She peeled off a bill at random and waved it over the driver’s shoulder.
“Hurry,” she said, “just follow that car. It isn’t a divorce case or anything like that. Here-” she forced the bill into his hand, where it rested on the wheel. “It’s yours,” she said, “if you don’t lose sight of him.”
It wasn’t until she leaned back in the seat, jerked to the rear cushion as the car suddenly shot forward, that she realized she had handed the man a twenty dollar bill. Her shock at the knowledge was almost as great as had been her shock at seeing Gerald Hanna leaving from in front of his house at four-fifteen in the afternoon-a full two hours before he was even due to be home from his office. She couldn’t, to save her life, imagine what he was up to. But she was certainly going to find out. Yes, indeed, there were a lot of things she was going to find out about Gerald and his behavior of the last few days.
Gerald, several hundred yards in front of the taxi, drove at a moderate speed, his mind only half on the traffic, which was comparatively light. He wasn’t quite sure of the best way to get where he was going, but he knew the general direction. Once in Long Island City, he stopped to ask a traffic officer for directions, checking the address on a slip of paper. The officer told him and five minutes later he was in front of the building which housed the offices of the messenger service.
It was a calculated risk, but one that he knew he would have to take. There was, of course, the chance that the girl wouldn’t be home, wouldn’t, in fact, return home at all that night. But she had to come sooner or later. It was merely a matter of time. The greater risk was that she would go at once to the police. But this Gerald was inclined to doubt. Sisters of gunmen and killers, didn’t, as far as he knew, have any great love for policemen.
But even if she did, even if worse turned to worst, he still had an out. The most they could do would be to convict him of butting into police business. And certainly he had an excuse for being curious.
But Gerald doubted very much that Sue Dunne would go to the police after getting the note. No, she’d be too much interested in seeing him; interested in finding out about her brother.
It took him a little while to make it clear to the manager of the agency just what it was he wanted. The man was suspicious, but then, after Gerald had slipped him the extra five dollar bill, he apparently was willing enough to overlook it. He assured Gerald that the matter would be taken care of.
Returning to his car, Gerald decided to go directly into New York. He could kill some time driving around Central Park, then stop by the Cavern On The Green and have a drink. It was something he’d always wanted to do.
He might just as well relax. Either she’d come or she wouldn’t. It was out of his hands.
He only hoped that the breaks would be with him; only hoped that she’d be alone when she got the note. That it wouldn’t fall into the hands of the police before she had a chance to make up her mind.
By six-thirty Gerald was seated at a round iron-topped table slowly sipping a gin and tonic. He had perhaps an hour and a half to kill and he was determined to enjoy himself while he was killing it. His car was parked in the lot a few hundred yards away, and for the moment he was at peace with the world. He felt like a million dollars. Keyed up-yes. But still, fine.
He began to visualize the future. A gin and tonic before dinner, every night. Miami perhaps. Or maybe Bermuda would be pleasant at this time of the year.
The thoughts going through the head of Maryjane Swiftwater, however, were anything but pleasant. She herself was sweltering in the back seat of the taxi where it stood with its motor idling a few yards from the spot where Gerald had parked the Chevvie. She’d just returned to the car after walking to the entrance to the tavern for the second time and watching Gerald sitting there over his drink. And she had also just parted with the second twenty dollar bill to the cab driver, who had the audacity to not only accept it, but to accept it with a whine of protest.
But it was going to be worth it. Worth every cent of it, no matter what it cost her.
Maryjane was no longer perplexed. She was sure. Absolutely sure. Gerald could be sitting there for only one reason. He was waiting for someone; waiting for some other girl.
Much as Maryjane regretted parting with the money, she was determined to sit it out. She just wanted to see this girl. See what sort of witch…
Gerald drained his drink, smiled complacently, and raised a finger to beckon the waiter.
By seven o’clock the messenger was about ready to call it quits and leave. Hell’s bells, he’d been standing here in front of the place for at least an hour and a half. People were beginning to get suspicious of him. That woman, the one of the ground-floor front, had twice opened her window now and stared out at him. It made him damned nervous.
For about the tenth time, he turned and slowly started walking around the block. He’d give it just one more try and then the hell with it. Even if she hadn’t shown up by the time he got back, well, an extra couple of bucks or not, he’d just take off. He was due to quit at six-thirty and here already he’d spent an extra half hour overtime. He could just put the damned note in the mailbox and shove off. She’d find it. What could be so damned important about handing it to her personally, anyway?
He passed the tavern again and this time he ducked in and ordered a quick beer. At seven-ten he was back in the lobby of the building and pushing the bell. He was surprised when he heard the answering click of the door lock.
At eight-twenty-eight, Maryjane Swiftwater returned to the taxi in the parking lot for the last time and dismissed the driver. She was so mad that she failed to ask for change from the second twenty-dollar bill which she had given the man.
As far as the driver himself was concerned, he didn’t waste any time hanging around. He was anxious to get back to Long Island and get home and have his dinner. And he didn’t want any more of his present fare, in any case. He knew an irate female when he saw one and there was no doubt in his mind about his latest fare. He was glad to be well out of it. Forty bucks for a few hours’ work was all very well and good, but he didn’t want to get mixed up in any sort of hassle. Not when a girl with a jaw like that girl had, was involved.
She found a phone booth and it took her several minutes to make it clear to information just what it was she wanted. The stupid girl seemed to think that the only Police Department in the world was in New York. But finally she got it clear and within another minute or two, Maryjane had the right number. She was in luck. This man Hopper, the detective who had called her at her home in Connecticut, was in the office. It took her a couple of minutes to make him understand just who she was.
“Don’t you remember,” she said, her voice high-pitched in irritation. “Miss Swiftwater, Miss Maryjane Swiftwater. You called me about a Mr. Gerald Hanna.”
There was a pause and then the man’s voice came back to her.
“Yes, yes of course, Miss Swiftwater. And just what…”
“You wanted to know all about him. At least you seemed awfully curious about him. Remember, you wanted to know why he broke our appointment. Well! I can certainly tell you. It was because he has another girl. Can you imagine…”
Hopper cut in with a long-suffering voice.
“I see, Miss Swiftwater. So, he has another girl…”
“He has. And not a word, not one single blessed word about it to me. I don’t know why you were interested in him, but I can certainly tell you this. If ever a man was deceitful, if ever a man was a downright cad and liar…”