The lights began to look funny in front of my eyes. He started up again, checking over how Nirdlinger got knocked off. He said this guy, whoever he was, had left his car at Burbank, and dropped off the train there. He said she met him there, and they drove down in separate cars, with the corpse in one of them, to the place where they put the body on the track. He figured it up that she would have time to get to Burbank, and then get back in time to buy a pint of ice cream at the drugstore at 10:20, when she showed up there. He even had that. He was all wrong on how it was done, but he was so near right it made my lips turn numb just to listen to him.
"Well, Keyes, what are you going to do?"
"…All right, he wants to wait her out, make her sue,-that suits me. He's going to cover the dead man, find out what he can about why he maybe committed suicide. That suits me. I'm going to cover her. Every move she makes, everything she does, I'm going to know about it. Sooner or later, Huff, that guy's got to show. They'll have to see each other. And as soon as I know who he is, then watch me. Sure, let her sue. And when she goes on the witness stand, believe me, Huff, Norton's going to eat it. He's going to eat every word he's said, and the police may do some eating too. Oh no. I'm not through yet."
He had me, and I knew it. If she sued, and lost her head on the witness stand, God knows what might happen. If she didn't sue, that would be still worse. Her not trying to collect on that policy, that would look so bad it might even pull the police in. I didn't dare call her up, because for all I knew even now her wires might be tapped. I did that night what I had done the other two nights, while I was waiting on the inquest, I got stinko, or tried to. I knocked off a quart of cognac, but it didn't have any effect. My legs felt funny, and my ears rang, but my eyes kept staring at the dark, and my mind kept pounding on it, what I was going to do. I didn't know. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat. I couldn't even get drunk.
It was the next night before Phyllis called. It was a little while after dinner, and the Filipino had just gone. I was even afraid to answer, but I knew I had to. "Walter?"
"Yes. First, where are you? Home?"
"I'm in a drugstore."
"Oh, O.K., then, go on."
"Lola's acting so funny I don't even want to use my own phone any more. I drove down to the boulevard."
"What's the matter with Lola?"
"Oh, just hysteria, I guess. It's been too much for her."
"Nothing else?"
"I don't think so."
"All right, shoot, and shoot quick. What's happened?"
"An awful lot. I've been afraid to call. I had to stay home until the funeral, and-"
"The funeral was today?"
"Yes. After the inquest."
"Go on."
"The next thing, tomorrow they open my husband's safe deposit box. The state has something to do with that. On account of the inheritance tax."
"That's right. The policy's in there?"
"Yes. I put it in there about a week ago."
"All right then, this is what you do. It'll be at your lawyer's office, is that it?"
"Yes."
"Then you go there. The state tax man will be there, under- 68 the law he has to be present. They'll find the policy, and you hand it to your lawyer. Instruct him to put your claim in. Everything waits until you do that."
"Put the claim in."
"That's right. Now wait a minute, Phyllis. Here's something you mustn't tell that lawyer-yet. They're not going to pay that claim."
"What!"
"They're not going to pay it."
"Don't they have to pay it?"
"They think it's-suicide-and they're going to make you sue, and put it in the hands of the jury, before they pay. Don't tell your lawyer that now, he'll find it out for himself later. He'll want to sue, and you let him. We'll have to pay him, but it's our only chance. Now Phyllis, one other thing."
"Yes."
"I can't see you."
"But I want to see you."
"We don't dare see each other. Suicide is what they hope for, but they're mighty suspicious all the way around. If you and I began seeing each other, they might tumble to the truth so fast it would make your blood run cold. They'll be on your trail, for what they can find out, and you simply must not communicate with me at all, unless it's imperative, and even then you must call me at home, and from a drugstore, never the same drugstore twice in succession. Do you get me?"
"My you sound scared."
"I am scared. Plenty. They know more than you'd think."
"Then it's really serious?"
"Maybe not, but we've got to be careful."
"Then maybe I'd better not sue."
"You've got to sue. If you don't sue, then we are sunk."
"Oh. Oh. Yes, I can see that."
"You sue. But be careful what you tell that lawyer."
"All right. Do you still love me?"
"You know I do."
"Do you think of me? All the time?"
"All the time."
"Is there anything else?"
"Not that I know of. Is that all with you?"
"I think so."
"You better hang up. Somebody might come in on me."
"You sound as though you want to get rid of me."
"Just common sense."
"All right. How long is this all going to take?"
"I don't know. Maybe quite some time."
"I'm dying to see you."
"Me too. But we've got to be careful."
"Well then-good-bye."
"Good-bye."
I hung up. I loved her like a rabbit loves a rattlesnake. That night I did something I hadn't done in years. I prayed.
Chapter 9
It was about a week after that that Nettie came into my private office quick and shut the door. "That Miss Nirdlinger to see you again, Mr. Huff."
"Hold her a minute. I've got to make a call."
She went out. I made a call. I had to do something to get myself in hand. I called home, and asked the Filipino if there had been any calls. He said no. Then I buzzed Nettie to send her in.
She looked different from the last time I had seen her. Then, she looked like a kid. Now, she looked like a woman. Part of that may have been that she was in black, but anybody could see she had been through plenty. I felt like a heel, and yet it did something to me that this girl liked me. I shook hands with her, and sat her down, and asked her how her stepmother was, and she said she was all right, considering everything, and I said it was a terrible thing, and that it shocked me to hear of it. "And Mr. Sachetti?"
"I'd rather not talk about Mr. Sachetti."
"I thought you were friends."
"I'd rather not talk about him."
"I'm sorry."
She got up, looked out the window, then sat down again. "Mr. Huff, you did something for me once, or anyhow I felt it was for me-"
"It was."
"And since then I've always thought of you as a friend. That's why I've come to you. I want to talk to you-as a friend."