I was looking at him across my office desk at about four-thirty when the phone rang and I heard a cool, supercilious voice that sounded as if it thought it was pretty good. It said drawlingly, after I had answered:
You are Philip Marlowe, a private detective?
Check.
Oh you mean, yes. You have been recommended to me as a man who can be trusted to keep his mouth shut. I should like you to come to my house at seven oclock this evening. We can discuss a matter. My name is Lindsay Marriott and I live at 4212 Cabrillo Street, Montemar Vista. Do you know where that is?
I know where Montemar Vista is, Mr. Marriott.
Yes. Well, Cabrillo Street is rather hard to find. The streets down here are all laid out in a pattern of interesting but intricate curves. I should suggest that you walk up the steps from the sidewalk cafe. If you do that, Cabrillo is the third street you come to and my house is the only one on the block. At seven then?
What is the nature of the employment, Mr. Marriott?
I should prefer not to discuss that over the phone.
Cant you give me some idea? Montemar Vista is quite a distance.
I shall be glad to pay your expenses, if we dont agree. Are you particular about the nature of the employment?
Not as long as its legitimate.
The voice grew icicles. I should not have called you, if it were not.
A Harvard boy. Nice use of the subjunctive mood. The end of my foot itched, but my bank account was still trying to crawl under a duck. I put honey into my voice and said: Many thanks for calling me, Mr. Marriott. Ill be there.
He hung up and that was that. I thought Mr. Rembrandt had a faint sneer on his face. I got the office bottle out of the deep drawer of the desk and took a short drink. That took the sneer out of Mr. Rembrandt in a hurry.
A wedge of sunlight slipped over the edge of the desk and fell noiselessly to the carpet. Traffic lights bong-bonged outside on the boulevard, interurban cars pounded by, a typewriter clacked monotonously in the lawyers office beyond the party wall. I had filled and lit a pipe when the telephone rang again.
It was Nulty this time. His voice sounded full of baked potato. Well, I guess I aint quite bright at that, he said, when he knew who he was talking to. I miss one. Malloy went to see that Florian dame.
I held the phone tight enough to crack it. My upper lip suddenly felt a little cold. Go on. I thought you had him cornered.
Was some other guy. Malloy aint around there at all. We get a call from some old window-peeker on West Fifty-four. Two guys was to see the Florian dame. Number one parked the other side of the street and acted kind of cagey. Looked the dump over good before he went in. Was in about an hour. Six feet, dark hair, medium heavy built. Come out quiet.
He had liquor on his breath too, I said.
Oh, sure. That was you, wasnt it? Well, Number Two was the Moose. Guy in loud clothes as big as a house. He come in a car too but the old lady dont get the license, cant read the number that far off. This was about a hour after you was there, she says. He goes in fast and is in about five minutes only. Just before he gets back in his car he takes a big gat out and spins the chamber. I guess thats what the old lady saw he done. Thats why she calls up. She dont hear no shots though, inside the house.
That must have been a big disappointment, I said.
Yeah. A nifty. Remind me to laugh on my day off. The old lady misses one too. The prowl boys go down there and dont get no answer on the door, so they walk in, the front door not being locked. Nobodys dead on the floor. Nobodys home. The Florian dame has skipped out. So they stop by next door and tell the old lady and shes sore as a boil on account of she didnt see the Florian dame go out. So they report back and go on about the job. So about an hour, maybe hour and a half after that, the old lady phones in again and says Mrs. Florian is home again. So they give the call to me and I ask her what makes that important and she hangs up in my face.
Nulty paused to collect a little breath and wait for my comments. I didnt have any. After a moment he went on grumbling.
What you make of it?
Nothing much. The Moose would be likely to go by there, of course. He must have known Mrs. Florian pretty well. Naturally he wouldnt stick around very long. He would be afraid the law might be wise to Mrs. Florian.
What I figure, Nulty said calmly, Maybe I should go over and see her kind of find out where she went to.
Thats a good idea, I said. If you can get somebody to lift you out of your chair.
Huh? Oh, another nifty. It dont make a lot of difference any more now though. I guess I wont bother.
All right, I said. Lets have it whatever it is.
He chuckled. We got Malloy all lined up. We really got him this time. We make him at Girard, headed north in a rented hack. He gased up there and the service station kid recognized him from the description we broadcast a while back. He said everything jibed except Malloy had changed to a dark suit. We got county and state law on it. If he goes on north we get him at the Ventura line, and if he slides over to the Ridge Route, he has to stop at Castaic for his check ticket. If he dont stop, they phone ahead and block the road. We dont want no cops shot up, if we can help it. That sound good?
It sounds all right, I said. If it really is Malloy, and if he does exactly what you expect him to do.
Nulty cleared his throat carefully. Yeah. What you doing on it just in case?
Nothing. Why should I be doing anything on it?
You got along pretty good with that Florian dame. Maybe she would have some more ideas.
All you need to find out is a full bottle, I said.
You handled her real nice. Maybe you ought to kind of spend a little more time on her.
I thought this was a police job.
Oh sure. Was your idea about the girl though.
That seems to be out unless the Florian woman is lying about it.
Dames lie about anything just for practice, Nulty said grimly. You aint real busy, huh?
Ive got a job to do. It came in since I saw you. A job where I get paid. Im sorry.
Walking out, huh?
I wouldnt put it that way. I just have to work to earn a living.
Okey, pal. If thats the way you feel about it, okey.
I dont feel any way about it, I almost yelled. I just dont have time to stooge for you or any other cop.
Okey, get sore, Nulty said, and hung up.
I held the dead phone and snarled into it: Seventeen hundred and fifty cops in this town and they want me to do their leg work for them.
I dropped the phone into its cradle and took another drink from the office bottle.
After a while I went down to the lobby of the building to buy an evening paper. Nulty was right in one thing at least. The Montgomery killing hadnt even made the want-ad section so far.
I left the office again in time for an early dinner.
8
I got down to Montemar Vista as the light began to fade, but there was still a fine sparkle on the water and the surf was breaking far out in long smooth curves. A group of pelicans was flying bomber formation just under the creaming lip of the waves. A lonely yacht was taking in toward the yacht harbor at Bay City. Beyond it the huge emptiness of the Pacific was purple-gray.
Montemar Vista was a few dozen houses of various sizes and shapes hanging by their teeth and eyebrows to a spur of mountain and looking as if a good sneeze would drop them down among the box lunches on the beach.