthemonandwentoutoftheroom.

Therewasnoelevator.Thehallwayssmelledandthestairshadgrimedrails.Iwentdownthem,threwthekeyonthedeskandsaidIwasthrough.AclerkwithawartonhislefteyelidnoddedandaMexicanbellhopinafrayeduniformcoatcameforwardfrombehindthedustiestrubberplantinCaliforniatotakemybags.Ididn’thaveanybags,sobeingaMexican,heopenedthedoorformeandsmiledpolitelyjustthesame.

Outsidethenarrowstreetfumed,thesidewalksswarmedwithfatstomachs.Acrossthestreetabingoparlorwasgoingfullblastandbesideitacoupleofsailorswithgirlswerecomingoutofaphotographer ’sshopwheretheyhadprobablybeenhavingtheirphotostakenridingoncamels.Thevoiceofthehotdogmerchantsplitthedusklikeanaxe.Abigbluebusblareddownthestreettothelittlecirclewherethestreetcarusedtoturnonaturntable.Iwalkedthatway.

Afterawhiletherewasafaintsmellofocean.Notverymuch,butasiftheyhadkeptthismuchjusttoremindpeoplethishadoncebeenacleanopenbeachwherethewavescameinandcreamedandthewindblewandyoucouldsmellsomethingbesideshotfatandcoldsweat.

Thelittlesidewalkcarcametrundlingalongthewideconcretewalk.Igotonitandrodetotheendofthelineandgotoffandsatonabenchwhereitwasquietandcoldandtherewasabigbrownheapofkelpalmostatmyfeet.Outtoseatheyhadturnedthelightsoninthegamblingboats.IgotbackonthesidewalkcarthenexttimeitcameandrodebackalmosttowhereIhadleftthehotel.Ifanybodywastailingme,hewasdoingitwithoutmoving.Ididn’tthinktherewas.Inthatcleanlittlecitytherewouldn’tbeenoughcrimeforthedickstobeverygoodshadows.

Theblackpiersglitteredtheirlengthandthendisappearedintothedarkbackgroundofnightandwater.Youcouldstillsmellhotfat,butyoucouldsmelltheoceantoo.Thehotdogmandronedon:

“Gethungry,folks,gethungry.Nicehotdoggies.Gethungry.”

Ispottedhiminawhitebarbecuestandticklingwienieswithalongfork.Hewasdoingagoodbusinesseventhatearlyintheyear.Ihadtowaitsometimetogethimalone.

“What’sthenameoftheonefarthestout?”Iasked,pointingwithmynose.

“Montecito.”Hegavemethelevelsteadylook.

“Couldaguywithreasonabledoughhavehimselfatimethere?”

“Whatkindofatime?”

Ilaughed,sneeringly,verytough.

“Hotdoggies,”hechanted.“Nicehotdoggies,folks.”Hedroppedhisvoice.“Women?”

“Nix.Iwasfiguringonaroomwithaniceseabreezeandgoodfoodandnobodytobotherme.Kindofvacation.”

Hemovedaway.“Ican’thearawordyousay,”hesaid,andthenwentintohischant.

Hedidsomemorebusiness.Ididn’tknowwhyIbotheredwithhim.Hejusthadthatkindofface.Ayoungcoupleinshortscameupandboughthotdogsandstrolledawaywiththeboy’sarmaroundthegirl’sbrassiereandeacheatingtheother ’shotdog.

Themanslidayardtowardsmeandeyedmeover.“RightnowIshouldbewhistlingRosesofPicardy,”hesaid,andpaused.“Thatwouldcostyou,”hesaid.

“Howmuch?”

“Fifty.Notless.Unlesstheywantyouforsomething.”

“Thisusedtobeagoodtown,”Isaid.“Acool-offtown.”

“Thoughtitstillwas,”hedrawled.“Butwhyaskme?”

“Ihaven’tanidea,”Isaid.Ithrewadollarbillonhiscounter.“Putitinthebaby’sbank,”Isaid.“OrwhistleRosesofPicardy.”

Hesnappedthebill,foldeditlongways,foldeditacrossandfoldeditagain.Helaiditonthecounterandtuckedhismiddlefingerbehindhisthumbandsnapped.Thefoldedbillhitmelightlyinthechestandfellnoiselesslytotheground.Ibentandpickeditupandturnedquickly.Butnobodywasbehindmethatlookedlikeadick.

Ileanedagainstthecounterandlaidthedollarbillonitagain.“Peopledon’tthrowmoneyatme,”Isaid.“Theyhandittome.Doyoumind?”

Hetookthebill,unfoldedit,spreaditoutandwipeditoffwithhisapron.Hepunchedhiscash-registeranddroppedthebillintothedrawer.

“Theysaymoneydon’tstink,”hesaid.”Isometimeswonder.”

Ididn’tsayanything.Somemorecustomersdidbusinesswithhimandwentaway.Thenightwascoolingfast.

“Iwouldn’ttrytheRoyalCrown,”themansaid.“That’sforgoodlittlesquirrels,thatsticktotheirnuts.Youlooklikedicktome,butthat’syourangle.Ihopeyouswimgood.”

Ilefthim,wonderingwhyIhadgonetohiminthefirstplace.Playthehunch.Playthehunchandgetstung.Inalittlewhileyouwakeupwithyourmouthfullofhunches.Youcan’torderacupofcoffeewithoutshuttingyoureyesandstabbingthemenu.Playthehunch.

Iwalkedaroundandtriedtoseeifanybodywalkedbehindmeinanyparticularway.ThenIsoughtoutarestaurantthatdidn’tsmelloffryinggreaseandfoundonewithapurpleneonsignandacocktailbarbehindareedcurtain.Amalecutiewithhenna’dhairdroopedatabungalowgrandpianoandtickledthekeyslasciviouslyandsangStairwaytotheStarsinavoicewithhalfthestepsmissing.

Igobbledadrymartiniandhurriedbackthroughthereedcurtaintothediningroom.

Theeighty-five-centdinnertastedlikeadiscardedmailbagandwasservedtomebyawaiterwholookedasifhewouldslugmeforaquarter,cutmythroatforsixbits,andburymeatseainabarrelofconcreteforadollarandahalf,plussalestax.

THIRTY-FIVE

Itwasalongrideforaquarter.Thewatertaxi,anoldlaunchpaintedupandglassedinforthree-quartersofitslength,slidthroughtheanchoredyachtsandaroundthewidepileofstonewhichwastheendofthebreakwater.Theswellhituswithoutwarningandbouncedtheboatlikeacork.Buttherewasplentyofroomtobesickthatearlyintheevening.AllthecompanyIhadwasthreecouplesandthemanwhodrovetheboat,atough-lookingcitizenwhosatalittleonhislefthiponaccountofhavingablackleatherhip-holsterinsidehisrighthippocket.Thethreecouplesbegantocheweachother ’sfacesassoonaswelefttheshore.

IstaredbackatthelightsofBayCityandtriednottobeardowntoohardonmydinner.Scatteredpointsoflightdrewtogetherandbecameajeweledbraceletlaidoutintheshowwindowofthenight.Thenthebrightnessfadedandtheywereasoftorangeglowappearinganddisappearingovertheedgeoftheswell.Itwasalongsmoothevenswellwithnowhitecaps,andjusttherightamountofheavetomakemegladIhadn’tpickledmydinnerinbarwhiskey.Thetaxislidupanddowntheswellnowwithasinistersmoothness,likeacobradancing.Therewascoldintheair,thewetcoldthatsailorsnevergetoutoftheirjoints.TheredneonpencilsthatoutlinedtheRoyalCrownfadedofftotheleftanddimmedintheglidinggrayghostsofthesea,thenshoneoutagain,asbrightasnewmarbles.

Wegavethisoneawideberth.Itlookednicefromalongwayoff.Afaintmusiccameoverthewaterandmusicoverthewatercanneverbeanythingbutlovely.TheRoyalCrownseemedtorideassteadyasapieronitsfourhawsers.Itslandingstagewaslituplikeatheatermarquee.Thenallthisfadedintoremotenessandanother,older,smallerboatbegantosneakoutofthenighttowardsus.Itwasnotmuchtolookat.Aconvertedseagoingfreighterwithscummedandrustedplates,thesuperstructurecutdowntotheboatdecklevel,andabovethattwostumpymastsjusthighenoughforaradioantenna.TherewaslightontheMontecitoalsoandmusicfloatedacrossthewetdarksea.Thespooningcouplestooktheirteethoutofeachother ’snecksandstaredattheshipandgiggled.

Thetaxisweptaroundinawidecurve,careenedjustenoughtogivethepassengersathrill,andeaseduptothehempfendersalongthestage.Thetaxi’smotoridledandbackfiredinthefog.Alazy

searchlightbeamsweptacircleaboutfiftyyardsoutfromtheship.

Thetaximanhookedtothestageandasloe-eyedladinabluemessjacketwithbrightbuttons,abrightsmileandagangstermouth,handedthegirlsupfromthetaxi.Iwaslast.Thecasualneatwayhelookedmeovertoldmesomethingabouthim.Thecasualneatwayhebumpedmyshouldercliptoldmemore.

“Nix,”hesaidsoftly.“Nix.”

Hehadasmoothlyhuskyvoice,ahardHarrystraininghimselfthroughasilkhandkerchief.Hejerkedhischinatthetaximan.Thetaximandroppedashortloopoverabitt,turnedhiswheelalittle,andclimbedoutonthestage.Hesteppedbehindme.

“Nogatsontheboat,laddy.Sorryandallthatrot,”Mess-jacketpurred.

“Icouldcheckit.It’sjustpartofmyclothes.I’mafellowwhowantstoseeBrunette,onbusiness.”

Heseemedmildlyamused.“Neverheardofhim,”hesmiled.“Onyourway,bo.”

Thetaximanhookedawristthroughmyrightarm.

“IwanttoseeBrunette,”Isaid.Myvoicesoundedweakandfrail,likeanoldlady’svoice.

“Let’snotargue,”thesloe-eyedladsaid.“We’renotinBayCitynow,noteveninCalifornia,andbysomegoodopinionsnotevenintheU.S.A.Beatit.”

“Backintheboat,”thetaximangrowledbehindme.“Ioweyouaquarter.Let’sgo.”

Igotbackintotheboat.Mess-jacketlookedatmewithhissilentsleeksmile.Iwatchedituntilitwasnolongerasmile,nolongeraface,nolongeranythingbutadarkfigureagainstthelandinglights.Iwatcheditandhungered.Thewaybackseemedlonger.Ididn’tspeaktothetaximanandhedidn’tspeaktome.AsIgotoffatthewharfhehandedmeaquarter.

“Someothernight,”hesaidwearily,“whenwegotmoreroomtobounceyou.”

Halfadozencustomerswaitingtogetinstaredatme,hearinghim.Iwentpastthem,pastthedoorofthelittlewaitingroomonthefloat,towardstheshallowstepsatthelandwardend.

Abigredheadedroughneckindirtysneakersandtarrypantsandwhatwasleftofatornbluesailor ’sjerseyandastreakofblackdownthesideofhisfacestraightenedfromtherailingandbumpedintomecasually.

Istopped.Helookedtoobig.Hehadthreeinchesonmeandthirtypounds.Butitwasgettingtobetimeformetoputmyfistintosomebody’steethevenifallIgotforitwasawoodenarm.

Thelightwasdimandmostlybehindhim.“What’sthematter,pardner?”hedrawled.“Nosoaponthehellship?”

“Godarnyourshirt,”Itoldhim.“Yourbellyisstickingout.”

“Couldbeworse,”hesaid.“Thegat’skindofbulgyunderthelightsuitatthat.”

“Whatpullsyournoseintoit?”

“Jesus,nothingatall.Justcuriosity.Nooffense,pal.”

“Well,getthehelloutofmywaythen.”

“Sure.I’mjustrestinghere.”

Hesmiledaslowtiredsmile.Hisvoicewassoft,dreamy,sodelicateforabigmanthatitwasstartling.Itmademethinkofanothersoft-voicedbigmanIhadstrangelyliked.

“Yougotthewrongapproach,”hesaidsadly.“JustcallmeRed.”

“Stepaside,Red.Thebestpeoplemakemistakes.Ifeelonecrawlingupmyback.”

Helookedthoughtfullythiswayandthat.Hehadmeangledintoacorneroftheshelteronthefloat.Weseemedtobemoreorlessalone.

“YouwantontheMonty?Canbedone.Ifyougotareason.”

Peopleingayclothesandgayfaceswentpastusandgotintothetaxi.Iwaitedforthemtopass.

“Howmuchisthereason?”

“Fiftybucks.Tenmoreifyoubleedinmyboat.”

Istartedaroundhim.

“Twenty-five,”hesaidsoftly.“Fifteenifyoucomebackwithfriends.”

“Idon’thaveanyfriends,”Isaid,andwalkedaway.Hedidn’ttrytostopme.

Iturnedrightalongthecementwalkdownwhichthelittleelectriccarscomeandgo,trundlinglikebabycarriagesandblowinglittlehornsthatwouldn’tstartleanexpectantmother.Atthefootofthefirstpiertherewasaflaringbingoparlor,jammedfullofpeoplealready.Iwentintoitandstoodagainstthewallbehindtheplayers,wherealotofotherpeoplestoodandwaitedforaplacetositdown.

Iwatchedafewnumbersgoupontheelectricindicator,listenedtothetablemencallthemoff,triedtospotthehouseplayersandcouldn’t,andturnedtoleave.

Alargebluenessthatsmelledoftartookshapebesideme.“Nogotthedough—orjusttightwithit?”thegentlevoiceaskedinmyear.

Ilookedathimagain.Hehadtheeyesyouneversee,thatyouonlyreadabout.Violeteyes.Almostpurple.Eyeslikeagirl,alovelygirl.Hisskinwasassoftassilk.Lightlyreddened,butitwouldnevertan.Itwastoodelicate.HewasbiggerthanHemingwayandyounger,bymanyyears.He

wasnotasbigasMooseMalloy,buthelookedveryfastonhisfeet.Hishairwasthatshadeofredthatglintswithgold.Butexceptfortheeyeshehadaplainfarmerface,withnostagykindofhandsomeness.

“What’syourracket?”heasked.“Privateeye?”

“WhydoIhavetotellyou?”Isnarled.

“Ikindofthoughtthatwasit,”hesaid.“Twenty-fivetoohigh?Noexpenseaccount?”

“No.”

Hesighed.“ItwasabumideaIhadanyway,”hesaid.“They’lltearyoutopiecesoutthere.”

“Iwouldn’tbesurprised.What’syourracket?”

“Adollarhere,adollarthere.Iwasonthecopsonce.Theybrokeme.”

“Whytellme?”

Helookedsurprised.“It’strue.”

“Youmusthavebeenleveling.”

Hesmiledfaintly.

“KnowamannamedBrunette?”

Thefaintsmilestayedonhisface.Threebingoesweremadeinarow.Theyworkedfastinthere.Atallbeakfacedmanwithsallowsunkencheeksandawrinkledsuitsteppedclosetousandleanedagainstthewallanddidn’tlookatus.Redleanedgentlytowardshimandasked:“Istheresomethingwecouldtellyou,pardner?”

Thetallbeak-facedmangrinnedandmovedaway.Redgrinnedandshookthebuildingleaningagainstthewallagain.

“I’vemetamanwhocouldtakeyou,”Isaid.

“Iwishtherewasmore,”hesaidgravely.“Abigguycostsmoney.Thingsain’tscaledforhim.Hecoststofeed,toputclotheson,andhecan’tsleepwithhisfeetinthebed.Here’showitworks.Youmightnotthinkthisisagoodplacetotalk,butitis.AnyfinksdriftalongI’llknowthemandtherestofthecrowdiswatchingthosenumbersandnothingelse.Igotaboatwithanunder-waterby-pass.Thatis,Icanborrowone.There’sapierdownthelinewithoutlights.IknowaloadingportontheMontyIcanopen.Itakealoadoutthereonceinawhile.Thereain’tmanyguysbelowdecks.”

“Theyhaveasearchlightandlookouts,”Isaid.

“Wecanmakeit.”

Igotmywalletoutandslippedatwentyandafiveagainstmystomachandfoldedthemsmall.Thepurpleeyeswatchedmewithoutseemingto.

“Oneway?”

“Fifteenwastheword.”

“Themarkettookaspurt.”

Atarryhandswallowedthebills.Hemovedsilentlyaway.Hefadedintothehotdarknessoutsidethedoors.Thebeak-nosedmanmaterializedatmyleftsideandsaidquietly:

“IthinkIknowthatfellowinsailorclothes.Friendofyours?IthinkIseenhimbefore.”

Istraightenedawayfromthewallandwalkedawayfromhimwithoutspeaking,outofthedoors,thenleft,watchingahighheadthatmovedalongfromelectroliertoelectrolierahundredfeetaheadofme.AfteracoupleofminutesIturnedintoaspacebetweentwoconcessionshacks.Thebeak-nosedmanappeared,strollingwithhiseyesontheground.Isteppedouttohisside.

“Goodevening,”Isaid.“MayIguessyourweightforaquarter?”Ileanedagainsthim.Therewasagununderthewrinkledcoat.

Hiseyeslookedatmewithoutemotion.“AmIgoin’tohavetopinchyou,son?I’mpostedalongthisstretchtomaintainlawandorder.”

“Who’sdismaintainingitrightnow?”

“Yourfriendhadafamiliarlooktome.”

“Heoughtto.He’sacop.”

“Awhell,”thebeak-nosedmansaidpatiently.“That’swhereIseenhim.Goodnighttoyou.”

Heturnedandstrolledbackthewayhehadcome.Thetallheadwasoutofsightnow.Itdidn’tworryme.Nothingaboutthatladwouldeverworryme.

Iwalkedonslowly.

THIRTY-SIX

Beyondtheelectroliers,beyondthebeatandtootofthesmallsidewalkcars,beyondthesmellofhotfatandpopcornandtheshrillchildrenandthebarkersinthepeepshows,beyondeverythingbutthesmelloftheoceanandthesuddenlyclearlineoftheshoreandthecreamingfallofthewavesintothepebbledspume.Iwalkedalmostalonenow.Thenoisesdiedbehindme,thehotdishonestlightbecameafumblingglare.Thenthelightlessfingerofablackpierjuttedseawardintothedark.Thiswouldbetheone.Iturnedtogooutonit.

Redstoodupfromaboxagainstthebeginningofthepilesandspokeupwardstome.“Right,”hesaid.“Yougoonouttotheseasteps.Igottagoandgetherandwarmherup.”

“Waterfrontcopfollowedme.Thatguyinthebingoparlor.Ihadtostopandspeaktohim.”

“Olson.Pickpocketdetail.He’sgoodtoo.Exceptonceinawhilehewillliftaleatherandplantit,tokeepuphisarrestrecord.That’sbeingashadetoogood,orisn’tit?”

“ForBayCityI’dsayjustaboutright.Let’sgetgoing.I’mgettingthewindup.Idon’twanttoblowthisfogaway.Itdoesn’tlookmuchbutitwouldhelpalot.”

“It’lllastenoughtofoolasearchlight,”Redsaid.“TheygotTommygunsonthatboatdeck.Yougoonoutthepier.I’llbealong.”

HemeltedintothedarkandIwentoutthedarkboards,slippingonfish-slimedplanking.Therewasalowdirtyrailingatthefarend.Acoupleleanedinacorner.Theywentaway,themanswearing.

FortenminutesIlistenedtothewaterslappingthepiles.Anightbirdwhirredinthedark,thefaintgraynessofawingcutacrossmyvisionanddisappeared.Aplanedronedhighintheceiling.Thenfaroffamotorbarkedandroaredandkeptonroaringlikehalfadozentruckengines.Afterawhilethesoundeasedanddropped,thensuddenlytherewasnosoundatall.

Moreminutespassed.Iwentbacktotheseastepsandmoveddownthemascautiouslyasacatonawetfloor.Adarkshapeslidoutofthenightandsomethingthudded.Avoicesaid:“Allset.Getin.”

Igotintotheboatandsatbesidehimunderthescreen.Theboatslidoutoverthewater.Therewasnosoundfromitsexhaustnowbutanangrybubblingalongbothsidesoftheshell.OncemorethelightsofBayCitybecamesomethingdistantlyluminousbeyondtheriseandfallofalienwaves.OncemorethegarishlightsoftheRoyalCrownslidofftooneside,theshipseemingtopreenitselflikeafashionmodelonarevolvingplatform.AndonceagaintheportsofthegoodshipMontecitogrewoutoftheblackPacificandtheslowsteadysweepofthesearchlightturnedarounditlikethebeamofalighthouse.

“I’mscared,”Isaidsuddenly.“I’mscaredstiff.”

Redthrottleddowntheboatandletitslideupanddowntheswellasthoughthewatermovedunderneathandtheboatstayedinthesameplace.Heturnedhisfaceandstaredatme.

“I’mafraidofdeathanddespair,”Isaid.“Ofdarkwateranddrownedmen’sfacesandskullswithemptyeyesockets.I’mafraidofdying,ofbeingnothing,ofnotfindingamannamedBrunette.”

Hechuckled.“Youhadmegoingforaminute.Yousuregiveyourselfapeptalk.Brunettemightbeanyplace.Oneitheroftheboats,attheclubheowns,backeast,Reno,inhisslippersathome.Thatallyouwant?”

“IwantamannamedMalloy,ahugebrutewhogotoutoftheOregonStatepenawhilebackafteraneight-yearstretchforbankrobbery.HewashidingoutinBayCity.”Itoldhimaboutit.ItoldhimagreatdealmorethanIintendedto.Itmusthavebeenhiseyes.

Attheendhethoughtandthenspokeslowlyandwhathesaidhadwispsoffogclingingtoit,likethebeadsonamustache.Maybethatmadeitseemwiserthanitwas,maybenot.

“Someofitmakessense,”hesaid.“Somenot.SomeIwouldn’tknowabout,someIwould.IfthisSonderborgwasrunningahideoutandpeddlingreefersandsendingboysouttoheistjewelsoffrichladieswithawildlookintheireyes,itstandstoreasonthathehadaninwiththecitygovernment,butthatdon’tmeantheykneweverythinghedidorthateverycopontheforceknewhehadanin.CouldbeBlanedidandHemingway,asyoucallhim,didn’t.Blane’sbad,theotherguyisjusttoughcop,neitherbadnorgood,neithercrookednorhonest,fullofgutsandjustdumbenough,likeme,tothinkbeingonthecopsisasensiblewaytomakealiving.Thispsychicfellowdoesn’tfigureeitherway.Heboughthimselfalineofprotectioninthebestmarket,BayCity,andheuseditwhenhehadto.Youneverknowwhataguylikethatisuptoandsoyouneverknowwhathehasonhisconscienceorisafraidof.Couldbehe’shumanandfellforacustomeronceinawhile.Themrichdamesareeasiertomakethanpaperdolls.SomyhunchaboutyourstayinSonderborg’splaceissimplythatBlaneknewSonderborgwouldbescaredwhenhefoundoutwhoyouwere—andthestorytheytoldSonderborgisprobablywhathetoldyou,thattheyfoundyouwanderingwithyourheaddizzy—andSonderborgwouldn’tknowwhattodowithyouandhewouldbeafraideithertoletyougoortoknockyouoff,andafterlongenoughBlanewoulddroparoundandraisetheanteonhim.That’salltherewastothat.Itjusthappenedtheycoulduseyouandtheydidit.BlanemightknowaboutMalloytoo.Iwouldn’tputitpasthim.”

Ilistenedandwatchedtheslowsweepofthesearchlightandthecomingandgoingofthewatertaxifarovertotheright.

“Iknowhowtheseboysfigure,”Redsaid.“Thetroublewithcopsisnotthatthey’redumborcrookedortough,butthattheythinkjustbeingacopgivesthemalittlesomethingtheydidn’thavebefore.Maybeitdidonce,butnotanymore.They’retoppedbytoomanysmartminds.ThatbringsustoBrunette.Hedon’trunthetown.Hecouldn’tbebothered.Heputupbigmoneytoelectamayorsohiswatertaxiswouldn’tbebothered.Iftherewasanythinginparticularhewanted,theywouldgiveittohim.Likeawhileagooneofhisfriends,alawyer,waspinchedfordrunkdrivingfelonyandBrunettegotthechargereducedtorecklessdriving.Theychangedtheblottertodoit,andthat’safelonytoo.Whichgivesyouanidea.Hisracketisgamblingandallracketstietogetherthesedays.Sohemighthandlereefers,ortouchapercentagefromsomeoneofhisworkershegavethebusinessto.HemightknowSonderborgandhemightnot.Butthejewelheistisout.Figuretheworktheseboysdoneforeightgrand.It’salaughtothinkBrunettewouldhaveanythingtodowiththat.”

“Yeah,”Isaid.“Therewasamanmurderedtoo—remember?”

“Hedidn’tdothateither,norhaveitdone.IfBrunettehadthatdone,youwouldn’thavefoundanybody.Youneverknowwhatmightbestitchedintoaguy’sclothes.Whychanceit?LookwhatI’mdoingforyoufortwenty-fivebucks.WhatwouldBrunettegetdonewiththemoneyhehastospend?”

“Wouldhehaveamankilled?”

Redthoughtforamoment.“Hemight.Heprobablyhas.Buthe’snotatoughguy.Theseracketeersareanewtype.Wethinkaboutthemthewaywethinkaboutoldtimeyeggsorneedled-uppunks.Big-mouthedpolicecommissionersontheradioyellthatthey’reallyellowrats,thatthey’llkillwomenandbabiesandhowlformercyiftheyseeapoliceuniform.Theyoughttoknowbetterthantotrytosellthepublicthatstuff.There’syellowcopsandthere’syellowtorpedoes—butdamnfewofeither.Andasforthetopmen,likeBrunette—theydidn’tgettherebymurderingpeople.Theygottherebygutsandbrains—andtheydon’thavethegroupcouragethecopshaveeither.Butaboveallthey’rebusinessmen.Whattheydoisformoney.Justlikeotherbusinessmen.Sometimesaguygetsbadlyintheway.Okey.Out.Buttheythinkplentybeforetheydoit.WhatthehellamIgivingalecturefor?”

“AmanlikeBrunettewouldn’thideMalloy,”Isaid.“Afterhehadkilledtwopeople.”

“No.Notunlesstherewassomeotherreasonthanmoney.Wanttogoback?”

“No.”

Redmovedhishandsonthewheel.Theboatpickedupspeed.“Don’tthinkIlikethesebastards,”hesaid.“Ihatetheirguts.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

Therevolvingsearchlightwasapalemist-riddenfingerthatbarelyskimmedthewavesahundredfeetorsobeyondtheship.Itwasprobablymoreforshowthananythingelse.Especiallyatthistimeintheevening.Anyonewhohadplansforhijackingthetakeononeofthesegamblingboatswouldneedplentyofhelpandwouldpullthejobaboutfourinthemorning,whenthecrowdwasthinneddowntoafewbittergamblers,andthecrewwerealldullwithfatigue.Eventhenitwouldbeapoorwaytomakemoney.Ithadbeentriedonce.

Ataxicurvedtothelandingstage,unloaded,wentbackshorewards.Redheldhisspeedboatidlingjustbeyondthesweepofthesearchlight.Iftheylifteditafewfeet,justforfun—buttheydidn’t.Itpassedlanguidlyandthedullwaterglowedwithitandthespeedboatslidacrossthelineandclosedinfastundertheoverhang,pastthetwohugescummysternhawsers.Wesidleduptothegreasyplatesofthehullascoylyasahoteldickgettingsettoeaseahustleroutofhislobby.

Doubleirondoorsloomedhighaboveus,andtheylookedtoohightoreachandtooheavytoopenevenifwecouldreachthem.ThespeedboatscuffedtheMontecito’sancientsidesandtheswellslappedlooselyattheshellunderourfeet.Abigshadowroseinthegloomatmysideandacoiledropeslippedupwardsthroughtheair,slapped,caught,andtheendrandownandsplashedinwater.Redfisheditoutwithaboathook,pulledittightandfastenedtheendtosomethingontheenginecowling.Therewasjustenoughfogtomakeeverythingseemunreal.Thewetairwasascoldastheashesoflove.

Redleanedclosetomeandhisbreathtickledmyear.“Sheridestoohigh.Comeagoodblowandshe’dwaveherscrewsintheair.Wegottoclimbthoseplatesjustthesame.”

“Icanhardlywait,”Isaid,shivering.

Heputmyhandsonthewheel,turneditjustashewantedit,setthethrottle,andtoldmetoholdtheboatjustasshewas.Therewasanironladderboltedclosetotheplates,curvingwiththehull,itsrungsprobablyasslipperyasagreasedpole.

Goingupitlookedastemptingasclimbingoverthecorniceofanofficebuilding.Redreachedforit,afterwipinghishandshardonhispantstogetsometaronthem.Hehauledhimselfupnoiselessly,withoutevenagrunt,andhissneakerscaughtthemetalrungs,andhebracedhisbodyoutalmostatrightanglestogetmoretraction.

Thesearchlightbeamsweptfaroutsideusnow.Lightbouncedoffthewaterandseemedtomakemyfaceasobviousasaflare,butnothinghappened.Thentherewasadullcreakofheavyhingesovermyhead.Afaintghostofyellowishlighttrickledoutintothefoganddied.Theoutlineofonehalfoftheloadingportshowed.Itcouldn’thavebeenboltedfrominside.Iwonderedwhy.

Thewhisperwasameresound,withoutmeaning.Ileftthewheelandstartedup.ItwasthehardestjourneyIevermade.Itlandedmepantingandwheezinginasourholdlitteredwithpackingboxesandbarrelsandcoilsofropeandclumpsofrustedchain.Ratsscreamedindarkcorners.Theyellowlightcamefromanarrowdooronthefarside.

Redputhislipsagainstmyear.“Fromherewetakeastraightwalktotheboilerroomcatwalk.They’llhavesteaminoneauxiliary,becausetheydon’thavenoDieselsonthispieceofcheese.Therewillbeprobablyoneguybelow.Thecrewdoublesinbrassupontheplaydecks,tablemenandspottersandwaitersandsoon.Theyallgottosignonassomethingthatsoundslikeship.FromtheboilerroomI’llshowyouaventilatorwithnogratinginit.Itgoestotheboatdeckandtheboatdeckisoutofbounds.Butit’sallyours—whileyoulive.”

“Youmusthaverelativesonboard,”Isaid.

“Funnierthingshavehappened.Willyoucomebackfast?”

“Ioughttomakeagoodsplashfromtheboatdeck,”Isaid,andgotmywalletout.“Ithinkthisratesalittlemoremoney.Here.Handlethebodyasifitwasyourown.”

“Youdon’towemenothingmore,pardner.”

“I’mbuyingthetripback—evenifIdon’tuseit.TakethemoneybeforeIbustoutcryingandwetyourshirt.”

“Needalittlehelpupthere?”

“AllIneedisasilvertongueandtheoneIhaveislikealizard’sback.”

“Putyourdoughaway,”Redsaid.“Youpaidmeforthetripback.Ithinkyou’rescared.”Hetookholdofmyhand.Hiswasstrong,hard,warmandslightlysticky.“Iknowyou’rescared,”hewhispered.

“I’llgetoverit,”Isaid.“Onewayoranother.”

HeturnedawayfrommewithacuriouslookIcouldn’treadinthatlight.Ifollowedhimamongthecasesandbarrels,overtheraisedironsillofthedoor,intoalongdimpassagewiththeshipsmell.Wecameoutofthisontoagrilledsteelplatform,slickwithoil,andwentdownasteelladderthatwashardtoholdonto.Theslowhissoftheoilburnersfilledtheairnowandblanketedallothersound.Weturnedtowardsthehissthroughmountainsofsilentiron.

Aroundacornerwelookedatashortdirtywopinapurplesilkshirtwhosatinawired-togetherofficechair,underanakedhanginglight,andreadtheeveningpaperwiththeaidofablackforefingerandsteel-rimmedspectaclesthathadprobablybelongedtohisgrandfather.

Redsteppedbehindhimnoiselessly.Hesaidgently:

“Hi,Shorty.How’sallthebambinos?”

TheItalianopenedhismouthwithaclickandthrewahandattheopeningofhispurpleshirt.Redhithimontheangleofthejawandcaughthim.Heputhimdownonthefloorgentlyandbegantotearthepurpleshirtintostrips.

“Thisisgoingtohurthimmorethanthepokeonthebutton,”Redsaidsoftly.“Buttheideaisaguygoingupaventilatorladdermakesalotofracketdownbelow.Upabovetheywon’thearathing.”

HeboundandgaggedtheItalianneatlyandfoldedhisglassesandputtheminasafeplaceandwewentalongtotheventilatorthathadnogratinginit.Ilookedupandsawnothingbutblackness.

“Good-by,”Isaid.

“Maybeyouneedalittlehelp.”

Ishookmyselflikeawetdog.“Ineedacompanyofmarines.ButeitherIdoitaloneorIdon’tdoit.Solong.”

“Howlongwillyoube?”Hisvoicestillsoundedworried.

“Anhourorless.”

Hestaredatmeandchewedhislip.Thenhenodded.“Sometimesaguyhasto,”hesaid.“Dropbythatbingoparlor,ifyougettime.”

Hewalkedawaysoftly,tookfoursteps,andcameback.“Thatopenloadingport,”hesaid.“Thatmightbuyyousomething.Useit.”Hewentquickly.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Coldairrusheddowntheventilator.Itseemedalongwaytothetop.AfterthreeminutesthatfeltlikeanhourIpokedmyheadoutcautiouslyfromthehornlikeopening.Canvas-sheetedboatsweregrayblursnearby.Lowvoicesmutteredinthedark.Thebeamofthesearchlightcircledslowly.Itcamefromapointstillhigher,probablyarailedplatformatthetopofoneofthestumpymasts.TherewouldbealaduptherewithaTommyguntoo,perhapsevenalightBrowning.Coldjob,coldcomfortwhensomebodylefttheloadingportunboltedsonicely.

Distantlymusicthrobbedlikethephonybassofacheapradio.Overheadamastheadlightandthroughthehigherlayersoffogafewbitterstarsstareddown.

Iclimbedoutoftheventilator,slippedmy.38frommyshoulderclipandhelditcurledagainstmyribs,hidingitwithmysleeve.Iwalkedthreesilentstepsandlistened.Nothinghappened.Themutteringtalkhadstopped,butnotonmyaccount.Iplaceditnow,betweentwolifeboats.Andoutofthenightandthefog,asitmysteriouslydoes,enoughlightgatheredintoonefocustoshineonthedarkhardnessofamachinegunmountedonahightripodandswungdownovertherail.Twomenstoodnearit,motionless,notsmoking,andtheirvoicesbegantomutteragain,aquietwhisperthatneverbecamewords.

Ilistenedtothemutteringtoolong.Anothervoicespokeclearlybehindme.

“Sorry,guestsarenotallowedontheboatdeck.”

Iturned,nottooquickly,andlookedathishands.Theywerelightblursandempty.

Isteppedsidewaysnoddingandtheendofaboathidus.Themanfollowedmegently,hisshoessoundlessonthedampdeck.

“IguessI’mlost,”Isaid.

“Iguessyouare.”Hehadayoungishvoice,notchewedoutofmarble.“Butthere’sadooratthebottomofthecompanionway.Ithasaspringlockonit.It’sagoodlock.Thereusedtobeanopenstairwaywithachainandabrasssign.Wefoundthelivelierelementwouldstepoverthat.”

Hewastalkingalongtime,eithertobenice,ortobewaiting.Ididn’tknowwhich.Isaid:“Somebodymusthaveleftthedooropen.”

Theshadowedheadnodded.Itwaslowerthanmine.

“Youcanseethespotthatputsusin,though.Ifsomebodydidleaveitopen,thebosswon’tlikeitanickel.Ifsomebodydidn’t,we’dliketoknowhowyougotuphere.I’msureyougettheidea.”

“Itseemsasimpleidea.Let’sgodownandtalktohimaboutit.”

“Youcomewithaparty?”

“Averyniceparty.”

“Yououghttohavestayedwiththem.”

“Youknowhowitis—youturnyourheadandsomeotherguyisbuyingheradrink.”

Hechuckled.Thenhemovedhischinslightlyupanddown.

Idroppedanddidafrogleapsidewaysandtheswishoftheblackjackwasalongspentsighinthequietair.Itwasgettingtobethateveryblackjackintheneighborhoodswungatmeautomatically.Thetalloneswore.

Isaid:“Goaheadandbeheroes.”

Iclickedthesafetycatchloudly.

Sometimesevenabadscenewillrockthehouse.Thetallonestoodrooted,andIcouldseetheblackjackswingingathiswrist.TheoneIhadbeentalkingtothoughtitoverwithoutanyhurry.

“Thiswon’tbuyyouathing,”hesaidgravely.“You’llnevergetofftheboat.”

“Ithoughtofthat.ThenIthoughthowlittleyou’dcare.”

Itwasstillabumscene.

“Youwantwhat?”hesaidquietly.

“Ihavealoudgun,”Isaid.“Butitdoesn’thavetogooff.IwanttotalktoBrunette.”

“HewenttoSanDiegoonbusiness.”

“I’lltalktohisstand-in.”

“You’requitealad,”theniceonesaid.“We’llgodown.You’llputtheheaterupbeforewego

throughthedoor.”

“I’llputtheheaterupwhenI’msureI’mgoingthroughthedoor.”

Helaughedlightly.“Gobacktoyourpost,Slim.I’lllookintothis.”

Hemovedlazilyinfrontofmeandthetalloneappearedtofadeintothedark.

“Followme,then.”

WemovedIndianfileacrossthedeck.Wewentdownbrassboundslipperysteps.Atthebottomwasathickdoor.Heopeneditandlookedatthelock.Hesmiled,nodded,heldthedoorformeandIsteppedthrough,pocketingthegun.

Thedoorclosedandclickedbehindus.Hesaid:

“Quietevening,sofar.”

Therewasagildedarchinfrontofusandbeyonditagamingroom,notverycrowded.Itlookedmuchlikeanyothergamingroom.Atthefarendtherewasashortglassbarandsomestools.Inthemiddleastairwaygoingdownandupthisthemusicswelledandfaded.Iheardroulettewheels.Amanwasdealingfarotoasinglecustomer.Therewerenotmorethansixtypeopleintheroom.Onthefarotabletherewasapileofyellowbacksthatwouldstartabank.Theplayerwasanelderlywhite-hairedmanwholookedpolitelyattentivetothedealer,butnomore.

Twoquietmenindinnerjacketscamethroughthearchwaysauntering,lookingatnothing.Thathadtobeexpected.Theystrolledtowardsusandtheshortslendermanwithmewaitedforthem.Theywerewellbeyondthearchbeforetheylettheirhandsfindtheirsidepockets,lookingforcigarettesofcourse.

“Fromnowonwehavetohavealittleorganizationhere,”theshortmansaid.“Idon’tthinkyou’llmind?”

“You’reBrunette,”Isaidsuddenly.

Heshrugged.“Ofcourse.”

“Youdon’tlooksotough,”Isaid.

“Ihopenot.”

Thetwomenindinnerjacketsedgedmegently.

“Inhere,”Brunettesaid.“Wecantalkatease.”

Heopenedthedoorandtheytookmeintodock.

Theroomwaslikeacabinandnotlikeacabin.Twobrasslampsswungingimbelshungaboveadarkdeskthatwasnotwood,possiblyplastic.Attheendweretwobunksingrainedwood.Thelower

ofthemwasmadeupandonthetoponewerehalfadozenstacksofphonographrecordbooks.Abigcombinationradio-phonographstoodinthecorner.Therewasaredleatherchesterfield,aredcarpet,smokingstands,atabouretwithcigarettesandadecanterandglasses,asmallbarsittingcattycornersattheoppositeendfromthebunks.

“Sitdown,”Brunettesaidandwentaroundthedesk.Therewerealotofbusiness-likepapersonthedesk,withcolumnsoffigures,doneonabookkeepingmachine.Hesatinatallbackeddirector ’schairandtilteditalittleandlookedmeover.Thenhestoodupagainandstrippedoffhisovercoatandscarfandtossedthemtooneside.Hesatdownagain.Hepickedapenupandtickledthelobeofoneearwithit.Hehadacatsmile,butIlikecats.

Hewasneitheryoungnorold,neitherfatnorthin.Spendingalotoftimeonorneartheoceanhadgivenhimagoodhealthycomplexion.Hishairwasnut-brownandwavednaturallyandwavedstillmoreatsea.Hisforeheadwasnarrowandbrainyandhiseyesheldadelicatemenace.Theywereyellowishincolor.Hehadnicehands,notbabiedtothepointofinsipidity,butwell-kept.Hisdinnerclothesweremidnightblue,Ijudged,becausetheylookedsoblack.Ithoughthispearlwasalittletoolarge,butthatmighthavebeenjealousy.

Helookedatmeforquitealongtimebeforehesaid:“Hehasagun.”

Oneofthevelvetytoughguysleanedagainstthemiddleofmyspinewithsomethingthatwasprobablynotafishingrod.Exploringhandsremovedthegunandlookedforothers.

“Anythingelse?”avoiceasked.

Brunetteshookhishead.“Notnow.”

Oneofthegunnersslidmyautomaticacrossthedesk.Brunetteputthependownandpickedupaletteropenerandpushedthegunaroundgentlyonhisblotter.

“Well,”hesaidquietly,lookingpastmyshoulder.“DoIhavetoexplainwhatIwantnow?”

Oneofthemwentoutquicklyandshutthedoor.Theotherwassostillhewasn’tthere.Therewasalongeasysilence,brokenbythedistanthumofvoicesandthedeep-tonedmusicandsomewheredownbelowadullalmostimperceptiblethrobbing.

“Drink?”

“Thanks.”

Thegorillamixedacoupleatthelittlebar.Hedidn’ttrytohidetheglasseswhilehedidit.Heplacedoneonthesideofthedesk,onblackglassscooters.

“Cigarette?”

“Thanks.”

“Egyptianallright?”

“Sure.”

Welitup.Wedrank.IttastedlikegoodScotch.Thegorilladidn’tdrink.

“WhatIwant—”Ibegan.

“Excuseme,butthat’sratherunimportant,isn’tit?”

Thesoftcatlikesmileandthelazyhalf-closingoftheyelloweyes.

ThedooropenedandtheotheronecamebackandwithhimwasMess-jacket,gangstermouthandall.Hetookonelookatmeandhisfacewentoyster-white.

“Hedidn’tgetpastme,”hesaidswiftly,curlingoneendofhislips.

“Hehadagun,”Brunettesaid,pushingitwiththeletteropener.“Thisgun.Heevenpusheditintomybackmoreorless,ontheboatdeck.”

“Notpastme,boss,”Mess-jacketsaidjustasswiftly.

Brunetteraisedhisyelloweyesslightlyandsmiledatme.“Well?”

“Sweephimout,”Isaid.“Squashhimsomewhereelse.”

“Icanproveitbythetaximan,”Mess-jacketsnarled.

“You’vebeenoffthestagesincefive-thirty?”

“Notaminute,boss.”

“That’snoanswer.Anempirecanfallinaminute.”

“Notasecond,boss.”

“Buthecanbehad,”Isaid,andlaughed.

Mess-jackettookthesmoothglidingstepofaboxerandhisfistlashedlikeawhip.Italmostreachedmytemple.Therewasadullthud.Hisfistseemedtomeltinmidair.Heslumpedsidewaysandclawedatacornerofthedesk,thenrolledonhisback.Itwasnicetoseesomebodyelsegetsappedforachange.

Brunettewentonsmilingatme.

“Ihopeyou’renotdoinghimaninjustice,”Brunettesaid.“There’sstillthematterofthedoortothecompanionway.”

“Accidentallyopen.”

“Couldyouthinkofanyotheridea?”

“Notinsuchacrowd.”

“I’lltalktoyoualone,”Brunettesaid,notlookingatanyonebutme.

ThegorillaliftedMess-jacketbythearmpitsanddraggedhimacrossthecabinandhispartneropenedaninnerdoor.Theywentthrough.Thedoorclosed.

“Allright,”Brunettesaid.“Whoareyouandwhatdoyouwant?”

“I’maprivatedetectiveandIwanttotalktoamannamedMooseMalloy.”

“Showmeyou’reaprivatedick.”

Ishowedhim.Hetossedthewalletbackacrossthedesk.Hiswind-tannedlipscontinuedtosmileandthesmilewasgettingstagy.

“I’minvestigatingamurder,”Isaid.“ThemurderofamannamedMarriottonthebluffnearyourBelvedereClublastThursdaynight.Thismurderhappenstobeconnectedwithanothermurder,ofawoman,donebyMalloy,anex-conandbankrobberandall-roundtoughguy.”

Henodded.“I’mnotaskingyouyetwhatithastodowithme.Iassumeyou’llcometothat.Supposeyoutellmehowyougotonmyboat?”

“Itoldyou.”

“Itwasn’ttrue,”hesaidgently.“Marloweisthename?Itwasn’ttrue,Marlowe.Youknowthat.Thekiddownonthestageisn’tlying.Ipickmymencarefully.”

“YouownapieceofBayCity,”Isaid.”Idon’tknowhowbigapiece,butenoughforwhatyouwant.AmannamedSonderborghasbeenrunningahideoutthere.Hehasbeenrunningreefersandstickupsandhidinghotboys.Naturally,hecouldn’tdothatwithoutconnections.Idon’tthinkhecoulddoitwithoutyou.Malloywasstayingwithhim.Malloyhasleft.Malloyisaboutsevenfeettallandhardtohide.Ithinkhecouldhidenicelyonagamblingboat.”

“You’resimple,”Brunettesaidsoftly.“SupposingIwantedtohidehim,whyshouldItaketheriskouthere?”Hesippedhisdrink.“AfterallI’minanotherbusiness.It’shardenoughtokeepagoodtaxiservicerunningwithoutalotoftrouble.Theworldisfullofplacesacrookcanhide.Ifhehasmoney.Couldyouthinkofabetteridea?”

“Icould,buttohellwithit.”

“Ican’tdoanythingforyou.Sohowdidyougetontheboat?”

“Idon’tcaretosay.”

“I’mafraidI’llhavetohaveyoumadetosay,Marlowe.”Histeethglintedinthelightfromthebrassship’slamps.“Afterall,itcanbedone.”

“IfItellyou,willyougetwordtoMalloy?”

“Whatword!”

Ireachedformywalletlyingonthedeskanddrewacardfromitandturneditover.Iputthewalletawayandgotapencilinstead.Iwrotefivewordsonthebackofthecardandpusheditacrossthedesk.BrunettetookitandreadwhatIhadwrittenonit.“Itmeansnothingtome,”hesaid.

“ItwillmeansomethingtoMalloy.”

Heleanedbackandstaredatme.“Idon’tmakeyouout.YouriskyourhidetocomeouthereandhandmeacardtopassontosomethugIdon’tevenknow.There’snosensetoit.”

“Thereisn’tifyoudon’tknowhim.”

“Whydidn’tyouleaveyourgunashoreandcomeaboardtheusualway?”

“Iforgotthefirsttime.ThenIknewthattoughieinthemessjacketwouldneverletmeon.ThenIbumpedintoafellowwhoknewanotherway.”

Hisyelloweyeslightedaswithanewflame.Hesmiledandsaidnothing.

“Thisotherfellowisnocrookbuthe’sbeenonthebeachwithhisearsopen.Youhavealoadingportthathasbeenunbarredontheinsideandyouhaveaventilatorshaftoutofwhichthegratinghasbeenremoved.There’sonemantoknockovertogettotheboatdeck.You’dbettercheckyourcrewlist,Brunette.”

Hemovedhislipssoftly,oneovertheother.Helookeddownatthecardagain.“NobodynamedMalloyisonboardthisboat,”hesaid.“Butifyou’retellingthetruthaboutthatloadingport,I’llbuy.”

“Goandlookatit.”

Hestilllookeddown.“Ifthere’sanywayIcangetwordtoMalloy,Iwill.Idon’tknowwhyIbother.”

“Takealookatthatloadingport.”

Hesatverystillforamoment,thenleanedforwardandpushedthegunacrossthedesktome.

“ThethingsIdo,”hemused,asifhewasalone.“Iruntowns,Ielectmayors,Icorruptpolice,Ipeddledope,Ihideoutcrooks,Iheistoldwomenstrangledwithpearls.WhatalotoftimeIhave.”Helaughedshortly.“Whatalotoftime.”

Ireachedformygunandtuckeditbackundermyarm.

Brunettestoodup.“Ipromisenothing,”hesaid,eyeingmesteadily.“ButIbelieveyou.”

“Ofcoursenot.”

“Youtookalongchancetohearsolittle.”

“Yes.”

“Well—”hemadeameaninglessgestureandthenputhishandacrossthedesk.

“Shakehandswithachump,”hesaidsoftly.

Ishookhandswithhim.Hishandwassmallandfirmandalittlehot.

“Youwouldn’ttellmehowyoufoundoutaboutthisloadingport?”

“Ican’t.Butthemanwhotoldmeisnocrook.”

“Icouldmakeyoutell,”hesaid,andimmediatelyshookhishead.“No.Ibelievedyouonce.I’llbelieveyouagain.Sitstillandhaveanotherdrink.”

Hepushedabuzzer.Thedooratthebackopenedandoneofthenice-toughguyscamein.

“Stayhere.Givehimadrink,ifhewantsit.Noroughstuff.”

Thetorpedosatdownandsmiledatmecalmly.Brunettewentquicklyoutoftheoffice.Ismoked.Ifinishedmydrink.Thetorpedomademeanother.Ifinishedthat,andanothercigarette.

Brunettecamebackandwashedhishandsoverinthecorner,thensatdownathisdeskagain.Hejerkedhisheadatthetorpedo.Thetorpedowentoutsilently.

Theyelloweyesstudiedme.“Youwin,Marlowe.AndIhaveonehundredandsixty-fourmenonmycrewlist.Well—”heshrugged.“Youcangobackbythetaxi.Nobodywillbotheryou.Astoyourmessage,Ihaveafewcontacts.I’llusethem.Goodnight.Iprobablyshouldsaythanks.Forthedemonstration.”

“Goodnight,”Isaid,andstoodupandwentout.

Therewasanewmanonthelandingstage.Irodetoshoreonadifferenttaxi.Iwentalongtothebingoparlorandleanedagainstthewallinthecrowd.

Redcamealonginafewminutesandleanedbesidemeagainstthewall.

“Easy,huh?”Redsaidsoftly,againsttheheavyclearvoicesofthetablemencallingthenumbers.

“Thankstoyou.Hebought.He’sworried.”

Redlookedthiswayandthatandturnedhislipsalittlemoreclosetomyear.“Getyourman?”

“No.ButI’mhopingBrunettewillfindawaytogethimamessage.”

Redturnedhisheadandlookedatthetablesagain.Heyawnedandstraightenedawayfromthewall.Thebeaknosedmanwasinagain.Redsteppedovertohimandsaid:“Hiya,Olson,”andalmostknockedthemanoffhisfeetpushingpasthim.

Olsonlookedafterhimsourlyandstraightenedhishat.Thenhespatviciouslyonthefloor.

Assoonashehadgone,IlefttheplaceandwentalongtotheparkinglotbacktowardsthetrackswhereIhadleftmycar.

IdrovebacktoHollywoodandputthecarawayandwentuptotheapartment.

Itookmyshoesoffandwalkedaroundinmysocksfeelingthefloorwithmytoes.Theywouldstillgetnumbagainonceinawhile.

ThenIsatdownonthesideofthepulled-downbedandtriedtofiguretime.Itcouldn’tbedone.ItmighttakehoursordaystofindMalloy.Hemightneverbefounduntilthepolicegothim.Iftheyeverdid—alive.

THIRTY-NINE

Itwasaboutteno’clockwhenIcalledtheGraylenumberinBayCity.Ithoughtitwouldprobablybetoolatetocatchher,butitwasn’t.Ifoughtmywaythroughamaidandthebutlerandfinallyheardhervoiceontheline.Shesoundedbreezyandwell-primedfortheevening.

“Ipromisedtocallyou,”Isaid.“It’salittlelate,butI’vehadalottodo.”

“Anotherstand-up?”Hervoicegotcool.

“Perhapsnot.Doesyourchauffeurworkthislate?”

“HeworksaslateasItellhimto.”

“Howaboutdroppingbytopickmeup?I’llbegettingsqueezedintomycommencementsuit.”

“Niceofyou,”shedrawled.“ShouldIreallybother?”Amthorhadcertainlydoneawonderfuljobwithhercentersofspeech—ifanythinghadeverbeenwrongwiththem.

“I’dshowyoumyetching.”

“Justoneetching?”

“It’sjustasingleapartment.”

“Iheardtheyhadsuchthings,”shedrawledagain,thenchangedhertone.“Don’tactsohardtoget.Youhavealovelybuild,mister.Anddon’teverletanyonetellyoudifferent.Givemetheaddressagain.”

Igaveittoherandtheapartmentnumber.“Thelobbydoorislocked,”Isaid.“ButI’llgodownandslipthecatch.”

“That’sfine,”shesaid.“Iwon’thavetobringmyjimmy.”

Shehungup,leavingmewithacuriousfeelingofhavingtalkedtosomebodythatdidn’texist.

Iwentdowntothelobbyandslippedthecatchandthentookashowerandputmypajamasonandlaydownonthebed.Icouldhavesleptforaweek.Idraggedmyselfupoffthebedagainandsetthecatchonthedoor,whichIhadforgottentodo,andwalkedthroughadeephardsnowdriftouttothekitchenetteandlaidoutglassesandabottleofliqueurScotchIhadbeensavingforareallyhigh-classseduction.

Ilaydownonthebedagain.“Pray,”Isaidoutloud.“There’snothingleftbutprayer.”

Iclosedmyeyes.Thefourwallsoftheroomseemedtoholdthethrobofaboat,thestillairseemedtodripwithfogandrustlewithseawind.Ismelledtheranksoursmellofadisusedhold.Ismelledengineoilandsawawopinapurpleshirtreadingunderanakedlightbulbwithhisgrandfather ’sspectacles.Iclimbedandclimbedupaventilatorshaft.IclimbedtheHimalayasandsteppedoutontopandguyswithmachinegunswereallaroundme.Italkedwithasmallandsomehowveryhumanyellow-eyedmanwhowasaracketeerandprobablyworse.Ithoughtofthegiantwiththeredhairandthevioleteyes,whowasprobablythenicestmanIhadevermet.

Istoppedthinking.Lightsmovedbehindmyclosedlids.Iwaslostinspace.Iwasagilt-edgedsapcomebackfromavainadventure.Iwasahundreddollarpackageofdynamitethatwentoffwithanoiselikeapawnbrokerlookingatadollarwatch.Iwasapink-headedbugcrawlingupthesideoftheCityHall.

Iwasasleep.

Iwokeslowly,unwillingly,andmyeyesstaredatreflectedlightontheceilingfromthelamp.Somethingmovedgentlyintheroom.

Themovementwasfurtiveandquietandheavy.Ilistenedtoit.ThenIturnedmyheadslowlyandlookedatMooseMalloy.Therewereshadowsandhemovedintheshadows,asnoiselesslyasIhadseenhimoncebefore.Aguninhishandhadadarkoilybusiness-likesheen.Hishatwaspushedbackonhisblackcurlyhairandhisnosesniffed,likethenoseofahuntingdog.

Hesawmeopenmyeyes.Hecamesoftlyovertothesideofthebedandstoodlookingdownatme.

“Igotyournote,”hesaid.“Imakethejointclean.Idon’tmakenocopsoutside.Ifthisisaplant,twoguysgoesoutinbaskets.”

Irolledalittleonthebedandhefeltswiftlyunderthepillows.Hisfacewasstillwideandpaleandhisdeepseteyeswerestillsomehowgentle.Hewaswearinganovercoattonight.Itfittedhimwhereittouched.Itwasburstoutinoneshoulderseam,probablyjustgettingiton.Itwouldbethelargestsizetheyhad,butnotlargeenoughforMooseMalloy.

“Ihopedyou’ddropby,”Isaid.“Nocopperknowsanythingaboutthis.Ijustwantedtoseeyou.”

“Goon,”hesaid.

Hemovedsidewaystoatableandputthegundownanddraggedhisovercoatoffandsatdowninmybesteasychair.Itcreaked,butitheld.Heleanedbackslowlyandarrangedthegunsothatitwasclosetohisrighthand.Hedugapackofcigarettesoutofhispocketandshookonelooseandputitintohismouthwithouttouchingitwithhisfingers.Amatchflaredonathumbnail.Thesharpsmellofthesmokedriftedacrosstheroom.

“Youain’tsickoranything?”hesaid.

“Justresting.Ihadahardday.”

“Doorwasopen.Expectingsomeone?”

“Adame.”

Hestaredatmethoughtfully.

“Maybeshewon’tcome,”Isaid.“Ifshedoes,I’llstallher.”

“Whatdame?”

“Oh,justadame.Ifshecomes,I’llgetridofher.I’drathertalktoyou.”

Hisveryfaintsmilehardlymovedhismouth.Hepuffedhiscigaretteawkwardly,asifitwastoosmallforhisfingerstoholdwithcomfort.

“WhatmadeyouthinkIwasontheMonty?”heasked.

“ABayCitycop.It’salongstoryandtoofullofguessing.”

“BayCitycopsafterme?”

“Wouldthatbotheryou?”

Hesmiledthefaintsmileagain.Heshookhisheadslightly.

“Youkilledawoman,”Isaid.“JessieFlorian.Thatwasamistake.”

Hethought.Thenhenodded.“I’ddropthatone,”hesaidquietly.

“Butthatqueeredit,”Isaid.“I’mnotafraidofyou.You’renokiller.Youdidn’tmeantokillher.Theotherone—overonCentral—youcouldhavesqueezedoutof.Butnotoutofbeatingawoman’sheadonabedpostuntilherbrainswereonherface.”

“Youtakesomeawfulchances,brother,”hesaidsoftly.

“ThewayI’vebeenhandled,”Isaid,“Idon’tknowthedifferenceanymore.Youdidn’tmeantokillher—didyou?”

Hiseyeswererestless.Hisheadwascockedinalisteningattitude.

“It’sabouttimeyoulearnedyourownstrength,”Isaid.

“It’stoolate,”hesaid.

“Youwantedhertotellyousomething,”Isaid.“Youtookholdofherneckandshookher.Shewasalreadydeadwhenyouwerebangingherheadagainstthebedpost.”

Hestaredatme.

“Iknowwhatyouwantedhertotellyou,”Isaid.

“Goahead.”

“Therewasacopwithmewhenshewasfound.Ihadtobreakclean.”

“Howclean?”

“Fairlyclean,”Isaid.“Butnotabouttonight.”

Hestaredatme.“Okey,howdidyouknowIwasontheMonty?”Hehadaskedmethatbefore.Heseemedtohaveforgotten.

“Ididn’t.Buttheeasiestwaytogetawaywouldbebywater.Withtheset-uptheyhaveinBayCityyoucouldgetouttooneofthegamblingboats.Fromthereyoucouldgetcleanaway.Withtherighthelp.”

“LairdBrunetteisaniceguy,”hesaidemptily.“SoI’veheard.Ineverevenspoketohim.”

“Hegotthemessagetoyou.”

“Hell,there’sadozengrapevinesthatmighthelphimtodothat,pal.Whendowedowhatyousaidonthecard?Ihadahunchyouwereleveling.Iwouldn’ttakethechancetocomehereotherwise.Wheredowego?”

Hekilledhiscigaretteandwatchedme.Hisshadowloomedagainstthewall,theshadowofagiant.Hewassobigheseemedunreal.

“WhatmadeyouthinkIbumpedJessieFlorian?”heaskedsuddenly.

“Thespacingofthefingermarksonherneck.Thefactthatyouhadsomethingtogetoutofher,andthatyouarestrongenoughtokillpeoplewithoutmeaningto.”

“Thejohnstiedmetoit?”

“Idon’tknow.”

“WhatdidIwantoutofher?”

“YouthoughtshemightknowwhereVelmawas.”

Henoddedsilentlyandwentonstaringatme.

“Butshedidn’t,”Isaid.“Velmawastoosmartforher.”

Therewasalightknockingatthedoor.

Malloyleanedforwardalittleandsmiledandpickeduphisgun.Somebodytriedthedoorknob.Malloystoodupslowlyandleanedforwardinacrouchandlistened.Thenhelookedbackatmefromlookingatthedoor.

Isatuponthebedandputmyfeetonthefloorandstoodup.Malloywatchedmesilently,withoutamotion.Iwentovertothedoor.

“Whoisit?”Iaskedwithmylipstothepanel.

Itwashervoiceallright.“Openup,silly.It’stheDuchessofWindsor.”

“Justasecond.”

IlookedbackatMalloy.Hewasfrowning.Iwentoverclosetohimandsaidinaverylowvoice:“There’snootherwayout.Gointhedressingroombehindthebedandwait.I’llgetridofher.”

Helistenedandthought.Hisexpressionwasunreadable.Hewasamanwhohadnowverylittletolose.Hewasamanwhowouldneverknowfear.Itwasnotbuiltintoeventhatgiantframe.Henoddedatlastandpickeduphishatandcoatandmovedsilentlyaroundthebedandintothedressingroom.Thedoorclosed,butdidnotshuttight.

Ilookedaroundforsignsofhim.Nothingbutacigarettebuttthatanybodymighthavesmoked.Iwenttotheroomdoorandopenedit.Malloyhadsetthecatchagainwhenhecamein.

Shestoodtherehalfsmiling,inthehighneckedwhitefoxeveningcloakshehadtoldmeabout.Emeraldpendantshungfromherearsandalmostburiedthemselvesinthesoftwhitefur.Herfingerswerecurledandsoftonthesmalleveningbagshecarried.

Thesmilediedoffherfacewhenshesawme.Shelookedmeupanddown.Hereyeswerecoldnow.

“Soit’slikethat,”shesaidgrimly.“Pajamasanddressinggown.Toshowmehislovelylittleetching.WhatafoolIam.”

Istoodasideandheldthedoor.“It’snotlikethatatall.Iwasgettingdressedandacopdroppedinonme.Hejustleft.”

“Randall?”

Inodded.Aliewithanodisstillalie,butit’saneasylie.Shehesitatedamoment,thenmovedpastmewithaswirlofscentedfur.

Ishutthedoor.Shewalkedslowlyacrosstheroom,staredblanklyatthewall,thenturnedquickly.

“Let’sunderstandeachother,”shesaid.“I’mnotthismuchofapushover.Idon’tgoforhallbedroomromance.TherewasatimeinmylifewhenIhadtoomuchofit.Ilikethingsdonewithanair.”

“Willyouhaveadrinkbeforeyougo?”Iwasstillleaningagainstthedoor,acrosstheroomfromher.

“AmIgoing?”

“Yougavemetheimpressionyoudidn’tlikeithere.”

“Iwantedtomakeapoint.Ihavetobealittlevulgartomakeit.I’mnotoneofthesepromiscuousbitches.Icanbehad—butnotjustbyreaching.Yes,I’lltakeadrink.”Iwentoutintothekitchenetteandmixedacoupleofdrinkswithhandsthatwerenottoosteady.Icarriedtheminandhandedherone.

Therewasnosoundfromthedressingroom,notevenasoundofbreathing.

Shetooktheglassandtasteditandlookedacrossitatthefarwall.“Idon’tlikementoreceivemeintheirpajamas,”shesaid.“It’safunnything.Ilikedyou.Ilikedyoualot.ButIcouldgetoverit.Ihaveoftengotoversuchthings.”

Inoddedanddrank.

“Mostmenarejustlousyanimals,”shesaid.“Infactit’saprettylousyworld,ifyouaskme.”

“Moneymusthelp.”

“Youthinkit’sgoingtowhenyouhaven’talwayshadmoney.Asamatteroffactitjustmakesnewproblems.”Shesmiledcuriously.“Andyouforgethowhardtheoldproblemswere.”

ShegotoutagoldcigarettecasefromherbagandIwentoverandheldamatchforher.Sheblewavagueplumeofsmokeandwatcheditwithhalf-shuteyes.

“Sitclosetome,”shesaidsuddenly.

“Let’stalkalittlefirst.”

“Aboutwhat?Oh—myjade?”

“Aboutmurder.”

Nothingchangedinherface.Sheblewanotherplumeofsmoke,thistimemorecarefully,moreslowly.“It’sanastysubject.Dowehaveto?”

Ishrugged.

“LinMarriottwasnosaint,”shesaid.“ButIstilldon’twanttotalkaboutit.”

Shestaredatmecoollyforalongmomentandthendippedherhandintoheropenbagforahandkerchief.

“PersonallyIdon’tthinkhewasafingermanforajewelmob,either,”Isaid.“Thepolicepretendthattheythinkthat,buttheydoalotofpretending.Idon’teventhinkhewasablackmailer,inanyrealsense.Funny,isn’tit?”

“Isit?”Thevoicewasvery,verycoldnow.

“Well,notreally,”Iagreedanddranktherestofmydrink.“Itwasawfullyniceofyoutocomehere,Mrs.Grayle.Butweseemtohavehitthewrongmood.Idon’teven,forexample,thinkMarriottwaskilledbyagang.Idon’tthinkhewasgoingtothatcanyontobuyajadenecklace.Idon’teventhinkajadenecklacewaseverstolen.Ithinkhewenttothatcanyontobemurdered,althoughhethoughthewenttheretohelpcommitamurder.ButMarriottwasaverybadmurderer.”

Sheleanedforwardalittleandhersmilebecamejustalittleglassy.Suddenly,withoutanyrealchangeinher,sheceasedtobebeautiful.Shelookedmerelylikeawomanwhowouldhavebeendangerousahundredyearsago,andtwentyyearsagodaring,butwhotodaywasjustGradeBHollywood.

Shesaidnothing,butherrighthandwastappingtheclaspofherbag.

“Averybadmurderer,”Isaid.“LikeShakespeare’sSecondMurdererinthatsceneinKingRichardIII.Thefellowthathadcertaindregsofconscience,butstillwantedthemoney,andintheenddidn’tdothejobatallbecausehecouldn’tmakeuphismind.Suchmurderersareverydangerous.Theyhavetoberemoved—sometimeswithblackjacks.”

Shesmiled.“Andwhowasheabouttomurder,doyousuppose?”

“Me.”

“Thatmustbeverydifficulttobelieve—thatanyonewouldhateyouthatmuch.Andyousaidmyjadenecklacewasneverstolenatall.Haveyouanyproofofallthis?”

“Ididn’tsayIhad.IsaidIthoughtthesethings.”

“Thenwhybesuchafoolastotalkaboutthem?”

“Proof,”Isaid,“isalwaysarelativething.It’sanoverwhelmingbalanceofprobabilities.Andthat’samatterofhowtheystrikeyou.Therewasaratherweakmotiveformurderingme—merelythatIwastryingtotraceaformerCentralAvenuedivesingeratthesametimethataconvictnamedMooseMalloygotoutofjailandstartedtolookforhertoo.PerhapsIwashelpinghimfindher.Obviously,itwaspossibletofindher,oritwouldn’thavebeenworthwhiletopretendtoMarriottthatIhadtobekilledandkilledquickly.Andobviouslyhewouldn’thavebelievedit,ifitwasn’tso.ButtherewasamuchstrongermotiveformurderingMarriott,whichhe,outofvanityorloveorgreedoramixtureofallthree,didn’tevaluate.Hewasafraid,butnotforhimself.Hewasafraidofviolencetowhichhewasapartandforwhichhecouldbeconvicted.Butontheotherhandhewasfightingforhismealticket.Sohetookthechance.”

Istopped.Shenoddedandsaid:“Veryinteresting.Ifoneknowswhatyouaretalkingabout.”

“Andonedoes,”Isaid.

Westaredateachother.Shehadherrighthandinherbagagainnow.Ihadagoodideawhatitheld.Butithadn’tstartedtocomeoutyet.Everyeventtakestime.

“Let’squitkidding,”Isaid.“We’reallalonehere.Nothingeitherofussayshastheslighteststandingagainstwhattheothersays.Wecanceleachotherout.Agirlwhostartedinthegutterbecamethewifeofamultimillionaire.Onthewayupashabbyoldwomanrecognizedher-probablyheardhersingingattheradiostationandrecognizedthevoiceandwenttosee-andthisoldwomanhadtobekeptquiet.Butshewascheap,thereforesheonlyknewalittle.Butthemanwhodealtwithherandmadehermonthlypaymentsandownedatrustdeedonherhomeandcouldthrowherintothegutteranytimeshegotfunny—thatmanknewitall.Hewasexpensive.Butthatdidn’tmattereither,aslongasnobodyelseknew.ButsomedayatoughguynamedMooseMalloywasgoingtogetoutofjailandstartfindingthingsoutabouthisformersweetie.Becausethebigsaplovedher—andstilldoes.That’swhatmakesitfunny,tragic-funny.Andaboutthattimeaprivatedickstartsnosinginalso.Sotheweaklinkinthechain,Marriott,isnolongeraluxury.Hehasbecomeamenace.They’llgettohimandthey’lltakehimapart.He’sthatkindoflad.Hemeltsunderheat.Sohewasmurderedbeforehecouldmelt.Withablackjack.Byyou.”

Allshedidwastakeherhandoutofherbag,withaguninit.Allshedidwaspointitatmeandsmile.AllIdidwasnothing.

Butthatwasn’tallthatwasdone.MooseMalloysteppedoutofthedressingroomwiththeColt.45stilllookinglikeatoyinhisbighairypaw.

Hedidn’tlookatmeatall.HelookedatMrs.LewinLockridgeGrayle.Heleanedforwardandhismouthsmiledatherandhespoketohersoftly.

“IthoughtIknewthevoice,”hesaid.“Ilistenedtothatvoiceforeightyears—allIcouldrememberofit.Ikindoflikedyourhairred,though.Hiya,babe.Longtimenosee.”

Sheturnedthegun.

“Getawayfromme,yousonofabitch,”shesaid.

Hestoppeddeadanddroppedtheguntohisside.Hewasstillacoupleoffeetfromher.Hisbreathlabored.

“Ineverthought,“hesaidquietly.“Itjustcametomeoutoftheblue.Youturnedmeintothecops.You.LittleVelma.”

Ithrewapillow,butitwastooslow.Sheshothimfivetimesinthestomach.Thebulletsmadenomoresoundthanfingersgoingintoaglove.

Thensheturnedthegunandshotatmebutitwasempty.ShedivedforMalloy’sgunonthefloor.Ididn’tmisswiththesecondpillow.Iwasaroundthebedandknockedherawaybeforeshegotthepillowoffherface.IpickedtheColtupandwentawayaroundthebedagainwithit.

Hewasstillstanding,buthewasswaying.Hismouthwasslackandhishandswerefumblingathisbody.Hewentslackatthekneesandfellsidewaysonthebed,withhisfacedown.Hisgaspingbreathfilledtheroom.

Ihadthephoneinmyhandbeforeshemoved.Hereyeswereadeadgray,likehalf-frozenwater.SherushedforthedoorandIdidn’ttrytostopher.Sheleftthedoorwide,sowhenIhaddonephoningIwentoverandshutit.Iturnedhisheadalittleonthebed,sohewouldn’tsmother.Hewasstillalive,butafterfiveinthestomachevenaMooseMalloydoesn’tliveverylong.

IwentbacktothephoneandcalledRandallathishome.“Malloy,”Isaid.“Inmyapartment.ShotfivetimesinthestomachbyMrs.Grayle.IcalledtheReceivingHospital.Shegotaway.”

“Soyouhadtoplayclever,”wasallhesaidandhungupquickly.

Iwentbacktothebed.Malloywasonhiskneesbesidethebednow,tryingtogetup,agreatwadofbedclothesinonehand.Hisfacepouredsweat.Hiseyelidsflickeredslowlyandthelobesofhisearsweredark.

Hewasstillonhiskneesandstilltryingtogetupwhenthefastwagongotthere.Ittookfourmentogethimonthestretcher.

“Hehasaslightchance—ifthey’re.25’s,”thefastwagondoctorsaidjustbeforehewentout.“Alldependswhattheyhitinside.Buthehasachance.”

“Hewouldn’twantit,”Isaid.

Hedidn’t.Hediedinthenight.

FORTY

“Yououghttohavegivenadinnerparty,”AnneRiordansaidlookingatmeacrosshertanfiguredrug.“Gleamingsilverandcrystal,brightcrisplinen—ifthey’restillusinglinenintheplaceswheretheygivedinnerparties—candlelight,thewomenintheirbestjewelsandthemeninwhiteties,theservantshoveringdiscreetlywiththewrappedbottlesofwine,thecopslookingalittleuncomfortableintheirhiredeveningclothes,aswhothehellwouldn’t,thesuspectswiththeirbrittlesmilesandrestlesshands,andyouattheheadofthelongtabletellingallaboutit,littlebylittle,withyourcharminglightsmileandaphonyEnglishaccentlikePhiloVance.”

“Yeah,”Isaid.“Howaboutalittlesomethingtobeholdinginmyhandwhileyougoonbeingclever?”

Shewentouttoherkitchenandrattlediceandcamebackwithacoupleoftallonesandsatdownagain.

“Theliquorbillsofyourladyfriendsmustbesomethingfierce,”shesaidandsipped.

“Andsuddenlythebutlerfainted,”Isaid.“Onlyitwasn’tthebutlerwhodidthemurder.Hejustfaintedtobecute.”

Iinhaledsomeofmydrink.“It’snotthatkindofstory,”Isaid.“It’snotlitheandclever.It’sjustdarkandfullofblood.”

“Soshegotaway?”

Inodded.“Sofar.Sheneverwenthome.Shemusthavehadalittlehideoutwhereshecouldchangeherclothesandappearance.Afterallshelivedinperil,likethesailors.Shewasalonewhenshecametoseeme.Nochauffeur.Shecameinasmallcarandsheleftitafewdozenblocksaway.”

“They’llcatchher—iftheyreallytry.”

“Don’tbelikethat.Wilde,theD.A.,isonthelevel.Iworkedforhimonce.Butiftheycatchher,whatthen?They’reupagainsttwentymilliondollarsandalovelyfaceandeitherLeeFarrellorRennenkamp.It’sgoingtobeawfullyhardtoproveshekilledMarriott.Alltheyhaveiswhatlookslikeaheavymotiveandherpastlife,iftheycantraceit.Sheprobablyhasnorecord,orshewouldn’thaveplayeditthisway.”

“WhataboutMalloy?Ifyouhadtoldmeabouthimbefore,I’dhaveknownwhoshewasrightaway.Bytheway,howdidyouknow?Thesetwophotosarenotofthesamewoman.”

“No.IdoubtifevenoldladyFlorianknewtheyhadbeenswitchedonher.ShelookedkindofsurprisedwhenIshowedthephotoofVelma—theonethathadVelmaValentowrittenonit—infrontofhernose.Butshemayhaveknown.Shemayhavejusthiditwiththeideaofsellingittomelateron.Knowingitwasharmless,aphotoofsomeothergirlMarriottsubstituted.”

“That’sjustguessing.”

“Ithadtobethatway.JustaswhenMarriottcalledmeupandgavemeasonganddanceaboutajewelransompayoffithadtobebecauseIhadbeentoseeMrs.FlorianaskingaboutVelma.AndwhenMarriottwaskilled,ithadtobebecausehewastheweaklinkinthechain.Mrs.Floriandidn’tevenknowVelmahadbecomeMrs.LewinLockridgeGrayle.Shecouldn’thave.Theyboughthertoocheap.GraylesaystheywenttoEuropetobemarriedandshewasmarriedunderherrealname.Hewon’ttellwhereorwhen.Hewon’ttellwhatherrealnamewas.Hewon’ttellwheresheis.Idon’tthinkheknows,butthecopsdon’tbelievethat.”

“Whywon’thetell?”AnneRiordancuppedherchinonthebacksofherlacedfingersandstaredatmewithshadowedeyes.

“He’ssocrazyaboutherhedoesn’tcarewhoselapshesatin.”

“Ihopesheenjoyedsittinginyours,”AnneRiordansaidacidly.

“Shewasplayingme.Shewasalittleafraidofme.Shedidn’twanttokillmebecauseit’sbadbusinesskillingamanwhoisasortofcop.Butsheprobablywouldhavetriedintheend,justasshewouldhavekilledJessieFlorian,ifMalloyhadn’tsavedherthetrouble.”

“Ibetit’sfuntobeplayedbyhandsomeblondes,”AnneRiordansaid.“Evenifthereisalittlerisk.As,Isuppose,thereusuallyis.”

Ididn’tsayanything.

“Isupposetheycan’tdoanythingtoherforkillingMalloy,becausehehadagun.”

“No.Notwithherpull.”

Thegoldfleckedeyesstudiedmesolemnly.“DoyouthinkshemeanttokillMalloy?”

“Shewasafraidofhim,”Isaid.“Shehadturnedhimineightyearsago.Heseemedtoknowthat.Buthewouldn’thavehurther.Hewasinlovewithhertoo.Yes,Ithinkshemeanttokillanybodyshehadtokill.Shehadalottofightfor.Butyoucan’tkeepthatsortofthingupindefinitely.Shetooka

shotatmeinmyapartment—butthegunwasemptythen.SheoughttohavekilledmeoutonthebluffwhenshekilledMarriott.”

“Hewasinlovewithher,”Annesaidsoftly.“ImeanMalloy.Itdidn’tmattertohimthatshehadn’twrittentohiminsixyearsorevergonetoseehimwhilehewasinjail.Itdidn’tmattertohimthatshehadturnedhiminforareward.Hejustboughtsomefineclothesandstartedtolookforherthefirstthingwhenhegotout.Soshepumpedfivebulletsintohim,bywayofsayinghello.Hehadkilledtwopeoplehimself,buthewasinlovewithher.Whataworld.”

Ifinishedmydrinkandgotthethirstylookonmyfaceagain.Sheignoredit.Shesaid:

“AndshehadtotellGraylewhereshecamefromandhedidn’tcare.Hewentawaytomarryherunderanothernameandsoldhisradiostationtobreakcontactwithanybodywhomightknowherandhegavehereverythingthatmoneycanbuyandshegavehim—what?”

“That’shardtosay.”Ishooktheicecubesatthebottomofmyglass.Thatdidn’tgetmeanythingeither.“Isupposeshegavehimasortofpridethathe,aratheroldman,couldhaveayoungandbeautifulanddashingwife.Helovedher.Whatthehellarewetalkingaboutitfor?Thesethingshappenallthetime.Itdidn’tmakeanydifferencewhatshedidorwhosheplayedaroundwithorwhatshehadoncebeen.Helovedher.”

“LikeMooseMalloy,”Annesaidquietly.

“Let’sgoridingalongthewater.”

“Youdidn’ttellmeaboutBrunetteorthecardsthatwereinthosereefersorAmthororDr.Sonderborgorthatlittlecluethatsetyouonthepathofthegreatsolution.”

“IgaveMrs.Florianoneofmycards.Sheputawetglassonit.SuchacardwasinMarriott’spockets,wetglassmarkandall.Marriottwasnotamessyman.Thatwasaclue,ofsorts.Onceyoususpectedanythingitwaseasytofindoutotherconnections,suchasthatMarriottownedatrustdeedonMrs.Florian’shome,justtokeepherinline.AsforAmthor,he’sabadhat.TheypickedhimupinaNewYorkhotelandtheysayhe’saninternationalconman.ScotlandYardhashisprints,alsoParis.HowthehelltheygotallthatsinceyesterdayorthedaybeforeIdon’tknow.Theseboysworkfastwhentheyfeellikeit.IthinkRandallhashadthisthingtapedfordaysandwasafraidI’dsteponthetapes.ButAmthorhadnothingtodowithkillinganybody.OrwithSonderborg.Theyhaven’tfoundSonderborgyet.Theythinkhehasarecordtoo,butthey’renotsureuntiltheygethim.AsforBrunette,youcan’tgetanythingonaguylikeBrunette.They’llhavehimbeforetheGrandJuryandhe’llrefusetosayanything,onhisconstitutionalrights.Hedoesn’thavetobotherabouthisreputation.Butthere’saniceshakeuphereinBayCity.TheChiefhasbeencannedandhalfthedetectiveshavebeenreducedtoactingpatrolmen,andaveryniceguynamedRedNorgaard,whohelpedmegetontheMontecito,hasgothisjobback.TheMayorisdoingallthis,changinghispantshourlywhilethecrisislasts.”

“Doyouhavetosaythingslikethat?”

“TheShakespeareantouch.Let’sgoriding.Afterwe’vehadanotherdrink.”

“Youcanhavemine,”AnneRiordansaid,andgotupandbroughtheruntoucheddrinkovertome.Shestoodinfrontofmeholdingit,hereyeswideandalittlefrightened.

“You’resomarvelous,”shesaid.“Sobrave,sodeterminedandyouworkforsolittlemoney.Everybodybatsyouovertheheadandchokesyouandsmacksyourjawandfillsyouwithmorphine,butyoujustkeeprightonhittingbetweentackleandenduntilthey’reallwornout.Whatmakesyousowonderful?”

“Goon,”Igrowled.

“Spillit.”AnneRiordansaidthoughtfully:“I’dliketobekissed,damnyou!”

FORTY-ONE

IttookoverthreemonthstofindVelma.Theywouldn’tbelieveGrayledidn’tknowwhereshewasandhadn’thelpedhergetaway.Soeverycopandnewshawkinthecountrylookedinalltheplaceswheremoneymightbehidingher.Andmoneywasn’thidingheratall.Althoughthewayshehidwasprettyobviousonceitwasfoundout.

OnenightaBaltimoredetectivewithacameraeyeasrareasapinkzebrawanderedintoanightclubandlistenedtothebandandlookedatahandsomeblackhaired,black-browedtorcherwhocouldsingasifshemeantit.Somethinginherfacestruckachordandthechordwentonvibrating.

HewentbacktoHeadquartersandgotouttheWantedfileandstartedthroughthepileofreaders.Whenhecametotheonehewantedhelookedatitalongtime.Thenhestraightenedhisstrawhatonhisheadandwentbacktothenightclubandgotholdofthemanager.Theywentbacktothedressingroomsbehindtheshellandthemanagerknockedononeofthedoors.Itwasn’tlocked.Thedickpushedthemanagerasideandwentinandlockedit.

Hemusthavesmelledmarihuanabecauseshewassmokingit,buthedidn’tpayanyattentionthen.Shewassittinginfrontofatriplemirror,studyingtherootsofherhairandeyebrows.Theywereherowneyebrows.Thedicksteppedacrosstheroomsmilingandhandedherthereader.

ShemusthavelookedatthefaceonthereaderalmostaslongasthedickhaddownatHeadquarters.Therewasalottothinkaboutwhileshewaslookingatit.Thedicksatdownandcrossedhislegsandlitacigarette.Hehadagoodeye,buthehadover-specialized.Hedidn’tknowenoughaboutwomen.

Finallyshelaughedalittleandsaid:“You’reasmartlad,copper.IthoughtIhadavoicethatwouldberemembered.Afriendrecognizedmebyitonce,justhearingitontheradio.ButI’vebeensingingwiththisbandforamonth—twiceaweekonanetwork—andnobodygaveitathought.”

“Ineverheardthevoice,”thedicksaidandwentonsmiling.

Shesaid:“Isupposewecan’tmakeadealonthis.Youknow,there’salotinit,ifit’shandledright.”

“Notwithme,”thedicksaid.“Sorry.”

“Let’sgothen,”shesaidandstoodupandgrabbedupherbagandgothercoatfromahanger.Shewentovertohimholdingthecoatoutsohecouldhelpherintoit.Hestoodupandhelditforherlikeagentleman.

Sheturnedandslippedagunoutofherbagandshothimthreetimesthroughthecoathewasholding.

Shehadtwobulletsleftinthegunwhentheycrashedthedoor.Theygothalfwayacrosstheroombeforesheusedthem.Sheusedthemboth,butthesecondshotmusthavebeenpurereflex.Theycaughtherbeforeshehitthefloor,butherheadwasalreadyhangingbyarag.

“Thedickliveduntilthenextday,”Randallsaid,tellingmeaboutit.“Hetalkedwhenhecould.That’showwehavethedope.Ican’tunderstandhimbeingsocareless,unlesshereallywasthinkingoflettinghertalkhimintoadealofsomekind.Thatwouldclutteruphismind.ButIdon’tliketothinkthat,ofcourse.”

IsaidIsupposedthatwasso.

“Shotherselfcleanthroughtheheart—twice,”Randallsaid.“AndI’veheardexpertsonthestandsaythat’simpossible,knowingallthetimemyselfthatitwas.Andyouknowsomethingelse?”

“What?”

“Shewasstupidtoshootthatdick.We’dneverhaveconvictedher,notwithherlooksandmoneyandthepersecutionstorythesehigh-pricedguyswouldbuildup.Poorlittlegirlfromadiveclimbstobewifeofrichmanandthevulturesthatusedtoknowherwon’tletheralone.Thatsortofthing.Hell,Rennenkampwouldhavehalfadozencrummyoldburlesquedamesincourttosobthatthey’dblackmailedherforyears,andinawaythatyoucouldn’tpinanythingonthembutthejurywouldgoforit.ShedidasmartthingtorunoffonherownandleaveGrayleoutofit,butitwouldhavebeensmartertohavecomehomewhenshewascaught.”

“OhyoubelievenowthatsheleftGrayleoutofit,”Isaid.

Henodded.Isaid:“Doyouthinkshehadanyparticularreasonforthat?”

Hestaredatme.“I’llgoforit,whateveritis.”

“Shewasakiller,”Isaid.“ButsowasMalloy.Andhewasalongwayfrombeingallrat.MaybethatBaltimoredickwasn’tsopureastherecordshows.Maybeshesawachance—nottogetaway—shewastiredofdodgingbythattime—buttogiveabreaktotheonlymanwhohadeverreallygivenherone.”

Randallstaredatmewithhismouthopenandhiseyesunconvinced.

“Hell,shedidn’thavetoshootacoptodothat,”hesaid.

“I’mnotsayingshewasasaintorevenahalfwaynicegirl.Notever.Shewouldn’tkillherselfuntilshewascornered.Butwhatshedidandthewayshedidit,keptherfromcomingbackherefortrial.Thinkthatover.Andwhowouldthattrialhurtmost?Whowouldbeleastabletobearit?Andwin,loseordraw,whowouldpaythebiggestpricefortheshow?Anoldmanwhohadlovednotwisely,buttoowell.”

Randallsaidsharply:“That’sjustsentimental.”

“Sure.ItsoundedlikethatwhenIsaidit.Probablyallamistakeanyway.Solong.Didmypinkbugevergetbackuphere?“

Hedidn’tknowwhatIwastalkingabout.

IrodedowntothestreetfloorandwentoutonthestepsoftheCityHall.Itwasacooldayandveryclear.Youcouldseealongway—butnotasfarasVelmahadgone.

RaymondChandler

RaymondChandlerwasbornin1888andpublishedhisfirststoryin1933inthepulpmagazineBlackMask.Bythetimehepublishedhisfirstnovel,TheBigSleep(1939),featuring,asdidallhismajorworks,theiconicprivateeyePhilipMarlowe,itwasclearthathehadnotonlymasteredagenrebuthadsetastandardtowhichotherscouldonlyaspire.Chandlercreatedabodyofworkthatrankswiththebestoftwentieth-centuryliterature.Hediedin1959.

OTHERBOOKSBY

RAYMONDCHANDLER

AVAILABLEASVINTAGEeBOOKS

TheBigSleepTheHighWindowTheLadyintheLakeTheLittleSister

TheSimpleArtofMurderTroubleIsMyBusinessTheLongGoodbye

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Copyright©1940byRaymondChandler

Copyrightrenewed1967byMrs.HelgaGreene

AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyVintageBooks,adivisionofRandomHouse,Inc., NewYork,andsimultaneouslyinCanadabyRandomHouseofCanadaLimited,Toronto.Originallypublished,inhardcover,byAlfredA.Knopf,in1940,and,inpaperback,

byVintage,in1976.

LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationData

Chandler,Raymond,1888–1959.

Farewell, mylovely

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Originallypublished:NewYork:VintageBooks,1976,©1968.

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