A few minutes later I answered her knock at the door and she came inside “Barry would be angry enough to kill us both if he knew I’d come to you,” she announced breathlessly in that birdlike peep-peep voice of hers.
“If he wants to kill me, he’ll just have to wait his turn,” I informed her. “There may be a husband or two and sundry other guys in line before him.”
“I’ll just bet there are!” She looked at me archly, her hand fluttering at the bodice of the low-cut dress she’d put on, an oriole preening its plumage. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?” she wanted to know.
“Sure.” I slopped some Scotch into a glass and handed it to her. “But you didn’t come all this way just for a drink,” I reminded her.
“I might have. If I’d been asked, that is.”
“I’m flattered. But I’m also a little short on time. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d come to the point.”
She turned into a pouter pigeon. “I don’t think you really like me at all,” she brooded.
“I’m wild about you.” I made my voice sound sincere.
“Do you mean that, Steve? Gosh, I hope so. Because ever since the other night, I’ve had a real thing for you. I don’t know why, but you really get to me. I felt it last night, too. Otherwise I wouldn’t have done what you asked.”
What had I asked? “But you did do it,” I prompted her. “And how did it turn out?”
“Oh!” She rolled her somewhat beady bird-eyes. “Barry would just kill me if he knew!”
“Why? Why "should Barry be jealous? From what I’ve seen he seems to take a pretty liberal attitude toward-—”
“He wouldn’t be jealous,” she interrupted, chirping with laughter at the idea. “He’d be mad because I pried into his affairs. With the Cromwell woman, I mean.”
“Oh. I see. And what did you find out?”
“You can ask nicer than that.” She pursed her lips like a sparrow going after an earthworm.
I kissed her, and she clung to me. “Now tell me about the Cromwell woman,” I crooned into her ear.
“Barry took her to a spank-party at Von Koerner’s while I was out of town,” she chirruped, taking my hand between hers and inserting it in her loose bodice.
“I already found that out,” I said.
“Oh? How? Well, never mind. I found out something else that’s sure to interest you.” Elsa nuzzled her bare breast against the palm of my hand so that the tip embedded itself between two of my fingers. “Do you think I’m too small?” she asked.
“What?”
“My breasts? Are they too small? You see, I’ve always had this inferiority complex, and I’m so anxious to please you—”
“They’re fine. Just perfect. Now what about Carrie Cromwell?”
“I sneaked the key from Barry’s desk out of his pocket and went through the drawers. I found a slip of paper with her address and phone number on it.” Elsa’s hand dropped to my thigh and trailed upward. “I know where she is,” she tweeted.
“Where?”
“You’d never guess in a million years.” Her hand slid under the waistband of my pants and grabbed.
“I won’t even try to guess. You’re going to tell me, aren’t you, honey?” I made my voice as intimate as her caress was.
“Ooh! I go all shivery when you call me honey that way. Say it again.” Her hand tightened.
“Ouch! Honey.”
“Sorry. I got carried away, I guess. Let me kiss it and make it better.”
“In a minute. First tell me where Carrie Cromwell is.”
“No, first I want to—-”
There was a sudden knock at the door, and her head shot up even faster than it had been lowered.
“Mr. Victor?” a voice called out.
“That’s Ingrid!” Elsa hissed. “What’s she doing here? She mustn’t find me! It would be just like her to tell Barry.”
“Just a minute,” I called back. “I‘m not dressed. I’m sorry, but I just stepped out of the shower. I don’t have a stitch on. Why don’t you wait for me down in the lobby? It’s more comfortable than standing there. I’ll come down and get you just as soon as I throw something on.”
“Oh, all right.” Ingrid sounded annoyed.
“You think fast,” Elsa said admiringly, her head sinking to its former position again.
“Sorry, baby, but we don’t have time.” I pulled her firmly to her feet. “Now suppose you tell me where Carrie Cromwell is, and I’ll get you out of here before Ingrid comes back and spots you.”
“Damn! I suppose you’re right. Well, brace yourself. Carrie Cromwell is right here in this very hotel. She’s registered here with her husband. That was the address and phone number I found in Barry’s desk. And she’s still registered here. I checked with the desk clerk. Now, aren’t you proud of me?”
“You’ve been a big help,” I lied. I saw no reason to tell her that the Cromwells were still registered because Putnam had seen to it so that their disappearance wouldn’t cause any more of a stir than it already had. “Do you have anything else to tell me?”
“Just that she called Barry tonight. I eavesdropped. She wanted to make sure he was coming to Von Koemer’s tomorrow. And from the conversation, I gathered that she wanted to be sure he was bringing you. What gives with you and her, anyway? Why can’t you contact each other directly? Does it have something to do with O. R. G. Y.? Is she working for you?”
“No time for questions,” I told her, steering her into the hall. “Now you wait around this bend here until you see me come up with Ingrid. Then you can go down to the lobby and get out without her spotting you.” I gave her a quick kiss goodbye and started for the lobby myself.
“Ooh, Steve, wait!” Elsa called after me. “I forgot to tell you something else.”
“What?”
“That Gretchen called me earlier this evening. You know, the fat-chested blonde.”
“Yeah. I know her. What did she want?”
“Your phone number. She said she had to reach you. She said you split in such a hurry last night that you didn’t have a chance to exchange numbers. I didn’t know you ‘saw her after you left us. I’ll bet your wife doesn’t know, either. You are a naughty boy. I could be very jealous about that, you know.”
“Elsa, you’re the only woman for me. Outside of my wife, of course,” I reminded myself.
“Anyway, I gave her the number. The flabby-bosomed wench, I mean. But even so, that doesn’t mean you have to start up with her.”
“I won’t,” I assured her. “I’m spoken for.” I blew Elsa a kiss as the elevator doors opened, stepped inside, and pushed the button for the lobby. Well, anyway, now I knew how come Gretchen had contacted me instead of my Russian double. And that was really about all that Elsa had told me that was helpful.
The look on Ingrid’s face when I strolled across the lobby toward her didn’t promise that she was planning to be too helpful, either. The look said she wasn’t used to being kept waiting. With her charms, there was no reason why she should have been used to it. Scenery-wise, Ingrid was a decided improvement over Elsa. When it came to conversation, though, the eye-filling blonde was nowhere. She didn’t say a word all the way up to the room. And the glare she shot me when I closed the door behind us was decidedly hostile.
“Would you like a drink?” I asked her.
“No. What do you want?” Her tone was arrogant, but there was a hint of fear in the way she kept her distance from me.
“Relax. I’m not going to bite you.”
“I wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t blackmailed me into coming.”
“All right then. I'll come to the point. I want you to tell me everything you know about Knute Hajstrom.”
“You mean your victim. One of them, anyway!”
“If you like.” I was getting tired of denying my murderous nature. “When did you meet him? How? "