The place looked decadent and off-color by daylight. It still stank of the ether.
Carmen licked the corners of her mouth with the tip of a whitish tongue. Her dark eyes were stupid and stunned rather than scared now. I rolled a cigarette around in my fingers and pushed some books out of the way to sit on the edge of the desk. I lit my cigarette, puffed it slowly for a moment, then asked: «What are you doing here?»
She picked at the material of her coat, didn’t answer. I tried again.
«How much do you remember about last night?»
She answered that. «Remember what? I was sick last night — at home.» Her voice was a cautious, throaty sound that only just reached my ears.
«Before that,» I said. «Before I brought you home. Here.»
A slow flush crept up her throat and her eyes widened. «You — you were the one?» she breathed, and began to chew on her funny thumb again.
«Yeah, I was the one. How much of it all stays with you?»
She said: «Are you the police?»
«No. I told you I was a friend of your father’s.»
«You’re not the police?»
«No.»
It finally registered. She let out a long sigh. «What — what do you want?»
«Who killed him?»
Her shoulders jerked in the checkered coat, but nothing changed much in her face. Her eyes slowly got furtive.
«Who — who else knows?»
«About Steiner? I don’t know. Not the police, or someone would be here. Maybe Marty.»
It was just a stab in the dark, but it got a sudden, sharp cry out of her.
«Marty!»
We were both silent for a minute. I puffed on my cigarette and she chewed on her thumb.
«Don’t get clever,» I said. «Did Marty kill him?»
Her chin came down an inch. «Yes.»
«Why did he do it?»
«I — I don’t know,» very dully.
«Seen much of him lately?»
Her hands clenched. «Just once or twice.»
«Know where he lives?»
«Yes!» She spat it at me.
«What’s the matter? I thought you liked Marty.»
«I hate him!» she almost yelled.
«Then you’d like him for the spot,» I said.
She was blank to that. I had to explain it. «I mean, are you willing to tell the police it was Marty?»
Sudden panic flamed in her eyes.
«If I kill the nude photo angle,» I said soothingly.
She giggled.
That gave me a nasty feeling. If she had screeched, or turned white, or even keeled over, that would have been fairly natural. But she just giggled.
I began to hate the sight of her. Just looking at her made me feel dopey.
Her giggles went on, ran around the room like rats. They gradually got hysterical. I got off the desk, took a step towards her, and slapped her face.
«Just like last night,» I said.
The giggling stopped at once and the thumb-chewing started again. She still didn’t mind my slaps apparently. I sat on the end of the desk once more.
«You came here to look for the camera plate — for the birthday suit photo,» I told her.
Her chin went up and down again.
«Too late. I looked for it last night. It was gone then. Probably Marty has it. You’re not kidding me about Marty?»
She shook her head vigorously. She got out of the chair slowly. Her eyes were narrow and sloe-black and as shallow as an oyster shell.
«I’m going now,» she said, as if we had been having a cup of tea.
She went over to the door and was reaching out to open it when a car came up the hill and stopped outside the house. Somebody got out of the car.
She turned and stared at me, horrified.
The door opened casually and a man looked in at us.
NINE
He was a hatchet-faced man in a brown suit and a black felt hat. The cuff of his left sleeve was folded under and pinned to the side of his coat with a big black safety pin.
He took his hat off, closed the door by pushing it with his shoulder, looked at Carmen with a nice smile. He had closecropped black hair and a bony skull. He fitted his clothes well, He didn’t look tough.
«I’m Guy Slade,» he said. «Excuse the casual entrance. The bell didn’t work. Is Steiner around?»
He hadn’t tried the bell. Carmen looked at him blankly, then at me, then back at Slade. She licked her lips but didn’t say anything.
I said: «Steiner isn’t here, Mr. Slade. We don’t know just where he is.’,
He nodded and touched his long chin with the brim of his hat.
«You friends of his?»
«We just dropped by for a book,» I said, and gave him back his smile. «The door was half open. We knocked, then stepped inside. Just like you.»
«I see,» Slade said thoughtfully. «Very simple.»
I didn’t say anything. Carmen didn’t say anything. She was staring fixedly at his empty sleeve.
«A book, eh?» Slade went on. The way he said it told me things. He knew about Steiner’s racket, maybe.
I moved over towards the door. «Only you didn’t knock,» I said.
He smiled with faint embarrassment. «That’s right. I ought to have knocked, Sorry.»
«We’ll trot along now,» I said carelessly. I took hold of Carmen’s arm.
«Any message — if Steiner comes back?» Slade asked softly.
«We won’t bother you.»
«That’s too bad,» he said, with too much meaning.
I let go of Carmen’s arm and took a slow step away from her. Slade still had his hat in his hand. He didn’t move. His deep-set eyes twinkled pleasantly.
I opened the door again.
Slade said: «The girl can go. But I’d like to talk to you a little.»
I stared at him, trying to look very blank.
«Kidder, eh?» Slade said nicely.
Carmen made a sudden sound at my side and ran out through the door. In a moment I heard her steps going down the hill. I hadn’t seen her car, but I guessed it was around somewhere.
I began to say: «What the hell —»
«Save it,» Slade interrupted coldly. «There’s something wrong here. I’ll just find out what it is.»
He began to walk around the room carelessly — too carelessly. He was frowning, not paying much attention to me. That made me thoughtful. I took a quick glance out of the window, but I couldn’t see anything but the top of his car above the hedge.
Slade found the potbellied flagon and the two thin purple glasses on the desk. He sniffed at one of them. A disgusted smile wrinkled his thin lips.
«The lousy pimp,» he said tonelessly.
He looked at the books on the desk, touched one or two of them, went on around the back of the desk and was in front of the totem pole thing. He stared at that. Then his eyes went down to the floor, to the thin rug that was over the place where Steiner’s body had been. Slade moved the rug with his foot and suddenly tensed, staring down.
It was a good act — or else Slade had a nose I could have used in my business. I wasn’t sure which — yet, but I was giving it a lot of thought.
He went slowly down to the floor on one knee. The desk partly hid him from me.
I slipped a gun out from under my arm and put both hands behind my body and leaned against the wall.
There was a sharp, swift exclamation, then Slade shot to his feet. His arm flashed up. A long, black Luger slid into it expertly. I didn’t move. Slade held the Luger in long, pale fingers, not pointing it at me, not pointing it at anything in particular.
«Blood,» he said quietly, grimly, his deep-set eyes black and hard now. «Blood on the floor there, under a rug. A lot of blood.»
I grinned at him. «I noticed it,» I said. «It’s old blood. Dried blood.»