“Of course not. As far as your bride-to-be is concerned, I don’t even exist. I hope you haven’t told her about what you’re working on. Women are prone to talk. And that would be a decided breach of security.”
“Don’t worry, I haven’t. Anyway, she’s much too busy making plans for the wedding to worry about a little thing like national security.”
“Good. Let her go on worrying about the wedding. That should leave you free to wrap up this Cromwell business.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Please try to do better. So far your best seems slated to earn you the dubious distinction of being Public Enemy Number One.”
With that remark, delivered in a quietly scathing tone, Putnam hailed a cab and left me. He’d done his job -- secured my release from the police once again -- and I guess he figured there wasn’t much else he could do, so he might as well leave me on my own and hope for the best. I hoped along with him as I continued up the street alone, wondering if I should make another stab at seeing Ingrid, or if I should head back to my hotel. Finally, disgusted and tired, I decided on the hotel.
The night clerk had eighteen messages for me when I came through the lobby. Fifteen of them were from Hortense, asking me to call her back as soon as I came in. The other three were from Ingrid, Elsa and Gretchen respectively. Gretchen? It took me a minute to place her. Ahh, yes, she was the spank-party lassie my impersonator had made such an impression on. What could she want? For that matter, what did Elsa want? Or Ingrid?
“Lots of excitement over the wedding, I guess.” The night clerk smiled at me.
“Oodles,” I agreed drily.
“The manager was wondering if you've considered holding it in the hotel. I hope you don’t mind my mentioning it, Mr. Victor.”
“Not at all. No, I haven’t thought about holding it in the hotel. The truth is I haven’t thought about it at all. I prefer it that way.”
“I know how it is,” the clerk said in a soothing tone. “I’m married myself.”
“Are you now?”
“Yes, sir. And how well I remember what it was like. All the confusion and everything. Weddings are really for the ladies, don’t you think, sir?”
“Weddings,” I told him firmly, “are strictly for the birds.”
My vehemence surprised him. I left him mulling it over and went up to my room. I put the message from Hortense to one side. Eeny-meeny-miny-mo-—Ingrid came up first. I recognized the number she’d left. It was Helen Quentin’s.
“Hello.” I returned her greeting. “Steve Victor here. Is Ingrid there?”
“Yes, she is. But before you talk to her, there are a few things I have to say to you. Murdering George was one thing, but this business tonight with Patricia is something else again. That was simply unforgiveable! ”
“The quality of mercy--”
“Has been strained too far!” she finished for me indignantly. “Even our little group has its rules, Mr. Victor. And one of them is that we don’t assault children. I haven’t spoken to the rest of the members, but in view of your actions, I’m sure they’ll agree with me that you’re not our sort of person!”
Well, it isn’t everybody who gets drummed out of a wife-swapping club. I guessed it was a distinction of a sort. “Look,” I told her, “you can tear off my epaulets and strip me of my rank the next time I see you. But for now, how about letting me speak to Ingrid?”
“Very well. I just wanted you to know how I feel. I never like to blackball anybody anonymously.”
“I’m overwhelmed by your ethics. Now how about Ingrid?”
“Here she is.”
“Hello.” Ingrid’s deep-throated voice was as blonde and bosomy as she was.
“I have to talk to you about Knute Hajstrom,” I told her.
“Talk? After you killed him!”
“Who did he kill now?” I heard Helen Quentin inquire in the background.
“Nobody you know, dear,” Ingrid assured her hastily.
“You don’t want to talk over the phone with Helen there,” I guessed. “When can we get together?”
“I don’t think I should get together with you. You’re a very dangerous man. You might decide to kill me.”
“Now why would I want to do that?”
“I don’t know. Why did you want to kill Knute?"
“I didn’t. And I didn’t kill him.”
“I saw you. Remember?”
“Who’s Knute?” Helen asked.
“Nobody important. Honestly, darling—”
“You’re lying!” Helen said. “I can always tell! So help me, Ingrid, if you’ve been -”
“I haven’t,” Ingrid lied. “Really I haven’t! Just look at all the trouble you’re causing,” she said into the mouthpiece.
“Then get yourself up here where we can talk alone.” I decided to play it hard. “If you don’t, I’ll tell Helen all about you and Hajstrom. And maybe I’ll tell Phil about your being with Helen tonight, too.”
“But I can’t. I don’t have the car. Phil’s using it.”
“Take a cab!” I told her. “I’ll be waiting.” On that note I hung up, reasonably sure she’d come over.
Elsa was next. I dialed the number she’d left. Barry answered. His voice was sleepy. “She’s sound asleep,” his voice yawned in my ear. “Can’t imagine what she wanted. Probably something about the arrangements for getting together tomorrow night. I’ll leave her a note to call you in the morning.”
I thanked him and hung up. That left the mysterious Gretchen. Never having met the lady, I had no idea what to say to her. I decided to play it by ear.
“Mr. Victor. I have information for you,” she said when I identified myself. “It is urgent that I see you immediately.”
“Immediately, I’m a little bit tied up,” I told her.
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“I can wait. But can you? From the way you spoke last night, I gathered that you were in a hurry—about Carrie Cromwell, I mean. Perhaps I was wrong.”
“You weren’t wrong,” I told her. “What about Carrie Cromwell?”
“You meant what you said about the money?”
“Absolutely,” I assured her, not having the slightest idea what she was talking about.
“But it should be more now.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Because of last night. You didn’t tell me you were going to kill the Swede. If I had known that, I wouldn’t have agreed to take you there. Now it is more dangerous, and I should have more money.”
“We’ll talk about it when I see you,” I suggested.
“Can I come to your hotel tonight?”
“Give me about three hours,” I told her, figuring that I’d be through with Ingrid by then.
“All right. Goodbye until then.” Gretchen hung up. I’d no sooner put the receiver back in the cradle than the phone rang again. It was Elsa. Her voice was a muffled whisper.
“Barry’s asleep again,” she said. “I don’t want to take a chance on waking him. I couldn’t get the phone fast enough before, so I pretended to be asleep. I couldn’t let him hear us talking. I have something important to tell you. I’m going to sneak out now and take the car. I should be at your hotel in half an hour.”
“Hey, wait a mi—” I started to say. It was too late. Elsa had hung up.
No rest for the weary. I decided that what I needed was a hot shower and a change of clothes to get rid of the traces of my adventures with Patricia. I was just buttoning myself into a clean shirt when the phone rang again. It was Elsa, calling from the lobby.
“Come on up,” I told her.
“I think it’s better if I speak to you alone,” she said.
“I’m alone.”
“You are? But what about your wife? Isn’t she with you?”
Wife? I remembered then that Elsa thought Hortense and I were a married‘ couple. “She’s away for the evening, visiting her mother,” I improvised. “So come on up to the room. It’s safe.”